#hunter x hunter yandere au

[moonsaver]

I know ive already written something based on being sunday's childhood crush, but also imagine the absolute comedic potential of it combined with sunday as a stellaron hunter.

You're on your fine day, doing whatever a penaconian might be doing, minding your business when you come across whispering relatives. It's not uncommon to come across gossiping relatives, but this time, something feels off. Their whispering stops when you walk in. It's like a shroud sets over their faces. You continue minding your business until you see a few of your childhood friends crowding around a wall.

It's Sunday, as usual.

But this time, he's got a bounty on his head.

And suddenly, he's worth a lot more than just the Head of The Oak Family.

And its insane. This is the guy who used to nibble on the ends of his wings. This is the guy who used to whine and make a fuss whenever the slightest thing hurt him. This is Sunday. Your childhood friend who clung to you like you were his lost teddy bear.

Sunday, who, seemed to have joined the Stellaron Hunters.

It's not too soon before somehow, someway, destiny has a funny way of bringing you two together again. Only this time, one of you knows what's going to happen next. And it's not you. Definitely not, considering the dark room you end up in, the swarm of monsters outside, and a peeved Sunday standing in front of you, rambling on about his newfound ideals. You have to snap him out of it by shaking him by the shoulders to get him to work! Because for aeons' sake you're going to jump out of your own skin if that swarm makes it in!

And he finishes up the job, slightly irritated still when you nag and chide him about the bounty. Only this time, however, he's surprised. Because you think the bounty could be higher.

Well.. he asks if you'd help him raise it, then.

And you agree. For old times' sake.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Rework

vampire!Feitan x werewolf!reader (with a side of Feitan x werewolf!Phinks)

🎃Happy Halloween🎃

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, captivity, blood, depictions of violence, death, murder, gore, body horror, stockholm syndrome, implied future poly relationships

Word Count: 13.7k

“So, what are you two going to be doing at that castle?”

The taxi driver's question pierced through the silence within the cab as he looked back to where you and Feitan were sitting, looking the both of you over in the rear view mirror. It came out of nowhere, as over a half hour ago the drive had begun with little chatter from any of you. It made you nervous, and you couldn't help but gulp as you kept your eyes on what you could see out the window. It would be better to pretend that you hadn't heard him.

Feitan didn't like it when you spoke to other people, after all.

When neither of you answered, the driver went as far as to turn his head around. Ultimately his gaze ended up on Feitan as he was sitting behind the front passenger's seat, making it easier for the driver to keep his eyes on him.

“Well?” the driver asked.

Feitan finally responded to that just to say “it's private.”

“Private business at a castle. That's a new one,” the driver commented, laughing a little to himself after.

Feitan didn't reply.

Luckily the driver seemed to get the hint that neither Feitan or you were in the mood to talk, and he returned his attention to the road as the taxi steadily continued up the woodland path.

You felt relieved when he stopped pressing, mostly because you didn't want him to be injured or killed. You had found yourself wanting to like the driver simply because of the hat he wore – it reminded you of your grandfather, as he wore that same style of pointed newsboy caps that your grandfather would wear when he went out, and thus you associated the cap with him. So you were feeling warmly towards the driver, as silly as it was, and you hoped that any sort of incident could be avoided when it came to him.

At least Feitan wasn't prone to random acts of violence against other people for no reason.

For the most part, anyway.

With the chatter in the cab now ceased and nothing else to focus on, you kept your eyes trained on the view outside of the window, watching as the car drove past brightly colored falling leaves and the trees whose branches were slowly becoming more exposed every time the wind blew past them, stealing away more of their leaves in a sign of the upcoming winter.

It made for a pretty view, and keeping an eye out for the various colors that came from the different types of trees kept you occupied on what would otherwise be another long and boring journey. Unlike Feitan, you didn't feel comfortable attempting to read while in the car as you were too worried that trying to do so would make you ill, so the options you had for entertainment were limited.

It wasn't much, but at least it was nice enough to keep your mind on.

It also kept your attention away from the luggage that sat diagonally from you in the front passenger's seat.

…. You shouldn't have even had that thought. Because just like that, the temptation was there again, and you needed to force your neck to stay in the same position. All to avoid your gaze straying in that direction. It was made harder due to the fact that the large burgundy suitcase was just within your peripheral vision. The very edge of it taunted you, it seemed. It would be so, so easy to keep your attention on that case for the entire journey, staring at it as you allowed the anxiety and desperation to fill your mind.

What if, this time, they wouldn't work when you got them back? What if they were ruined now and you were left like this permanently? Was there any accounting for that? Did he have a way to restore you if that happened? Or would you be in this state forever?

Would he even still want you if you couldn't go back to the way you'd been before?

You did your best to keep those thoughts at the back of your head as you focused on the outside. Worrying about it wouldn't do you any good, and as much as you wanted to blame it on the fact that the case couldn't fit in the trunk due to the wheelchair, directing your attention over to where it sat would only annoy him.

… How was Feitan doing, mood wise?

You tore your gaze away from the window to glance over at the man who sat next to you, finding that his focus was still on the book he had opened at the very start of the journey, several hours ago before the taxi when you had gotten on board the train the day prior. By now he was more than halfway through that book, though given that you were on the last legs of your journey, he probably wouldn't be able to finish it before the cab reached its destination.

He clearly noticed the way you stared at him as he glanced over in your direction.

Upon making eye contact, you gave him a small smile.

Feitan stared at you for a moment.

Then he ultimately chose to return to his book, turning the page once he picked up where he'd left off.

He was in a pretty alright mood, then. Though you followed suit and returned your attention to the window immediately after. Even if he was in an okay place, it was better not to press your luck, as it could be incredibly easy to annoy him.

That was one thing you had learned about him: he didn't punish you without a reason. Though his rules and demands were tiring and hard to keep up with sometimes, he had never ordered anything that was so unreasonable you were automatically doomed to fail. Some of the things he made you do were difficult, yes, but never had he forced you into something that was a losing battle from the start.

At least in regards to your captivity and the way he treated you, that was one thing to be grateful for.

And technically, with what was happening right now, you weren't being punished: he just didn't trust you enough during travel. Surely in the future things would be different. As long as you remained on good behavior and kept him happy with you, things would definitely be different, and hopefully different in a way that favored you at least somewhat.

Just keep your attention on the outside, you told yourself. Take note of all of the different fall colors that you were lucky enough to catch sight of and don't even think of what you would be going through in the upcoming days.

There was no way to put it off, but you could at least enjoy the current moment, even if it did feel somewhat stifling within the small space of the car.

The taxi continued to climb through the uphill path. At one point the forest that was directly next to your window vanished, the trees dropping off in favor of giving you a view of the entirety of the wilderness around you as the taxi drove along the edge of a cliff. The sight helped to calm your nerves a bit as you managed to relax a little more. Once the taxi left the cliffside and reentered into the denser forest, you again kept your focus on that, and you had an easier time keeping your mind off of the little worries that usually plagued you.

There was nothing to be done about any of them, after all. Not in this moment.

A sign that you were entering an older part of the area came when the driver took a turn to the right, and suddenly the ride became a lot more rough as the road turned bumpy. There was one moment where were it not for the security of your seat belt, you would have been thrown directly into Feitan. As it was, you found yourself lurching about uncomfortably regardless, and you needed to keep your grip on the handle of the door as you waited for the ride to become smoother again. The taxi driver made some joke about the rough terrain during that time, and Feitan made no response to him, though it seemed that the conditions were too much for him to continue his book as he soon shut it and put it away.

At some point during all of that, the blanket that you had tucked around your waist began to fall to the floor. Yet you didn't notice until it had fallen completely.

With that, your lap was exposed. Or rather, what was left of it. If the driver were to glance behind him, he would see what you had been so futilely trying to hide from him:

The stumps in the middle of your thighs where the rest of your legs should have been.

The fact that the rest of your legs were gone was still a sight that you struggled with, and seeing the way others would look over at you with questioning glances whenever you had the rare trip out in public made you feel worse. No one was ever rude enough to ask, but just to have that attention on you made your skin crawl. You didn't like it. Not one bit. If the impossible happened and anyone saw beneath the bandages that were hidden under the rolled up legs of your pants, they would have seen the sutures that held your flesh together and the still fresh wound that refused to fully heal.

But no one would ever get that close.

Feitan would never allow it.

Upon realizing that the blanket had fallen, you reached down, straining yourself somewhat in order to pick it off the rubber mat that covered the floor. Despite it being slightly dirty, you placed it back on top of your lap, once more securing it and this time keeping your hands on it just in case it fell again. Given that the taxi was now beyond the roughest part of the old road, that seemed unlikely, but you felt better holding onto it.

As expected, Feitan made no comment to you, but you could tell he was watching you. Without something else to keep his attention, his eyes would generally move over to your form, keeping an eye on you regardless of if you were doing anything noteworthy or not.

Why was he so fascinated with you?

As often as you had wondered that to yourself, you had yet to come up with a sufficient answer to that question. There was no point in attempting to ask Feitan directly as you knew he wouldn't answer. You had tried that once. A long while back, after your rage from being taken captive had died out and you were left with nothing but apathy, you dared to ask why he wanted you, of all people, and his only response had been to stare at you in that same intense way that he always did.

All this time later, and you still had no clue as to what the answer to that question was.

But by this point, it was easier to accept this as your current reality. Things weren't perfect, but they weren't completely bad. Not like they used to be.

After ten minutes of travel on the now only slightly bumpy road the roof of the small castle within the forest could be seen through the front windshield of the taxi. Five minutes after that, the yellow cab was pulling up to a large iron gate that was left locked, requiring Feitan to step out and unlock the large, gated entryway so the cab could gain access. Feitan watched you from the outside as the driver pulled into the rounded courtyard of the aged building. Creeping vines covered a majority of the base of the structure, the reddend leaves all piled upon one another while the thin branches reached upwards as if with the intent to cover the entire wall. Despite how old the building was by now, there was no sense of decay upon looking at it. The nameless castle within the wilderness remained strong, and it seemed certain that only some otherworldly force would be capable of bringing it down.

A part of you really enjoyed the place; it was nice to look at, and certain areas within the structure were cozy during certain times of the year. But there was another part of you that felt a wave of anxiety fall over as you looked at the building in its entirety and your hands began to clench at and fiddle with the blanket over your lap.

Being in this place would be much more enjoyable if Feitan bothered to bring you here outside of the timing of the full moon. Sadly, he never seemed inclined to do that, so you were forced to associate the castle with the awful few days you consistently experienced here.

Maybe that might change, you told yourself. Though you wouldn't hold your breath on that.

The cab driver got out, and both he and Feitan headed towards the trunk to unload the wheelchair and the other luggage that had been placed in there. When the trunk opened, the view you had of them from the backseat was obscured.

With Feitan not able to keep as close of an eye on you, you took the time to steal a glance at the burgundy case in the front seat.

It looked the same as it had at the beginning of your journey: an unremarkable but large suitcase that was slightly heavy from the contents it held. But from your vantage point, it didn't appear that anything was wrong with it. It didn't look damaged, nor did there appear to be any leaks spilling out of the seams of the case.

That had you feeling a little better, though your hands continued to nervously clench at the blanket.

When your door was opened and the wheelchair was brought out, Feitan didn't allow the driver to assist him in moving you. When you unbuckled yourself and moved to the edge of the seat to make getting you out easier, Feitan was the one who picked you up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allowed him to move you from the interior of the cab out into the courtyard, and you stayed in his embrace for only a few moments before he placed you in the wheelchair that stood not far away.

The blanket fell again, this time onto the leaves that covered the old cobblestone beneath you. As you were being set down, the driver made a move to get it for you.

Feitan beat him to it, and the shorter man gave the driver a look that seemed to make him nervous as he took a few steps backwards.

That was a slight overreaction, you quietly thought to yourself as Feitan shook out the now dirty blanket.

But as long as that was all that happened, it didn't matter much.

With everything out of the trunk, it had been swiftly closed, as had the passenger's door once you had been removed from the vehicle. The driver adjusted his cap as he watched Feitan hand you the slightly cleaner blanket, and you were quick to pull it back up around your waist. When the driver's side door had been opened, you couldn't recall.

In the middle of all of that, you heard the driver speak again.

“All right, guess that's it, then.”

You looked up to find the taxi driver had turned around and placed one leg inside his car as he prepared to get in and take off.

That was it? But-

The case was still in the front seat.

And he was getting in without taking it out.

He was going to leave with it.

That fact seemed certain when he settled into the driver's seat.

“NO!”

You yelled so loudly that it startled him, and he turned his head just before Feitan materialized next to the driver's side door, holding his hand against it in order to keep it open.

“Wh-what's wrong?” the driver asked, his head swiveling as he looked to the both of you.

“Front seat,” Feitan said.

“O-oh. Right….”

Dutifully, the driver exited the vehicle and walked around it in order to retrieve the case, though he didn't bother to hide the alarmed looks he gave the both of you as he did so. Feitan glared at him the entire time while you clenched at the armrests of the wheelchair. You weren't going to feel good until you saw that case out of that car.

The sound of the passenger's side door opening seemed to echo within the space of the courtyard, and you breath hitched when you saw him reach in and pull out the suitcase.

Be gentle with it, you wanted to tell him.

The driver circled around the cab, seemingly in an attempt to avoid Feitan. As a result, he chose to approach you, and handed the suitcase to you instead. You caught the way Feitan's eye twitched at that, yet you chose not to acknowledge it as you grabbed at the case being offered to you.

With a sigh of relief, you held it tightly against yourself, ignoring the weight and the awkwardness that came with holding it.

“Sorry for upsetting you,” the driver told you, though his tone didn't make him sound very sorry. The way he looked at you clearly indicated that he felt as though you had been overreacting.

It looked like he was going to say something more, but Feitan chose then to step in.

“Your job is over,” he told the driver, “leave.”

“Fine, fine.”

The driver headed back towards the driver's door of the taxi, stepping in as he had before. But just before the door closed behind him, you heard him mutter the word “assholes.”

The ignition turned and the engine rumbled, and within a few moments the cab rolled out of the aged courtyard, once more jittering horribly as it drove over the old, cobbled road. Feitan followed behind as the car exited through the entryway, and once it was completely clear, he closed both sets of iron gates shut and just as swiftly locked them. The key to the gate was soon back in the safety of his pocket, and the vampire stared at the vanishing cab before he turned around and set his sights back to you.

The case had already been set upon the ground in front of you, your hands now in your lap as you kept your gaze to the side.

You messed up.

You weren't supposed to talk to other people. Feitan didn't like that. Even though you had only said one word to that driver and it was just to keep him from driving off with the case, you had still done what you shouldn't have and spoke to him instead of trusting that Feitan would realize the man's mistake and prevent him from leaving.

Feitan's footsteps sounded against the cobblestone, and you straightened your back slightly, though you still kept your gaze averted.

If you apologized right now, would he forgive you?

It was worth a shot.

“I'm sorry,” you told him.

“Sorry?” Feitan repeated.

“For disobeying you,” you clarified, your hands wringing the blanket as you continued “I didn't mean to, I just – no. Never mind. I'm sorry.”

Stopping yourself from pointing out that he was about to leave with the suitcase was a good move, you felt. Doing that would have been interpreted as making an excuse, and that was never going to end well for you. It was better to acknowledge your failure and leave it at that.

“Hm.”

Feitan was standing in front of you now, staring down at you while you shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. You weren't sure what to expect from him in this moment, but you told yourself that whatever it was he said or did, you needed to go with it.

What a stupid thing to think. Of course you needed to go with it – what other choice did you have?

Your internal dialogue was interrupted when Feitan spoke.

“You did speak to him,” he began, “but this once, I'll overlook it.”

Your neck snapped up so you could look at him, uncertain if you had heard what you thought you had and wanting to know if he was being genuine or if this was some way to lull you into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under you.

Looking at him as he was now, it didn't feel as though he was particularly angry.

Feitan continued.

“He was going to drive off with it, after all. He's more in the wrong than you are.”

He then cocked his head as he looked at you before he asked “don't you agree?”

You waited a moment before you nodded your head in agreement, saying “yeah.”

That was all to be said on the matter, as Feitan then turned his attention to the suitcase you had set down. His dark eyes looked it over before going back to you, and he pointed to it with a single pale finger as he asked a different question.

“Do you want them back now?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Then you looked back down at the suitcase.

The answer was yes. Of course you wanted them back now. You'd never wanted them taken in the first place.

….. That sort of answer wasn't what Feitan would be looking for though, would it?

With your hands wringing at the blanket once more, you answered “only….. Only if you think I should have them back now.”

