#Isaac x reader

[yoursinisforgiven]

UNSEEN ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel) 

cw: descriptive violence, consumptions of alcohol, reader and isaac are both paranoid.  

last part / series masterlist !

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Blunt force trauma to the head. Three gunshot wounds to the legs. Four missing fingernails. A missing heart.

The words sat before you in neat, clinical type, but they may as well have been carved into flesh for how deeply they unsettled you. This wasn’t just a case. This was suffering made tangible, pain reduced to a list of injuries, yet it refused to be contained by mere ink. Someone had lived through this. They had felt every blow, every shattering impact against their skull, every burning bullet tearing through muscle and bone. They had felt their fingernails ripped from their hands, one by one. Had they screamed? Fought? Or had they been too weak by then?

Your stomach twisted, but you read the words again, as if repetition would dull the sharp edges of the horror they described.

It didn’t.

The folder sat in front of you, thick with crime scene photos and an autopsy report, bound together in quiet violence. There was always a body. Always the cold, clinical dissection of what had once been a person—cataloged, examined, broken down into facts. You needed to see it. The written words weren’t enough. You needed the images, the grotesque reality, the bloodstains, the lifeless stare. You needed to know exactly what you were dealing with, to let the full weight of it sink in.

But before you could reach for it, a firm hand slapped the folder shut.

“No.”

Isaac’s voice was curt, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t need to explain himself. The answer was final.

You stared at him, jaw tightening. “I’ve seen worse.”

The words nearly left your lips, but you swallowed them back. It wouldn’t change his mind.

And even if you said it, would it matter?

Would he even believe you if you told him about the things that haunted you? About the nights when crime scene photos from your past clawed their way into your dreams, distorting, twisting, becoming something worse? About the frozen, blood-slicked bodies of Ivan and Rhene, their deaths forever etched into your mind in vivid, merciless detail?

No. You hadn’t told him about that.

Just like you hadn’t told him about Vic. Or Asriel. Or the voice on the phone—the one that slid through the receiver like silk over a blade, dripping with a quiet, knowing amusement.

The study is quiet as you stand before his desk, but it’s not the kind of silence you’re used to. This time, it’s heavier, weighted with something unspoken, something lingering in the stillness between you. The air feels thick, charged, like the moment before a storm splits the sky. You know he feels it too. You can see it in the way his fingers rest just a little too stiffly on the edge of the desk, in the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

You decide to be the first to break it.

“What do we—what do we do?” Your voice wavers, not out of fear but out of something else, something tangled between uncertainty and dread. You place the documents back in front of him, watching as his eyes flicker downward, scanning the pages as if he hadn’t already committed every gruesome detail to memory.

But then he looks back up at you, and there’s something resolute in his gaze, something cold.

“We aren’t doing anything.” His voice is steady, deliberate. “I won’t let you get involved. Not in this.”

It’s the answer you expected, and yet it still grates at you.

You exhale sharply, rubbing at the tension in your temple. Of course. Of course, Isaac would do this—this weak attempt at shielding you from something that, in his mind, loomed too close, too dangerous. You knew he was paranoid. You had known that since the moment you met him. He saw shadows where there were none, traced threats in the air long before they took form.

So you don’t argue. Not this time.

Instead, with your legs growing numb from standing too long, you sink into the chair in front of his desk. The cold leather bites at your skin, the rich material stiff beneath your fingertips as you grip the armrest. The room feels colder than before, or maybe that’s just the weight of the case pressing in, curling around you like an unseen hand.

Isaac doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that unreadable expression of his, the papers between you a silent barrier.

Outside, the wind howls against the windowpane, rattling it in its frame.

You don’t know if it’s the case, the tension, or something else entirely, but for the first time in a long while, you feel like there’s something just beyond the edge of your vision—watching, waiting.

With a sharp exhale, Isaac reaches for his phone, his fingers tightening around it as if holding onto something more than just a device. His jaw tenses, eyes flicking toward the door as though already halfway out of the study. Then, without another word, he pushes himself up from the chair, the legs scraping faintly against the polished wood floor. His movements are brisk, controlled—but you can see it, the slight rigidity in his shoulders, the subtle clench of his fist at his side. A tell.

“I need to make a call,” he mutters, voice low and clipped, the weight behind those words pressing heavier than they should.

You don’t respond. You don’t need to.

He strides toward the door with purpose, his back to you, and before you can fully process the shift in atmosphere, the old wooden doors groan closed with a soft but decisive slam.

The sound shouldn’t make you flinch. But it does.

You let out a slow breath, willing your pulse to steady, but it does little to stop the way unease creeps along your spine. The study is silent now, save for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock nestled in the far corner—a metronome to the quiet dread settling in the air. The dim light from the storm-streaked windows casts distorted shadows along the bookshelves, stretching and shifting with each flicker of lightning outside. The once-warm glow of the desk lamp now feels weak, swallowed by the growing darkness.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. That the shift in atmosphere is imagined, a trick of the mind fueled by exhaustion and the weight of the case still heavy in your hands.

And yet.

There’s something about being alone in here that unsettles you. The study, a place that had always been filled with quiet conversation, with Isaac’s presence—a grounding force despite his paranoia—now feels abandoned, hollow. The books stacked on his desk seem untouched, their spines rigid and unmoving. The scent of aged paper and faint cologne lingers, but it does little to chase away the sensation that something unseen lingers just beyond your peripheral vision.

It’s ridiculous. You know that.

And yet the sensation only grows.

Your fingers tighten against the armrests of the chair before you abruptly stand, the movement too sharp, too sudden—as if you’re shaking off an unseen grip. The storm outside howls against the windows, the house settling with a deep groan that sounds too much like something breathing.

You won’t sit here and let your mind twist the shadows into something they’re not.

That would be pathetic.

You roll your shoulders, exhaling slowly through your nose, already forming an excuse in your mind. You aren’t leaving the study because you need more light, because the weight of the silence has begun to feel oppressive. No, of course not. That would be absurd.

You’re leaving because—Isaac needs coffee.

Yes, that’s it. Something warm to steady his nerves, something to distract yourself from whatever this feeling is gnawing at your subconscious.

You turn on your heel, crossing the room with purposeful strides, refusing to acknowledge the way the shadows seem to stretch as you move past them. Your fingers brush against the cold brass of the doorknob, and as you step into the dimly lit hall, the study doors creak shut behind you.

But even as you walk away, each step echoing against the wooden floor, that lingering sense of being watched does not fade.

──

The kitchen had become a sanctuary of sorts—well, a refuge of distraction, at least. It was the one place you could still hide, even if it was only from your own mind. The monotony of cleaning, organizing, slicing fruit, anything really, helped the time slip by. Your hands had found their rhythm, gliding over surfaces, moving jars and spices into place, brushing crumbs off the counters. The act was soothing, though it couldn't stop the creeping sense of dread that lingered in the back of your mind, settling like an unwanted weight on your chest.

The storm had passed, the wind outside dying down, but the atmosphere felt unnervingly still. The sky was an oppressive slate gray, thick with clouds that seemed to press down on the earth as if daring it to break. The air in the estate felt cold, heavy, carrying a damp chill from the rain that had soaked into the stone floors. The silence of the house had changed, too—it wasn't the calm quiet of an empty place but rather a thick, almost suffocating quiet, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

You were almost grateful for the simple task of making Isaac’s coffee. The routine of it was almost comforting in its predictability—black, no sugar, no cream. It was the smallest of rituals, one that Isaac preferred to keep simple. You knew this, of course. You had long learned the subtle ways of his quiet habits. He’d notice if you added anything extra, even the slightest hint of sugar. He'd ask, then raise that brow of his, sharp as a blade, and you'd feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. No need for that today, though.

As you moved around the kitchen, placing the freshly cut fruit into the fridge and organizing the counters again—again—you tried to shake off the gnawing discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach. The thought of Isaac’s sharp eyes on you, his quiet expectations, seemed to make the air feel even heavier. But before you could shake it, before you could push past the unease, the front door knocked.

Three sharp knocks.

Like the beat of a drum, unmistakable and deliberate.

Your pulse kicked up instantly, a cold sweat dotting your skin despite the warmth of the kitchen. The sound echoed far too loud in the vast quiet of the estate. There was a brief, sickening pause in the air, as if the whole house was holding its breath along with you. Who? Who would be knocking at this hour? No one ever did. Not unless they had something they wanted hidden from view, something they didn’t want known.

You froze, your hand lingering on the coffee mug, your fingers tightening around the ceramic handle as if to ground yourself.

No one knocks.

You had already begun to hear a faint movement from upstairs—the quick, purposeful rhythm of Isaac’s footsteps descending. But you weren’t sure if you should feel relieved or more unsettled. You knew what that knock meant: danger, a threat, someone arriving uninvited.

But it didn’t make sense. You shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Isaac was here, wasn’t he? Isaac was always here.

Still, there was a tightness in your chest, a flutter of something unsettling twisting in your gut.

You watched as Isaac appeared in the hall from above, his expression unreadable. His phone still clutched in one hand, his fingers tapping against the side as if trying to work out some invisible anxiety. But the moment he set his gaze on the door, everything about him tightened, his jaw stiffening. No words were exchanged before he reached out and pulled the door open.

“Vic.”

Isaac’s voice, cool but clipped, rang out in the silence. The name hit you like a brick, unsettling, unfamiliar despite the fact that you knew the person it belonged to. Though oddly enough it brought comfort, he wasn't a threat—was he?

But it wasn’t just him.

As soon as Isaac stepped back, you could see the outline of a second figure standing just behind Vic. A shadowy shape, a silhouette barely visible in the dim light of the porch. But even that small glimpse sent your pulse into overdrive. Your stomach dropped, nausea flooding your senses like a heavy tide.

It wasn’t just Vic at the door.

It was someone else.

The second figure was standing too still, like they were watching the house just as much as they were waiting for Isaac to acknowledge them. The breeze from outside rustled through the hem of their coat, but they didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to mind the chill. 

Your mind raced. Who?

Could it be Asriel? It seemed unlikely, almost absurd, but the shadow felt like him. Like something unfamiliar yet entirely unsettling.

Or worse—could it be them? The thought made your breath catch. There was something about the way the stranger lingered on the threshold, half-hidden by the doorframe, that reminded you of the most dangerous kind of silence. It was a silence that didn’t care about the noise it left in its wake.

A sudden cold wave of nausea flooded you again, stronger this time. You hadn’t even noticed how your hand had tightened around the edge of the counter until the mug nearly slipped from your grasp.

Isaac, however, didn’t seem to notice your distress. His gaze focused on Vic’s, his eyes sharp, demanding. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid way he stood. Whatever conversation was about to unfold was already hanging in the balance, an invisible thread ready to snap. The feeling in your gut was only growing stronger, more suffocating. What had they come for?

"He...llo."

The voice was hesitant, the syllables stretched just slightly, like they weren’t entirely sure they belonged. The accent was distinct, the English slightly broken, but that wasn’t what made your stomach knot. For a brief, terrifying moment, your mind convinced you that it was them—the voice on the phone given shape, stepping through the doorway like a nightmare made flesh.

But as soon as the thought took root, it crumbled. This wasn’t them. Something was different. And yet, despite that realization, something still felt deeply, inexplicably wrong.

Isaac stood rigid in the doorway, his head tilting just slightly as he looked at the figure. You couldn’t see his face from where you stood in the kitchen, but you knew him well enough to picture his expression—his gaze sharp and assessing, his lips pressed in that firm line he wore when something didn’t sit right with him. Then, his eyes flicked to Vic.

A long, quiet beat passed.

The exchange was silent, yet it carried weight. Isaac studied Vic, who, for once, seemed devoid of his usual playfulness. The easy smirks, the teasing remarks, the knowing glances—none of it was there. Instead, Vic’s face was unreadable, his posture uncharacteristically stiff. The shift unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

Isaac turned on his heel, his voice clipped and firm. “Follow me.”

He didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge you standing there. He simply started walking, his movements precise, controlled. Vic followed without a word, his usual swagger muted into something far more restrained.

And then, the stranger stepped into view.

Your fingers tightened around the coffee mug, the smooth ceramic pressing into your palm as you finally caught sight of them. At first glance, there was nothing wrong—no visible injuries, no blood, no unnatural distortions in their features. They were composed, their clothing neat, their expression neutral. But the moment your eyes landed on them, something in your gut twisted.

There was something about them that didn’t feel right.

The way they moved was deliberate, calculated, like each step had been measured before their foot even touched the floor. Their presence carried an eerie stillness, the kind that made the air in the room feel heavier, pressing against your skin like an unseen force. It was as if they weren’t just walking through the space—they were observing it, memorizing every detail with quiet intent.

Then, just as they were about to disappear up the stairs, they turned.

The movement was smooth, almost too smooth, as if they had expected you to be looking. Their gaze met yours, unwavering, unreadable.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, they raised a hand.

Their fingers shifted into a precise motion—something small, quick. A gesture.

It wasn’t a wave. It wasn’t a greeting. It was something else entirely.

The shape of it tickled the back of your mind, familiar in a way you couldn’t place. A wordless message, a symbol that meant something, though you had no idea what.

Before you could react, before you could even process the unease clawing at your chest, they turned away and vanished up the stairs, swallowed by the dim light of the hallway.

You remained frozen in place, the mug still clutched tightly in your hands, the coffee inside long forgotten. The storm outside had passed, but the weight in the air hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had only grown heavier.

──

You nearly stumble as you ascend the stairs, the weight of the tray in your hands forcing you to move carefully. Three glasses of whiskey—over ice—rest in a neat row, the amber liquid catching the dim glow of the hallway light. A fourth glass, filled with nothing but water, sits beside them. An afterthought, a precaution. You didn’t know this stranger—not their name, not their demeanor, and, worst of all, not their reason for being here.

At the door to Isaac’s study, you hesitate.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? You lived here. You had every right to walk in without a second thought. And yet, a strange discomfort settled in your chest, making you second-guess every movement. The tray balances precariously in one hand as you lift the other to knock.

But before your knuckles can even brush against the wood, the door swings open.

The stranger stands on the other side.

You freeze.

They say nothing, offering no explanation for how they knew you were there, no indication that they’d even heard you approach. Their face remains unreadable, their posture unnervingly still. The only movement comes when their hands reach out, steadying the tray in your grasp before you can fumble it. Their fingers brush against yours—cold, unnaturally so. A sharp contrast to the warmth of the whiskey glasses.

You swallow down the instinctual shiver that tries to crawl up your spine, forcing yourself to nod. “Thank you.” The words feel oddly formal, but it’s all you can manage.

The stranger steps aside, allowing you to enter. The door clicks shut behind you.

The study feels heavier than usual, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Shadows cling to the corners of the room, deepened by the storm-gray light filtering in from the windows. Isaac and Vic sit across from each other in their usual chairs, but something is different. Vic, who usually lounges with an air of careless amusement, sits upright, his fingers drumming once against the armrest before stilling. Isaac, sharp-eyed as ever, watches you place the tray on the low table between them, his gaze lingering for a beat too long.

You shift, unsure of where to position yourself. The stranger moves past you with effortless grace, their presence ghostly as they lower themselves onto the floor—at the foot of Vic’s legs.

That makes you tense.

Your eyes flick to Isaac instinctively, searching for any reaction, any sign of what this means. But his face gives nothing away.

Instead of sitting, you take a step back, resting your hand lightly on the back of Isaac’s chair, hovering near him rather than claiming a space of your own. It feels safer this way, though you avoid looking at anyone directly, focusing instead on the dark wood of the floorboards beneath you.

Vic exhales softly, reaching for one of the whiskey glasses. He lifts it, taking a slow sip before speaking.

"Asriel was busy with… someone. I'd doubt he had time to overhear the matter.”

He swirls the glass idly, watching the ice shift within it. Then, without ceremony, he delivers the next sentence like a casual observation.

"One of his men was found massacred," Isaac says, his voice even, unwavering. There is no hesitation, no trace of surprise—just cold acknowledgment. Because it isn’t a stretch. Not at all.

A silence follows, thick and oppressive. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in inch by inch. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner fills the space between breaths, between the slow rise and fall of Isaac’s chest, between the tightening of Vic’s jaw.

Vic exhales through his nose, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand. His grip is so firm that for a moment, you wonder if the glass might crack. He doesn’t sip this time. Doesn’t even glance at Isaac. Instead, his gaze flickers—once, briefly—to the figure at his feet.

"Details?" His voice is rougher now, edged with something unreadable.

Isaac shifts, his hand moving toward the stack of documents on the desk. He flips open a folder with careful precision, his fingers gliding over the pages as if the weight of their contents doesn’t bear down on him. But you know better. You see it in the slight press of his lips, in the way his shoulders hold just a fraction more tension than usual.

"Blunt force trauma to the skull," Isaac begins, reading from the report. "Three gunshot wounds to the legs. Four fingernails removed. And—" he pauses, only for a second, but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine, "the heart was missing."

Vic finally looks at him then, eyes narrowing. The stranger at his feet shifts, their movements fluid but slow, calculated. You still don’t know their name, but you can feel their gaze—measuring, dissecting.

"Let me see the autopsy," Vic says, his tone even but edged with something unreadable.

Isaac doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze to you, saying your name in a way that is both soft and firm, a gentle order. You hesitate only for a moment before moving toward his desk, your fingers grazing the smooth wood as you retrieve the folder. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, the pages thick with something far more sinister than mere ink.

As you walk back to the seating area, you keep your grip firm, careful not to crease the edges. You extend the folder toward Vic, but just as the exchange is about to be made, something cold brushes against your leg.

You freeze.

The touch is fleeting, barely there, but it sends a sharp jolt through you. It isn’t the hesitant brush of fabric or an accidental shift in movement. No, this was deliberate. Calculated.

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to remain composed. The reaction is subtle—just the briefest hesitation in your step, the smallest intake of breath—but even that feels too much. You glance downward, though not enough to be obvious, catching only the faintest movement from the stranger seated at Vic’s feet.

They’ve already withdrawn their hand, their expression unreadable.

Did they mean to do that?

The question lingers, unwanted and intrusive, yet it burrows into your mind like a splinter. The stranger doesn’t look at you again. Their attention remains fixed elsewhere, their posture relaxed but too controlled, too aware.

If Vic or Isaac noticed, they don’t show it.

Vic takes the folder from your hands, flipping it open with an exhale. His eyes scan the contents, his fingers pressing firmly against the edges of the paper. His jaw tightens as he takes in the details, his expression darkening.

Isaac watches him, but his gaze flickers—just once—toward you.

He saw.

You’re sure of it.

But he says nothing.

You watch in near silence, your breath barely escaping your chest as Vic pours over the autopsy photos, his eyes scanning each gruesome detail. But it’s not just the disturbing images that keep your attention—it’s the figure at his feet, sitting still, too still. They haven’t shifted once since entering the room, their presence as unsettling as the storm now dying outside. The figure remains unnervingly calm, their posture too perfect, their face unreadable.

The figure shifts ever so slightly. A soft tug at Vic’s leg—almost imperceptible—yet, you feel it. Something about it feels like a signal, an invitation to a conversation no one else can hear. They raise their hand, falter, then let it drop like a feather, their movement too deliberate, too careful. There’s a strange kind of precision to them, like everything they do has meaning, like there is a language in their stillness.

Then, they lean in, their face close to Vic’s ear, their lips brushing against his skin. The whisper is low, almost inaudible, but Vic’s brows furrow deeply, his eyes narrowing as he tilts his head towards the photos again. A flicker of tension crosses his face—something in what they said has shifted his focus.

"Who gave you the case?" Vic asks suddenly, his voice low but cutting through the still air like a blade. His eyes don't leave the photos as he speaks, but you feel the question settle in the room like a heavy stone.

Isaac answers without missing a beat, his voice taut, betraying no emotion. "It was an anonymous sender."

Vic’s attention snaps away from the pictures, and he turns to face the figure at his side. His gaze is unwavering, and you can almost hear the unspoken questions between them. “They say it’s a setup,” Vic murmurs, his voice growing darker, more dangerous. He leans forward, studying the photos with a renewed intensity. “The man had at least been dead for three days.”

The words feel like they’re sinking into the air, thickening it with their weight. The implications of them gnaw at you—this wasn’t just a crime scene, wasn’t just a murder. It’s something far more calculated, far more deliberate. The body had been left to be found, yes, but who left it? And why?

Three days. The man had been dead for three days.

The words hang in the room like a bitter taste, and you feel it—the invisible thread of tension that grows tighter with every second. Whoever killed this man didn’t simply leave him to die. They made sure the body was found. Made sure it would be discovered. The meticulousness of it. The planning.

Vic doesn’t speak right away, his mind racing over the new information. He looks back down at the photos, then to the figure beside him, and you notice—just for a split second—the slightest shift in their expression. A flicker of something. Recognition? Concern? It’s too fleeting for you to place, but it’s there, undeniable. And it sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, the figure does something even more unsettling. They lean forward again, their voice a whisper you can’t hear, their words meant only for Vic. You can’t help but strain to catch even a fragment, but nothing. The air feels thick with secrets, suffocating in its quiet.

The room is charged now—silent, expectant, the weight of unanswered questions hanging over all of you. This isn’t just a murder. There’s more beneath the surface, and everyone in this room knows it. The mystery deepens, curling tighter around your throat with every word, every glance exchanged. But it’s the figure—who they are, what they know—that makes your skin crawl the most. They aren’t just here as a passive observer. They’re part of the puzzle, and somehow, you feel they’re the key to unlocking whatever darkness is lurking just out of sight.

But what are they hiding? What is Vic really seeing in those photos? What secrets is he keeping, and how much of it does this figure truly understand? The unsettling quiet that fills the space between them makes your pulse quicken.

Vic stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor with a sharp noise that cuts through the tension hanging in the air. He places the folder back on the table, closing it with a deliberate finality, the sound of the paper pressing together sending an unsettling ripple through the room. The figure rises almost simultaneously, their movements fluid, too coordinated, as if they were anticipating every step of Vic's. Their gaze shifts toward Isaac for a brief moment before they silently follow him towards the door.

"Mail me a copy of the documents," Vic's voice is low, the words measured, deliberate. "I’ll make sure it gets to Asriel as soon as possible." His eyes flicker back to the folder, scanning it one last time, his expression unreadable. The weight of the moment seems to settle around him, and his voice drops even further, carrying a subtle but ominous weight. "As for now, don't directly pursue the case. Keep gathering details. I'll see what I can find on my own. Keep me updated."

Isaac nods sharply, his posture stiff, betraying no emotion as he acknowledges Vic's instructions. His eyes flicker briefly to the figure, who stands unmoving, almost too still, a presence that seems to demand attention even without a word. There’s something about the way they stand there, almost as if waiting for something—waiting for you to react, to move, to understand.

Isaac strides toward Vic, his footsteps heavy and firm, the sense of finality in his actions palpable. The silence that follows his departure towards the door is thick, suffocating. It feels like the entire world is holding its breath.

Vic turns his back to you for a moment, heading toward the door. You can’t help but watch the figure as they stand by the doorframe, not moving, not speaking. The air around them seems to hum with an unnerving energy, something sharp and unfamiliar, like the stillness before a storm. You feel as though there is more to them, more lurking just beneath the surface of their unsettling calm.

As Isaac opens the door, a part of you wishes you could stay in this room, away from whatever lurks beyond it. But Vic doesn’t look back, the figure, though, does. Their gaze lands on you briefly, their eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sends a shiver crawling down your spine. For a split second, you wonder if they know something you don’t. If they’ve been watching you, all this time, gathering pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite see.

Then, without a word, the figure raises their hand, moving in the same deliberate way they had earlier when they first arrived. The gesture is eerily familiar, as though it holds a hidden meaning, a language you can’t decode. Their fingers twitch and hover in mid-air, an almost imperceptible motion before they drop their hand quickly. Their eyes flicker one more time toward you before they turn and slip through the door behind Vic.

The door shuts softly behind them, and you are left standing in the study, the weight of their departure settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. For a moment, you simply stand there, uncertain, lost in the echo of silence that now hangs in the room.

The storm outside has cleared, but the air inside feels colder than ever.

You are alone now.

But it doesn’t feel like you’ve been left with peace. Something is off. Something is wrong. The case—the body, the figure, the whispered conversations—all of it has the sharp, jagged edge of a trap, waiting to close in around you. And in the back of your mind, you hear it. The question that refuses to fade: What are they really after?

The quiet stretches out before you, as you stare at the closed door, unsure of what to do next. But you know this much—whatever is coming, it’s far from over. And the next step could be the one that unravels everything.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep running from the truth.

──

author's note: i apologize for the spam posting, i've just found my love and motivation for writing again!

tag list :

@ysawdalawa @rain-soaked-sun @tanksbigtiddiedgf @sdfivhnjrjmcdsn @lil-binuu @colombina-s-arle @xxminxrq @souvlia @meraki-kiera

[demigoddessqueens]

Based off DM request from @msvirgoflower because this is a total rom-com cliche 😆

Castlevania boys [Drac, Alucard, Isaac, Hector, and Trevor] to how they would react if their s/o came back home after drinking heavily with friends and while trying to help them to bed when they get home their drunk s/o slaps them and is all like "Whoa back the f#$% up! I am off the market- I gots me a man and he'll kick your ass!

Prompts HERE

VALENTINES LIST

♡ [ trope ] to do cliche things with them, just because

Dracula

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as you slur out your words but he’ll indulge in the inebriation just for a moment.

“Oh you do? Well I imagine they would be protective over one such as lovely as yourself”

Trevor

Chances are he’s a bit drunk but nowhere near as buzzed as you

He’ll be slightly pouty and whiny, clinging onto you tightly, saying stuff like “yeah! and it’s me! Unless there’s someone else eyeing you…!”

Alucard

Maybe slightly annoyed but also stifling his laugh as you speak your mind to him

“Oh you do? They just be worried sick if you’re out here by yourself. Come, I’ll safely return you to them.”

Isaac

Calm demeanor but also with an exasperated look 😑 he tries to keep you steady

“And your lover would very much care if you were away from a crowd of rubes. Here, take my arm.”

Hector

It’s one of the rare occasions you get a genuine smile and laugh from him as he’s holding onto your shoulder

“Yes, love, and it’s me, hurry before you catch a cold or attract more attention.”

[salliesimpkins]

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

[multific]

From Strangers to Soulmates

Isaac x Reader

Summary: You were new in town, and barely even had time to get used to your new home when your parents told you that you would marry one of the boys in the village. 

The news came to you one evening, an arrangement sealed without your consent but with your future in mind. 

It was a shock, to say the least.

Isaac, they said, was the son of a nice man in town, a hard worker with a reputation for kindness. 

Your family spoke highly of Isaac, though you had never met, you doubted your parents met him for more than a couple minutes. 

You barely knew anybody, so, you knew better than to argue or say no.

When the day of the wedding arrived, you stood across from him in the church.

Isaac's warm smile eased your nerves. He was handsome and he looked kind.

Thank God.

“I know this is sudden,” he whispered softly as the priest recited his words, “but I promise to be a good husband to you.”

His sincerity surprised you, and you found yourself nodding with a smile across your face.

Married life with Isaac was nothing like the tales of hardship you had heard from others. 

Each morning, he woke early to tend to the small farm behind your home.

When you woke, he had already prepared breakfast as he greeted you, along with his cheerful humming.

One morning, as the rooster crowed, you stumbled into the kitchen to find Isaac already dressed, kneading dough with flour on his hands.

He glanced up and grinned. 

“Good morning, Love. Sleep well?”

“I wanted to prepare breakfast this morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorway. "But you were faster than me."

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a cloth before he placed a kiss against your temple. 

“Breakfast is almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.”

He always insisted on taking care of you, though you often protested. When you brought him water or helped with chores, he thanked you with such genuine appreciation that your heart swelled.

Isaac was easy to love.

His kindness and sincerity made you feel at ease as you slowly began to fall in love.

In the evenings, after supper, the two of you often sat by the fire. 

Isaac would carve small wooden figures, birds, deer, and even a rabbit he once said was meant to be a cat.

“You’re teasing me,” you said, laughing as he handed it to you.

"What? It has... character.”

Despite your joy, you kept the carving on the mantle, just above the fireplace, treasuring every gift he gave because you knew he gave it from his heart.

On rainy nights, with the symphony of raindrops outside, he would read to you from the old Bible his mother had given him. 

His voice was steady and soothing, and though you weren’t particularly interested in his book, you loved the way his words filled the room.

As the weeks turned into months, the initial awkwardness between you faded. 

One evening, as you watched Isaac working by lantern light, you realized how much your feelings had grown.

“I never expected this,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked up from his task, brow furrowed. 

“What do you mean?”

“To feel this way about you. To find happiness... love.”

Setting his tools aside, Isaac crossed the room and knelt before you, taking your hands in his. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere. “You’ve made my life brighter than I ever imagined.”

You kissed him.

He took you to bed.

It was the first time you two had made love.

You finally became one.

That night, as you lay together beneath the blankets, he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’ll spend every day making sure you’re happy. I love you.”

"I love you too."

And he did. 

From the quiet mornings to the laughter-filled evenings, Isaac’s love was constant, steady and unwavering.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??

A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't. 

Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types: 

Yandere! Trevor: 

Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts. 

Yandere! Sypha: 

Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner?  Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you? 

Yandere! Alucard: 

Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.  

Yandere! Isaac: 

Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen. 

Yandere! Hector: 

Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone. 

Yandere! Dracula/Lisa: 

Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity. 

Yandere! Carmilla: 

Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does. 

Yandere! St. Germain: 

Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes. 

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[mxltifxnd0m]

your skin on my skin ⇝ i. lahey

summary: seeing isaac between your thighs only happened in your dreams, it could never become a reality... right?

AU: where isaac came back from france and stayed for the rest of the series and everyone is going to the same college

pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader

word count: 2.8K

warnings: MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', smut, oral fem!receiving, fingering, fluff, reader and isaac being lovesick idiots, implied p in v, characters are aged up to 18+ and in college, title is a lyric from fragile by laufey, kinda edited

a/n: RAHH i haven't written for isaac since july, so apologies if hes a little ooc but i miss him dearly so here's my first smut for him!! again minors please DNI please and thank you <3

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘤 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You made eye contact with Isaac’s cerulean eyes as his breath ghosted your bare stomach, making goosebumps rise against your heated skin as he sunk in between your open legs. You let out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back into the plush pillows, breaking the intense gaze between you and Isaac. 

You don’t know how you got to this position. Well, you do, but you never thought in a million years that this would be happening. Having Isaac in between your thighs only happened in your dreams and imagination when you had the apartment to yourself and wanted to work off some steam in your room, your vibrator on the highest setting as it worked over your sensitive and swollen clit. 

You had the biggest crush on Isaac since you met the scrawny kid in freshman year back at Beacon, since before you were pulled into the supernatural mess with Scott and eventually Isaac himself. But you hid it well. At least, you thought you did until Lydia cornered you one day and confronted you about your crush on him. 

You shrugged it off, of course, denying that you had liked him at all and that he was only your best friend, but Lydia was smarter than that, having caught you looking at him longingly as he stared at Allison. 

When Allison and Isaac got together, it hurt a lot. The pain of having the guy you liked start dating one of your best friends was one you wouldn’t wish on anyone. But you played it off and only teased Allison about the irony of being a hunter and being into werewolves. She laughed it off, but Lydia could see the pain in your eyes every time Isaac mentioned her or you saw the two of them close to one another. 

So when Allison died, you felt conflicted. Half of you was devastated that one of your best friends was gone, forever. But the other half was relieved that she was. You felt so guilty that you felt that way about Allison but kept it to yourself, internalizing it and locking away the information for life. 