“Hm.”

The action after your response wasn't immediate, and you were left to sweat nervously in front of him as you waited for some sort of sign from him. He could tell you were nervous as well; his hearing was good enough that he could hear the way your heart began to beat frantically when you felt too much time had passed.

When he did choose to act, it seemed like that yours had been the correct answer, because Feitan reached over to stroke his fingers through your hair, petting you in the way he only did when he was pleased with you. Considering the trouble you had first believed yourself to be in, the action came as a relief. Not that it lasted long, as he pulled away soon after.

Without another word to you, he leaned down, lifted the suitcase by the handle, and walked around you as he made his way to the large doorway.

You bit your lip and clenched at the blanket once more, your shoulders sagging as you accepted his decision, even though it frustrated you that he had decided on that. It was being taken away from you again, the only option you had was to accept the unfair situation.

Maybe he was more upset over your outburst than he was letting on.

When you were certain that he was out of earshot, you let out a slow, sad sigh.

At least you had answered correctly, you told yourself.

Not long after Feitan returned for you, and given the age of the structure you found yourselves in and the lack of accommodation for the wheelchair, he needed to carry you up the steps and through the doors before walking along a familiar path through the castle, down a few hallways and up a single flight of stairs. Soon enough you had been placed in the room that would act as your bedroom for the remainder of your time here, and Feitan left you on the bed before exiting the room to get the rest of the things that had been left outside.

He wouldn't stay here long once that was done, probably. Once that was done, he would leave for the night, not coming back until morning. He had things to prepare for.

All of it had to do with the night of the full moon that was fast approaching.

You felt compelled to turn your head then, the tall glass of the window that overlooked your bed giving you a good view of the sky. You found what you were looking for in an instant: the waxing moon, still hanging low due to the earliness of the evening, but still visible over the tops of the trees. Within a few days, it would be full.

Once that happened, you would change as you always did.

Hence why you'd been brought to this place: for the isolation. Feitan wanted a controlled environment for you as you waited for the full moon to come and bring about your transformation. When you would change into what could only be described as a monster. Ravenous and violent, you couldn't be allowed anywhere near a large population. During the time that followed your transformation, you would be completely out of your mind, and the only thing that would drive you was instinct; instinct to hunt down and devour anyone within your immediate vicinity.

The thought of all that made you shudder, and you reached back to pull the curtains over the window to hide the sight away.

Such a thing was useless, you knew, but it made you feel better.

Late into the evening of the following day, Feitan brought you down into the main kitchen of the castle, specifically the one with the fireplace that was especially nice to spend time in during the winter. When the snow outside and there was a large fire going, it made for a cozy feeling that was pleasant.

Though you doubted whatever happened here tonight would be in any way nice.

But then again, it could be something good. Feitan didn't seem upset with you as he placed you upon a chair that stood near the unlit fire. With the exception of your outburst at the cab driver, you couldn't remember the last time you had done anything to genuinely upset Feitan.

His temperament just made it so hard to tell if things were okay.

Feitan kept silent after leaving you at the table. He didn't stay in the room long either, leaving almost immediately as he stalked down the hallway. The place where you sat allowed you to watch as he stopped in front of a door that led down into the cellar, the aged metal of the hinges creaking as he pulled it open before he slipped down into that darkness. The door shut with a heavy thud behind him, and you were left alone.

You let out a shaky breath.

Something was going to happen. All you could do was hope that it wouldn't be too bad. After all, you haven't done anything wrong, you once again told yourself, so you haven't done anything to warrant cruelty.

You repeated that in your head over and over as you did your best to calm your nerves.

It was sad how often that was the only solution you had for your issues.

The cellar door opened again with the hinges creaking for a longer period of time as Feitan was forced to open it wider than before. Though again it shut with a similarly loud thud as Feitan let it go once it was through. The noise of the hinges combined with the echo that accompanied it through the aged hallway was unpleasant, and you flinched as the sound grated at your ears. Not that you had much time to focus on that, as you quickly noted that it sounded as though Feitan was carrying something.

One quick glance at him and you saw what was in his hand: the burgundy suitcase.

You tore your gaze away and found yourself sitting up straighter again, your hands gripping at the edge of the chair as you stared at the empty fireplace while your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

He could hear that heartbeat.

He knew exactly how anxious you were as he approached.

Feitan was soon upon you, standing in front of the chair you occupied with the case still in hand. As was expected of you, you looked up at him from where you sat, staring back at him as you waited for him to say something.

Holding up the case a bit, he asked “do you want them back?”

“…. Yes.”

Things were silent between the two of you then, your heart continuing to beat erratically while you kept your grip on your seat. You felt like saying 'yes' was the right answer, but there was always a chance that you were wrong. Whatever it was, Feitan was choosing to drag this out, his eyes focused on you while you knew that he was aware of how much you were panicking internally the longer this moment lasted.

You would accept it if he decided not to give them back. You would be disappointed, yes, but like those other times before, you wouldn't argue or fight him on it and would instead simply accept his decision.

Cooperating with him was the fastest way to get what you wanted.

Feitan then made his decision.

With one swift motion, he dropped the suitcase in your lap. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the weight of the suitcase against you once more, holding it tightly as you looked back up to Feitan to make sure you had his permission.

He had already stepped away, pulling out a different chair from the table so he could sit in front of you before he also took his place, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs as he watched you.

Feitan wanted you to open the case.

You were more than eager to do so, your fingers going to the clasps that held it shut as your heartbeat hadn't slowed even a little. No longer thrumming with anxiety, you were now shaking from anticipation. What was yours was finally being given back.

Wasting no time in undoing the clasps, you threw open the case and felt relief upon seeing what was inside:

Your severed legs.

They were folded neatly within the case, along with a few towels tucked in at the sides to keep them from moving about too much for whenever the case was being transported.

The relief you felt upon seeing them was immediate and you wasted no time in beginning the process of reattaching them. Setting the case on the table, you went to work on the bandages that covered up your thighs, tearing them off with ease until your flesh was exposed, and from there, you began to tear out the stitches that had been placed at the end of your thighs to keep the wounds from bleeding out.

Not that you would have died even if all of your blood had left your body.

The process of removing the stitches was more strenuous than removing the bandages, and you couldn't help the small noises of pain that came from you as the thin thread was torn out of your body, ripping through the skin when you pulled hard enough. But just as quickly as you had removed them, those injuries were beginning to heal, the small wounds on that part of your skin closing up and mending with no trace of there being any stitches to begin with.

When all of the stitches were removed and lay in pieces on the floor beneath you, you were left with the open wounds at the end of your thighs, bone and muscle exposed while blood began to drip down onto the surface of the floor alongside the torn up stitches. The excess skin at the end of your legs which had been used to patch you up like a band aid now hung loosely, waiting to be reunited to your legs that still sat in the suitcase.

Now for the next part which would take longer but wouldn't be as painful: putting your limbs back on.

Reaching over to the case, you grabbed one of them at random. It turned out to be your right leg. Despite feeling that you were in a slightly weakened state after dealing with the stitches, you were able to handle the weight of your own leg easily as you pulled it out of the suitcase's confines and slung it over onto your lap.

Feitan continued to watch, still saying nothing, but you were able to feel the interest he had in this part. You didn't quite understand why he was so fascinated by this; he was also immortal, so shouldn't he be used to seeing such things with himself?

You kept that thought to yourself and instead focused on the task at hand.

Lifting up one of the flaps of skin with one hand, you used the other to position your limp leg up against your open thigh. Like putting puzzle pieces together, you grabbed the end of your leg with both hands as you started the reattachment process by putting the bones of each segment together. Once you had positioned it correctly, you felt it when the two connected.

The sensation had you shudder and you needed to grab onto the nearby table to keep yourself steady as everything else followed suit with the bone of your femur.

Marrow mixed back together as muscles reached out for one another, ends connecting in the same way the thigh bone had melding together as they were supposed to. Veins and your nerves did the same, and you gripped the edge of the table tightly as the process left you out of breath. It wasn't that it was painful, just uncomfortable. Like the sensation of a limb falling asleep only for the feeling to come back once you moved it. It was just that this was ten times as intense as that, and no matter how many times you went through this, you doubted that you would ever truly get used to it.

You stole a glance at Feitan then, peeking up at him to find that his gaze was just as intense as you imagined it was. He was concentrated on the way your muscles repaired themselves, on the way the blood from the injury dripped down onto the floor until it didn't, finally stopped when the ends of those veins found one another and sealed themselves up.

When all of the internal components of your leg had been repaired, you only moved your hand to smooth out the flap of flesh that had remained pulled back. Now with everything else done, the skin of your leg was finally allowed to mend itself as well.

Within moments, your right leg was firmly back on you, and you took the time to stretch out and move your foot to test that everything felt right. When that appeared to be the case, you slowly pushed yourself back so you were sitting up straight again, and then you reached back to the case for your left leg.

At least the process was a bit easier the second time around.

By the end of it, both of your legs were back, reattached with no sign of having been chopped off in the first place. You, however, felt exhausted. Sweat had collected on the back of your shirt and you were laying your arms and your head on the table, breathing out from your mouth as you calmed down after the experience.

It was fine now. It was over. You did it.

The sweaty feeling was gross, though, and you desperately wanted a shower.

That thought was enough to incentivize you to sit back up, though that too was a struggle as your arms felt weak. Still, you made yourself do it, and you turned to look to Feitan once you were done.

He was no longer leaning forward in the chair; now he was resting his back against it with his arms folded across his chest. One of his eyebrows raised when you turned your attention to him, and he asked “want something?”

“Just to get a shower,” you answered.

He nodded, and you took that as permission to leave the room.

Not that leaving was easy. How long had you been without your legs? You weren't completely sure, but however long it was, it was long enough that you were incredibly unsteady as you brought yourself up to your feet, and you needed to brace yourself against the table, the chair you had been sitting on as well as the wall as you made your way out of the kitchen, taking small, soft steps as you hoped the feeling of walking would soon become normal again.

“Having a hard time?” you heard Feitan ask.

“I'll be okay,” you replied, “just need to get used to it again.”

“Hm.”

Pausing at the edge of the room to catch your breath, you made the mistake of glancing over at one of the tall windows at the other side of the kitchen.

Just like the night prior, the moon was in the sky despite the relatively early hour, and when you caught sight of it, you turned your head away, looking down at the floor and trying to will away the sight in your mind.

Feitan noticed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“…. Outside,” you answered.

He looked, and hummed when he saw the moon as well.

“Scared?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Why? Shouldn't you be used to it by now?”

After a long moment, you again nodded.

Feitan made a noise at that which almost resembled a laugh before he ultimately waved you away, telling you “get your shower.”

You nodded and exited the room.

The sound of the chair moving across the kitchen floor was loud, and once you had reached the door that led to the cellar, you heard him call out to you once again.

“I'll be gone when you get out.”

He probably wasn't looking at you, and he probably wasn't in need of any sort of response, but you nodded again anyway.

The ache had firmly settled in.

You were curled up on the bed, the sheets haphazardly thrown aside as it now felt too warm to keep them on top of you, but even if the cold set in again you weren't sure you would have the strength to reach for them again. Your arms hurt too badly by now, as did your legs.

You were hungry, too.

But as you spied the small refrigerator full of supplies that had been left for you, specifically for this predicament of yours, you had a hard time imagining you would be able to gather up the strength needed to crawl off of the bed and over to where it stood. You just felt too weak.

As much as you hated how it felt when you transformed into that monstrous state and the carnage that you had left in your wake more than once, you wanted it to happen just so this part would be over with already.

It would happen soon, you told yourself. Tomorrow, when the full moon would be in the sky, you would have your relief.

You began to feel cold again, but as expected, when you reached for the blankets by your feet your muscles protested vehemently and you were forced to bear with the cold as you placed your arms back down on the bed.

Ah, this part was always the worst.

You wanted food. You wanted a shower.

You wanted Feitan.

And by this point you were too far gone to find that feeling of yours to be wrong. Because once he walked through that door, you were fine again. The aches and the pains brought about in the period before your transformation would vanish the second you saw him, and the only thing you would be left wanting for after that was for him to be closer to you.

That wasn't how it had always been. In the months that followed your kidnapping, you were relieved that he was gone for that day and a half before you turned. It had been nice to get so much time to yourself, and you hadn't been afraid to show a sour expression when he came back.

You couldn't imagine doing that now. To treat him as though he were a pest that wouldn't leave you alone? Your mind wouldn't allow it. Not when you were in such a vulnerable state and you truly felt that you needed him with you. His continued absence during this time had set alight within you a yearning.

It was easy to wish that you could go back to before your time with Feitan, when the pains and the need for another's presence didn't even exist, when you had dealt with everything on your own.

But now, even if you went against your better judgment and defied him by running, it couldn't go back to that. He had done something to change you, and you feared that change was permanent. That you would always be longing for him and be happy to see him even when he returned covered in the scent of another.

He left you to spend time with someone else

For some reason, it bothered you. Both that he did so and the fact that you still didn't know who that person was. Those times at the beginning when you asked Feitan had refused to answer, and you had no wish to bring it up now as you knew he would only tell you if he decided that you needed to know.

As long as he came back, that was all that mattered.

That thought was what got you through the long hours that followed; when the sun finally set and the waxing moon rose, now only one step away from reaching the full moon state, you felt it begin to affect you. Knowing what would happen tomorrow night, the muscles beneath your skin began to loosen up as they prepared for the time when they would need to expand. The ache in your bones became more pronounced as they anticipated the way they would need to snap and grow, and your skin started the process of separating from the muscle beneath, all so it would be easier for when you would need to tear it away.

You hated it, but as long as he came back, you could deal with the pains, you told yourself.

The next day, after having spent all of those hours doing nothing but laying on your bed as you felt your body continue to prepare for the coming night, the sound of the lock clicking open had you shoot up from the bed, sitting at attention as your eyes were focused on the door, waiting for it to open.

Anticipating that you would see him.

The relief you felt when you saw that Feitan had indeed returned to you was immense, and all memory of the pain and longing you had gone through for the previous day and a half was forgotten as he stepped through the door, his eyes meeting yours before he looked you over.

No doubt you looked a mess, your wrinkled clothing and the circles beneath your eyes giving him some insight about the rough night you'd had.

As usual, he didn't comment on it. Instead, the vampire shut the door behind him before he headed over to the mini fridge, opening it to find that the food and water he had left for you were all untouched.

There was an ever so slight hint of a smile on his face when he saw that.

“Hungry?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

Not feeling as though you had the strength for words, you responded by nodding at him.

Then come over and feed yourself

The words he had once told you at a different time echoed in your mind, and you gripped at the sheets, uncertain if he would have a similar response now. As usual, he noticed that reaction of yours, and for a few moments he watched you closely. Perhaps he was still deciding what treatment you would get today; no doubt he was going over the behavior you had displayed over the past month and deciding whether or not you had been good enough to deserve a bit of kindness from him.

Feitan made his choice when he took out a cup of yogurt from the fridge, pausing briefly after he closed it to grab a nearby spoon that had been left for you before he made his way over to the bed. When he pulled the seal off the top after he sat down, you held out your hands, ready to take the cup and the spoon from him so you could feed yourself.

The raised eyebrow and the annoyed look he gave you in response to that was surprising, and after a moment of him staring at you like that, you lowered your arms despite your confusion.

He wasn't just taunting you, was he?

You thought he might have been when he dipped the spoon into the cup, where it then seemed as though he was going to eat in front of you – he doesn't even need food, you dejectedly thought.

Then he turned back to you, the spoon raised up and hovering in front of your mouth.

“Open,” he told you.

You obeyed, and within a moment, he had placed the spoonful of yogurt into your mouth.

……

This…. This was horribly degrading. Your captor was literally spoon-feeding you.

After all of the hours you had spent wanting Feitan's presence with you, the irritation you felt at this one action was enough to break that spell, and you remembered all of the things that were so wrong about your situation. He had kidnapped you and had proceeded to train you as if you were an animal, teaching you to behave for him through punishments and rewards, all so he could get you here, to a place where you were so compliant that you didn't question or fight him on anything. Feitan wanted you to be dependent on him and he wanted you to be grateful for it.

You wished you could kill him.

As he pulled the spoon from your mouth to dip it back into the yogurt cup, you imagined yourself leaping on him and tearing his throat out. Gouging out his eyes. Smashing his head open against the floor. Biting off his fingers for having the nerve-

Feitan looked back to you.

The instant his eyes met yours, all of that fire inside of you died out.