You knew the toll that Allison’s death took on Isaac, but you guys still had the nogitsune to deal with. Once that was taken care of and you tried to talk to him about what happened with everything that had happened in the past year, he was gone. He fled to France with Allison’s dad. The pack didn’t know if he was going to come back, so you decided to swallow the devastation that flooded your veins at the thought of your best friend not coming back and moving on. 

But as the new year started and moving into your second semester of junior year, your eyes met a familiar pair of cerulean ones in the crowded hallways of Beacon Hills High. You felt your heart race at the fact that Isaac came back. 

From then on, you never really moved on from him. You tried, but he was always stuck in the back of your mind. Even throughout the craziness of the following year and a half of high school, the two of you stuck by each other and with the pack. 

After high school, you and some of the pack members went to the nearest college and decided to live in the same apartment complex. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac lucked out and got a bigger unit than you and Lydia did, but it didn’t matter since they usually came over to your place since it was “cozier.” You scoffed at them because they didn’t bother to furnish their apartment as well as you and Lydia did. 

“Hey.” Isaac called out your name softly, making you snap out of your reverie and look back down at him. His warm hands were settled on your thighs as his chin rested on your stomach and his gaze intently staring at you. 

Isaac’s were slightly swollen and pinker than usual from the heated make-out session that had started out of nowhere; well, it didn’t start out of nowhere. 

It was a Saturday night, and you didn’t feel like going out with the rest of the pack, so you decided to stay in and relax. You had expected Isaac to go with them, but to your surprise, he stayed with you. 

It was slightly awkward at first. The two of you hadn’t hung out for a while without the rest of the pack hovering around you since he came back from France. It’s not like you actively avoided spending one-on-one time, but you guys drifted apart when he came back, and the active threats to Beacon Hills didn’t help with the space between the two of you. 

You tried not to show that you were nervous around him, knowing he could hear if your heartbeat was erratic or not. You had planned to watch a movie in your room, so you invited him and joked that it would be like when we used to before he became a werewolf and hid in your room for a couple of hours before he had to go back to his place. 

The smile Isaac gave you at your invite had destroyed the plan of masking your fondness for him, feeling your heartbeat slightly faster at the sight of it. 

You sat next to Isaac when you finished setting up the movie, the two of you resting against your headboard, shoulders brushing against each other as the two of you settled in your queen-sized bed. 

You kept your eyes trained on the TV, the opening sequence of Iron Man flicking through the LCD screen. But Isaac couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, taking in your features being illuminated by the dim lighting of the fairy lights you hung around your room. He smiled, remembering your dislike for overhead lighting and preference for mood lighting. 

You took a chance, glancing at Isaac and finding that his gaze was already on you. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes. 

“What?” You murmured. 

Isaac raised his hand hesitantly, brushing a wayward hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear before resting his palm against your cheek. You almost shivered at the soft caress of his thumb against the apple of your cheek. 

“Nothing.” Isaac said with a half smile on his face, slowly inching his face closer to you. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to be unphased by his touch. “Really? Because you’re not watching the movie.” 

“You know I don’t care for Marvel.” Isaac smirked. 

“Then why do you sit through the movies with me?” 

“Because you like them.” Isaac stated as if it was obvious while shrugging. 

You looked at him dumbly, your mouth slightly agape. Isaac chuckled lowly before he moved his hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck and rested his forehead against yours. 

Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as you felt his breath fan against your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” Isaac whispered. 

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you placed your lips against his, drawing him into a soft kiss. It was a short and sweet kiss, but it contrasted how your body filled with heat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours. 

Both of you pulled away, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before your lips collided once more. The kiss was filled with passion and all of the unsaid emotions that you guys had yet to admit to one another. 

Your body had a mind of its own as your lips moved against Isaac’s. You moved to straddle his lap as your hands dived into his blonde curls while his hands made their way to your hips, guiding you to his lap. The warmth of his hands seeped through the fabric of the sweatpants you were wearing. 

You felt Isaac’s tongue swipe at the seam of your lips, a silent request that you accepted. You moaned softly at the feeling of Isaac’s tongue softly intertwining against yours. You unconsciously ground your heated core against the growing bulge in his jeans. Isaac let out a low hiss, making the two of you pull apart from one another, a string of spit connecting the two of you before it broke. 

You couldn’t help but the giddy smile that broke out on your face, your stomach flipping at the sight of Isaac’s wide grin as his hands moved from your hips to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. 

He tugged on it slightly, the unsaid question written in Isaac’s eyes. You nodded, and he slowly pulled it off of you, exposing your bare chest to him. You saw his gaze widen slightly, and you let out a small giggle at his reaction. 

Isaac smiled wider at the sound of your small laugh, his heart swelling with love, and he laughed a bit when he felt you tug at his own shirt. He leaned up from the headboard and shed his own shirt, your palms settling against his chest once the offending item of clothing was flung across the room. 

Isaac had a sly smile on his face, and before you could question him, you let out a small yelp as he used his werewolf strength and agility to put you on your back. He hovered over you before he drew you into a kiss that left you breathless. But it only lasted for a moment before Isaac trailed his lips down your jaw. He nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck before moving down your collarbone and towards your breasts. 

Isaac left teasing kisses in the valley of your chest as his hands moved from your sides and to the waistband of your sweatpants. 

He looked up at you, his breath fanning over the slightly wet skin of your chest. “Can I take these off baby?” 

You felt yourself melt at the softness of his tone and the pet name. “Yeah.” You gave him a gentle smile. 

Instead of responding, Isaac left a tender kiss next to where your heart was and slowly pulled down your sweatpants. As every new inch of you was exposed, Isaac kissed the skin as if it was fragile. You couldn’t help but the lump that grew in your throat at how tender Isaac was being. 

Isaac called your name again. He was looking down at you, chin no longer resting on your stomach. Isaac was hovering over you again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You alright? We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.” 

“M’fine.” 

“You sure?” 

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip. “Just-” You inhaled sharply. “I don’t know if this is going to be a one time thing.” 

Isaac shook his head. “Trust me, it isn’t for me. Is it for you?” He asked, nerves coloring his tone. 

“No!” You almost shouted before you cringed at your volume and cleared your throat. “No, I’ve been embarrassingly in love with you for a long time.” You admitted sheepishly. 

The grin that was on Isaac’s face was blinding. He kissed you hard before pulling back. “Thank god.” He breathed out, relieved. “I’ve felt the same way for a long time. Ever since I came back to Beacon.” 

You didn’t have any words to respond with, so you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring all of the love and adoration you had for him over the years into it. Isaac couldn’t help but smile into the kiss before he deepened the kiss and blanketed your body with his, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt. 

You moaned at the feeling of his denim-clad bulge brushing against your heated cunt, your underwear almost soaked through as the two of you made out. Isaac broke the kiss and eventually made his way back in between your legs, his heated stare directed at the wet patch in your panties. 

He threw your legs over your shoulder as his face drew closer to your cunt, leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation. Isaac started to kiss you lightly through the wet fabric, making you moan softly. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” He breathed out before taking one of his hands and pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your soaked core to him. 

You could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared at your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Isaac praised, and you clenched at his words, biting your lip in hopes of keeping the whine that threatened to escape your mouth. 

Isaac couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction, but instead of teasing you, wanting to save it for next time, he leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, and your hands went to fist at your comforter. 

A breathy moan left the confines of your throat, and Isaac licked a strip from your slit to your sensitive nub, collected the slick leaking from you, and swirled his warm tongue around your clit. He drew it into his mouth, sucking on it softly. 

One of your hands left the mattress to clutch at his hair, a low moan emanating from the boy in between your legs. The noise sends vibrations to your cunt and fills your veins with pleasure. Your cries and whines filled the room as Isaac ate you out like a man starved. You had barely registered that the bed was moving slightly due to Isaac rutting against the mattress and that he had ripped your panties off of you and completely dove into you, his tongue deep in you as he thumbed at your clit, wanting to wring out as much pleasure from you as possible. 

“Oh fu-uck.” Both of your hands were in his hair at this point. “Shit, Isaac.” You could barely form words between your moaning, the heat in your core building rapidly at his ministrations. 

Isaac smirked internally and moved his mouth to suck at your clit as he inserted a finger in you, the tugging at his hair and your moans spurring him on to try and make you cum. 

“Isaac.” You whined at the feeling of your cunt finally being filled. 

He quickly added a second finger, slowly thrusting in and out of your slick cunt. “Yeah, baby?” Isaac asked, pulling away for a moment, kissing your inner thigh, and tilting his head to look up at you. He could stare at your blissed-out face forever, it being the second most beautiful thing he’s ever seen from you (the first one being your smile). 

“I-i need to- fuck!” A choked moan leaves your lips as Isaac’s fingers brush against your g-spot. 

Isaac grinned. “Need what? You gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.” 

Through the haze of lust, you could hear the teasing tone of his words, but you didn’t care. “Please, let me cum.” 

“There you go, pretty girl.” Isaac began to pump his fingers harder, making sure to hit your g-spot with every thrust, and latched onto your swollen nub again. 

“Fuck!” You felt the knot in your core threatening to snap. You were practically writhing in your bed, sweat coating your body as Isaac continued to finger you. 

“I’m-I’m-” 

“Let go sweetheart.” Isaac mumbled into your folds before pressing hard against your g-spot and sucking your clit hard. 

The knot snapped, and a keening whine left your lips. Your warm walls clenched against Isaac’s fingers. His fingers slowed, working you through your orgasm until it subsided. He pulled his fingers out of you gently, mindful of your tender cunt. He peppered small kisses on your thighs, trailing up your body, waiting for you to come down from your intense high. 

You felt Isaac shift, resting next to you, and his hand brushed away the hairs that were stuck to your slightly damp forehead. You opened your eyes to find Isaac looking down at you with a gentle but shy smile on his face. 

You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips at how bashful Isaac was being and placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss, uncaring if you could taste yourself on him. 

Your lips melded with his, and you felt like you could kiss him forever; his lips were soft and warm against yours. Before you knew it, the kiss grew heated again. Isaac’s jeans were soon discarded, and his deep groans joined the chorus of moans that left you and filled your room as the two of you drew pleasure from each other.

Wolf whistles and clapping were your wake-up call the following day, your friends loitering outside of your room as they saw you and Isaac wrapped up in one another underneath your sheets. 

[here’s my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

[yumiis]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 DATING THEM ; ISAAC

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; fluff/comfort

type; headcanons

read below!

Isaac really likes PDA! When you guys are walking down the street, he'll have an arm around your shoulders or your waist. If it's not that, he's holding your hand. He really likes letting everyone know that you're his, and he just really enjoys being attached to you/being with you.

In turn, him loving PDA means he's even touchier in private. He HAS to be touching you at all times or he'll probably lose his mind. He loves cuddling you, loves holding your hand, playing with your hair, anything to do with YOU.

His runner up love language is words of affirmation. Either said to him or him saying them to you. He loves giving you praise, and he loves being praised. He just finished editing a new video? Please tell him you're proud. Did you just get a promotion at work? He's telling you that you're his number one and that you deserve so much more.

He's not a gift giver, mainly because he sees it as a challenge. Whatever you get him for his birthday, that means he has to one up you for YOUR birthday. If it keeps on, he'll wind up spending thousands of dollars on you, and he will NOT stop himself.

He loves bringing you breakfast in bed, mainly because he stays up all night editing, so he's still awake by the time you get up. He just likes to do it!

Super big cuddler. He will glue himself to you at night, he doesn't care if you're sweaty or not. He'll tell you to take the blanket off before he moves away from you.

Also, kisses are always super sweet, because you have to lift his mask. "Can I give you a kiss?" "Yeah!" You lift his mask, and give him a quick kiss. He smiles, "God I love you."

[casimirlovescoffee]

Castlevania Masterlist

Alucard:

-Wearing his clothes (Female reader, slight NSFW)

-Depressed Sunhine (GN Reader)

-Pegging him (Female Reader, NSFW)

-Being his Dhampire Lover (Male Reader, NSFW)

-A rainy Day (Female reader, NSFW)

-Feeding on him (GN Succubus Reader)

Trevor:

-Depressed Sunshine (GN Reader)

-Pegging him (Female Reader, NSFW)

Sypha:

-Depressed Sunshine (GN Reader)

Hector:

-When you are Goth (GN Reader)

-Depressed Sunshine (GN Reader)

-Pegging him (Female Reader, NSFW)

Here is a link to How to request/What I write for

[yhwhsdaughter]

Hello :), I saw on your menu that you write for Castlevania. Perhaps some reader x Isaac 🥺? Where the reader is too caring for him?

Hi dear, yes I do. I love Isaac and can only hope I did him justice with this. Happy Sunday!

“I want, of all things, a pure world, a clean world, where there is only loyalty and only love.”

Isaac, due to his severe mistreatment as a slave and constant hostility from other humans, is not used to your affections by any means.

These niceties go unappreciated initially, paired with a slight suspicion that you’d somehow backstab him the moment he let his guard down. But as time passed, Isaac’s heart began to soften towards you.

He noticed the subtle smile on your lips whenever he indulged you, or the warmthness with which you did things for him—even when he didn’t ask.

Isaac often observed you, inconspicuously of course. His eyes would roam over your figure and land on your face, staring at you for what seemed eternity until you’d turn, catching him in the act, and merely smile with incredible softness.

Is he in love with you?

He found himself looking after you and making conversation. He was casual about it, as if he wasn’t just opening himself up to you. Most of the time, you’d spend hours together as he forged his night creatures which is kind of an odd activity to consider romantic… but somehow it worked.

He’s rather deep so the conversations with him could really take you anywhere. And his voice is deep yet smooth and soft, perfect in lulling you to sleep.

One time, it so happened that he was working the night away when he noticed your lack of response and looked over— only to see your form slumped in a chair, peaceful expression on your pretty face. You were so insistent on staying up with him, and you have the gall to then fall asleep as he’s in mid conversation?

For the first time in a long time, Isaac lets out a genuine chuckle.

After putting down his dagger, he strides over and quietly moves a stray piece of hair from your face.

Despite his incredulity against your affections, and his hatred for humanity, you were loyal and loving even when he didn’t return those feelings, until now that is... Isaac felt his body ache for you, promising devotion and reciprocated faithfulness.

He woke you up, not wanting you to sleep uncomfortably in the chair.

“Go to my bed.”

He would not join you, yet. Not tonight.

From then on, Isaac felt as you were an extension of himself. With fierceness, he defended you from any type of danger. In everything he sought, he found you.

Isaac was in love.

[hotchfiles]

Hello! 15 and/or 17 from prompt list + Isaac please 🥺

send me one of my boys + a prompt

isaac + reader ⋆ finding someone flirting with your crush, but all they have is eyes for you, and on you + almost kissing. but somebody walks in. "HOLY FUCK, ABOUT TIME THIS HAPPENS! I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE CONTINUE—"

parties are fun. everyone loves parties. every high schooler loves a good fucking party. you get to drink, maybe even get a little high if you know the right people. listen to good music, dance with your friends. always a good time.

well not for you.

for you it meant drinking, yes, which meant a goddamn headache the next day, dancing, having fun, yes, all of that, and on top of that, it meant watching the boy of your dreams being, for lack of a better word, chased around, by girls your age. and younger. and older. sometimes it was amusing, you could see the panic in his eyes. sometimes the girl was so gorgeous you couldn't help but look away, go somewhere else. get some fresh air, so you wouldn't have to watch anything hurtful.

you were in lov—interested in isaac for... a while, ever since he officially joined the pack, you've been playing it cool, maintaining his glance when he looked at you for a few seconds before turning away so it wouldn't be obvious, making your best not to smell his beautiful curly hair every time he hugged you... but you were only human, and he wasn't. you couldn't always control your heartbeat, so you were sure he knew it. he had to. he just wasn't interested. hurtful, but you'd live. eventually.

by 1am you're more than tipsy, and apparently so is the stunningly beautiful girl who very much on purpose tripped in front of isaac, forcing him to hold her by the waist so she wouldn't fall face first. she's charming thanking him, flirty, you know the routine by now, it's time to turn around and get some air, and you would have if stiles didn't appear out of nowhere in front of you talking about one hundred words per second. he really shouldn't drink.

while stiles asks you if his clothes are okay, if there's too much gel in his hair, if he smells nice and if he's annoying (right now he is) because every girl he tried to flirt with ignored him, you were—ignoring him. because you were forced to stay and you couldn't not look at isaac.

and his piercing blue eyes were looking right back at you, it didn't matter how many times the beautiful girl touched his arms, or laughed at him, his eyes were still on you. you selfishly wonder if the girl was just too much of a bore or... if he did that when you weren't looking, like you did when he wasn't looking. the thought makes your heart beat twice as fast, your cheeks flush and isaac notices it, obviously, smirking at you in a mischievous way you had never seen before.

that literally took your breath away, you had to leave. you finished your drink in one mouthful, handing your red cup to the still talking boy in front of you, "sure stiles, you're totally right." he looks confused, but you don't care. you turn in a rush to find the nearest unlocked door.

a room. not a good decision for whoever this house belonged to (you had no idea anymore), but you were so glad. you closed the door behind you in a swift motion and immediately start pacing around, your hands going to your face, through your hair and to your face again as you tried to take a deep breath but could only achieve a few not so deep ones.