He was strong; far stronger than you could ever hope to be. Even if you fought with all of your strength, you knew you would lose. Your rebellion would be ended swiftly and with more force than necessary, and the only thing you would gain from it was punishment. Many punishments, in fact. After he had spent so long to get you to this point, they would be harsher as a way to teach you the lessons you still refused to learn.

You didn't want to go through with all that again. Things with him were so much better now; why ruin that?

When Feitan brought the spoon up to your lips again, you opened your mouth and once more allowed him to feed you. There was no indication that he got any sort of enjoyment out of this, but the fact that he was doing so at all meant that he needed to be getting something out of it.

Feitan got up when the yogurt cup was empty, heading to the other side of the room to dispose of it.

That was when you spoke.

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Your voice was soft, but there was no way he hadn't heard you. Yet there was no verbal response on his end.

But when you glanced over to him and looked at his face, you caught sight of it again:

The barest hint of a smirk.

You had been hyperventilating for some time now.

With you locked away in the deep cellar of the aged castle, Feitan watched how you writhed about on the floor, breathing hard as you clutched at your head. Every now and then a twitch from a leg or an arm would jolt through your entire body and the pathetic noises coming from your mouth would only increase in frequency. Through your wailing and sobbing, he would occasionally catch words. Or rather, one word. One that you repeated over and over again.

“Please please please please-”

Feitan doubted you were trying to ask him to actually do anything – even if you were, there was nothing that he could do to relieve your pain. As content as he was to take complete control over your life, this was one aspect of it that was out of his hands. No matter what, once the light of the full moon hit you, you would transform. There was no getting around that.

He glanced up to the small window towards the ceiling, and he noted that it likely wouldn't be long until the moon came into view.

An idle thought came to mind – how was he handling it? – before his attention returned to you. And Feitan continued to wait, standing at the edge of the room as he watched what was the torment of your pre-transformation.

When the first rays of moonlight shown through the glass of the window, the result was violent.

Your entire body jumped, and the wails that had turned into quiet whimperings ceased as you were left speechless, your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide.

You began convulsing on the floor.

When you began to choke, you rolled over onto your back. The blood that had begun to block your throat spilled out from your mouth as hacked it out in violent coughs, and after a few moments, the red liquid that came from your mouth was accompanied by something else: your teeth. They came out in bunches, scattering as they were spat across the floor, one of them traveling far enough to bounce off the side of Feitan's shoe. Tears were streaming down your face again, this time accompanied by the blood that poured out from your gaping, bleeding gums.

The holes in your gums didn't stay empty for long, as Feitan could see the tips of the sharp, canine teeth coming through to fill up the empty spaces.

Then your bones began the process of rearranging themselves.

The way your bones cracked apart before they splintered back together filled the small room of the cellar, and he watched with no small amount of awe as you changed before him. Your limbs were becoming longer with the skin on top of them starting to tear apart as it no longer fit. Your face was going through a similar change as your skull broke apart, moving about as it changed its shape completely in favor of the form the moonlight wanted you to have. The skin of your face was tearing up as well as your nose and mouth began to push outwards, and more blood managed to come pouring out of your mouth as your gums were ripped apart by two long rows of sharp teeth.

By the time your hands began to tear away at your old skin, your mind was gone. Your eyes were wide and wild as you ripped yourself apart, showcasing the fur that had formed underneath. First your arms, then your torso followed by your legs; the skin was swiftly removed and tossed to the side as easily as trash. By the time you got to the skin that had once covered your head it was already in tatters, tearing further when your claws dug into it and ripped it off.

With that, your transformation was complete.

Anything that could have been identifiable as “you” was gone now. What stood before him was nothing less than a beast. With sharp teeth, long claws and powerful muscles that meant that few were capable of fighting or even outrunning you, you truly had become the monster that was the subject of stories that had been passed down through the ages, capable of decimating entire towns just to satisfy a primal bloodlust.

This version of you was breathing harshly, still affected by the trauma that had been the transformation process. But he was most interested in how you would react once you saw him.

Feitan knew very well by now that immediately after a transformation, werewolves had very little control over themselves. The first actions that would be taken were that of violence against anyone who was in their immediate vicinity, and if there was no one to be found, they would hunt for someone, anyone, to exact that violence on. Only then would anything resembling rational thought return to the shifter. After seeing the process so many times, Feitan had began to wonder if that was the result of the brain still catching up after the body had changed. The mindlessness seemed to indicate that, and maybe it was that act of taking a life that shocked the brain back into normalcy.

Though he also knew now it didn't need to be a life to snap you out of it.

He waited, his hands still in his pockets as he watched you collect yourself up from the floor, the blood still clotting your fur as you stood on shaking legs. He saw the way you sniffed at the room, but the scent of iron clogging your nose must have been too much, otherwise you would have noticed him by now.

It took you rising to your new, full height and looking in front of you before you noticed him, and you froze within an instant, yellow eyes growing wide as your fur stood up in shock.

Feitan's eyes met yours, and he waited to see what action you would take.

You stayed shocked for only a moment before your lips curled back to reveal the newly formed rows of canine teeth snarling at him as your ears folded back and your legs tensing as you crouched slightly.

One of aggression, then.

He tsked.

You lunged at him, claws extended and mouth open as you snarled-

Feitan hit you with the back of his hand.

The force was great enough that you were flung to the other side of the room, rolling over on the floor before you crashed against the wall. The hit made you yelp, and he had heard something crack beneath the force of his strike. Now you were cowering on the floor again, one monstrous hand clutching at the area where his hit had landed.

Had that been enough to wake you up?

Feitan again waited to see what you would choose. He was prepared that you may very well decide to keep fighting him, though at this point he trusted that you were past the point of fighting him through the whole night. From early on you recognized that forcing him to fend you off until the sunrise only left you hurting for days after, so these days it only took a few hits to knock the fight out of you.

When you pushed yourself back up and looked to him, your ears once again folded back. But not in anger.

This time, your form cowered against the wall as you bent your head low, letting out a small whimper as you did so.

A sign of submission.

That was better.

Your ears perked back up when he spoke to you.

“Come here,” he ordered.

A few seconds went by before you moved, shuffling over to him across the floor while still holding your injured maw, though he knew it wouldn't take long for that injury to heal.

Feitan couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his lips. Although you still weren't where he wanted you – ideally you wouldn't attack him at all – this was progress. Even in your most unstable form, you were learning what your place was.

When you were kneeling beside his feet, that same hand that had struck you now reached out to lay upon your head, petting the matted fur softly. You kept your eyes averted as he did as he pleased, your head still facing downwards.

“Hungry?”

That question of his made you look back up before you faced down again, answering with the smallest of nods.

He chuckled as he pulled his hand away, and he was about to motion for you to follow him out of the room when-

A wolf howl could be heard in the far-off distance, coming in clearly through the thin layer of glass that separated the both of you from the outside. You reacted, jumping slightly in place as you turned your head in the direction of the noise, your ears going back again in fear.

Feitan brought your attention back to him when he told you “don't worry about him.”

Then he motioned with his finger as he told you “follow me.”

When he began to head to the room's exit, you got up to follow, trailing behind him by a few paces.

It would be some time still before he would let you out to hunt. The way you had attacked him earlier was a clear sign that he couldn't let you out yet; if you were to get even the smallest taste of freedom from him, then you might very well try to run from him. And then all of his work would be set back and he would need to start again from the beginning.

As much as Feitan tried to be patient in the process, he didn't want to go through with all of that again.

Walking wordlessly through the cellar, he led you to a different door, one that had been padlocked from the outside. From inside the room, the sound of someone crying could be heard, though it was muffled by the heavy door. A few moments later a different voice snapped at the crying person, hissing at them to stop.

What followed after was tense silence.

Removing the key from his pocket and unlocking the door, Feitan pulled it open for you, revealing the half a dozen people he had gathered for you in the days and hours prior. One of the women in the room shrieked at the sight of you, and all of them began to cower in the furthest corner, all yelling at one another as they tried to push past each other in an effort to get away from you.

Half a dozen sets of eyes looked at you in fear, and that was enough to make you shudder in place as you stared back at the people in that room.

Yet you hadn't moved. Instead of going in, your yellow eyes looked to Feitan, who still held the door for you.

He nodded.

That was when you charged in.

The screams started up immediately as Feitan shut the heavy door behind you.

Waking up felt similar to the way your father's ancient desktop computer would boot up back in your childhood home. It had been the kind with the monitor that looked like a large square box, and while it would initially turn on at the touch of the power switch, it would take several minutes until it was actually operational, the screen staying black with little bits of text popping up before it would wake up. That was how you felt now. Your eyes were open and you were staring at whatever was directly in front of your line of view, but you weren't really taking any information in as your brain needed some time before it could function properly.

That memory came to mind first: when you were a child living in your family home and watching from around your father as he turned on his computer, waiting for him to get up and allow you to get online to play games on some website. It was so clear in your head and yet you couldn't remember what games you played or even what the website was called. That was enough to get you to huff out a small laugh.

It felt like a lifetime ago that you were there.

But now you were here, naked and sprawled on the floor of the cellar with the only source of heat you could feel being the sunlight coming from the window that hit a small portion of your legs.

You closed your eyes as you took in a deep breath.

Finding yourself on the cold, hard floor was normal now. It had happened so often that there was no longer any surprise when you came to and discovered that you had been left in one of those cellar rooms. Sometimes surrounded by the remains of your victims from the previous night, sometimes not. A quick look around the room showed you that you were alone, nothing else with you aside from the ashes that surrounded you from your change back into your human form.

Pushing yourself up to a sitting position, you idly thought that it was nice of him to bring you back here. Even if you still felt like shit, it was nice that he didn't leave you locked in that room he had taken you to last night.

You knew you had hurt people – more than that. You had killed them. While your memory of it was only bits and pieces, you knew that it happened.

And you also knew the night ended with you nuzzling your face into Feitan's lap while he was petting you softly.

Like you were a dog.

……

At least you were a dog that he treated somewhat well, as you noticed the over-sized sweater hanging from the hook on the back of the door. If he only intended for you to be his mindless beast that killed at his command, he wouldn't bother letting you have some dignity by allowing you to cover up your nudity. Even if, after you had slipped the sweater on, it showed off a lot of your bare legs that were still covered in goosebumps from the chill of the cellar. But at least all of the important parts were covered.

This was a consideration – a kindness – that he didn't need to show you. The fact that he chose to do so meant something.

…. You certainly hoped that was the case.

The heavy door opened easily when you pulled on it, and you walked out into the hall on unsteady legs, still feeling the affects from the night prior. You were so unfocused that it took you reaching the stairs to realize that there was a wailing coming from one of the rooms at the other end. Taking a glance back, it didn't seem as though it was coming from the room you had been taken to previously. So someone else was down here.

…. You couldn't tell if they were crying out of pain or if their cries were that of emotional distress. Perhaps from being kidnapped.

Perhaps from something worse.

Listening for only a few more moments, you turned your attention back to getting yourself up the stairs, putting your weight on the railing as you hauled yourself up.

You wanted a shower. Your skin always felt so weird after transforming, like there was an invisible layer of grime that you needed to scrub off before you felt you could do anything else. You would see Feitan after that was done, probably. He was never around when you woke up, but he would always be back once you left the bathroom. Though you often wondered where exactly he went off to, you didn't bother asking him.

Much like whatever was going on with that wailing person you were leaving downstairs, there were things he did that you didn't need to know about.

The door at the top of the stairs as another heavy one, but it too opened easily when you pressed against it. This time your walk was more of a stumble as you entered the first floor, holding onto the knob for a moment before closing the door behind you.

You felt a bit more light-headed than usual. What had caused that? Certainly you had eaten enough. Ah, maybe it was water. You couldn't remember when you last-

You turned around and saw a man standing in the kitchen at the end of the hallway.

All the thoughts in your mind went silent as you froze.

As you stood there in shock, you noticed that he seemed just as surprised as you were.

It was clear that he had showered recently as his blonde hair was still wet, and despite your senses still being out of whack, you caught the smell of his body wash that had all but just been applied. His height made him slightly intimidating, as he was far taller than either you or Feitan, and by looks of his muscles, he was clearly strong. Whether or not he was stronger than Feitan was hard to determine, but certainly he was far stronger than you. At least, as you were right now.

His golden eyes were wide as he looked you over, that expression of shock and awe still clear on his face as his gaze traveled downwards before it traveled back up again, those eyes meeting yours once again and this time maintaining the eye contact.

As for you, once the initial shock of seeing a random man in the kitchen passed, you were hit with another sense of shock as you realized something:

He wasn't human, was he?

Despite your senses being frayed, you were able to tell that much after a few moments in his presence. Like you and Feitan, this man was something else, one that only appeared to be human at first glance.

So then what was he?

Why the hell was he here?

What was Feitan going to do when he found out about this intruder?

And did this man plan on doing something to you?

Now you were scared to move, keeping your hand on the knob of the door next to you as your palms grew sweaty. A wrong move on your part could make this man snap, and with how weak you still were, you wouldn't be able to run far if that happened. The only guaranteed safety you had was if Feitan were to appear, but you had no idea where he was at the moment.

The man wouldn't stay like this forever – what do you do?

You didn't get a chance to consider your options further because the man's expression changed, and he smiled at you.

“It's nice to finally see you,” he said.

You blinked, uncertain what to make of that.

Your heart began to pound hard in your chest when he began walking towards you, however, and the grip you had on the doorknob was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I've waited a long time,” he continued, still walking towards you at a pace that attempted to be steady, yet it was hard to miss the pure excitement in his step.

“I really wanted to see you earlier but he's so particular on how things should be done. He really thinks that if you weren't ready when you met me that I'd manage to bungle your training.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, not understanding what exactly what he was saying. Was he talking about Feitan?

The man stopped in front of you and noticed your confusion.

“… Do you know what I'm talking about?” he asked.

You shook your head.

To that, he sighed, looking disappointed as he gazed at you.

“Figures,” he grumbled, “though I really thought by now he would've mentioned something about me.”

You were listening to him. Technically. But now that he was so close, you were caught off-guard by something else: his scent.

It was the same scent that was always, always all over Feitan when he returned to you before you transformed. That of another werewolf, going through the same pre-transformation stage that you were.

… This was him?

He was like you?

He had known about you all this time while you were left in the dark?

The man was speaking again, and what he was saying came in clearer when you noticed how he was raising up a hand to cup your cheek.

“But that's okay. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

Still uncertain as to what was going on, you kept silent. You kept still as well, even when his palm came so close that you felt the heat that radiated off of him on your skin.

When was the last time someone with a pulse had touched you softly?

He opened his mouth, starting with “I know we'll all-”

“Phinks.”

Feitan's voice called out, and chill ran down your spine. Based on the look on the blonde man's face, one ran down his as well.

The two of you looked to find the vampire standing at the other end of the hall, his hands in his pockets and his cowl missing, allowing both of you to see the full extent of his disgruntled expression.

“Not yet,” Feitan continued, his eyes on the male werewolf.

The blonde – Phinks, he seemed to be called – scowled before he looked back to you, pulling away and placing both his arms by his sides. But his hands clenched into fists after, and it was clear that he wanted to get ahold of you.

The blonde werewolf made no move of touching you, but he didn't make any move to back away from you, and when a few seconds ticked by like that, you saw Feitan's gaze narrow as his expression grew darker.

“Phinks.”

The warning in the way he said the man's name was even more clear this time, and even Phinks flinched slightly at the sound, gritting his teeth as anger was growing within him as well. It was clear that he didn't want to listen to Feitan, but he was compelled to do so.

With a deep sigh and something incomprehensible that he mumbled under his breath, Phinks turned away from you, heading back to where he'd been when you saw him before. He stopped when he reached Feitan, and from the way the two of them glowered at each other, there was some sort of argument that was silently playing out between them. One that Feitan was victorious in as soon after, Phinks' shoulders slumped downwards in defeat before he walked past the vampire.

Feitan then looked back to you, and upon seeing those dark eyes on you and the way he ordered you to leave without speaking, you jumped into action. With renewed energy, you turned and spotted a door that you knew led to a bathroom.

Perfect. You could clean yourself off and by the time you were done, hopefully whatever confrontation Feitan was having with this other werewolf would be over and you could go back up to your room.

Though technically you could've headed up the stairs that were only a few steps away from the door you had entered. Although by the time you thought of that, you were almost halfway done closing the door behind you, and if you changed course to do that, you might actually end up angering Feitan.

Better to just commit to this.

Only once you looked at the room you now found yourself in, you realized that you forgot that the downstairs bathroom didn't have a shower. Only a bathtub.

Oh well. You'd get clean either way, right?

You could pick up on the voices down the hall, recognizing both that of Feitan and Phinks. It was possibly an argument. Though you didn't try to listen in, instead heading over to the tub and turning the handles. Water immediately began rushing into the empty tub and all that noise blocked out their voices.

It took a few minutes until the temperature of the water was to your liking and the tub was filled, and when you shut the water off, you couldn't hear either of them anymore.

It was confusing; not knowing who Phinks was when he clearly knew you. Feitan knowing him and clearly not having any major issues with him considering that he didn't attack the blonde upon seeing him with you. And the thing Phinks had said, something about having all the time to know each other?

Just what was Feitan keeping from you?

You sighed before you slipped the sweater over your head, leaving it on the floor as you stepped into the tub, slowly lowering yourself before you were submerged up to your shoulders.

The next sigh that escaped you was one of relief, as you felt the tension leave your muscles once you had settled in the water. This was nice; nice enough that you felt safe as you closed your eyes, leaning your head against the rim of the tub while you let your thoughts drift away. Perhaps it was a little dangerous to be in the water when you were still feeling so weak, but you told yourself it would be fine.

Even if you did slip under, you no longer needed to fear death by drowning.

The moments of peace you felt lasted for some time, and you made no move to scrub yourself down like you had originally planned as you felt too content to bother now.

Then the door creaked open.

The daze you had been in was broken immediately and you sat up as you turned your attention back to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Feitan was the one who had walked in. When he shut the door behind him with a good deal of force, you found yourself cowering slightly as you worried what that might mean for you.

You sat quietly as he approached, his steps echoing off of the smooth surfaces of the bathroom until he reached the edge of the tub. Feitan's gaze flitted down to what he could see of you beneath the water's surface for a moment before he turned around and sat down on the edge of the tub. Oddly enough, his attention was on the door.

What was his mood right now? Your brows furrowed as you tried to figure him out. With him being closer now, you found that he didn't seem angry, or even annoyed as he so often was. If anything, he just seemed a bit perturbed.

All because of your encounter with Phinks? Why was it that bad that you met him? Were you even supposed to meet the other werewolf? Phinks made it sound as though you were, but with the way Feitan was acting both outside and in here made you wonder if your paths were never meant to cross.

Curiosity drove you to say something then, and you cleared your throat as you asked “did I do something wrong?”

Feitan glanced at you, then shook his head.

“Then…. Can I ask who Phinks is?”

Feitan turned his attention to you fully and you couldn't help but shrink down slightly into the water once the weight of his gaze bore down on you.

“You can tell, can't you?” he asked.

You nodded.

His eyes narrowed as he continued with “so why ask stupid questions?”

Your response to that was to look down into the water as you mumbled out a “sorry.” Feitan scoffed in response, but then he shifted himself on the edge of the tub so his body was turned more towards you. He wasn't saying anything more, instead once again choosing to stare at you.

Did he really need to do that when you were in the bathtub?

Unable to stand the silence and the irritation that came with his last answer, you meekly asked “was I not supposed to meet him?”

Feitan let out a small sigh as he said “not yet.”

With a roll of his head, Feitan looked back to the door one more time as he added “he's just too overeager. He doesn't understand patience.”

You nodded along like you understood everything that he was saying, although when you thought on it, previous experiences with Feitan had you thinking that it was rather hypocritical for him to criticize others on being patient. Especially when the vampire had been around for as long as he had, you would have thought patience would be something that he was a master of.

That was yet another thought in a sea of them that you kept to yourself.

Not wanting to leave things there, you spoke up again.

“Phinks seems nice,” you said.

Feitan looked over to you and his expression was blank.

“…. Is he not?” you asked.

“He's better now,” Feitan told you, “but you wouldn't have liked him at the beginning.”

“Beginning of what?”

“His training.”

The vampire dipped his hand into the water, moving it about with gentle motions as he added “the process of teaching him to be obedient took decades. Training you has been much easier in comparison.”

He said nothing else as he kept his hand in the water.

You stared at him as you felt slightly shocked.

… Feitan… The things he had done to you…. Had he also done them to Phinks? Were you not the first victim of his to be kidnapped and subjugated? Phinks was so much stronger than you, and he had honestly seemed to be just as strong as Feitan, if not more.

Yet Feitan had managed to gain control over him?

Part of you wanted to ask the vampire more while another part of you never wanted the subject to be brought up again. And luckily for that latter half of you, that part was the one that got its wish as you got the sense that Feitan didn't want to talk anymore. In his mind, no doubt, he had been nice enough to give you the answers you had sought. Answers to questions that you shouldn't have even had since it truly seemed you weren't meant to meet Phinks. Not this day. To push him further would be to cause distress for yourself. If not now, then in the future.

You desperately didn't want that, if just for the sake of your own well-being.

There was then a quiet that settled within the confines of that room. Neither you nor Feitan spoke, and the only sound that regularly battled against the emptiness in the air was that of the gentle sloshing of the water against the smooth sides of the bathtub. With nothing else left to say to him, you told yourself that you should continue as you were. Clean off that grime and refresh yourself as you had been intending when you first entered the room. If Feitan wanted to watch then he would. If he didn't, he would leave.

…. For some reason, you didn't want him gone yet.

What possessed you to do what you did next, you had no idea. But slowly, you moved, scooting up slightly in the tub until your head reached where Feitan's thigh was sitting on the edge. Just as slowly, you moved your head forward until your cheek was resting on his leg.

Feitan said nothing, nor did he make any move to stop you.

Eventually, you were resting the weight of your skull on his leg, the parts of your hair that had been soaked by the water getting his pants wet in the process. Still, Feitan didn't do anything.

He couldn't have been completely against it. If he had, he would have shoved you away or stood up and left. That he allowed you to do as you pleased meant that he couldn't have minded that much.

When he finally reacted, you held your breath.

Feitan pulled his hand out of the tub, and with the water still dripping off of his skin, that same hand came down to rest on the top of your head. How he felt about this became clear when he began to pet your hair with soft, gentle strokes. At that, you allowed yourself to relax more against him, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, humming contentedly.

It was similar to what had happened last night.

The memory came back again: of you kneeling before him in a room full of blood and body parts while he stood before you, and a single hand had reached out to stroke the top of the head of your monstrous form, his fingers becoming stained with red as they moved through the blood soaked fur.

This time was much nicer, you felt. The clean bathroom and the soothing water were much better accompaniments to the rare gentle touches from him that you had come to yearn for. Because he only did as such when he was especially happy with you. As you thought over the events of the past few days, you counted three different times, including this one, where he had shown you such affection.

That was good, you told yourself. It meant you were doing something right.

Things would be easier if you did the things that would please him. If you made that your goal, then you could be happy. And already, you felt a fragmented part of you wanting just that: for Feitan to be happy with you. To please the ancient vampire that had decided to choose you. Please him and accept whatever he wanted, be it to keep you to himself or to bring Phinks into whatever it was the two of you had.

Or were you the one being brought into something he had with Phinks?

It didn't make much difference.

As long as your mind could break enough so that it could accept this life with Feitan, that was all that mattered.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Once Yandere!Alpha!Kurapika cums inside you it’s OVER. You’re his now, there’s no way he can let you go. If there was ANY chance he’d try to let you live a normal life before, it’s gone once your womb is stuffed full of his seed.

There’s a possibility you’ll have his pups now, and Kurapika would never take any chances with the love of his life and potential mother of his pups.

He already wanted to possess you more than anything, to keep you tucked away in your nest while your belly swells with his pups. He won’t let you lift a finger, feeding, bathing, and taking care of all of your needs while you work on growing your babies.

Normal Alpha!Kurapika is pretty protective and territorial, but with Yandere!Alpha!Kurapika, it’s smothering and unbearable.

He’s constantly rubbing his scent glands against you, purring as he grooms and snuggles you. You’re his sweet little mate, his love.

Everyone will know who you belong to… and what happens when they touch something that Kurapika holds dear.

He’ll provide the softest, warmest nesting materials for you, taking pride in the fact that your nest is built out of his used shirts and clothes, along with blankets and pillows.

He’s covered you in his scent so often that you can’t help but rely on it. Kurapika is your mate now, whether you like it or not, you’re bonded!

He’ll keep pumping you full of his cum during your pregnancy, your cunt keeping his knot warm as he coos over how cute his sweet mate is.

You’re all he has left, his soulmate. He’ll protect you and his pups with his life!

[after-witch]

Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate. After all, it’s not like there were lots of people named “Uvogin” out there.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, soulmate AU, breaking and entering

Another Friday night alone. 

But it’s okay. You won’t wallow in self-pity and think about the couples who were out and about the city on romantic dates, or snuggled up on the couch prepping for a night of passionate (or not so passionate, depending on the strength of their relationship) sex. 

Life’s too short to wallow. And it’s not like you were exactly alone.

You’ve got your movie collection and your antique figurines and your latest purchase, a vintage sofa with restored upholstery that means you get the benefit of the original aesthetic without the downside of years of stains, rips, and potential bed bugs. 

And you have friends. Maybe you don’t see them very often, admittedly because you got tired of being asked when you were going to find your soul mate, whether or not you’d consulted a searching service to find them, if you were interested in one of them paying for the service if you didn’t have the money…

Sure, some people might get a little lonely without their soulmate. Someone who you were meant to be with forever and ever, until one or both of you died. And your coworkers who’d long since found their soul mates or who were actively searching day-after day (usually using those paid services that were perfect for such things--not that you wanted to spend your money on that) sometimes looked at you with these awful pity-filled expressions that made you want to roll your eyes.  

More so than your friend’s worried clucks and glances between each other, because at least you knew your friends were coming from a place of worry and not from a place of “why haven’t you done this thing society expects you to do?” like your coworkers.

And, really--

It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t found your soul mate. 

It’s not like there were tons of people in your home city named “Uvogin,” after all. 

At least his name was well-hidden on your body. It was written, as everyone’s was, in a neat cursive scrawl in black ink that would never come off. You’d heard stories of people who had gone so far as to cut off the skin that contained their soul mate’s name--fighting destiny and all that--only for the name to pop up somewhere else or sometimes even on the same spot, black as ever on the healing, mangled skin.

It wasn’t something you were going to try. 

Uvogin’s name, whoever he was, was on the back of your neck,  low, between your shoulder blades. You liked it that way. It meant you couldn’t be the target of scammers or people who’d been unable to find their real soulmate and were obsessively, dangerously desperate to get someone (anyone) to be with them.

And you? Well. You wouldn’t deny that it might be nice to find your soulmate. Some of your friends and coworkers and passers-by-on-the-street certainly seemed happy to be together. 

But you weren’t going to stop living your life just because you were still on your own. So if you spent your evenings watching movies or rearranging your decorations or making the perfect beef-and-wine stew for one, what was so wrong with that? 

--

You don’t wake up when someone breaks through the wood of your door with a simple stab of their fingers, slides their hand in, undoes the lock, and turns the door knob to enter without any more fanfare.

You don’t wake up when someone’s eyes dart around your apartment, looking for your bedroom.  You don’t wake up when your bedroom door opens with only the tiniest creak.

You only wake up when a hand is slapped over your mouth, and you jolt from a dead sleep with a dizzying suddenness that leaves your head swimming.

You’re awake--you think--and there’s someone above you, a big, heavy presence that seems to take up everything in your field of vision. The taste of salt and flesh is on your mouth, a big hand pressed over your lips and jaw to keep you from moving them.

To keep you from screaming.

“Where is it?” The voice asks, and you can tell it’s a man. But he’s huge, tall as anything, and even in the dimness of your room you can see he has a wild shock of hair that makes him look more like a lion than anything else. The thought is almost silly in the fogginess of your head, but as reality comes in, clearing the way, there’s nothing to laugh about right now.

“Where’s what?” You ask, or try to ask, though you can’t do more than mumble against the large meat of his hand against your face.

  It takes him a moment to register that you can’t actually answer. You can see, barely, his eyes narrow down at you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and you won’t be. He wants money, presumably, and you can give him that. Or your TV. Or whatever he wants. As long as you make it out alive.

Slowly, he removes his hand, as if waiting to see if you’ll try to scream.

You don’t. As he moves his hand away, your thoughts come quick, untethered, flitting about the unfairness of the situation. You haven’t really lived yet, and you’re too young to die, and you hope he doesn’t hurt you at all but if he does just let him not kill you at least, is that too much to ask, God, you hope not--

“Where is it?” He repeats. And maybe it’s just your imagination or the fear getting to you, but he seems like he’s lowered his voice a little, sounding less harsh and more considerate. Maybe because you didn’t scream and you aren’t making trouble. That’s a good sign, maybe. It’s hard to tell. 

You swallow. You wish he would move back, so you weren’t lying on your back in bed. But he does no such thing, so all you can do is stare up at him, heart hammering, mouth dry.

“Where’s what?” 

He snorts. 

”Your soulmate’s name.” 

Does your heart stop? No, but it feels like it does. You expected him to say something else. Like. Your money or your safe or your most valuable items. But your soulmate’s name? Is he some sort of deranged loner who couldn’t find his soulmate and he thinks you’re itt? 

Or… 

You swallow, thick, as the thought finally comes to you. It’s not something you thought about often, because most people weren’t worried about things like this. But sometimes your soulmate was someone Not Very Nice. Someone that Hunters might be tasked to go after. And this man, bulky and strong and intimidating as hell, could definitely be a Hunter.  

More often than not, they went after civilian soulmates when catching the criminals proved to be too difficult--though no one could say for sure what might be done to them afterward. 

Some of them were used as bait. Some of them were taken to the authorities to help track down their not-so-law-abiding soulmates. And some… well. You’d heard rumors that killing a soulmate could hinder certain types of criminals. 

“None… none of your business.” Your teeth clack against each other, a thin, quick pain that seems to linger on in your mouth. 

The man’s lips twist into a frown, half-shadowed by the darkness in the room, although as your eyes adjust you can see more of him. It doesn’t make you feel any less worried about what’s going to happen, though. 

“No?” 

You see his arm move, and think he’s about to slap his hand over your mouth again, but what he does instead is shove his arm right in front of your face.

You blink.

And stare.

And it takes you a moment to realize what you’re looking at--on his arm, bulky as it is, scared as you are. 

It’s your name. In a nice, neat scrawl. Unmistakable and permanently stained on his skin.

This man isn’t a Hunter sent here to kidnap you or drag you into a station or kill you. And he certainly isn’t here to steal your wallet or your television or your collection of rare comic books.

He’s your soulmate.

Uvogin.

“B-Back… back of my neck,” you say, stammering. 

He hums. And then he shifts over on the bed, and you instinctively sit up in your bed, glad to no longer be prone underneath him. 

“Let me see,” he says, gruff. But there’s a gradual lessening of heaviness in the air, now that you know he isn’t here to kill you or rob you or who knows what else. That still doesn’t excuse breaking into your apartment and doing this, but…

You lean forward, and with a surprising gentleness considering his size, he pulls down the back of your nightshirt enough to see what’s underneath. 

“Heh, there it is, huh…”

 He lets the fabric go and you lean back, looking at him. He stares down at you, his weight sagging your mattress, his bulky frame taking up most of the bed.

“You gonna scream?” 

You think. You bite your cheek. You shake your head.

“You gonna try to run?”

You breathe out through your nose. And you think. And you shake your head. You won’t scream, you won’t run--you can tell without asking that neither of those would do you any good. And… do you really need to? There’s a strange sort of curiosity that’s building inside you, now that you know who he is--your soulmate. 

He nods, tilting his head back a little, craning his neck as if to stretch it.

“Hope so. Would be stupid if you tried, and I hope my soulmate isn’t that stupid. You get me?”

You nod again, and your breath hitches just a little when he stands up and begins to stretch his neck again. He sighs, evidently pleased by the releasing of tension, or maybe pleased that he’s found you and you didn’t shriek like a wild banshee and try to get away.

You could still try to run. Your fingers grip on your sheets, still uneasy. Sure, he was your soulmate but… soulmates didn’t usually burst into people’s rooms at night and tell them not to scream. Usually.

Uvogin, like his name, was definitely an outlier. 

He leans against the wall next to your bed, looking down at you with appraising eyes. It almost makes you wish you weren’t sitting in bed wearing an old nightshirt, eyes bleary, hair messy. It wasn’t exactly a good first impression. 

“Been looking for you for a while,” he tells you. “I thought maybe you were good at hiding… Shalnark’s soulmate kept him out of the loop for a while.” He chuckles to himself, reliving some private memory. “But looks like you’re just that much of a nobody.”

Something inside your chest bristles.