"we don't have the money to pay for new floors if you drill a hole on these, gorgeous." your feet freeze on the spot as you hear his voice, sweet, humorous, flirty? you didn't even need to look at him to know he had that grin stamped on his lips.

"isa... what're you doing here?" your lips might as well be gone by how much you're nibbling on them, your hands gripping so hard on your own waist your nails might cut flash any time soon.

"chasing after you, obviously." god, could he not be so straight to the point for once? you nod your head countless times after he shrugs that reply out at you.

"sure... sure sure sure sure... why?" and he's grinning again, getting closer to you.

"well, this is the first time it actually looked like you wanted me and not to die." you keep nodding, and you feel like you're sweating more than normal, "so we're gonna make out, and hopefully i'm right about this." your eyes widen but you don’t move as he moves your arms from your waist to his, his hands holding your neck and he’s so close now you’re the one hearing his heartbeat. just as fast as yours.

so maybe when he looked at you there was reason to it, and maybe his hugs did linger and it wasn’t you holding on too long. maybe the times he told you to wear one of his jerseys to lacrosse matches were because he wanted to see you in his clothes, cheering for him, and not because he was friendly.

"i—i kinda wanted to die—i thought you didn't even look at me." you confessed in a murmur, he chuckled, leaning in, lips terribly close, virtually touching yours—but the door opened abruptly and the noise from the party flooded the otherwise quiet room.

stiles.

STILES.

"HOLY FUCK, ABOUT TIME THIS HAPPENS! I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE CONTINUE—" he doesn't have to say twice, you were still stunned by his interruption when isaac pulled you completely to him, kissing you passionately, hoping stiles would get a clue and leave (he did).

his hands were firm, but oh so gentle as he deepened the kiss, it sends shivers down your spine, it was intense, maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact he had wanted to do that for a really long time now.

every brush of his lips to yours was like putting more fire to a flame and you gripped to his shirt with both your hands as you moved together in perfect rhythm. it felt like a second and an eternity at the same time, you could feel isaac's body heat mixed to yours, having to part to breathe was torture.

isaac looked at you and his eyes shared the same hunger as yours, he quickly took one of your hands to his, leaving the room in quick steps as he pulled you behind with him, "so i was right, and we're leaving the party, is that okay?" he looks at you, still walking, and you can only nod, after all, parties are fun, and one with him alone is definitely more your taste.

[everlastingdreams]

Isaac Lahey x Reader : Theft Of The Heart

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: You are new at the Beacon Hills High school and catch the attention of a certain lacrosse player. Being too shy to interact properly leads to awkward situations.

Notes: This was in my WIPs for so long omg.

Word count of this fic: 2.6K words. One-shot.

Warnings: None. It’s funny (I hope)  fluff.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was the first day at a new school after having moved to Beacon Hills with your family two weeks ago.

After one week, you were already hired at a small local grocery store.

Today was the start of a new direction in life and it was nerve wracking.

Making friends at a new school was never easy, but at Beacon Hill’s High you were rather quickly approached by Lydia who was now sitting next to you on the tribunes watching the lacrosse game.

You didn’t know who to cheer for, only knew to cheer for the ones wearing Beacon Hills uniforms.

Lydia did try to point at some players and name them, saying they were friends of her.

But they ran across the field constantly, so you barely had a chance to really spot them. You had to strain your eyes to be able to follow the game.

She on the other hand seemed to focus all her attention on player twenty-four.

You just tried to keep your eyes on who had the ball in their possession.

Player fourteen was running towards the opponent’s goal.

“Lydia, I think that one is going to score.” You nudged her arm and she snapped her attention to the player running at the goal.

Isaac had the ball and was running towards the goal of the opponents, his team mates where giving him cover. He was sure of victory, that was until he saw a new face sitting on the tribunes watching the game.

A pretty face…

It was too late to avoid the collision with a player from the other team and he ended up taking a fall.

The ball and victory was lost.

Scott hurried over to his fallen friend.

“What are you doing?! Did you fall asleep or something?” Scott helped him up from the ground.

Isaac mumbled the excuse “I tripped.”

“You alright?” Scott scanned him for injuries.

“Yeah…” Isaac nodded, attention continuously darting to the tribunes.

Scott snapped his fingers in front of his face “Hey, heads up. Keep your mind on the game.”

Isaac pulled his eyes away from the tribunes and tried to focus on what his friend was telling him “Got it.”

Scott patted him on the shoulder “Alright, cover me.”

                                                            ∘°∘♡∘°∘

  At lunch, Scott noticed the way his friend’s attention kept being pulled to you sitting at a table with some of the other new students.

He nudged his elbow with his own, Isaac looked a little startled at Scott.

“What?” Isaac asked him a little agitated that he was pulled out of his daydreaming.

Scott just gave him a knowing look, trying his hardest not to laugh even just a little at Isaac’s reaction.

“She’s new.” Scott opened the door to the conversation.

Isaac cleared his throat, suddenly trying very hard not to look in your direction again “Who’s new?”

Scott snorted, shaking his head as he deadpanned “The girl that cost us a point in the game.”

Isaac frowned at him before he realized what Scott was really trying to say “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been staring at her since the second you saw her sitting in the tribunes with Lydia. Don’t even try to deny it.” Scott chuckled at his friend’s desperate attempt to hide the instant interest Isaac had for you.

“I’m not staring at her.” He bit the words at Scott and looked around him to see if no one was listening in on their conversation “..I thought I recognized her from somewhere. That’s all.”

“Yeah. You recognized her from when you let the other team knock you to the ground because you were too focused on her instead of the game.” Scott could tell with ease that Isaac was trying to bullshit his way out of this.

Isaac finally snapped “Okay, fine! Maybe I was looking at her, so what?”

“Go talk to her.” Scott said as if it was that simple.

Isaac lowered his voice “What?! No way.”

Now that Scott had him confessing, he wasn’t going to let it go so quickly “Why not?”

Isaac spoke fast, anxiety laced in his voice “Because I don’t know her. I don’t even know her name, what would I even say?”

“Ask for her name.” Scott said casually.

Isaac scoffed and turned away from him “You’re no help.”

“Chicken.” Scott muttered quietly, knowing damn well that Isaac could still pick up on it.

Isaac was about to reply when he saw you stand up from your seat at the table and walk in their direction. He felt himself freeze up completely, Scott’s eyes darted between you and Isaac as you walked past their table while chatting with one of the other new girls.

It was then that Scott failed to hold his quiet laughter at seeing Isaac look at you like a deer in headlights.

His poor friend seemed so rattled by your presence at the school that it made Isaac fall completely silent the closer you got to him.

A little help would be needed.

                                                                ∘°∘♡∘°∘

  The days flew by, it was weekend before you knew it.

The place you worked at in the weekends was a small but busy shop. The work that had to be done everyday surpassed the staff that was available. In other words, you spend your time constantly hurrying from one chore to the other.

You were stocking the shelves while keeping an eye on the checkout area.

You often were so concentrated that you kind of zoned out sometimes, it was why you had failed to see him approach you.

“Hi…” His voice pulled you out of your concentration.

You turned and your eyes met with a pair of blue ones. You fumbled with the box containing a piece of soap as you were faced with someone you had seen around school before but had never talked to.

You knew he was handsome, but having him stand so close to you made you realize how truly good looking he actually was.

The tall, curly haired, blue eyed boy. The sight of him was enough for you to develop a small crush.

“Hi…” You greeted him after composing yourself, he was still a customer “Can I help you?”

He nodded, appearing a little nervous “Uh yeah, I’m looking for the…the uh…”

Another guy approached, one who’s name you thought was Scott, if you had heard Lydia right…

Scott looked at his struggling friend deciding to end this struggle “He’s looking for the feminine hygiene section.”

“Oh.” You believed it was why he had looked so nervous “Please, follow me. I’ll show you where it is.”

They both walked at a distance behind you and you were unaware of how Scott smacked a hand against Isaac’s shoulder and gestured in your direction.

Isaac quickly looked in your direction hoping you hadn’t noticed it before he glared at his friend.

“Here it is.” You stopped in front of the shelves filled with the many products “Anything else I can help you with?”

You were already starting to turn away, ready to go back to the work you were doing.

Scott saw Isaac struggle to find a good excuse to make you stay around them a little longer.

“Uhm… I uh…” He stammered again.

You waited patiently for him to form a sentence.

Scott sighed before speaking up again “Could you help us find the tampons?”

Isaac’s eyes snapped to Scott, why couldn’t he ask you to help him find anything else in this store?

He never should have mentioned to Scott that he thought you were pretty. But then again, Scott had probably noticed days ago when he caught him staring at you on the field. It was why he had collided with a player from the opposite team.

“It’s for a friend.” Isaac cleared his throat, not daring to look you in the eye.

“Sweet of you to come and buy it for them.” You send him a smile.

At that his eyes found yours, even though he felt very embarrassed, seeing your smile made him less self-conscious about all of this.

                                                               ∘°∘♡∘°∘

  “The women’s hygiene section?!?” Isaac snapped at Scott the second he walked out the store.

Scott snorted at his reaction “What? Girls like a guy who is comfortable buying that sort of stuff.”

“Thanks a lot.” Isaac huffed.

Scott shrugged his shoulders, a quiet laugh escaped “Not my fault you failed to think of a better excuse to talk to her. Besides, she said it was sweet.”

It got on Isaac’s already delicate nerves “Yeah, well, now she’ll think this ‘friend’ is someone I’m dating. Ever think of that?”

Scott waved it away “You know what? Now that you know where she works, you can talk to her yourself. Just think of some question about a product and go ask her for help.”

He wasn’t sure of the plan “She’ll think I’m stalking her.”

Scott saw right through all the excuses of his shy friend “Isaac… it’s a shop. People go in there and ask questions every day. You’re not the only one, okay?”

                                                               ∘°∘♡∘°∘

  On Sunday, you were sticking security stickers on the more expensive items in the store. Everything over nine dollars needed one to prevent it from being stolen.

The door of the store opened and in walked the handsome boy you had barely been able to talk to yesterday. Maybe you could at least find out his name today.

With one of the make-up mirrors up for sale, you quickly inspected your appearance before placing it back.

You were in the corner where the make-up was and saw him walk in your direction, stop and then walk the other way.

Oh…

Was he too shy? Or just not interested?

With the roll of security stickers in your hand, a plan formed.

You took one sticker off the roll and waited until he was looking at something. When he was looking at cereals, you walked past him and stuck the sticker to the elbow of his sleeve without stopping.

A customer was waiting at the register and it was the perfect excuse to have walked past him.

You rang up their items and helped the old lady put them in her bag, then handed it to her “Here you go, thank you and have a nice day.”

The lady gave a broad smile and left with her groceries.

Before you could leave the register, the handsome boy walked up and placed a single box of cereals on the counter.

“Good morning.” You made an effort to give him your sweetest smile.

He blinked a few times before finding his voice “Uh…good morning.”

That shy smile of his was adorable…

You accidentally knocked over the box and he reached for it at the same time as you.

His hand landed on yours, you froze, he froze…

With a nervous laugh, you broke the awkward tension and he quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry, I’m clumsy.” You apologized and rang up the box of cereals.

“It’s fine. So, am I.” He said.

You had grown quite nervous and felt yourself withdraw in your shell of shyness “That will be three dollars, please.”

He pulled some coins from his pockets and put them on the counter for you to count.

After counting them, you picked the change up and offered it to him “Your change.”

“Ah, nah. Uhm, you can keep it.” He was nearly caught staring a you.

“You sure?” You asked.

He gave a nod “Yeah.”

You smiled at him, appreciating the kind gesture “Thanks. I hope you have a good day.”

Poor Isaac was trying to think of something to say and when that didn’t work, he replied “Thanks. You too.”

There you stood, watching him head for the door, the boy who’s name you still didn’t know…

And then, the alarm of the store went off.

Oh, gosh…

You had almost forgotten about the security sticker and hurried over to him.

He looked ridiculously nervous and you felt a pang of guilt.

Even when he was sure he had not stolen a thing, Isaac began to search his pockets “Ah, crap…”

Oh, no…

“Oh! Wait… hold on for a sec…” You quickly pulled the tag from his sleeve, holding it up for him to see.

Realization dawned on him “That’s what set the alarm off? I don’t know how it got on me…”

You smiled like a sinner in church “Oh…it happens all the time here.”

He quirked a brow at you “Oh. Weird.”

“Anyway… sorry for bothering you. I hope I’ll see you in the store again and that this didn’t scare you off.” You stammered nervously.

He nodded quickly, a shy smile growing on his face “Yeah. Don’t worry, you’ll see me again.”

You nodded nervously, feeling like a fool for doing all this.

“I’m Isaac.” He suddenly blurted out and held out his hand.

You blinked twice before you took his hand in yours and shook it “Y/n.”

He looked almost flustered now “Nice to meet you. I wanted to get a chance to talk to you but I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Did he think that you believed he would stick a security sticker on himself to get your attention? This was getting more and more ridiculous.

“I uh…” You stammered.

“Sorry if this is weird or something, I just-” He sounded so timid and sweet.

“I stuck the sticker on you.” You finally confessed.

Isaac frowned for a second “Why would you-… oh.”

A smirk spread across his face “So instead of trying a pick up line, you try to frame me for theft?”

“No! No, of course not I was just shy and stupid and -” You covered your face with your hands in shame.

He chuckled at your reaction “Don’t worry. It worked.”

What?

WHAT?!?

You couldn’t believe your shenanigans had actually worked on him.

The relief you felt was instant and you hoped to break the ice completely “But if you want a cheesy pick up line…we are supposed to tag everything above nine dollars. So I guess that means you’re a ten.”

His mouth was a little agape now and he chuckled “That uh… that’s not bad.”

You hummed in agreement.

Isaac scrambled all his courage together “Now that we’re on the topic of numbers… what’s yours?”

Your smile could not have been broader, you couldn’t believe that someone as cute as him would ask for your number.

Then you quickly looked around you for a piece of paper and a pen “Hang on… I’ll write it down for you.”

Isaac realized you were looking for something to write your number down on. He quickly took his phone from his pocket.

“Here. You can put it in my phone…if you want?” He clumsily handed you his phone, almost dropping it twice.

You gladly took the phone from him and added your number to his contact list, then handed him back the phone “Here you go.”

It was as if he couldn’t believe you had actually given him your number “Thanks…I’ll call you soon.”

You truly hoped he was being honest and that he would actually call you.

The both of you were suddenly interrupted when your boss asked you why you weren’t busy doing your job at the moment.

So you said a quick goodbye to Isaac and got back to work.

You were waiting for the familiar ringtone all day, waiting for his call.

Only at ten that evening did Isaac find enough courage to call and ask you out.

And of course, you said yes.

  Tags: 

@rachlovesactors​

I lost my Isaac taglist ;_;

[yoursinisforgiven]

HEAVENLY ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel) 

cw: smut, afab reader, pet and asriel appearance, references to this fic (envy), reader wears a dress (stops at about the mid thigh), public–ish sex, dry humping, isaac cums alot, pickel falls for peer pressure, nonconsensual use of drugs (aphrodisiacs), likely takes place after episode 12 of isaac’s series, vaginal fingering, cum eating, use of condoms (but also not, you’ll see), breeding without the intentions of pregnancy, spanking, unintentional humiliation, choking.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

"Too flashy?"  

You mumble under your breath, the question more for yourself than for Isaac, though you catch his reflection in the mirror behind you. The soft lamplight pools across the room, casting a warm glow that accentuates the dress’s intricate details. You turn slightly, letting the fabric shimmer as it clings and flows, elegant yet undeniably eye-catching.  

Your brows knit together as doubt creeps in, knotting your thoughts. You know you’re being indecisive—again. A small huff escapes your lips, frustration mingling with the nervous flutter in your chest. If this were just another night, you wouldn’t care so much about what you wore. But this wasn’t just any night. This was important. The kind of evening where first impressions were everything, where the way you carried yourself could shape conversations and leave marks that would linger long after.  

"Do you think it’s too much?" you ask, this time louder, your voice breaking the quiet tension of the room. You glance at Isaac briefly before your gaze darts back to the mirror, searching for reassurance in your own reflection.  

Isaac looks up from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed, his head tilting slightly as his eyes settle on you. For a moment, you’re unsure whether he’s assessing the gown or the way you’re fidgeting with its hem, smoothing invisible wrinkles in an effort to steady your nerves.  

“It’s perfect—” His voice is calm, grounding, but it carries the faintest edge of something deeper. You feel his eyes on you even before you see him move, his presence growing closer with each step. Goosebumps ripple along your neck as the sound of his footsteps nears.  

You meet his gaze in the mirror just as his hands find your waist, large and warm, their weight a comfort against the uncertainty stirring inside you. He leans in, his breath brushing your skin, and begins to press soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each one deliberate and unhurried.  

“—You’re perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low, carrying a sincerity that settles like a balm over your doubts.  

For a moment, the weight of the evening lifts, replaced by the steady rhythm of his touch and the warmth of his presence. You let out a small laugh, part relief, part affection, and lean into him slightly, your hands coming to rest over his.  

The tension in your chest loosens as his hands glide from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer. You let your head tilt back slightly, your smile softening as his lips brush just below your ear, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Isaac,” you murmur, half warning, half surrender, but the way his fingers curl against you makes it clear he’s already decided where this moment is heading.

“What?” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk you can feel against your skin. “Just making sure you’re feeling confident. Can’t have you second-guessing all night.”

His teasing tone melts into something darker as his lips return to your neck, a deliberate press that sends warmth cascading down your spine. You catch his gaze in the mirror, and the way his eyes darken makes your breath hitch.

“Careful,” you warn again, though it’s less convincing now, your voice catching as his hands trace slow, deliberate patterns over the smooth fabric of your gown.

Your protest dissolves as he turns you gently away from the mirror, his hands firm but careful, as though savoring the moment. The gown you’d been so worried about now feels like little more than an afterthought, forgotten in the heat of his touch and the promise in his eyes.

The evening’s worries blur into the background as his lips find yours, hungry and insistent, and the world outside your shared bedroom fades entirely.

──

A wave of nausea rolled through you, nerves twisting your stomach and surging like static through your veins. Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your gown, its soft shimmer catching the light. Despite the uncertainty that had gripped you last night, you’d grown to love it—partly because of its undeniable beauty, but mostly because of Isaac’s reaction. His touch, his gaze, his... reminders had left little room for doubt about how he saw you in it.

A faint smile played on your lips as your mind wandered. Perhaps your wedding dress would take a similar shape—sleek yet elegant. What would Isaac think of it? You could almost see him at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his expression unreadable save for the soft warmth in his eyes. And what would he wear? Something sharp, no doubt. A black suit, tailored to perfection, his tie knotted just so.

The thought sent a flutter through you, but you shook your head, willing yourself to focus. This wasn’t the time to get lost in fantasies.

The heat of Isaac’s hand on your thigh brought you back to the present. Warm and steady, his fingers rested there with casual confidence, as if they belonged. You glanced toward him, taking in the sight that never failed to stir something inside you. One hand on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, his other hand resting possessively on your thigh. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent warmth pooling low in your stomach, a reminder of how effortlessly he commanded your attention.

Your gaze flicked to his wrist, where the sleek lines of his watch caught the light. The engraving, Vacheron Constantin, glinted like a quiet boast of his refined taste. Everything about him seemed deliberate, controlled—except, perhaps, the way his fingers lightly squeezed your leg, drawing your focus back to him.

Your eyes trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his expression relaxed yet focused. Sinful. That’s what came to mind. How shameful it was that a simple gesture—a hand resting so casually on your leg—could stir such warmth in you.

“You okay?” His voice broke through your thoughts, deep and calm, yet threaded with a faint curiosity.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you with its softness. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rising despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. You turned your head toward the window—it was nighttime. The blur of passing scenery is a feeble distraction from the warmth of his touch.

──

You knew you had arrived when the grand manor loomed into view, its towering stone facade shadowed by the dim evening light. Rows of expensive cars lined the roads like trophies on display, their gleaming exteriors a reflection of the kind of crowd you were about to face. Your hands grew clammy as Isaac pulled the car into a spot, the soft purr of the engine fading into silence. He wasted no time, stepping out and coming around to your side to open the door.  

“Always a gentleman,” you teased softly, though your voice wavered under the weight of your nerves.  

He offered you his arm with a slight smirk. You didn’t hesitate, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on tightly—possessively, even. The warmth of his presence steadied you as the heavy oak doors swung open before you, two suited men pulling them aside with ease. One gave Isaac a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of something you weren’t privy to.  

The air inside the manor was cool, the kind of chill that seeped into your skin. The stone walls, thick and oppressive, seemed to absorb the faint hum of life within. The corridors stretched endlessly, their grandeur undeniable but suffocating. The marble beneath your heels gleamed, reflecting the flicker of distant candlelight from ornate chandeliers above. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements like whispered secrets.  

Your heels clicked softly against the marble as you walked, the sound a sharp contrast to the muted classical music and faint laughter echoing from deeper within. The melodies mingled with the distant murmur of voices, weaving an ambiance of luxury tinged with unease.  

“Are we late?” you asked, your voice a near whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile balance of the atmosphere.  

Isaac glanced at his watch, the familiar glint of his timepiece catching your eye. “Seventeen minutes,” he replied, his tone as casual as if he were remarking on the weather.  

You brought a hand to your mouth, a soft gasp escaping. His smirk deepened as he led you up the grand staircase, its elegant curves spiraling upward like a work of art. From the balcony above, the vast entryway sprawled below, its polished floors gleaming in the dim light.  

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we wouldn’t have been late if you’d gotten out of bed when I told you.”  

You gasped, scandalized, and lightly swatted his arm. “Maybe I could have if you hadn’t stolen all sensation from my legs,” you shot back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.  

Isaac’s laugh was rich, low, and infectious. You couldn’t help but join him, the tension from moments before melting away in the shared humor. But the moment was short-lived.  

“Isaac?”  

The voice was soft, hesitant, as if unsure of its place in the room. It cut through the air like a subtle warning, halting your laughter in an instant.

At the base of the stairs stood a figure, their posture uncertain, their expression torn between indecision and something deeper. Something raw. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the ache in their eyes, a silent pleading that tugged at your chest despite yourself.

They were undoubtedly beautiful. No, more than beautiful—angelic. Their features were impossibly perfect, almost otherworldly, like something sculpted by the hands of a master artist. But there was something unsettling about their beauty, something too perfect, too intense.

You furrowed your brows, your pulse quickening. Something about them felt... unreal. You couldn’t quite place it, but their presence stirred something uneasy within you.

Isaac’s demeanor shifted instantly. His laughter faded, his body tensing as he regarded the person below. He said nothing, his silence heavy, measured.  

You opened your mouth, instinctively wanting to ask if they were all right, but the words caught in your throat. Before you could find them, the person mumbled an apology and turned abruptly, disappearing through the heavy doors at the bottom of the staircase.  

You stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the exchange settling over you like a chill. “Who was that?” you finally asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.  

Isaac didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the door they’d just passed through. Then, with a shake of his head, “No one important,” he said. You fur your brows slightly at his dismissive tone.

He placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you further into the manor. But as you ascended the remaining steps, you couldn’t shake the image of the figure’s troubled face—or the lingering feeling that they had left something unsaid. 

 ──

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the room nearly took your breath away. A sea of glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests who mingled in soft murmurs and laughter. The air was rich with the scent of expensive perfume and freshly poured champagne. Velvet curtains framed the tall, arched windows, allowing the faintest touch of moonlight to spill in. A string quartet played in the corner, their delicate notes weaving through the crowd like a distant lullaby, adding to the atmosphere of quiet opulence.

Isaac’s grip on your back was reassuring as he guided you further into the space. His posture was confident, almost regal, a man at ease in such settings. But as you walked with him, you couldn't help but feel the weight of all the eyes in the room drifting toward you. It was as if the room had paused, just for a second, in anticipation of something—a moment of collective awareness, where the air itself seemed to hum with unspoken expectations.

He steered you toward a group of men gathered near the far side of the room. Their voices were deep and authoritative, cutting through the ambient hum of the ballroom, filled with discussions of business deals, mutual acquaintances, and the kind of power that came with wealth and influence. As you walked closer, you could tell by the way they nodded to Isaac that he was a familiar presence here—expected, perhaps even revered. Their glances flickered between you and Isaac, curious and calculating, but you did your best to appear composed, to match Isaac’s unshakable confidence, even as an uncomfortable flutter stirred deep inside you.

Before you could fully immerse yourself in the conversation, a sharp movement across the room caught your eye. You froze, heart quickening, your gaze locking on a man and a woman standing near one of the marble columns. A scene unfolded between them that felt strangely out of place amidst the polished elegance of the ballroom.

The man was somewhat tall, his features sharp, his presence commanding. He held the woman’s wrist in a tight grip, pulling it forcefully away from his chest. The look on his face was one of pure distaste, as if her touch had somehow offended him. The woman, delicate and startled, tried to pull her hand back, confusion written all over her face, but he wouldn’t let her. His gaze shifted, scanning the room quickly—looking for someone, or perhaps something. 

A chill ran through you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment, you thought his cold, penetrating gaze was aimed at you. But then you realized with a sudden shift in his attention that he wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on Isaac, who was gliding through the group with effortless confidence, completely unaware of the tension that had sparked between the two figures.

The woman, abandoned and disoriented, hesitated for a moment. She glanced at the man, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. With a dismissive flick of his hand, the man turned his back on her, leaving her standing there, frozen, a mix of confusion and frustration evident on her face. She glanced after him, a flicker of something in her eyes—perhaps longing, perhaps anger—but she didn’t follow him. Instead, she allowed herself to be swallowed by the crowd, her steps faltering as she hesitated, unsure whether to pursue or retreat.

Your gaze lingered on the woman for a moment longer, noting the sharpness in her eyes and the way she held herself with a mixture of dignity and something else—a sense of quiet desperation. It was a brief interaction, one that seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of the room, as the guests continued their conversations, unaware of the subtle drama that had just unfolded.

Isaac’s voice cut through your thoughts as the men he had been speaking to began to make their exit. They mentioned something about heading home, offering polite farewells before walking away, their conversations already fading into the distance. Just as the last of them disappeared from view, a new figure approached. You stiffened slightly as you recognized him—the man you had seen earlier.

He walked with a purposeful stride, his eyes never leaving Isaac as he approached. “Isaac,” he greeted smoothly, his voice tinged with amusement, as if he were smirking even though his lips never fully moved. 

Isaac’s response was flat, unamused. “Asriel.”

You couldn’t help it—a stifled giggle escaped your lips, the contrast between Isaac’s cool demeanor and Asriel’s calculated smugness making the moment oddly amusing. Asriel’s eyes flickered toward you for a split second, but his attention quickly returned to Isaac, as though you were an afterthought. “Here with your pet?” he asked, the words laced with condescension.

Isaac’s reply was instantaneous, but there was no warmth in it. “They aren’t my pet,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

Asriel didn’t seem phased by the sharp correction. “Speaking of which,” he continued, brushing a hand through his hair dismissively, “Have you seen my own? I’m afraid they had a little... tantrum and stormed off.” His eyes glinted with an almost sadistic amusement, like the whole situation was a private joke he was enjoying alone.

“I saw them on our way inside,” Isaac replied, his voice cool, almost bored. “They called after me—Keep it on a tighter leash, it’s dangerous.”

You froze, the harshness of Isaac’s words striking you. ‘It.’ The way he referred to a person with such impersonal detachment—it unsettled you, the cruel dismissal hanging in the air. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had shown you moments before. You furrowed your brows at Isaac, unsure of how to process the casual cruelty of his tone, or if the words themselves carried a deeper meaning.

Asriel, however, seemed delighted by the exchange. His laugh was low, mocking, as he glanced from Isaac to you. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, assessing, before shifting back to Isaac. He was toying with both of you, and you could see it—he was enjoying it entirely too much.

Isaac didn’t seem to notice or care, his gaze flickering over the room as though searching for something—or someone—else to divert his attention. His eyes landed on a group of women clustered together near the far side of the ballroom. They were elegantly dressed, no doubt the wives of some of the men in attendance, their laughter soft and insincere, like the rest of the evening’s delicate façade. Isaac turned back to you, his posture still immaculate, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

He leaned down toward you, his voice low, almost casual. “Why don’t you join them?” he suggested, his words almost too casual, as though the decision were yours to make, but there was an unmistakable edge to his tone. You weren’t sure if he was offering you a choice, or subtly pushing you away. Either way, you felt the weight of his suggestion, a quiet command wrapped in the guise of an invitation.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced in the direction Isaac was looking, at the group of women, their laughter light and the soft clink of their glasses mingling in the air. A part of you wanted to refuse, to stay by Isaac’s side, but the other part of you felt an unsettling pull—something about the way Asriel and Isaac spoke, the tension that still lingered between them, made you feel like an outsider in a world you hadn’t quite understood yet.

Despite the unease gnawing at you, you found yourself walking toward the group of women. It felt almost absurd, as if you were back in primary school, hesitating at the edge of a playground, wondering whether or not you’d be accepted. The weight of their gaze, though polite, felt like a quiet judgment you couldn’t shake. You couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a world that was already perfectly in place.

The women were gathered in a tight circle, their laughter light, their conversations flowing effortlessly. As you approached, they turned their heads, their eyes briefly assessing you before their expressions softened into warm, inviting smiles. They looked like they belonged here, each of them effortlessly at ease in the opulence of the ballroom, dressed in gowns that shimmered with wealth and grace.

"Well, well," a woman with dark hair and a knowing smile said, tilting her head as she looked you up and down. "Isaac's latest, I assume?" Her voice was smooth, like velvet.

You smiled nervously. "Yes, that's right. I'm just... trying to get to know everyone."

One of the other women, a petite brunette, grinned. "You’ve certainly come to the right place, darling. But don’t worry, we’ll help you fit right in."

You felt an unfamiliar pressure mounting in your chest, as if they were already measuring you up, assessing where you stood. The woman who spoke before raised an eyebrow, studying you with curiosity. “So, how did you meet Isaac?” she asked, her tone polite, but there was a subtle edge to her words. 

You shifted your weight awkwardly. “We’ve known each other for a while,” you said carefully. “Just… recently started spending more time together.” Lies. a mask you wore to shield yourself from the questions you weren’t sure you wanted to answer.

“That sounds interesting,” the raven-haired woman chimed in, glancing between you and the others, clearly interested in what you’d say next. “What is it about Isaac that’s so... irresistible?”