“Excuse me?” You sit up straighter, and finally get the nerve to lean over to your bedside table and flick on the lamp. Your eyes squint for a moment. The addition of new light doesn’t make your soulmate look any less intimidating. But it does make you feel less like some helpless rabbit in the dark, at least.

He raises his eyebrows, and there’s a small part of you--a churning in your stomach--that tells you to sit down and shut up. But you’re not about to be 

“That’s rude,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I’m not a nobody just because you couldn’t find me. Maybe it means you’re bad at looking.”

There’s a pause, a beat. You wonder if you’ve pissed him off. But then he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Fair enough,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Fair enough.” He sighs, then, and looks up at the ceiling. “There is the question of what to do with you, though.”

Ah, there it is again. That churning in your stomach. A growing pit, tight and electric. 

You sit up straighter, and piece what little you know of these puzzles together in your mind. It doesn’t add up to anything particularly wholesome, even with giant chunks missing. 

“I… I’m guessing you wouldn’t be okay with a long distance relationship,” you mutter. 

He scoffs, a little laugh. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

He leans forward, and you don’t know exactly what you expected him to do, but it wasn’t to pat you on the head. But he does. 

“Smart,” he says, while his voice is teasing there’s something that sounds a little genuine in there. Or were you imagining it? Was it just part of the soul mate bond, maybe, to automatically see things your soulmate did as pleasant? 

He sits back down on the bed. The bed frame creaks. You aren’t keen on spending money to replace it, but you aren’t keen on scolding your very large, very strong soulmate right now either. So you keep mum.

He leans forward and rests his hand on his palm, keeping his elbow on his knee.

“Well. I don’t exactly got a house with a white picket fence. Or without one, for that matter.” He rubs at his nose, and it strikes you, how casual this conversation is… your soulmate, sitting on your bed, after breaking into your apartment in the dead of night. You take the moment of his consideration to lean over and look through your bedroom door, which faces the entryway. You can just make out the busted wood of your front door… fuck. What would your landlord say?

“Some of the others got one place they keep their soulmates, suppose I should think about it…” He glances at you, gauging something. “Makes it easier when you have one place to go, ‘stead of dragging your soulmate everywhere.”

His words finally do let you feel a sense of unease. You don’t know who the “others” are, or why they would need to be dragging their soulmates everywhere. He wasn’t a Hunter, but maybe something like it. Something that kept him moving. Or, more likely considering the circumstances of your first meeting, something that kept him on the run.

The thought of being dragged around or even taken to some sort of strange house brings back that churning in your stomach, an awful, lurching feeling. Your eyes dart around your room, to everything you’ve set up in your life up until now. 

Every inch of your apartment was carefully chosen, down to the rugs on the floor and the color of the tension rods you’ve shoved into the windowsill. But it’s not just the decor. It’s… your whole life. Your job, the coworkers you’d carefully built relationships with, the fact that you have a favorite diner for breakfast and takeout spot for the weekends. 

“I… don’t want to leave here.” Your voice is soft and at first you think he doesn’t hear you, but when you see him raising his eyebrows and lean forward, you get the nerve to continue.

“If-if that’s possible,” you add, a little quickly. “I’d like to stay here. This could be your… the place where you keep me. Or whatever.” The last words come out mumbled. They’re almost embarrassing to say, like you’re some kind of pet.

He doesn’t say anything for a little while. You almost start talking again, some half-baked plead, but he leans a little closer to you. His look is serious.

“How could I trust that you won’t just run away after I leave?”

Your lips press together. 

“I worked hard for this place. For this life. I would hate…” And you search for the words, lost somewhere in the dimness of your room. “I would hate for it all to become worthless.” 

You sit up straighter, before leaning towards him. Maybe it will be easier to convince him if you don’t act so rigid, so scared. You can do that. 

“If you let me stay here, or-or even if you just let me take my favorite things with me, I’ll be… good?”

He snorts. There’s a hint of a smirk as he leans forward.

“Yeah? You’ll be good?”

Warm flushing creeps to your cheeks, and for the first time you think about what it really means to be someone’s soulmate. Togetherness. Intimacy. 

Your words come out halted, and fumbling. But you mean them, as long as it guarantees that you don’t have to give up your life. Your apartment, your spots, every carefully curated bit of your existence here. Or even--and the thought is desperate--if he is going to take you away, it would be enough if you could keep your belongings. Just enough. 

“I’ll do what you want?” You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast on  your lap, though you can see him shift out of the corner of your gaze.. “Cook or clean or… whatever.”

There’s a hand on your chin, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth. Instead he tilts your chin up and holds it there, forcing you to keep eye contact.

“So what? You want to make a deal? I let you keep some furniture, and you’re going to be a good little housewife for me?”

“I didn’t--” You say, practically spluttering the words out. “I didn’t say that.” Your cheeks feel impossibly hot. 

He laughs, and lets go of your chin. You don’t look down.

“No, I like it. It’s cute.” He grins at you. “I’m lucky. Some of the others, well…” He rolls his eyes, and you don’t press him on it. 

He drums his fingers against the bed. 

You look up at him, eyes wide, hopeful. 

He sighs, then gives you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach churn in a different way than before. Though the feeling is just as unnerving.

“All right,” he says, with a casual sort of finality. “You can stay here.” A pause. “For now. If you try anything--and I mean anything, like going to the cops, telling your friends, whatever…” He moves his wrist around in a gesture that you can only take to mean “all of this goes away.” He looks at you with a seriousness that makes you want to press yourself through the headboard and into the wall. “Got it?”

You nod.

But then…

“There’s… one thing I need you to do before morning, then,” you say, voice tight and quiet but determined. “Uvogin,” you add, hoping that using his name might make him a little less intimidating. It doesn’t, but maybe that comes with time. 

Both of his eyebrows raise. You almost think he’ll just shut you down, but instead he asks--

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

You gesture towards your open bedroom door, towards the front of your apartment.

“You have to fix that door first. My landlord will have a fit.”

For the second time since meeting you, Uvogin throws back his head and laughs. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea. 

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there. 

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would. 

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.” 

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. 

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!” 

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it. 

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.” 

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile. 

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift. 

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step. 

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!” 

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.” 

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you. 

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave. 

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka. 

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi. 

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding. 

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress. 

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd. 

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea. 

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?” 

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling. 

“....” 

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back. 

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!” 

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi. 

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.” 

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest. 

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given. 

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this. 

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?  

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him. 

He’s so jealous. 

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention. 

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.” 

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind. 

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned. 

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject. 

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms. 

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!” 

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked. 

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against. 

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response. 

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.” 

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual. 

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for. 

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip. 

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.” 

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all. 

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself. 

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot. 

They were a family of assassins. 

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling. 

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign. 

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former. 

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile. 

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.” 

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his. 

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back. 

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!” 

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki. 

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter. 

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.” 

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word. 

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-” 

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems. 

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form. 

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.” 

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged. 

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

[depravitycentral]

I don’t know if this appeals to anyone but me, but I’ve been watching a lot of period pieces about Regency Era England (specifically the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton) and I can’t stop thinking about the way women were actually treated like property, their only purpose to wed and produce children. Imagine the yandere possibilities, and the absolute lack of control you’d have over your fate.

Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about the lack of care and the disregard for social customs and norms yanderes could exhibit in that era. The rules are so very strict, and so very numerous – really, can he be blamed for not adhering to each and every one? Sure, he doesn’t treat any other woman this way, but is it such a crazy notion that he breaks a rule here or there? Surely not – not when it’s so very obvious that the proposal is coming, that he’s absolutely hell bent on keeping you pristine and pretty and pregnant in his own abode, not the pathetic pile of wood and roofing you call your home.

Maybe he’s always been one for attending the local and regional balls – for appearances, yes, but also because there’s nothing more that he loves than being in a room with all sorts of beautiful women and alcohol. Maybe he likes to play the politics game, stringing along every girl he can find so that he gets his pick of wives, so that he can bed any woman he so pleases without as much as a goodbye. Except that once his feelings for you form, his composure crumbles a bit.

He’s standing much, much too close to you throughout the entirety of your dance with him. His hips are tightly pressed against your ass as he follows the 1, 2, 3 of the waltz, the shuddering breath you hear at your ear making your skin crawl.

Maybe he’s insisted on keeping his hand much too low as he guides you through the dance, almost able to feel the hem of your underclothes under the layers of your dress, his fingers eager as he presses them tighter and tighter against you.

He’ll speak to you during the dance, his voice low and whispered and his mouth much too close to your ear, the audible wet sound of him licking his lips seeming louder than the quartet in the corner of the dancefloor.

He’s even asking you to remove your gloves, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin the delicate silk – what would your dear mother think of me? And once they’re off (because really, his tone left very little room for rebuttal), his bare skin is pressing against yours, his palms clammy and sweating and absolutely engulfing yours with the way he keeps grabbing at more more more, wanting to feel every inch of you possible.

And then of course there’s those who aren’t as bold with physicality – no, the mere thought of being any closer to you than society permits is enough to get them hot under the collar, so nervous and flustered that they’re sure they’ll trip over themselves, that they’ll make an absolute fool in front of you. Instead, they resort to more classy measures – that is, it’s a bit jarring when they quickly approach you the moment you’ve entered the ballroom, swallowing harshly and asking in a voice that’s just a hair too high-pitched if they could perhaps have the honor of claiming your first dance this evening?

You can’t exactly say no – and even as you watch him eagerly scribble his name down on the first dance slot, then the second, then the third and fifth and tenth, what can you really say? He’s wealthier than your family, and your mother watches from the corner with a glint in her eye because oh, isn’t this just such an advantageous match?

Even the grouches who only attended the ball in which they met you upon a friend’s request act out in unexpected ways. They seem distracted, clutching onto their lemonade glass with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white, their shoulders visibly tense as their eyes scan the room over and over. They’re looking for you, of course. Mentally guessing at what colors you’d be donning this evening, how your hair is styled, what sorts of jewels and precious jewelry sits so prettily in the hollow of your throat or dangles against the sensitive skin of the juncture of your neck and jaw.

And once they've found you, they may not have the courage to speak with you or dance with you. But suddenly you've gained a permanent shadow for the evening. Where you go, he goes. He’s following you a good five feet behind, snaking around fellow attendees and keeping his eyes locked on your figure, biting his lip as he mentally notes who’s eye you’re catching, who’s speaking with you, who’s approaching you with a request to dance.

He’s standing directly behind you as you dance with some low-level baron, some insignificant man who can’t hold a candle to the riches, comfort and adoration that he can give you. And he's just staring, too – eyes like daggers as he watches the interaction, letting the anger simmer and fester until he finally, finally approaches you, his voice gruff and choppy as he compliments your dress (something like this dress is much more handsome than the last one you wore) and practically demands your next dance. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, he leads far, far too much.

But really, the truly terrible thing to think about is what happens after the ball – when they call upon you in the sanctity of your own home, all sorts of love declarations falling from their lips that are much too hyper specific and draw upon knowledge you know you’ve never shared with him. But you must be kind; he’s of higher rank, after all, in a position where a few bad words could ruin your family forever.

It’s just that when he drops to one knee and proposes, it’s difficult to remember your delicate position because he’s managed to find the ring of your dreams, and he’s going on about how he’s had your bedchamber already decorated to fit all your tastes, how he has a wardrobe full of new dresses he’s had custom-fit to you, how he’s already decided that you’re to have a son first, but then all daughters and you’ll name them James, Eleanor, Kathryn, Marta…

And as he embraces you, the hug either much too tight or much too stiff, it’ll feel like a cage locking into place around you. Because really, what can you do? If you try to fight him, he has the wealth and connections to force your family into consenting. And even if your parents refuse to hand you off to a man you clearly despise and fear, it’s not so difficult to spread the rumors about your purity, to claim that he’d witnessed a servant passionately embracing you, that he’d seen you naked in the arms of some butcher’s boy…

It’s your word against his, and oh, isn’t he so kind for still having you after your reputation’s been destroyed? Isn’t he so dreamy and chivalrous for saving you from a life of destitution and outcast? Even if he’s the one to blame for that life in the first place?

And he’ll be so good to you, he promises. He’ll explain each and every aspect of the wedding night, of the consummation of a marriage, showing you exactly how deeply he’s been desiring you, how long he’s been craving you, how many times he’s fucked his fist and been thinking of you you you in those tempting dresses you wear, of those hips that you sway and move like a fucking minx at every dance you attend…

He’ll leave you wanting for nothing – aside from perhaps your freedom, and perhaps your sanity. But he’s sure you’ll learn to love him.

You must, after all.

Specifically the image of a few characters in the traditional regency dress is making me feral - imagine Aizawa, who's known as the reclusive Duke of the area, his public appearances next to none and his temperament difficult to handle. But alas, what's this? A few snarky comments from you - also standing against the ballroom's wall - about the ridiculousness of women's fashion and the discomfort of dancing in heels has him chuckling a bit, your obvious lack of knowledge of his position making him feel oddly seen. And when you find yourself falling into his company at the next ball he's forced to attend, Aizawa decides there's something particularly agreeable about your smile - finding himself wanting to know if your lips taste as good as they look. And when he loses his composure and blurts these words out, don't expect him to cut off contact with you - instead, he'll immediately speak with your father, requesting your hand in marriage and hoping that in time you might learn to forgive his dismissal of your opinion. Perhaps a child would help distract you, yes?

Imagine Rengoku, who's introduced to you by the ball's hostess, Shinobu. Imagine Rengoku, who immediately dances with you and keeps returning to fill up your dance card, that smile blinding as he spends the evening on the dancefloor by your side. Imagine Rengoku, who calls upon you everyday after first meeting you, his visits growing in frequency - sometimes multiple a day - and duration as the weeks drag on. Imagine the way he'll end each visit by grasping your hand in his and giving it a much-too-long kiss, assuring you that it's only taking this long for him to propose to and wed you because he's having an entirely new manor built - one he thinks you'll like a bit more. Nevermind that you don't wish him to continue his visits or leave you alone - do you like floral or patterned wallpapers more?

Imagine Akaashi, who's every woman's dream for both his looks and status. Imagine the way he holds you so delicately as he twirls you, those steel eyes of his practically cutting into you, his mid-dance questions starting off simple and innocent and slowly morphing into something that feels like an interrogation, something that feels too intimate and demanding and strange. Imagine the way he grasps onto your wrist - still gently but firm enough to eliminate your escape - as he guides you towards the refreshments table, insisting that you absolutely must drink something because he's noticed you haven't drunk anything since you arrived nearly an hour ago. But don't mention the fact that you didn't meet until roughly twenty minutes ago - long after you'd walked through the front doors.

Imagine Chrollo, who manages to charm his way into getting you alone with him on the balcony, those dark eyes smoldering as he compliments you. There's something stiff and rehearsed about it, and as you snort and ask him how many women he seduces in a night's work, something clicks in his brain. Imagine the way he doesn't leave your side for an instant after that, glued to your hip and seamlessly managing to evade each and every potential suitor from approaching you. Imagine the way he begins inviting you for long stays at his rather luxurious home, conveniently placing your bedchambers beside his own, spending night after night with his ear pressed against your shared wall and biting his lip as he fists his cock to the sound of you humming to yourself and washing your face with the pale of lukewarm water he'd used first then had the servants bring to you.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Bunker

"Wakey~ wakey~ sweetheart," Sing-songed a man's voice. "Rise and shine~"

My head hurt. Mouth felt bone dry. Drugged or knocked unconscious? I... I couldn't tell. Couldn't remember. SMELLS hurt. Much less thinking, at the moment.

"Muuu, poor baby~" came a mocking croon from nearby and slightly above. "Does my darling girl not feel so good? Little bit sick? Maybe she should have thought of that before she decided to FIGHT me, hmmm? Then we wouldn't be in this mess. We could be enjoying a nice breakfast together instead."

Fight? What... what fight? I don't... Urgh! I try not to be sick as my stomach rolls. Drugged. Probably concussed and drugged. Feel weird. Why... why can't I move my arms? Body feels heavy. I try again and feel... rope? Are those knots? Wait... wait those ARE. Legs too. Am I tied up? Why am I...?

Laughter.

Fond but more then a little mocking.

"Aaaah~" his voice rises and falls as he drags out the sound, a possessive and calloused hand runs itself through my hair. "You're so out of it~♡ It's hilarious, you know? That one little bonk and a needle is all it take to bring you down. You fight like a meat thresher and keep saying no, no, no! But like this? Look how CONFUSED you are! How much you NEED me."