Before you could answer, the woman with dark hair spoke again, her voice light but with a sharp undertone, “I’d be careful. Men like him don’t usually settle down.” She let out a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not that you should expect that, of course.”

The words hung in the air like a subtle warning. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed the thought aside, trying to mask your discomfort. “I’m not expecting anything,” you said, your voice steady, though you were unsure of your own feelings.

Another woman, a blonde with a sharp chin, tilted her head, sizing you up. “No expectations. That’s a good approach,” she said with a smirk, her voice casual but calculating. “Just enjoy the ride, darling. Life’s too short to overthink it.”

You nodded, trying to smile, but the words felt hollow. As the conversation shifted to something lighter, you felt the attention shift from you, but the undercurrent of subtle judgment remained. For a moment, you wondered if you truly belonged here.

Then, as if on cue, one of the women— the raven-haired beauty—held out a delicate glass of champagne to you, her expression almost playful. “Here, try this. You’ll feel much better.”

You hesitated, looking at the glass. There was something almost predatory in the way she was offering it, but her smile was warm, and the others were watching expectantly. The pressure mounted, the subtle challenge in the air. You couldn’t back out now, not without feeling like you’d just failed some unspoken test.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Come on, it’s just one drink. It’s harmless.” She pushed the glass toward you again, her voice sweet but firm, as though it were an unspoken rule you couldn’t break.

You took it, and drank it.

The group of women exchanged pleased glances, and for the briefest moment, you felt a sense of belonging. You’d crossed an invisible line, done something small to cement your place in their world. But as the liquid settled in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of regret. Had you made a mistake? Had you just given in to something that felt wrong? You glanced back at Isaac across the room, his figure easily spotted among the crowd, but he was talking to someone else, his attention elsewhere. For now, you were alone in this strange, glittering world, caught between the allure of its opulence and the nagging sense that you weren’t truly meant to be here.

The women continued to chat, the conversation flowing around you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being pulled further into a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand.

"See?" the blonde woman said, smiling at you with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, but you felt a sense of ease flood over you, a dulling of the sharp edges of your self-doubt. For a brief moment, you felt like part of the group, like you’d passed some invisible threshold. 

But just as quickly as it had come, the feeling was replaced with something else—a deepening unease that you couldn’t quite place. You looked around, catching glimpses of the other guests as they mingled in the ballroom, their conversations a blur of names and deals and laughter. 

As the night wore on, the conversation turned to idle gossip, and you found yourself talking more freely, offering your opinions in an attempt to fit in. The words came easily, the alcohol loosening your tongue, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the feeling that you didn’t truly belong here grew louder.

One of the women leaned closer to you, her voice low, “You know, you’re really starting to fit in. Just keep playing the game.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. The evening felt like a game you hadn’t agreed to play—yet here you were, caught in it, taking another sip of the drink in your hand, and wondering how far you were willing to go to keep up the charade. 

The conversation turned to more casual topics, and soon you found yourself swept into the rhythm of the group. They spoke of the latest social events, the fashion, and the discreet gossip that swirled in the upper circles of society. You listened, offering the occasional comment, feeling the pressure to fit in, to be part of the group, as though your every word and gesture were being scrutinized.

──

The night wore on, the laughter and chatter of the ballroom slowly blending into a dull murmur around you. You sat next to the blonde woman who had offered you the drink, her presence still warm and welcoming, though something about the evening felt off. She had taken a particular interest in you, leaning in every now and then to share intimate details about her life. Her husband, she explained, treated her poorly, often leaving her feeling neglected and alone. You could hear the vulnerability in her voice, and you wanted to listen, to offer some comfort. But something else was tugging at your focus—something you couldn’t shake.

As she spoke, you could feel the growing heat within you, the sudden warmth spreading across your skin. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed nervously, a strange pressure building in your chest. Your heart beat faster, and you realized, with growing discomfort, that it wasn’t just the warmth of the ballroom that was affecting you. No, there was something in that drink.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, arousal had pooled underneath you. your fingers tightening around the glass as the sensation inside you intensified. You looked down at the champagne in your hand, your thoughts racing. The heat coursing through your body made you feel dizzy, lightheaded. It was like a fire building inside, a quiet but insistent force you couldn’t ignore.

You blinked, trying to focus, but the room around you seemed to blur at the edges. Your gaze instinctively flicked to Isaac, who was still conversing with a group of men across the room, his figure confident and composed. But even from across the room, you felt the pull, the strange sensation tugging at you, a magnetic force that seemed to center on him.

You could feel your body reacting, growing warmer under his presence, even from afar. But this...this wasn’t right. You quickly turned back to the blonde woman beside you, your voice barely a whisper. 

“W...what was in that drink?” you managed to ask, your words slurring slightly, though you tried to steady yourself. “It’s really—good...”

The blonde woman’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer, her voice low and almost soothing. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s just champagne,” she replied, her tone casual, almost too casual. “But there is something else in there... just a little popper.”

You blinked in confusion, your mind struggling to catch up. “Poppers?”

She chuckled, her eyes glimmering with something almost too knowing. “Aphrodisiac, honey.” she clarified with a wink, as if the answer were as simple as breathing.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, and your heart skipped a beat. Your pulse quickened, and the room seemed to close in on you. “Aphrodisiac?” you repeated, your voice hoarse.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she studied your reaction. “Just a little something to help you relax, darling,” she said, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s a common thing here, especially for... special guests. Men only want one thing, might as well make it somewhat enjoyable for us ladies too right?”

You could feel your stomach churn with a mix of anger and confusion. The heat inside you seemed to grow, and you suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. You tried to keep your composure, but it was difficult. Your mind swirled as the reality of what was happening settled into your chest, tightening like a vice.

Your eyes instinctively sought Isaac once more, but he was still deep in conversation, unaware of the turmoil you were now drowning in. You felt a mixture of betrayal and helplessness—how could this have happened? Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? The blonde woman’s presence seemed to amplify your discomfort, but you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t leave, not yet.

As the heat continued to build, your thoughts started to blur, and you felt a sudden pull in your chest. The woman’s words echoed in your mind, and you realized that you weren’t just fighting the growing warmth inside you—you were fighting to keep control, to keep yourself from slipping into whatever game they had planned for you.

You had to find a way out of this.

The warmth inside you continued to grow, and despite every attempt to focus, it became harder to keep control. The room seemed to spin ever so slightly, the lights growing too bright, the air too thick. The woman beside you continued talking, her words blending into a soft hum in the background as your focus wavered. Every inch of your body seemed to ache, a kind of restlessness pushing at the edges of your mind.

You needed to focus, but the desire to be near Isaac, to feel his presence, had intensified. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist, drawing you toward him even though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. The heat that burned in your chest now seemed to consume your every thought.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly, excusing yourself from the blonde woman’s conversation, her voice following you with a soft chuckle that only fueled your unease. You stumbled slightly as you moved through the crowd, your legs unsteady, but you couldn’t stop. Isaac’s figure loomed ahead, still surrounded by his conversation, his back to you as you approached him.

As you neared, you realized how out of place you must have seemed. There was something desperate in your movements, something needy, and you couldn't stop it. The moment you reached Isaac, you placed a hand on his arm, feeling a surge of heat course through your fingers at the touch.

Isaac turned, a slight flicker of surprise in his eyes as he met your gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice cool but with an edge of concern.

Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost breathless. “I—I need you,” you said, your words feeling foreign even to yourself. “Please.”

His brow furrowed as he assessed you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. But before he could respond, the man he had been speaking to earlier interrupted, stepping forward with a slight smirk. “Everything alright, Isaac?”

You barely registered the man's presence, your focus still on Isaac as you felt a deep, gnawing need take over you. It was like something was clawing at you from the inside, demanding attention, pulling you towards him.

Isaac’s gaze shifted between you and the man, his expression unreadable, before he gave a quiet, almost dismissive nod to the other man. “I’ll be fine,” he said curtly, his voice returning to its usual calm composure. 

Then, turning to you, his tone softened, but only just. “Come with me,” he said, his hand sliding onto the small of your back. 

You nodded eagerly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You couldn’t think straight anymore, and you didn’t want to. The heat inside you was all-consuming, and all you wanted was for Isaac to take you somewhere quiet, away from the eyes of everyone else.

As you moved together, you caught a glimpse of the blonde woman’s eyes, watching you from across the room. Her smile was wide, knowing, and it made your stomach twist even more.

But Isaac's hand on your back was grounding, and you allowed yourself to follow him. You needed to escape the sensations that were overwhelming you, but deep down, you were starting to wonder if there was any way out at all.

──

Isaac’s hand was firm on your back as he guided you through the maze of the ballroom, his pace quickening now that you were away from the prying eyes of the crowd. The tension in your body only increased with each step you took. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, and the heat that had been building inside you all evening was becoming unbearable. The hallway ahead was dimly lit, leading to a small restroom tucked away from the main gathering.

Isaac’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in his energy, as though something had clicked into place. You could feel his presence next to you, his body close, and yet it was as if there was an invisible wall between the two of you, one that only seemed to grow the further you moved away from the noise of the ballroom.

When you reached the restroom, Isaac opened the door with a firm push and ushered you inside, his movements swift but not harsh. The room was cool, the polished marble floors and gold accents adding a sense of luxury, but the air between you both was heavy, charged with something else.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and then he turned to face you, his eyes narrowing as they took in your pale face and the discomfort that seemed to radiate from you. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low, tight with an edge of concern that you hadn’t heard before.

You swallowed hard, the words feeling thick in your throat. Your body was still trembling with the effects of the drink, and your mind was a haze, but you forced yourself to meet Isaac’s gaze. There was no use hiding it from him now. “The drink,” you said, your voice shaky. “The woman gave me something in it... something to make me... feel different. I—I didn’t know what it was at first. But now… I feel like I can’t think straight, Isaac. There’s something wrong. I didn’t know what was happening.”

Isaac’s expression hardened as he listened to your words, his features sharpening with a visible flash of anger. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually composed exterior. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“What the hell did she give you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with fury.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice faltering. “She said it was a... aphrodisiac. She told me it would help me relax, that it was something they do here for... special guests.”

Isaac’s face twisted with disgust, and his hands clenched tighter. “I should’ve been there,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his tone venomous. “I should’ve been watching. You’re not supposed to be left alone with people like that.” His eyes turned back to you, a look of regret clouding his usual control. “I never should’ve let her near you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, the weight of his words sinking deep within you. You had never seen Isaac like this—his anger was palpable, filling the room, and yet it was not directed at you. It felt as though he was angry at himself, as though he was blaming himself for letting this happen to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice softening, though it still carried the edge of his previous fury. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your shoulder, his touch almost apologetic. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve let anyone get close to you. This is on me.”

You felt a swell of emotion inside you, the combination of his apology and his anger, but also the overwhelming pressure of what you were feeling. The heat inside you had not abated; if anything, it had only grown stronger. You could feel the intensity in your body—something between desire and panic—and you had no idea how to fight it. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come out right.

Isaac studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he exhaled sharply.

“It’s not your fault, Isaac. You didn’t do this. I—this wasn’t your fault.”

Isaac’s brows furrowed, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something in your gaze. “But I wasn’t there. I should’ve been more careful. You—” He stopped, his words trailing off, and the anger shifted into frustration. He took a step toward you, his voice low but urgent. “I should’ve never let anyone near you like that. I should’ve protected you.”

You felt a wave of something soft, a quiet understanding stirring within you, even as your heart raced with the aftermath of everything. The heat, the dizziness, the overwhelming feeling of loss of control—it was all there, but so was the fact that Isaac was trying to make it right.

“No,” you repeated, but this time, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. “You don’t need to protect me from this. I’m not a child, Isaac.” You reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart under the fabric of his shirt. “I know you care, but this wasn’t your fault. You can’t always be everywhere at once.”

Isaac stood still, taking in your words, his expression still etched with guilt. “I should’ve been watching out for you,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking down at you, his gaze softening as you continued to reassure him.

“You were there for me, Isaac,” you said, your voice steady now, even though the heat still simmered inside you. “You’re here now, and that’s enough. Please… don’t blame yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, you reached up, cupping his jaw gently with your hand. His breath hitched at the touch, and you could see his internal struggle playing out across his face. “Please, Isaac,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Stay with me.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there, his eyes locked onto yours, the flickering candlelight from the restroom’s sconces casting shadows across his face. You could feel the heat between you growing, not just from the drug still working its way through your veins, but from something else—a tension, an electricity in the air that felt impossible to ignore.

Then, as if something finally gave way, Isaac leaned in slowly, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours with a careful hesitance, like he was waiting for you to pull back, to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you deepened the kiss, your hands threading into his hair as his grip on your waist tightened.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as though you both needed to reassure each other that this moment was real, that you weren’t just victims of a situation that you couldn’t control. Isaac’s hands slid to your back, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together, the heat of his touch mixing with the warmth still rising in you.

For a brief second, the room seemed to disappear. The distant hum of the ballroom, the lingering discomfort of the drug, the world outside—it all faded as the kiss consumed you both.

Isaac pulled away just slightly, his breath ragged against your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Not now, not ever.”

You didn’t answer him with words—there was nothing left to say. Instead, you kissed him again, this time with everything you had, as if the kiss itself would somehow erase the fear and confusion that had clouded your mind.

And in that moment, for a fleeting second, nothing else mattered.

Isaac's hands roamed your curves, desperation fueling his touch as he gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact, feeling the hard length of him through the fabric of his tailored trousers. The heat pooling in your core intensified, the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins demanding more.

"Isaac," you gasped, your fingers fisting in his dark hair as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His lips found your pulse point, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin as he felt your heart racing beneath his touch.

With a low groan, Isaac's hands slid down to grip the hem of your dress, his fingers slipping beneath the silky fabric to caress the bare skin of your thighs. He gripped your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles on the sensitive flesh as he slowly inched the dress up, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his fingers brushed against the lace edge of your panties. The damp fabric clung to your heated flesh, the evidence of your arousal unmistakable. Isaac's eyes darkened with lust as he felt the dampness, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his voice rough with desire. 

His fingers pushed the lace aside, and he stroked your slick folds, his touch maddeningly slow and teasing. You bucked against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure, anything to ease the ache building inside you.

Isaac chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers delving deeper, two digits sinking into your tight, clinging heat. "Greedy" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So hungry for my touch."

You could only whimper in response, your hips rolling against his hand as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, circling motions. The pleasure was intense, the drug amplifying every sensation until you could hardly think straight.

Isaac's other hand slid up your body, pushing the top of your dress down to expose your breasts to the cool air of the restroom. Your nipples pebble, Isaac leaned in, capturing one of your hardened nipples between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he sucked hard. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your dripping sex, plunging in and out, curling to stroke that spot deep inside that made your toes curl in your heels.

Your head fell back, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as the dual assault on your breast and sex pushed you closer to the edge. Isaac seemed determined to make you come undone, to prove that he could give you the pleasure you craved, that he could wipe away the lingering traces of the drug-induced haze and replace it with the clarity of your shared desire.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips trailing kisses up the swell of your breast, over your collarbone, until he reached your mouth once more. He kissed you hard, his tongue delving inside to claim you, to make you his.

"Come for me," Isaac demanded against your lips, his voice a low, urgent growl. "Let me feel you come apart in my arms."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the press of his hard, clothed cock against your thigh, proved too much. With a silent scream of his name, you shattered, your sex clenching and fluttering around his fingers as wave after wave of intense, mind-numbing bliss crashed over you. Isaac’s free hand moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping gently but firmly around it, applying just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

“Quiet,” he murmured, his voice low, commanding, though there was no malice in it—only a subtle warning. The air between you thickened with a mixture of heat and tension as he held you there, his grip almost protective, as if daring anything or anyone to threaten this fragile moment.

Isaac worked you through your climax, his fingers never stopping their movements until the last aftershock had left your body trembling. As you slowly drifted down from the high, he pulled his fingers from your still-spasming sex, bringing them to his mouth to suck your essence from the digits.