"Utterly Defenseless~"

He all but sighs the last two words. Nearly MOANS them. Bad. That's... That's BAD. I can't remember why. But I know it is. This man is dangerous. God, I feel so sick. The world is spinning. I'm so thirsty. But... but I have to... to DO something? I think?

H...head hurts. Pounding with each beat of my heart.

Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.

He kneels, arm resting on one leg as the other does as it pleases. Looming. Don't know how I got here. Don't know where "here" is. Focus. What can you pick up? The ground smells of... mold. Wet stone. Blood and rot. But not... "dangerous" rot? What is...

My ears finally make sense of that distant sound that seemed to never stop. Shuffling, banging, nonsensical chattering and groans. Zombies. The... the bad rot is ZOMBIES. I was on LOOK OUT! Oh god. Adam! Adam, what have you DONE?!

He must see the realization, the horror, in my eyes. Because I am treated to an angelic grin. The gleeful, bright smile of the community's best resource hunter. Our best zombie fighter. Best KILLER. A man I am only now realizing... has not just "adapted well" like I previously believed... but was like this all along.

"You know~ If you'd just left with me when I ASKED, none of this would be happening, Precious. I was trying to be reasonable. Respect your boundaries." His face is a mask above me. A poor mimicry of honesty, of emotions, worn by a man who does not quite grasp the significance of what he copies. "If they can't survive on their own, that's not our problem. This vault's made for two not twenty-seven so they'll just have to deal, m'kay?"

"Now. I've locked us up nice and tight. No one gets in, no one gets out! You can struggle all you want sweetheart, but you're not getting away from me THIS time. So let's get you a snack, hmm? A drink and some cuddles. You and I have a date with a BED~♡"

"We're gonna cuddle til I say so, snookums!" He drawled, the mocking endearments sounding alarmingly... possessive, as they spilled from his mouth.

"And there is NOTHING you can do about it."

[luffyvace]

yandere hero & villain hxh au pt2

to explain this again for those who haven’t seen pt1, Basically the main 4 & the Hunter association are the heroes and the villains are the phantom troupe!!

Request via dms by: @animerules898

Btw this is separate for each character, and bc they’re yandere they feel like the opposite side (hero in this case) want to take you away from them so they’re protective 💃👍

This is the villain one! Pt1 has the heroes! Also! These exclude hisoka & kalluto! + have Illumi! :)

Light Yandere! Themes, mentions of death/killing—Phantom Troupe stuff yk, nothing too crazy ofc!! (Here’s pt1)

Chrollo:

Ngl unless you’re scared of this man (he’s always gentle and never hurts you physically) you’re pretty much good! 👍

like I said…..physically. 😬 depending on whether or not you try to escape (he inevitably kidnaps you bc there’s no way you’ve seen the news on how dangerous he is and will decide to date him anyway- or maybe you will! What do I know..) your mental may take a hit

he’ll give you anything you want really, and I don’t hc him to punish you by taking away luxuries, he’ll just ignore your behavior, patiently waiting for you to stop acting out (if you do, like I said)

he is heavily protective over you though! Thankfully for him, he basically has a whole gang ready to help him jump any heroes who may try and “save” you! :)

pshh! Just who do those heroes think they’re saving anyway?! He gives you more than enough love and most of them are just as bad as him anyway! 🙄

anywho! These gotta be short bc the villain version has more characters 😊

Nobunaga:

Nobunaga definitely doesn’t like the heroes but oddly enough would be open to any of them “opening they’re eyes” and switching sides if they’re strong!

not to say he immediately trusts them tho! Especially around you! His beloved! He hardly lets anyone near you! Those darned heroes aren’t even gonna be able to touch you with a 10 feet poll before they’re sliced into shreds 😤✋

there’ll be no “saving” you on his watch! 😒 he heavily watches over you, if he can’t he’ll have his buddy Uvo do it! (And boy you don’t dare try to escape when he’s around) otherwise, he’ll probably pay Shalnark to do it, this is VERY rare tho

he doesn’t really trust him like that knowing he’s a sadist…..but he’ll do it if it comes down to it. he has faith in the troupe so there’s no one else he’d rather go to

overall you have a pretty decent life! You always have essential needs met like food, clothes and shelter. And! Nobunaga actually does really well controlling his temper around you, so you’re pretty good! He keeps security tight so your chances of getting away are slim. You won’t be going anywhere, but ask for something and he’ll deliver!

Feitan

oh gosh….I LOVE this man but I feel for you when I say your in for it…😃

no. I don’t hc him to abuse/torture you cuz no. I just never liked those hcs tbh 😅 but I don’t exactly think he’ll be all kissy over you LOL

yeah he’s like 100% guaranteed no escape 👍 your not leaving and the heroes ain’t savin you so your best just negotiating with him

he has set rules you CANT trespass, you don’t dare to find out the punishment behind them….yes I think he would threaten you but it’d be the types you don’t know if they’re empty or not. Like the ‘you set foot past this red line and I’ll make sure you never think twice about it again’ type yk?

except that’s TERRIFYING coming from him so you never wanna test it 😭

he’s not sweet or anything but he knows what you like (he knows literally everything about you. You have no secrets) so he makes sure wherever you live has plenty stock of all your fav foods, equipment, merch, clothes whatever!

uhh good luck! You won’t need it too much if you don’t say or do the wrong things…….

Machi:

Machi gotta be one of the most skeptical ones ngl. She won’t let you within a 30 meter radius of a single hero no matter how weak they are. She just can’t risk it. If you see them you might try to ask for help, and if they see you and figure something’s “wrong” they, once again, might try to help or “save” you.

she’s always watching though, so even if that situation does come into play, they’ll get they’re neck slit by a thread that leads back a couple blocks down (to her ofc).

she’s very motherly so as long as your not a slob and you don’t try to escape you shouldn’t have much trouble. 😃👍 life with her can pretty much be almost domestic if it wasn’t for her yandere tendencies…😁

The most she would trust to look after you is probably pakunoda. She knows she can take care of someone (like with the cat she saw, she isn’t always hostile like uvogin or smth) so she’s always her go to. Chrollo would be on that list but she doesn’t wanna bombard her boss with her personal affairs n such.

Machi also keeps an eye out for other villains as well, like I said she’s a skeptic so she puts nothing past her. Looking at hisoka here ngl….😑 if he was still interested in pursuing her she’d flat out state she isn’t into him and to drop it. If he doesn’t leave it at that, she’ll ultimately decide to ask the troupe about the matter since members aren’t allowed to fight. It’ll have to be a new rule not to get into each others personal affairs or smth bc hisoka is a MENACE. 😭🗿 At the end of the day, shes still gonna tighten security on your house 😊👍

Phinks:

Phinks is another very possessive one. He’d get so angry if any dumb hero tried to save you and you’ve probably seen him kill before considering how angry he gets. He bashes their head into the ground and……yeah it’s a whole mess.

he likes to take you out a lot despite all the heroes that attempt to save you, oddly enough. He just wants you to get out and have some fun, get some fresh air! You know?? And those stupid heroes always try to ruin it!! Catching themselves tryna be a savior and what not….😤 it just makes him so angry!! Like?? you’re happy aren’t you?!

you get asked that a lot and you’d better give the right answer when he’s in that type of mood. If you don’t he won’t necessarily punish you but he’ll walk off and ignore you for a while. He’s trying to cool off, really, but now you can’t ask him for anything. Like when your mom is angry but you want something so you just go “nvm” 😭😂😂

anyway! It’s become very causal for multiple heroes trying to save you to get pummeled while you’re out on dates, so I hope you can handle some blood…😅 This probably deters you from trying to run away, even though you two go out often. Also the fact that you’re never not practically glued to his hip too.

ultimately you’ll be pretty comfortable in your life with him if you don’t run away and agree with him on his “heroes suck” rants. LOL 😂 he’s a pretty decent cook/at cleaning. He’s still practicing on cooking tho ….but hey! It’s not too bad!

I also forgot to mention he may send some heroes to his buddy Fei, just because he knows he can handle them better in the sense of punishing them 😗 And he’ll call up his buddy Shalnark to track you down if you ever do manage to get away (after that he places a tracker on you—yes it’s connected to his phone)

Shalnark:

Shalnark is like your ultimate op if you’re trying to get away 😭😭 no matter who your yandere is! Because they all go to him to track you down 🙏

so if your his s/o? Yeahhhh no you’re not leaving buddy. First of all he has a crap ton of technology, there’s no way the house isn’t practically bullet proof and you aren’t buffed with trackers- LOL 😭 it’s true tho and I feel for you 😔🙏

as we know he’s pretty sadistic and I don’t really know where I stand as to whether he’s like that towards you or not…..I’d say he’d do it more so mentally than physically, like Chrollo. Let’s face it he probably does view you as a toy, but thankfully one he doesn’t wanna break, so he takes extra special care of you.

for the record I don’t think he’d wanna break you mentally either, then you’d be no fun since he couldn’t even get a reaction out of you! On another note I think he’d realize Uvogin is a bit too rough to watch over you in the case he somehow can’t….(IDK HOW 😭🗿) but Phinks might do the trick! He makes sure you’re safe and demands authority! Plus he won’t hurt you physically! That perfect!

as far as the heroes go, your (missing persons—bc he erased all evidence of him kidnapping you) case will probably close for two reasons 1) he also erased you from the internet, scrubbing every nook and cranny of info on you and 2) he closes it LOL! Ez enough to just hack in the system and change it 🤷‍♀️

Franklin:

Franklin seemed pretty scary at first because he had to assert dominance, making sure you know where you stand and that your his, then he becomes a a sweetheart <3 your relationship is probably something like his and Shizuku’s 💗

Franklin isn’t worried about any heroes “saving” you, he knows he can fend off any that try, and he always keeps a close eye on you no matter what. Plus he made sure to drill ‘no escaping’ in your brain before he started being kinder to you. Don’t mistake that for him letting his guard down though, that’ll be your first mistake.

he wasn’t mean when he was training you not to leave, just strict. But now I think your life with him is second most domestic to Machi tbh! He’s a decent cook and knows how to clean, so as long as you don’t act up- life’s good! 🤗

as far as who he trusts to watch over you while he’s gone, I’d say it’d have to be one of the girls, like any of them really. Machi is caring but a good amount of strict, like him. Pakunoda is just someone simply everyone trusts and Shizuku and him spend a lot of time together, so he knows she won’t forget you’re not allowed to escape lol.

if you ever managed to leave he’d for sure find you, by any means necessary. Whether he had to threaten a random stranger or Shalnark for the info or not🗿 JOKING (abt Shalnark anyway..) The most important part tho!- (😭) is that when you get back home, 1) if a hero helped you consider them dead. And 2) he’s not gonna be in a good mood for quite some time……seems last time wasn’t enough 😬

Shizuku:

Shizuku will forget if you don’t like gore/blood, and kill any hero who tries to “save” you right in front of you, every single time. Blinky ruthlessly sucks them whole as they scream and shoot into the vacuum. Or! They might just get hit in the head with the vacuum instead. Either way it’s sure to leave you traumatized if your not used to that sorta thing..

Shizuku remembers everything about you, so it’s weird to you that she forgets if you can tolerate gore or not…..you’re starting to think she’s not actually forgetting. (She’s asserting dominance). Your chances of escaping her is 50/50. Not really but let me explain. Escaping goes one of two ways: 1) you escape, find a hero and right when you ask for help they start screaming and then get sucked into her vacuum or! 2) you actually succeed in getting away! Except she tracks you down each and every time..🙂

you don’t know how she does it, and neither do I. I assume Shalnark is one way but I feel like she has other methods…..let’s not talks about them yeah? 😊

Shizuku would trust a few members to take care of you while she’s away, like Paku, Machi or Franklin! These 4 basically stick to each other since they have similar morals when it comes to their s/o

might I mention Shizuku doesn’t necessarily hate the heroes or anything. She only cares if they attempt to “free” you. Then she kills them..otherwise your life ain’t half bad! Enjoy 🍽️

Pakunoda:

Pakunoda is like- the best, most kind yandere in the troupe. 😭💗 she lets you do whatever as long as it’s not escaping or harming yourself. You can go outside (only with her). She buys you whatever you like and indulges in your hobbies. Okay, she may be on Machi level domesticity….maybe more 🤭

Pakunoda trusts Machi most with taking care of you, Chrollo would also be an option for her if he wasn’t her boss. But she knows Machi will get the job done 👍

You can pretty much be genuinely happy with her! You won’t see any killing and the only (mental) damage you’ll like take is being kidnapped 😭 But I do gotta mention the fact that she won’t hesitate to put a bullet in the brain of any hero who dares to “save” you

she dislikes, not hate, heroes only because the try to take you away, acting like they could treat you better than her 🙄✋ She won’t kill them in front of you, thankfully! But she’ll be sure to borrow a favor from another member of the troupe! 😁 Or she might do it herself! If Machi is watching you and she’s out and about, might as well look for that idiot who calls himself a hero! 🤷‍♀️🤗

your not escaping bro 🗿 give it up. Ngl you probably can’t genuinely escape any member bc they have Shalnark + connections, etc. Anyway she has some security but will probably tighten it if you ever manage to get out. She’s not very strict though, so she’ll see it as you just wanting to be able to go out more 😭😅

Bonolenov:

Bonolenov is another that doesn’t kill in front of you because his way of doing so is long ranged and dangerous. Soooo he just remembers their face and name! 😀 bro got a hit list 🗿 On that note he’s another who doesn’t have much of an opinion on heroes. He just dislikes how biased they are.

he will ask if you wanna live in a traditional Gyudondond house and eat they’re food. He won’t be offended if you say no, so don’t say yes thinking he’ll get mad, and end up regretting it later if you don’t like living like that 😭

it’d probably be easier to have security on a traditional house anyway. His security isn’t super tight or anything though, he just keeps an eye on you like Franklin or Shizuku. He loves spending time with you so that’s no problem really.

he loves to teach you his traditions and talk about them with you. He’d be a bit offended if you expressed disinterest in it (😭) but he’ll get sad over being angry, lucky you.

If you ever escape he won’t be mad or anything, he’ll just take you back home and keep a closer eye on you. He doesn’t necessarily blame himself for not watching you, but he doesn’t get upset at you for trying to leave either. He’s pretty patient, so at least that 😅🤷‍♀️

your life’s pretty decent I’m ngl 👍 I hope you like Gyudondond food tho…..

Uvogin:

Uvogin is physically the scariest 😬 because 1) look at the dude- if I got up in HIS house the next day I’d be shivering my timbers 😭😭😭😭 and 2) even if he’s not trying to hurt you, he might one day….and you don’t know how soon

he will absolutely pummel heroes trying to save you. He despises them for trying to take away his precious, but he also has fun (😭⁉️) beating them up

he can’t cook or clean….and likely makes a mess out of your house all the time, on accident ofc. So you will probably end up being the one doing all the domestic stuff 🤷‍♀️🗿

your escape chances with this man is 0 and probably your attempts too 😭😭 THANKFULLY you’ve never made him mad and your not trying to see him mad either 🙏

definitely has his buddy Shalnark keep an eye on you for him. So Uvogin + Shalnark = you’re never going home bro 🙏🗿 On the bright side he does like to take you out to places sometimes! Mostly to boast about how wonderful you are while killing the heroes who have been trying to save you for m o n t h s 😭😭😃

um your life is very spontaneous and honestly..? I HOPE your gonna be good 😭👍

Illumi:

Illumi is another one you’re not gonna be able to even manage ONE escape ATTEMPT with 😀 Especially since Killua ran anyway? Nah your not gettin outta this one 😔

VERY strict and overprotective. I can’t decide if he or Feitan is worse? I think they’re matched…😭

Even leaving your ROOM is an adventure at this point 😬 Food is served to you on a golden platter and you have anything you could ever want (that he deems safe) buuut you might have to go through some pretty intense training bro….YEAH you heard me 😭🙏 No weak Zoldycks bro..that include YOU!

it’s not the type the Zoldycks get since birth but it’s still pretty scary considering you either train with Illumi whenever he’s home or one of the butlers. If you’re already strong, lucky you! In fact it’s highly likely! I can’t see Illumi falling in love with someone weak….

anyway heroes probably don’t even TRY to touch the Zoldycks so being saved is not an option. Unless Killua or Gon find out abt you, or you were apart of the main trio to begin with, nobody else is coming to save you……..Telling someone you ran away after getting kidnapped by a Zoldycks is just gonna scare them away anyway 😭😭😭

100% puts his nen needle in your head so you don’t run away. ☹️😬 He’s not that bad of a boyfriend…(ok yes he is)

Kortopi:

Kortopi doesn’t seem too bad! He clones your “dead body” when he kidnapped you so if you ever manage to escape it’ll be a shock to the heroes and your family 😭

if you don’t escape you’ll be presumed dead, so no one’s gonna come save you 😬 all according to his plan ofc! That makes things way easier for him, he wants a peaceful life with you, and he doesn’t exactly have combat compatible nen, so if the world thinks you’re dead, that’s perfect!

he can clean better than he can cook, he’s still learning on that part..but bear with him because he’s ACTUALLY not too bad of a boyfriend

he is a good listener (no. he won’t listen if you plead to be set free) and loves to chat with you! Will indulge in your hobbies and get you things of your interests too! :)

the biggest down slide (besides being kidnapped-) is you can’t go out ever again because the world thinks your dead 😭😭he keeps you updated on the outside world at the least..🗿

has some (a crap ton) security measures he got from Shalnark. He doesn’t wanna risk you leaving because he isn’t the best fighter + then the world would know your alive and try and “save” you

Hope you enjoyed your hcs!! :) 🩷

[ddarker-dreams]

Hedonist.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan. 