"Delicious," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, dark with satisfaction and lingering desire.

Before you could respond, he captured your mouth in another searing kiss, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor of your shared passion igniting the embers of your arousal once more.

As the kiss deepened, Isaac's hands slid down to grip your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he turned to press you against the cool marble wall of the restroom, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Isaac's hips rolled forward, grinding his clothed arousal against your sensitive, dripping sex. The rough fabric of his trousers created a delicious friction, stoking the embers of your desire back into a raging inferno. You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, needing to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations.

Isaac's hands slid under your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he held you aloft with an almost bruising force. He tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. You tilted your head to give him better access, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Isaac growled, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. His words, crude and vulgar, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You could feel the thick outline of his erection straining against his trousers, the heat of him scorching your core even through the fabric barrier. The ache between your legs intensified, your body yearning to be filled, to be claimed by this dominant, demanding man.

Isaac's fingers found the hem of your dress again, pushing the material up and over your hips to pool around your waist. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading the globes roughly as he ground his clothed cock harder against your lace-covered sex. The damp fabric of your panties clung to your swollen folds, the evidence of your arousal coating the delicate lace.

"You're mine," Isaac rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Say it."

He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his hips, the head of his cock catching on your clit through the fabric, sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through you. Your back arched, pressing your breasts against his chest, the hard points of your nipples straining against the confines of your dress.

"I'm yours," you gasped out, your voice ragged with need. "Only yours, Isaac."

Isaac's eyes flashed with a dark, primal hunger as he tore your panties away, the flimsy lace offering no resistance to his brute strength. He tossed the ruined garment aside, his large hands gripping your bare ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The cool air of the restroom hit your exposed, dripping sex, making you shiver and clench around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Look at you” He coo’s, words punctuated by grinding the thick ridge of his erection against your naked, swollen folds, the rough fabric of his trousers creating a delicious friction that made stars explode behind your eyelids. You could feel every rigid inch of him, feel the heat of his flesh even through the barrier of clothing, and it made your core clench and flutter wildly, a fresh gush of arousal flooding your core.

With a low groan, Isaac reached into the back pocket of his tailored trousers and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open, his fingers deftly plucking out a small, square packet. Tearing it open with his teeth, he pulled out the condom, tossing the empty wrapper carelessly aside.

He undid his belt with quick, efficient movements. The leather slipped through the buckle, the sound of it hitting the marble floor loud in the charged silence of the restroom, he popped the button of his trousers, lowering the zipper with a soft hiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as he tugged his trousers and boxers down, just enough to free his throbbing erection. It sprang forth, long, thick and hard, the swollen head an angry pink and already glistening with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.

"Do you really want me to take you here?" Isaac taunted, his voice a low, rough rasp as he tore open the condom packet with his teeth.

He rolled the condom over his impressive length with practiced ease, the latex stretching taut over his thick flesh. Once sheathed, he gripped your thighs harder, his fingers digging into the soft skin hard enough to leave imprints. With a sharp spank to your ass the stinging slap of his palm against your skin making your sex clench and flutter wildly around his pistoning cock. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. “Answer me.”

“Here—please Isaac” You beg, your voice hoarse.

Isaac's eyes darkened with lust and a hint of something wilder, more primal, as he lined himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick folds, parting them easily, teasingly. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, could sense how desperately your body ached to be filled by him.

"Breathe, my love." Isaac murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. 

As if on cue, he thrust forward, sheathing himself inside you with one powerful, decisive stroke. A guttural groan tore from his throat as your tight, wet heat engulfed him, your walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his thick girth.

"God" Isaac groaned, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to move, his hips snapping forward and pulling back in a relentless, driving rhythm.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts that had your entire body jolting with the force. The obscene slap of skin against skin echoed through the restroom, mingling with your wanton moans and Isaac's harsh, ragged breathing.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. Isaac's hand slid up your body, cupping one of your breasts, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he suckled hard, marking you as his.

Lost in the throes of passion, neither of you noticed the condom stretching taut around Isaac's pistoning shaft, the latex straining with each deep, driving thrust. It was only when a sharp, snapping sound cut through the fog of lust that you both froze, your eyes widening in realization.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice high and breathy, tinged with a note of desperation.

Something primal and possessive flashed in Isaac's eyes at your wanton plea. With a low, animalistic growl, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you utterly. At the same time, he began to move again, his hips surging forward in hard, deep thrusts that struck that secret, hidden spot inside you with every plunge of his shaft. He began grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, the rough friction sending you hurtling over the edge. Your body convulsed beneath him, your sex clamping down on his length like a vice as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

You could feel the hot, heavy spurts of his seed flooding your core, painting your insides with his essence. It was a deeply intimate, primal moment, the two of you locked together in the throes of mutual climax, joined as closely as two people could be.

Isaac collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the wall as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his touch almost reverent as he traced the contours of your cheekbones, your jaw, your lips.

As the waves of your shared climax subsided, Isaac slowly pulled back, his softening length slipping from your tender, well-used sex with a gush of combined fluids. You both winced slightly at the sensation, the intimate act leaving you feeling deliciously satisfied yet oddly empty.

Isaac carefully set you back on your feet, his hands on your waist to steady you until you found your balance. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling slightly as they took your weight once more. He kept you pressed against him for a moment longer, his chin resting atop your head as he held you close.

"Be careful, love," he murmured, his voice a low, concerned rumble. "I don't want you collapsing on me now."

He reluctantly let you go, taking a step back to survey the disheveled state of your clothing. With deft fingers, he smoothed your dress back down over your curves, his touch lingering on the swell of your hips, the dip of your waist. He retrieved your ruined panties, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he held them up, assisting you by putting them back on.

"Looks like these won't be needed any more tonight," Isaac quipped, tossing them carelessly into a nearby wastebasket. He tucked his own shirt back into his trousers, doing up the button and zipper with quick, dusting off his blazer with his hand all in efficient motions.

Isaac then took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his own. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Offering you his arm once more as he leads you out the restroom. “You're exhausted” He says, “Let’s go back home.”

As you and Isaac descended the grand staircase, the weight of the night seemed to press down on you more than ever. The echo of your footsteps reverberated in the cool, marble corridors. The doors opened ahead by the same two men from earlier before. The chill of the night sent a shiver through you, and without hesitation, Isaac slipped his blazer from his shoulders and draped it over yours, pulling it tight against your frame. The warmth of the fabric immediately wrapped around you, but there was still a heaviness in the air, a subtle tension that clung to you both as you made your way into the night. His hand brushed against your back, his touch firm and reassuring.

Standing near the doors, leaning casually against the wall, was the figure you had seen earlier—the one you had recognized as “Asriel’s pet.” They were impossible to ignore, even now. Their beauty was ethereal, as if sculpted by the hands of some unseen artist—too perfect, too captivating. The moonlight danced off their features, accentuating every sharp contour and the way their eyes seemed to glow with an unsettling intensity.

You looked up at Isaac, instinctively waiting for his reaction. As you both drew nearer, the figure’s eyes flicked to you, a slow and deliberate gaze that seemed to take in every detail of your exposed legs. The way they looked at you sent a chill down your spine, a feeling that almost bordered on possessive. A smirk stretched across their lips, and you could feel the weight of their gaze before they spoke.

“Must’ve been a fun night,” they said, their voice dripping with mockery, sharp and pointed. There was a cruelty in their tone, but beneath that, something darker, more dangerous—almost predatory.

Confused, you furrowed your brows, not quite understanding the insinuation. But then, your eyes dropped to your legs, and the sickening realization hit you like a wave—Isaac’s essence, the remnants of your intimate moment, was trickling down your leg. A hot flush of embarrassment burned through your chest, but before you could react, Isaac’s grip on your hand tightened, his body stiffening as his jaw clenched in barely contained fury.

“Stay close,” he muttered under his breath, his words low but firm. His gaze locked onto the figure, filled with an icy, silent threat. Then his attention turned back to you, his eyes softening momentarily as his hand moved to steady you, the concern for you outweighing the rage that simmered beneath the surface. “Don’t pay attention to them.”

The figure, still leaning casually against the wall, continued to smirk, their eyes flickering over you with an unsettling amusement. They didn’t push further, but their silence spoke volumes—mocking, daring, almost as if they were watching you both, waiting for something to break.

Isaac, sensing your unease, led you away, his body moving closer to yours. He guided you with a firmness that conveyed both his protectiveness and his anger, the night air colder as it bit at your skin. As you walked past the figure, you couldn't help but glance over at them once more, and in that moment, the figure’s eyes locked onto yours.

They mouthed something, their lips curling into a smile as they spoke the words that sent a shiver down your spine. "See you soon." The smirk on their face deepened as they gave a small, deliberate wave, the motion almost mocking as you walked away.

Your pulse quickened at the thought of their cryptic words, the warning behind them making your skin prickle. You looked up at Isaac, who kept his focus ahead, his anger still apparent in every step he took, but he offered no explanation.

By the time you reached the car, you could feel the cold still clinging to you, the remnants of the uncomfortable encounter sticking in your mind. Isaac opened the door for you, the tension in his body still evident as he held your gaze for a moment longer than usual.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a firmness in it. “I’ll cook for you tonight.” There was something comforting in the simplicity of his words, and as you climbed into the car, you allowed yourself to relax just a little, despite the lingering unease. Isaac started the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a strange sense of normalcy after everything that had just happened.As the car rolled out of the manor's driveway and into the night, your mind continued to whirl with the figure’s haunting presence and those words—“See you soon.”

──

author's note: dedicated to the anon who referred to me as dear, if it matters to anyone at all i imagined isaac wearing this watch.

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello! I hope you have/are having a good day. May I reuqest headcanons about how would Alucard, Issac, Hector and Trevor would react if their crush had similar powers to Maria Renard and they only find out about it during a fight?

Oh sure!!

Masterlist 12

Trevor

Has seen his fair share of weird things so this doesn’t surprise him entirely, if anything he’s very much adoring towards your animals (as long as they don’t bother him too much)

Alucard

Just naturally curious about how your powers work, where those animals come from, and if these animals are staying, where are they gonna live?!

But it makes the village children happy so he can’t have too many complaints about your animals

Isaac

He’s not used to having pets around but if you summon different cats, he can make an exception

Is the epitome of “Dad and the pet he didn’t want” energy

Hector

Given his Devils Forge magic was used a lot for pets, he automatically liked you! Little Cezar has some new playmates, and Hector has all the time to talk to you about what your powers can do

[peppymintdreams]

Bugging Isaac

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

The faint glow of Isaac’s desk lamp illuminated the room, casting shadows over stacks of papers and legal documents. He was deep in thought, brows furrowed as his pen moved swiftly across the page. Every so often, he adjusted his glasses, completely absorbed in his work.

You, however, were not interested in his case files or meticulous notes. No, tonight, you had a mission—to get his attention.

"Isaac," you called softly from the couch, hoping for a glance. Nothing.

You tried again, a little louder. "Isaac, are you busy?"

He hummed in response, barely lifting his eyes from the paper. "Very."

Not one to be deterred, you got up and wandered over to him, resting your hands on the back of his chair. "You’ve been working for hours. Don’t you think you deserve a break?"

"I’ll take one soon," he murmured, still focused.

You leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "But I miss you."

That did it. His pen paused, fingers tightening around it. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You’re relentless, aren’t you?"

You grinned. "Maybe. But only because you’re ignoring me."

Isaac leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft sigh as he looked up at you. "I’m not ignoring you. I’m just... busy."

"Too busy for me?" You pouted, crossing your arms.

His gaze softened, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Impossible to resist," you countered, tugging gently on his sleeve. "Come on. Just five minutes. I promise I’ll stop bugging you after that."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Five minutes?"

"Okay, maybe ten. But only if you ask nicely."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You’re lucky I find you charming." Pushing the chair back, he stood and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Five minutes, but you’d better make it worth my while."

You smiled up at him, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. "Oh, I intend to."

And just like that, you had his full attention.

[multific]

In the Shelter of Shadows

Isaac x Reader

Summary: With thee, I would forsake all else, for thou art my very heart and the flame that giveth me life. Let us away, where nought may shackle us, and weave a love as untamed and infinite as the heavens above.

Isaac moved silently through the dark forest, his lantern shielded to keep its glow from being noticed.

He had to be careful.

Each step brought him closer to the small jailhouse, where you were held, and accused of witchcraft.

The nonsense of it burned in his chest, he knew you better than anyone, and the accusations were as baseless as they were cruel.

You were no witch.

When he reached the building, he worked quickly, his tools making soft clicks as he picked the lock on the door.

The hinges groaned as it opened, and he froze, holding his breath until he was certain no one had heard.

Inside, the air was thick and cold, the faint sound of rustling urging him to the back of the room.

He was quick to find you. You were held like an animal. He hated that.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, crouching near the bars of your cell.

At the sound of his voice, you lifted your head from your knees.

In the dim light, he could see the lines of tears on your face. Yet, he found kindness in your eyes when you realised that it was him.

“Isaac,” you said, your voice shaky and quiet.

“I had to come,” he said softly. “I couldn’t leave you here alone.”

You crawled closer to the bars, your hands gripping the cold metal.

“I swear, I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not—” You stopped, your voice breaking, it was all too much.

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “I know you’re no witch. You’re kind, selfless, everything they’ve forgotten how to see. This madness has to stop.”

You reached through the bars, and he took your hand in his, his grip firm and warm. It comforted you a little.

Despite all that was going on, Isaac seemed the only one who was able to ground you.

“They say I will hang by morning,” you whispered. “I’m so scared, Isaac.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said firmly. “I’ll get you out of here before it’s too late. We’ll leave this place and start over somewhere safe.”

You stared at him, hope mixing with doubt.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ll make it happen,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “Trust me. Be ready.”

Before he slipped away, he pressed a kiss to your hand, a quiet vow that he wouldn’t let you down.

All you had to do was trust and wait for him.

The next morning, just before daylight, Isaac waited for the perfect moment.

The people were distracted, their attention drawn by another commotion. He moved swiftly, unlocking your cell with practised ease. When he stepped inside, the sight of you made him stop in his tracks.

Your face was bruised, and your wrists bore the raw marks of ropes. Cuts and bruises lined your arms, the cruel evidence of what you’d endured.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, he had to control himself or else he would murder everyone who dared to touch you. “What have they done to you?”

You tried to stand, wincing as pain shot through your legs.

“It’s nothing,” you said, though the effort to appear strong was not fooling him.

“It’s not nothing,” he said, moving quickly to help you. He needed to take a deep breath to calm himself. “We’re leaving.”

He helped you out of the cell, his arm steady around your waist.

The two of you moved through the forest, the sounds of the town fading behind you.

Isaac had a carriage with a horse prepared. He managed to collect some food and items you will need.

The journey was cruel, but Isaac never stopped.

When you couldn’t walk, he carried you, whispering quiet reassurances to keep you calm.

Days later, you reached a secluded clearing deep in the woods, far from the judgment and cruelty of others.

Far from the false accusations.

Isaac built a small home for the two of you, a safe haven where you could begin to heal and move on.

Slowly, the marks of your imprisonment faded, replaced by the warmth of a new start.

Only the memories stayed.

"Thank you for saving me." you told him one evening while you washed the dishes. You smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

"I would do it all over again."

Months passed, and under the stars, you and Isaac exchanged vows. There were no witnesses but the trees, no altar but the earth beneath your feet and the trees above your heads.

"I promise I will be a good wife. I have been a good friend but I will be an even better partner."

"I promise I will keep you safe, I will continue to build our life together and be a good husband to you."

That night, as you lay in bed together, his arms wrapped protectively around you, you broke the comfortable silence.

“Do you ever think about that night?” you asked softly.

“Every day,” he admitted, his voice low. “It reminds me of what we’ve overcome, and what we’ve built together since. I’ll never stop being grateful that I got you out in time.”

You turned to face him, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“I don’t regret any of it,” you said. “If it meant ending up here with you, in your arms, I’d survive it all again.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you, a tender, lingering kiss. You thought it would be impossible but he pulled you closer.