Continuation of Declawed.

Warnings: Not SFW, dubcon (Reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 7.5k. 

You are in a room with four walls.

How you got here does not matter. You know you may not leave.

Behind a closed set of drapes lies a window. 

In this room with no past or future, there is but one choice you can make.

Will you peer beyond the curtains or leave them drawn? 

For if you choose to look, there is no telling what you may see. 

… 

“... [First].” 

“Hm?” 

You’re someplace different than where your mind alleged. This is not your coveted room with four, blank walls, where no one can come or go. You’re sitting at a dining room table that tilts too far to the left. There’s an untouched meal in front of you, a cup of tea that’s gone cold, and a napkin folded over your lap just the way you prefer. 

A man sits across from you — Chrollo Lucilfer. He’s staring at you, his fingers steepled, and his body leaning forward. His meal has long been finished. You blink, feeling like a computer that’s booting back up. The fog covering your senses lifts too slowly for your liking. Eventually, a blueprint of your surroundings solidifies in your mind. 

There are three people in the surrounding area, excluding yourself. Two are a formidable threat. One is not. 

“You seem distracted,” Chrollo’s voice gives nothing away. His eyes do though, just a little bit. Concern? Intrigue? You cannot pinpoint where each ends and begins. “That’s unusual for you.” 

You hate when he’s right. “I’d pay more attention if you said anything worthwhile.” 

His lips quirk up. “Is your health not worthwhile?” 

He’s got you where he wants you.

“If you’re truly concerned about my health, then you’ll return my Hatsu,” you maintain unflinching eye contact. He exhales through his nose, belying slight exasperation. “The events of today should prove I’d do better with it from the onset.” 

“In emergencies, yes. And I did return it. Long enough for you to dispatch the threat… and to hurt Feitan’s feelings, evidently.” 

You ignore his last comment, seriously doubting its authenticity. 

“One of the threats, at least,” you make a show of looking him up and down. He sighs, probably heavier than he intended, the chaotic past twenty-four hours undoubtedly weighing him down. Sensing that this particular conversation is better off over, he reclines back into his chair. Instead of mirroring his posture, you cross your legs, fold your gloved hands together, and rest them on your lap. You’re doing everything within your power to give the impression nothing is amiss. 

Alas, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Something is very, very wrong with you. 

It all began with an ambush on the car ride to this safe house. Assassins are par for the course in your line of work, it wasn’t your first encounter and you doubt it’ll be the last. The main problem was that for the first time in your life, you were fighting without your Hatsu in a situation that would’ve strongly benefited from its use. The group focused their attention on you and the Manipulator must’ve met his conditions for his ability to activate. A strange sensation swept over and temporarily debilitated you. Chrollo was quick to notice how you staggered — truthfully, you played it close to the chest to see if he’d risk returning your Hatsu should you be in mortal peril — a gamble that did and didn’t pay off.

It felt like a piece of your soul had been returned to you. Your conjured sword sliced down your three pursuers, they were entirely caught off guard by its appearance. That left you without about a second to retaliate with your briefly returned arsenal until Chrollo realized what you were planning. Ideally, you would’ve preferred to attack Chrollo, since your win condition lay in either killing him or removing his ability to conjure Bandit’s Secret. He was aware of this and kept just enough distance for that very reason. 

It had been Feitan who risked getting the closest to prevent the assassins from doing you any major harm in light of your lackluster dodging. Both he and Chrollo must’ve recognized what you were trying to do and likely considered you more of a threat than the assassin trio. You tried not to be obvious about your intentions, but they’re too sharp. 

The second long window you had felt like more than enough to seriously injure Feitan. While your physical strength had been on the lower side compared to the other Troupe members, you were faster; far outclassing the others in that particular skill set. This boon came with its own share of disadvantages, such as your tendency to tire faster in a fight if it dragged on for hours. However, you were finally in a uniquely advantageous position. You had conserved your strength in case an opening presented itself, and although it almost landed you in hot water to not go all out against three opponents, it ultimately worked in your favor. 

You lunged forward at Feitan with what should’ve been a definitive strike. The speed was there, but the power was not; the Manipulator’s unknown ability weakened you far more than you’d anticipated. It was only recently that you realized his Nen must’ve strengthened in death. It felt mostly inconsequential when you first experienced it; you didn’t think to leave the Manipulator alive as a safeguard. 

Feitan withstood the hit with some minor injuries. Your Hatsu no longer heeded your call, proof that Chrollo had taken it back. You were subdued, Feitan being far rougher than necessary and grumbling under his breath. For the past few hours, you’ve refocused all your energy toward keeping whatever that Manipulator did to you under control without giving your captors a glimpse of your weakened state. This control is steadily waning. Meditation aided you for a time, but you can tell it's growing in intensity, hence your current predicament. 

Your body’s temperature is steadily rising. At first, you hypothesized the ability is supposed to make you mortally ill, but your gut tells you that isn’t the entire picture. Aside from feeling warm and not having all your strength, you don’t believe you’re knocking on death’s door. The symptoms don’t point toward anything that serious. It’s almost as if it made you want something — there’s this primal craving inside you, trying desperately to claw its way to the surface. 

Whatever you’re currently riddled with, it's excruciating. You don’t know how much more you can take or how to put a stop to it. 

There had been a fourth party whose tracking ability led the assassins to you in the first place. After watching his comrades get eviscerated, his Zetsu wavered, giving away his position. Feitan is playing with his new toy in the basement. It’s been in the back of your mind that this fourth man might know the Manipulator’s ability. That’s why you’ve been so desperate to keep the extent of your malaise under wraps, lest Feitan learns something imperative and keeps you in the dark about it. It’ll ultimately be Chrollo’s decision, but you know they’re both not happy with your little stunt earlier. If they learn it’s nothing too detrimental, they’ll let you suffer through it as a punishment. 

“May I be excused?” You inquire with the politest tone you can muster. 

Chrollo motions to your untouched plate. “You haven’t eaten.” 

You knew this would be a point of contention. Not due to any rampant concern on his part, you both know that you’re capable of surviving without food for long periods. He’s just using this as an opportunity to see what’s truly wrong with you — he has to have his suspicions by now. You glance down at your meal. Grilled chicken, leafy greens, and a scoop of rice. The ultra-healthy regiment that Chrollo knows you favor and Feitan complains about. You still remember the look the latter gave you when you wrote chickpeas on the grocery list. 

Lying is a useless endeavor when Chrollo’s involved, he can see past your poker face without issue. Telling the truth is your best bet. “I don’t have an appetite.” 

He makes a show of looking at his watch. “You always have dinner at this time of day.” 

“There’s nothing I can do if I don’t feel hungry now. I’ll eat it in the morning.” 

You know how he loathes food being wasted and try to redirect his attention toward that. This time, you phrase it as a statement rather than a question. Chrollo gives you a long, silent look. His gray eyes pick you apart without any subtlety. He parts his lips, preparing to say something, when his attention shifts elsewhere. 

A blur comes flying your way. From reflex alone, you catch it. A first aid kit? Feitan stands at the kitchen doorway where it must’ve been thrown, wearing a black sleeveless shirt. You stop yourself from frowning. You should’ve been able to sense his presence. Any other time, doing so comes as easy as breathing, but your senses are off-kilter. You can only hope that the ease with which you caught the first aid kit covered this blunder. 

Considering the weight of Chrollo’s stare, that might be a far-fetched dream. 

“Fix this,” Feitan nods at the untreated gash on his right arm, courtesy of your earlier attack. Cutting any synovial hinge joint would have proved helpful, especially against a swordsman like Feitan. Seeing the wound up close shows your aim was slightly off. The attack landed too low on his forearm. You can’t remember the last time you made a mistake like this — it must’ve been back when you were a child. If it weren’t for that Manipulator’s ability, you would be in a far better situation right now.

The chair scrapes against the floor when Feitan pulls it out. Not seeing the point in making his mood worse, you wordlessly take the steps to comply with his demand. You go to the kitchen sink, remove your leather gloves, and wash your hands. The cool water running over your skin feels heavenly. However, you notice a damning detail while you dry yourself off. 

Your hands are shaking. 

You don’t stare at the impending problem so as not to draw unwanted attention. Your body's homeostasis is deteriorating faster than you can manage it. Or, to be more accurate, the ability’s strength must be advancing over time. Any half-decent Nen user should be capable of controlling their body temperature, respiratory rate, blood pressure, and heart rate, or else your aura suffers. You’ll have to pick your poison here. If you focus mostly on your hands, you should be able to stop the shaking for a time. Consequently, that’ll leave your fever unchecked. 

You need to get this over with quickly. 

After putting on surgical gloves and a mask, you situate yourself next to Feitan. 

“Planning operation?” He asks, amusement in his voice. 

“This is far from a sterile environment. I’m taking the necessary precautions to prevent an infection,” you soak a gauze pad in saline solution then dab it against his wound. You’re glad the mask is covering half your face, since you’re unable to stop yourself from frowning. Beating yourself up over your past mistakes won’t do any good, yet you can’t help feeling mildly disappointed seeing your botched work up close. Who knows when you’ll get an opportunity like that again? 

You’re about to wrap it in a bandage when Feitan speaks up again. “Need stitches?” 

Your fingers twitch despite yourself. He’s intentionally trying to rile you up. You won’t let him. 

“... No.” 

He snickers, his eyebrows rising, adding to his air of condescension. “Why?”

“It’s too shallow of a cut.”

“Heh.” 

What a bastard. You momentarily consider the merits of stabbing him with one of the needles in the kit. The temporary satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the trouble it’d cause you later on, you decide. You’ve endured several torments from Feitan up until this point without ever acknowledging his efforts. Truthfully, you don’t understand what exactly it is Feitan wants from you. Chrollo is easier to understand in that one aspect. Your (former?) boss wants your relationship to return to what it was before — he said so outright using words sweet enough to make your teeth ache. 

Feitan has been far less forthcoming with his motivations. He barely talks to you aside from scathing remarks, doesn’t sleep in the same room as you and Chrollo, and frequently goes missing for days at a time. All you have to go off of is the conversation he had with Chrollo the night you gave up your Hatsu in return for Ash’s safe passage. He said he was ‘interested’ in you. It was Chrollo he told this, so you know he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t have been vaguer if he tried. 

Did he mean ‘interested’ sexually? Romantically? It’s no secret that Feitan is a sadist, but he’s never made passes at you. You don’t think he’d be the type to beat around the bush if he wanted something like that. You’ve caught him staring a few times yet always chalked it up to him thinking you’re about to pull a stunt. Then again, you’re entirely ignorant to whatever agreement Chrollo and Feitan have over you. 

Outwardly, it looks the same as it’s always been. Chrollo gives orders and Feitan obeys them. 

So why is it that your instinct whispers there’s far more to the dynamic than Feitan being an uninterested third party? 

You secure a bandage around his forearm then turn away from him and Chrollo. It’d be nice if enduring the humiliation of tending to the subpar wound you inflicted is your entire punishment, but you somehow doubt that. You know your body well and your limits even better, loathe as you are to admit you have any. Exhaustion is nipping at your heels while the night is still young. The thought of lying down, even if it’s just for a few hours, sounds divine. 

“I’m finished,” you tell Feitan, sensing his eyes on your back while you throw the mask and gloves away. “Was there anything else you needed?” 

“Your hands. Show me.”

You stop turning the faucet on to spare him a glance over your shoulder. “May I ask why?” 

“You can. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

Your eyes flicker to Chrollo next, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this interaction. The closed-mouth smile he’s giving you promises nothing good. He knows you’re hiding something — they both know you are. They’re worse than sharks smelling blood in the water. You’ve been delaying the inevitable to the best of your abilities, but this game of cat-and-mouse can’t last forever.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you take a step forward, only for a bout of lightheadedness to come crashing down. You’re forced to grab the kitchen counter to steady yourself, the granite splintering beneath the intensity of your grip, crumbling to the ground in a noisy cascade. You swear you’re seeing double when you stare down at the ground, your heart rate accelerating and breathing turning erratic. Deep breaths are taken in an attempt to steady yourself.

Immediately, there’s a presence by your side, then a delightfully cold touch against your forehead. You try not to lean into it. 

“Burning up,” Feitan remarks. He moves his hand back, and you almost keen at the loss, a factor that is as mortifying as it is perplexing. You tell yourself it’s because your body wants to regain proper equilibrium by cooling itself off. There can be no other explanation. You’re coming down with a fever, you’ll rest, and this will be over. Simple as that. 

Chrollo makes his way over to you like he has all the time in the world, his countenance giving nothing away. “He was telling the truth, then?” 

“Guess so.” 

“What… what are you both talking about?” You inquire, all the while trying and failing to push yourself up. You, a person capable of wielding an ax that weighs 4,000 pounds with ease, can’t even stand up straight. It’s a miracle your legs haven’t given out beneath you yet. 

“Feitan has been interrogating the man in the basement,” Chrollo reaches into his back pocket to grab something, a napkin, by the looks of it. He holds it up at your eye level. You blink, having to strain so that the word scribbled on it can come into focus. The messy handwriting must belong to Feitan. “I wanted to wait and see it for myself before believing him.” 

You almost get sick when the word finally registers. 

Aphrodisiac.

Feitan must’ve scribbled this note down and handed it to Chrollo. You weren’t in a good position to be perceptive of your surroundings, otherwise, you would’ve surely noticed. 

Chrollo reaches out for you, his fingers settling beneath your chin and lifting it. Your eyelids flutter shut, the simple skin-to-skin contact exhilarating, made even better when his thumb brushes over your lower lip. He gives a content hum over your willingness to accept his touch for the first time in several months. It’s a surreal sensation — how your senses can be both heightened and capable of blocking out so much — your brain is unwilling to register anything aside from the men before you. You’re backed against the now broken countertop when Chrollo advances impossibly closer, his chest pressing against yours. 

“You must’ve been suppressing it through sheer willpower all this time. I’m impressed,” he sounds like it too. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, dear, but this won’t be going away on its own.”

Chrollo’s lips caress the shell of your ear, and his hands start creeping down your body while he speaks. “You need only say the word and we’ll satisfy you. Otherwise, it’ll progress to the point it’s unbearable. I don’t exactly enjoy watching you suffer, whether you believe me or not. So be a dear and—” 

However he intended to end that sentence will forever remain a mystery. It stokes something inside you, rekindling the dying embers of your pride. Bloodlust radiates off you in tangible waves, cracking the glass of a nearby window. The miasma surrounding you is thick and potent. Harnessing the remnants of your strength, you press your hands to Chrollo’s chest, shoving him away with all your might. He stumbles back yet quickly steadies himself. 

“Do not touch me,” you seethe, the words more of a growl than anything. 

Aura envelops Feitan, who must be anticipating further resistance. The flow stops as soon as it begins when Chrollo puts a hand up to stop him. Silence loudly resounds in the tight quarters you’re forced to share with them. You feel akin to a cornered cat, hackles raised and teeth bared. There’s nothing practical you can do — it’s maddening to acknowledge that. You’re entirely at their mercy. 

And you know neither of them have any to give. 

Chrollo sighs, straightening the wrinkles on his shirt your outburst caused. “You’re making this needlessly difficult for yourself, [First].” 

“Just… knock me unconscious until it subsides, or something,” you grit out through clenched teeth. The ghosts of Feitan’s touch against your forehead and Chrollo’s fingers upon your lips haunt you. It’s as if all levels of higher thinking ceased the second they came into contact with you. “I can’t… I refuse…!” 