“We’ve left the darkness behind, the accusations and the madness,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “And now we have a lifetime together.”

As you drifted into sleep in his arms, it all felt so right.

You have never felt this free, safe, and filled with love.

A/N: The above photo is not mine, it just inspired me to write. I hope you enjoyed it.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Castlevania Characters Comforting GN! Reader After They Receive Bad/Scary News

A/N: Yes, this super-fast little headcanon piece was inspired by the US Election results. I did a lot of crying and mourning the day after and now I am ready to fight. I can’t offer you all a lot on this blog besides escapism and comfort, so I opted for the latter for this little post. They’re short (with some shorter than others) but I wanted to bang ones out for as many characters as quickly as possible.  

Note: Politics are not mentioned in the headcanons below. GN! Reader’s upsetting/scary news is not directly mentioned, rather the focus is on how their partner would comfort them.  

Word Count: 3.6k  

Trevor:  

Comfort, for most of his life, has been a stranger to Trevor. But that doesn’t mean he is incapable of providing it for his partner. It’s quite the opposite really.  

Trevor will make sure you’re warm and cozy, wrapping you in his cloak or blankets, and sitting beside you.  

Trevor won’t promise that everything will be okay, because, let’s face it, he knows better. Life isn’t always okay, it’s hard and unpredictable. As a result, Trevor feels empty sweet words aren't as comforting as they are infuriating or patronizing.  

Instead, Trevor simply holds you and tells you that he will always be by your side- in every battle, through every hardship, and every sunrise- he will always be there for you.  

Yes, Trevor’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s smart and wise when he wants to be. As hard and dangerous as life may be for you, you can trust he’s always observant, and on the lookout for anything else that may wish to do you harm.  

If anyone wants to get to you, they’re gonna have to go through him first.  

Sypha:  

Sypha is naturally empathetic and nurturing, so comforting her loved ones after they receive bad news comes easily to her. She’s such a comforting presence herself that even if you were hesitant to explain your feelings, just spending time near Sypha reassures you in a way.  

She makes sure you’re warm, especially your feet since hers are freezing all of the time.  

Once you're settled comfortably, she pulls you into her chest and allows you to rest your head on her shoulder.  

If you need to cry, that’s okay. She rubs a heated hand up and down your back as you let it all out. Her Speaker Magic ensures her hands are at the best temperature for soft, loving warm touches.  

Alucard:  

Alucard is no stranger to grief. He’s been given many reasons to mourn throughout his life, even if he’s had to temporarily compartmentalize those feelings to perform his more important duties. 

But because Alucard has never had the opportunity to feel first and act later, he takes it upon himself to perform any obligations you may otherwise have while he lets you sit in your despair.  

And should the level of pain prevent you from doing the things you need to do to take care of yourself, Alucard has no problem aiding you with those duties as well. He’ll cook you a nutritious meal, draw you a nice warm bath, and whisper you stories until you fall asleep.  

He finds that your vulnerability prompts him to further open himself to you- your worry reminds him it’s okay to have his own. The two of you cry and commiserate, holding each other through the tears and sadness as well as the feelings of betrayal and anger.  

Things may be difficult and dark ahead but as long as you can hold on to each other, Alucard swears all will be alright.  

Greta: 

Greta has endured a lot as the leader of her people. Even so, grief and anguish aren’t really her thing.  

Still, she knows when other people have reached their emotional limit, and she’s quite good at getting them to open up to her in ways they may not have expected.  

As her partner, know that she’s very observant and in tune with your emotions. Before you can even tell her that you’ve received bad news, she knows that already, just by the look on your face.  

She’ll take you somewhere private, away from the other villagers’ prying eyes, where you can express freely how it is you feel.  

Like Trevor, she won’t promise that all will end well, but she swears that no matter the storm, you don’t have to weather it alone—she’s not going anywhere.  

Dracula:  

Dracula is a loyal and obsessive lover, which makes him almost supernatural at detecting your moods/emotions. 

He can read your face the way scholars read a book- he knows what it is you're thinking, and just how it is you’re thinking of it.  

If you’re shaken up or upset, or incredibly angry at some news you’ve just received, Dracula will not only do everything in his power to console you but to amend whatever issue it is that has you so worked up.  

If someone has wronged you, he will kill them, it’s as simple as that. (Unless, of course, you beg him not to, in which case, he cannot help but do as you ask.)  

If you’re worried about your coming physical safety, fear not. He simply takes it upon himself to accompany you everywhere you go. (He’s learned this lesson the hard way, and he’s not about to lose another love in this manner.)   

If all else fails, Dracula will encourage you to do what you must to feel better: to release these feelings any way you know how. If you need to scream or cry or hurt a human or two, he does not judge you for it. You are his beloved human, and he is nothing but in awe of your emotional spectrum. Even though he despises the ignorance of humanity, Dracula cannot ignore the beauty that exists in feeling alive.  

Lisa: 

Lisa is a doctor, and she’s very used to delivering bad or unsavory news to her patients. Of course, it’s much more difficult for her to do so when she’s handling you, but she still puts on a brave and wise face for your sake.  

If it's a problem she can help you with, you can rest assured she will use every bit of knowledge, every tool at her disposal to make you feel better. And if it is a problem of society, not medicine, or science, she still tries her hardest to cheer you up.  

She reminds you of all the scientific advancements humanity has made thus far. Sure, many times things have been forgotten, or left to the wayside, but knowledge is forever. And just because the majority of people refuse to accept or believe in something, does not mean that science is dead.  

She will help you archive and preserve your experience as she believes leaving knowledge behind for future generations, even emotional and personal knowledge is a must.  

And on the nights when it all feels hopeless, she will brush your hair and sing you lullabies, like the ones she sang to Adrian all those years ago.  

Hector:  

Hector is a very emotional person. It’s his sensitivity that led him to discover his forgemaster abilities, and partly due to that, he sees his sensitivity as a strength.  

He cares for all wounded animals, and don’t think for a second that he won’t drop absolutely everything else to care for you, his partner! 

He will call over all your favorite reanimated pets and orchestrate a giant cuddle pile, especially in the coming days if he has to return to work/can’t hold you 24/7. He ensures you’re never lonely or frightened by creating a night creature guard who he orders to protect you with its life.  

Hector is very interested in your thoughts and opinions about your grief. He wants to know exactly what it is that hurts you, and how it’s materialized within the world, so he can record it in his teachings/books for later scholars to come to understand.  

Hector truly loves just having you near, holding you close, be it in bed, or seated outside enjoying a beautiful sunny day. He loves picnicking with you, showing you all the little amazing things the world has created, from the single blades of grass, to all the little bugs and creatures that call it home, and to the gorgeous blue sky, and the many different species of birds that travel through it.  

He knows humans can be cruel. He knows the world can be ugly, but he also knows it can be beautiful, and more than anything, he wishes to share that with you, because, well, he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful things in it.  

Isaac:  

Isaac has a naturally soothing presence. Just him being there for you makes you feel less unsteady.  

Once he calms you down enough so that you can speak without sobbing, he'll ask for as much information as he can. He’s not trying to rib or interrogate you, it’s just that he wishes to be as equally aware of the subject as you are.  

Being a very wise man, Isaac will offer advice on the situation, when applicable. And when it isn’t, he simply assures you that within his palace, so long as you are surrounded by his night creatures and those of a like mind, no harm will come to you.  

He encourages you to sit and meditate with him. The two of you sit close to the ground, breathing in and out. It doesn’t undo what has happened, but it helps make you feel more in control of your future. All that Isaac asks, in imagining the possibilities of such a wonderful future, you include him in it.  

Godbrand:  

Let’s be honest, Godbrand is pretty darn observant, but only half of the time. So, after you receive bad news, he’s either made aware at about the same time you are, or he’s 100% in the dark until you tell him to his face what has happened.  

If he doesn’t pick up on your soured mood, he’ll be a big grumpy baby about it. He complains when you don’t laugh at his jokes, or compliment his prowess after he tells the group a story of one of his recent spoils. He keeps picking at your expression until you’ll eventually have enough, and feel petty enough to spite him.  

It’s only after a week of you reeking of garlic that he relents and asks what the hell’s wrong.  

You throw a bulb of garlic at his head.  

In the event he has picked up on your mood, he assumes he’s done or said something to (ahem, once again) offend you. He’ll bring you jewelry or flowers or clothes or some of that mushy shit in an attempt to apologize. And when you tell him that this time, he’s in fact done nothing wrong, he bursts out laughing. The ridiculousness of the situation causes you to laugh too and before you know it the two of you are enjoying a night of merriment and drink, teasingly but lovingly, laughing at the other’s antics.  

 Raman and Sharma:  

Whatever this news is, you can bet their response will be similar.  

They’ll lavish you with fine gifts- gold, jewelry, and silks- but don’t expect too much emotional support.  

They adore you, but they also believe you to be this precious ornament, the rarest gem in their crown. You may have feelings, and be a multidimensional human, but they simply cannot see you that way.  

For them, humans are stupid, weak, imbeciles that are par in comparison to them. But you, you are not stupid, nor weak, nor an imbecile, and while they certainly don’t believe you rival them per se, they do believe you’re worthy of their attention.  

They tell you to forget about other people. You have them now. And if they’re being honest, what better news could a person like you possibly receive than that?  

Cho:  

Cho has never been one to care for weakness, be it physical or emotional. However, she has been known to make an exception on occasion for you.  

These feelings of grief, or anger- whatever they may be, she tolerates you exhibiting them so long as you do not ask her to physically comfort you.  

If you wish to be cuddled, she has other human servants in her court who could provide such service for you.  

While she claims to be unmoved by your situation, however, she does make a note of finding out if someone or something in particular has caused you this distress. When you ask her about it later, she feigns ignorance as to why that person or that thing has suddenly disappeared.  

Dragoslav:  

Dragoslav is a very practical, no-nonsense kind of man. He was that way even before he was turned into a vampire.  

He understands that humans and vampires have feelings because of course they do. But he does not see the reason for giving in to such things all the damn time.  

Where he comes from, people are usually very hardy, they do not complain about having to weather life’s many difficulties.  

However, as he is a vampire aristocrat, he’s become accustomed to a certain degree of luxury. This privilege has made him soft, in a way. His simple approach to believing merely being a vampire is enough to allow him to feel no threat nor shame when you confess your feelings of grief or anger to him.  

He lets you indulge in your feelings for a short period, perhaps even daring to sit with you as you talk through them, before telling you to brush your shoulders off and become strong once more.  

Zufall: 

Zufall (second only to Dracula) is closest to what you’d assume a stereotypical European vampire is like. 

In his immortality, Zufall prefers to be alone and chooses rather to surround himself with books and trinkets as opposed to a court full of servants.  

However, he does take an interest in humans as temporary companions. You are warm and interesting, and so eager to satisfy him, how could he resist the temptation to have a handful of you in rotation at any given time?  

You are one of his favorites, and while he will not ever regard you as an equal, he does truly wish for you to be content with his company. If you’ve received bad news, and are looking downcast, he will enquire about it, asking to know if there is perhaps something about your room or your enrichments that he can alter.  

If you are more on the hysterical side, Zufall will even begrudgingly allow you to hold him, as he runs his clawed fingers gently up and down your back. He hushes you before telling you parts of a fable he can recall from back when he was still a human boy. His deep voice and strong accent help lull you to sleep.  

Carmilla:  

Upon finding out you’re upset because you’ve received bad news, she’s filled with both annoyance and rage. Who dares to upset you? Don’t they know better than to trifle with her precious human? She will make them pay, whoever did this, whatever caused this. She will slice it to death with her claws if need be.  

If your news isn’t caused by the actions of one other person, but let’s say a mood or an opinion of society, she rolls her eyes, before pulling you close to tell you that you have nothing to worry about.  

Society is what’s kept her powerless and secondary all these years, she has no respect for its select worship and demonization of certain people and powers that be.  

She makes sure you’re pampered: the finest linens and silks, the best meals, and the best wine Styria has to offer if all yours with a snap of your fingers.  

She tells you not to worry, dear pet. She swears the world will soon bend to accommodate both yourself and her. And should anyone dare to stand in your way, she will squash them like the insignificant bug they are.  

Overall, she’s a little dramatic and murder-y about it, but it’s only because she loves you, and she knows how hard living (or nonliving) is when you’ve been made to feel small. She never wants you to know that pain. And you won’t, so long as she has something to say about it.  

Lenore:  

Lenore is a natural peacekeeper, so when she notices you are upset, she immediately sets out to do something about it.  

She will ask if there’s anything you would like help with, or if there’s perhaps anything she can get for you.  

If someone else is causing problems for you, she offers to act as a go-between or mediator of sorts and talk it out on your behalf. She insists on it, especially if the person causing you great distress or giving you bad news is one of her sisters.  

Striga & Morana: 

Striga and Morana are very practical thinkers, even if Striga is prone to outbursts occasionally. As a team, they are strategic experts in execution. As such they notice small changes in your mood. You don't even have to confide in them before they ask you what’s wrong.  

Striga offers to torture or kill whoever’s causing you to feel this helpless meanwhile Morana makes you a soothing cup of tea.  

It can be a lot to take in at once, two people who love you who want to protect you, assisting you in the very distinct ways they know how, but you know it is because they treasure your company.  

If this news is not something that can be fixed, they will hold you sandwiched in between them as you let out your feelings, be it by crying or simply voicing your frustrations.  

St. Germain: 

St. Germain tends to get carried away in his train of thought, so he is not always privy to your feelings and opinions.  

You would have to confide in him that you’ve received such devastating news, otherwise he would be completely oblivious.  

He still swears he has no clue as to why his previous lover left him, something that haunts him to this day. So the minute you tell him something’s wrong, he drops everything he’s doing and listens.  

He’ll hold you close to him and whisper sweet things into your ear, telling you how much he loves you and values you. He ensures you this world, and countless others, are greater with you in it. He begs for you to internalize that. He truly doesn’t believe he could survive without you.  

All he knows is that this world, as well as his life, would be poorer if you were not in it.  

Ratko:  

Ratko is not a sensitive man, but he does recognize the importance of sharing news with your loved ones, so he will insist you tell him what you know, as soon as you know it.  

When he learns it’s distressing, he sighs and reminds you that when you are close to a victorious vampire, such news should not matter.  

Still, if you are shaken up or angry, he will relent and allow you to sit in your emotions for a time.  

When he thinks it’s appropriate (most likely sooner than you would have), he demands your presence, bringing you to a surprise. It may be good human food, it may be money, it may be clothes, either way, those things matter not to Ratko. To him, they are merely symbols of wealth and victory.  

But that is why he insists you enjoy them. Despite whatever news you receive, he insists that you spend every waking moment feeling victorious- because you are.  

He thinks most humans are stupid pigs, beings he feels no need to respect. But with you, he is in awe of you. That alone, he will remind you, should make you feel more worthy than any other human on the planet.  

Varney/Death:  

Varney is an enigma, mainly because he’s playing dual roles. As Varney, he is compelled to embellish and dramatize his thoughts and feelings, and he will respond similarly to your own. On the other hand, as Death, he is compelled to be stoic and serious, gleefully capturing souls after they’ve departed.  

In the chance your upsetting news is the loss of a loved one, he will know before you. (Because you know, he is Death after all.) But for your sake, he will act shocked when you tell him. It may be a lie, but it’s meant for your benefit. He’d rather lie and validate your feelings than tell the truth and make you feel more alone.  

In the case your news is not a death, he will learn of it only if you tell him. And when you do, he tries to listen, and not tune you out. It’s a difficult task, the ups and downs of a single human life tend to seem too trivial to him, but for you, he makes an exception.  

And while he cannot directly kill all the people who have upset you, should your news be centered around the actions of a large group of people, he will make a point to consume their souls much slower than others, telling such folks he is doing it as an act of vengeance in your name.  

A/N 2.0: Can you tell I have a favorite background character or two? Lol.  

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