“Stubborn woman. Not normally this stupid,” Feitan clicks his tongue. “It’s Nen. Doesn’t work like that.” 

You grip your head with your hands. It hurts. It’s hot. Lascivious need wraps its tendrils around you and squeezes. Your body is no longer heeding the orders of your mind. You can smell Chrollo’s cologne — sandalwood, amber — as well as the metallic scent of blood clinging to Feitan. You shouldn’t have pushed him away. You should’ve let him touch you, please you, satiate this voracious appetite that won’t go away on its own. It’s been so long, far too long. He said it wouldn’t go away on its own, didn’t he? How much longer can you fight it off? 

More importantly, do you even want to fight anymore? 

You take an unsteady step forward, your head hanging long, allowing for a shadow to fall over your eyes. Your hand reaches for Chrollo’s belt yet never meets its destination. An undignified noise leaves your lips as you’re scooped up, your cheeks burning and eyes shooting wide open. Your instinct is to struggle, but when you feel a hand press beneath your thighs to steady you, your brain turns to mush. The touch isn’t anything special, though your body acts like it is. You can feel an unnatural amount of wetness staining your panties. Consequently, you rub your thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the desperate need for friction. 

A deep, dark chuckle reverberates in Chrollo’s chest. “She’s precious, isn’t she, Fei?” 

Feitan doesn’t confirm or deny, though you can feel his eyes boring into you. “Not mad at her?” 

“That can wait for later. For now, though…” he trails off, his voice lowering in pitch and volume. “Aren’t you interested in savoring her to the fullest?” 

You don’t remember the trip to the bedroom. 

There’s the faint sound of rushed footsteps, creaky door hinges groaning, shoes being thrown aside, and the rustling of fabric. Your heartbeat rises to a crescendo when you’re placed on the bed, anticipation gnawing at you. The room is dripping with tension and a sick part of yourself relishes in it. You prop yourself up on your elbows only to find yourself getting pushed not so gently back down. 

Feitan is leering at you from above, his eyes like that of a madman. 

Not a word is uttered as you glare back up at him. Without his cowl, you can see every inch of his countenance, the cruel curve of his lips, and the upward incline of his eyebrows. There’s no time to dwell on the negative emotions such a feral stare instills, for you register movement coming from behind. Familiar toned arms wrap around your torso. Chrollo pulls you onto his lap, your back flush against his broad chest. His lips lovingly caress the shell of your ear, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth. 

“Are you ashamed, [First]?” He taunts, his voice taking on a husky tinge. “A woman of your status offering herself over so willingly to two depraved men… I can’t fathom how bruised your ego must be.” 

This compromising position must do something for him. You feel his hardened length poking at your ass, betraying his arousal. 

“Neither of you are capable of harming my ego.” 

You exhale sharply when he tugs your head back by your hair. 

“Casuistry is unbecoming of you, dear.” 

“Is that what that was…?” You trail off, trying not to show how good it feels when Chrollo latches his lips to your neck. “Are you so caught up in your own delusions that you fail to recognize this is about satisfying a biological function, not an expression of passion?” 

You’re grateful for your high pain tolerance when Chrollo sinks his teeth into your skin, hard enough to leave a mark for the days that’ll follow. He lavishes his tongue against it afterward, his chest vibrating from a quiet chuckle. 

“Talks too much,” Feitan grumbles. For a moment, you wonder if he's referring to you or Chrollo. “Gag?” 

“Unnecessary. We wouldn’t want to miss out on the sounds she��s going to make, would we?” 

This line of reasoning seems to satisfy Feitan. Unlike Chrollo, who treats undressing you as if it were a form of foreplay itself, Feitan is rough with your clothes. You’d almost think they offended him somehow. You wince at the sound of ripping. The black fabric covering your torso flutters to the side, revealing the swell of your cleavage. Perspiration clings to you in a thin sheen from your body’s meager attempts to cool down. You swear you hear Feitan’s breath shudder when his sallow fingers descend on your chest. 

He’s far from gentle with his exploration of the soft flesh. He kneads and pulls, giving little heed to what you find pleasurable. Then his pointer finger and thumb find your nipple, visible through your nude-colored bra. A special sadistic delight is taken in twisting the nub and observing the subsequent parting of your lips in a high-pitched gasp. 

“... Cute,” he comments. Your fingers twitch, indignation spurring you on to try and strike him, a rebellion Chrollo ends prematurely by holding your dominant arm in place. He uses enough pressure that you wouldn’t be surprised if the skin bruises in the shape of his hand. 

“Now now, there’s no need to resort to violence, is there?” Chrollo’s voice is akin to nails on a chalkboard. The irony of a mass-murdering thief preaching this platitude isn’t lost on you. 

Feitan quirks up an eyebrow when you jut your head to the side, your teeth clenching and cheeks burning. Damn them both. 

“Ego hurt yet?” Feitan croons. 

You recenter yourself to the best of your abilities, considering every cell in your body is screaming for a return to primal instinct. They’re both dead wrong if they think you’re going to roll over and take everything they dish out. Perhaps it’ll spell more trouble for you further down the line, but the logical side of your brain which normally dominates is waning. You wrench yourself forward with enough force that Chrollo has to lessen his grip on your arm, lest he dislocate it. Maybe there is some truth behind his earlier claim that he ‘doesn’t enjoy watching you suffer’, or maybe the lack of bloodlust clues him in that you aren’t up to anything nefarious. 

Whatever the case, this momentum and easing up of your restraints grants the freedom to do what you plan next. Your hands, marred with dark lines along the veins from Corruption’s improper usage many years prior, hold Feitan’s face in place. His shock is evident by the lack of movement on his part when your lips press against his. Your clammy skin derives satisfaction from how unnaturally cold his body is. 

This is the closest thing you’ve gotten to relieving the gnawing need that’s been threatening to devour you from the inside out. 

In the millisecond it takes for him to comprehend what’s happening, he secures back what little power you temporarily held over him. His kiss is rough, demanding, and clearly inexperienced. You’re too far gone to care. You make a show of kissing him with every ounce of languid affection you once bestowed upon the man behind you, your head tilting to the side and back arching to press further into him. Something between a groan and a grunt leaves Feitan when your hand seeks out his clothed length, palming at it until it fully hardens. 

This temporary rebalancing of power mixed with finally feeding the carnal hunger within you is invigorating, sending adrenaline through your veins. Feitan nips at your lower lip and you grant him access to your mouth. His tongue seeks out yours in a dance you never thought you’d willingly participate in. The world is fuzzy, an unintelligible string of blurred shapes and colors you can’t make any sense of. All that registers to you is an all-encompassing desire to succumb to lust’s bittersweet embrace. 

Is this what it’s like to be drunk? Stuck in a pleasant haze where the slightest stimulation feels far better than it should, potential consequences be damned?

When you part for air, a thin trail of saliva connects you. 

“Still wish to gag me?” You goad, unwilling to resist making a jab at his expense. He enjoyed that far too much for you not to sneak in a snide comment.

Feitan smirks. “Not with rag.” 

He then looks to Chrollo, as if silently asking permission for something. Evidently, he must receive it, for the rest of your outfit is torn from your person. What would’ve irritated you in any other circumstance comes as an immense relief now. The heat enveloping you is stupefying. Cognition is overshadowed by a primal need you never could’ve thought yourself capable of. You’ll do anything to offset this unique torture, the likes of which you’ve never been forced to endure.

You’re left in nothing but your sheer black tights and bra, your chest heaving in a desperate bid to get enough oxygen. Sweat trickles down your temple. 

Every inch of your body is so unusually sensitive, as if your nerve endings have multiplied. The science behind whatever the Manipulator’s ability did intrigues you. Did it decrease activity in your prefrontal cortex, making long-term planning near impossible? Excite the endocrine system in a way that encourages sexual arousal? Trick your brain into activating fight or flight if you’re not being stimulated? 

The relationship between science and Nen has always fascinated you. Regrettably, you’re not in the headspace to conduct research. It’s growing increasingly difficult to form so much as a coherent thought.

Behind you, Chrollo undoes the clasp of your bra, revealing your chest in its entirety to both men. If there was ever any doubt that Feitan’s interest in you is lascivious in nature, his current expression dispels it. He looks at you like one would a piece of tantalizing meat. You never would’ve thought Feitan was sexually attracted to you by the indifferent air he normally held. In retrospect, you wonder if that was his way of trying to keep his impulses under control until the timing was right. 

“Lift yourself up for me, dear,” Chrollo uses such gentle words, but his tone tells you this is an order. You do as he requests. From this angle, he’s able to help pull your tights down by the waistband. It’s a slow, tedious process; he acts as if he has all the time in the world, inching the delicate fabric down to reveal your thighs. You shiver when his fingernails scrape at your skin. It takes everything you have to hold back a sinful moan at the teasing contact. 

“I hadn’t realized tights were so sacred to you,” you say. He had no objections when Feitan tore at the rest of your custom-tailored outfit. 

You can hear the smile on his face when he replies, “There’s only this one pair, whereas we have other clothes for you. It’d be a shame to not see you in something that complements your features so well.” 

“How very considerate.” 

Feitan helps pull it off once it gets to your knees, using a degree of care you thought him incapable of. It must be because his boss willed the action. He spreads your legs without any resistance, his eyes fixating on your covered core. Evidence of your arousal seeps through. It’s a sight that causes Feitan to mutter something in his language that you suspect to be an expletive.

A silver streak soars through your vision. You go motionless, allowing Chrollo to slice through your panties with his Ben’s Knife. 

You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying to kill me? What strange paraphilias you’ve developed since we’ve last been intimate.” 

“I was confident in your ability to stay still,” Chrollo’s fingers linger right above your clit, refusing to touch the one place you begrudgingly desire him most. “Besides, we both know a little poison wouldn’t put your life in serious danger. Give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” 

The audacity of this man is astounding. 

Chrollo spreads your folds for Feitan’s viewing pleasure. 

“Isn’t she just lovely?” Chrollo practically purrs, his baritone voice causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin, despite the internal heat afflicting you. “You can touch her, Fei. She won’t bite.” 

It’s an invitation he can’t turn down. 

Without warning, two fingers are thrust inside you. You tense at the unexpected intrusion and have to tell your muscles to relax. Fortunately, there’s enough natural lubrication that it doesn’t hurt as bad as it could’ve. You suppose it should come as no surprise that the man with an affinity for torture isn’t tender in bed. He cackles at your visceral reaction, but you have no chance to retaliate, for he pulls his fingers back out and slams them back in. Dull discomfort quickly transitions to a deep, satisfying feeling. Chrollo further enforces it by finally rubbing precise circles just the way you like on your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and lull your head to the side. Digging deep into the recesses of your hazy mind, you try to block out who exactly is touching you like this, wanting to focus on the pleasure and nothing else. 

Chrollo must have a rough idea of what you’re trying to do. He sighs, as if disappointed, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to face downward. 

“Open your eyes, or we’ll stop,” he whispers. You bite down on your lower lip hard enough to almost bleed. “Oh, [First]. I know very well that you aren’t a prude. Come now. Don’t make me ask again.” 

Your eyelashes flutter open like butterfly wings. From the position he’s holding your head, you have nowhere to look but at Feitan’s fingers slipping in and out of you, a lewd sight that makes you whimper. Maybe you’ll berate yourself for your weakness when you’re in a lucid mindset. For now, however, you’re starting to lift your hips to meet his relentless assault. You feel no better than a vacuous animal, yet embarrassment is the furthest thing on your mind. The word has been wiped clean from your lexicon. 

With how sensitive your body is in this state, it doesn’t take long for that knot in your stomach to tighten. You’re panting, your head is thrown back, taking in each wave of overwhelming stimuli. Chrollo’s lips caressing your neck’s pulse, the friction on your clit, and Feitan’s fingers exploring your insides. It’s too much. The air is heady with the scent of sex, Chrollo’s cologne, and the metallic blood splattered on Feitan. 

You’re so close, your walls clenching and the muscles in your thighs going taut— 

—When they both abruptly stop. 

Breathlessly, you murmur ‘wretched sadists’ in your native tongue.

“Him more so than me,” Chrollo replies. In your frustration, you forgot he was making good progress in learning your country’s language. Soon you won’t even have that to keep for yourself. He’ll have invaded every inch of your life and claimed it for himself. 

Feitan brings his slick-covered pointer and middle finger close to your face. He parts them, observing the string of your arousal it forms with an amused expression. 

“Needy thing,” he snickers. 

He takes his fingers into his mouth, then gives a low hum, apparently enjoying your taste. When the digits slide back out, they’re coated in both his saliva and your essence. You grimace when he places them on your closed lips next, your obsession with hygiene temporarily triumphing over the aphrodisiac’s effects. Feitan frequently poked fun at how you wiped away blood and viscera should any have gotten on your person after a kill. You’ve never been partial to uncleanliness, although you could deal with it just fine when necessary. 

Knowing Feitan, he’s likely getting off on your discomfort. 

“Open,” he demands. You do with some reluctance, tasting yourself on your tongue. Your unusual obedience seems to please him. “Good girl.” 

You narrow your eyes into slits then, warmth flooding your face. He’s the last person you’d ever want to give you a compliment like that. Condescension is an area that both Chrollo and Feitan excel in. Chrollo’s is often more subtle, taking a moment’s consideration to fully comprehend, whereas Feitan is cruelly blunt. You can’t decide which is worse. 

The bed dips as Chrollo readjusts himself. Feitan moves to the side, giving Chrollo plenty of room to do whatever he wants with you next. Your former boss unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside. His hands go to your shoulders, pushing in a silent communication for you to lay back. If it weren’t for the unfair condition you’re currently plagued with, you would’ve had some choice words at the ready. Especially when he strokes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, softly, as a lover would. You internally curse at how your traitorous body leans into his touch. 

The distinct sound of Chrollo undoing his belt catches your attention. 

After ridding himself of his remaining clothes, he lifts your left leg over his shoulder, an enigmatic gleam in his gray eyes. You feel his tip rub teasingly over your folds, gathering your abundant wetness. Proving to you just how desperately your body wants this — wants him. He’s trying to make a point. You imagine you must be quite the sight to him, all disheveled like this. Forcefully dragged out from your icy shell of propriety. Your hair which is normally styled in an updo is loose and forming twirls against the bed, your chest is rising and falling erratically, and your aura is a mess. 

In this moment, you’ve essentially been reduced to a civilian. 

You both let out content noises when he enters you. Your walls convulse around him, taking him in with ease, despite how long it’s been since you’ve had sex. It’s as if your body is telling you that it remembers him, no matter how hard you try to forget. In the dark of night, you sometimes wonder if Chrollo knows you better than you know yourself. He’s committed every little nuance about you to memory. Your preferences, likes and dislikes; he’s showcasing his mastery over you by providing the pleasure only he can. 

You shudder when he fully sheathes himself inside you. It makes the aphrodisiac swallowing you whole slightly more bearable, quelling the fire just enough that you no longer feel you’re being burned. 

Feitan lazily jerks himself off at your indecent expressions, breathing heavily as he pumps his reddened cock up and down. 

“You’re a cruel woman, depriving me of this for so long,” Chrollo takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them above you. “I’ve longed for your body terribly, love. It belongs here — underneath me.” 

By the way your face contorts, he must be able to tell that he won’t like whatever your reply will be, so he sets out to steal the air from your lungs. An undignified whimper leaves your lips at the rough pace he establishes from the onset. You’d almost think it was him under the influence of the aphrodisiac and not you. There’s no gradual, sensual buildup, just skin slapping against skin as he fucks you without mercy. You want to grab ahold of something, anything to steady yourself in the unforgiving onslaught of ecstasy, but his grip on you is unrelenting. Your limbs feel like jello, incapable of displaying your usual strength to break free from his hold. 

Sensing your intentions, as he almost always does, he coos, “If you want something, then be a dear and beg.” 

There’s a darkness in his voice that’s never been directed at you before. An underlying desperation. Chrollo craves you, longs for you, and you’ve denied him his greatest desire. He has no right to sigh and brood over your refusal to go back to how things were, before he betrayed your trust. You let him into your world. Granted him access to parts of yourself that have never seen the light of day, tentatively opened your heart bit by bit. 

Only that alone couldn’t satisfy him. He needed more than your heart. Your mind, your soul, your body; your very being. And you weren’t willing to give him that. Not then, not now, not ever. So you purse your lips, glaring up at him with all the defiance you can muster in this weakened state. 

He chuckles at the ferocity in your eyes, though it’s a humorless sound. Bitter, almost. 

“My stubborn girl,” Chrollo whispers in your native tongue. “Try as you might, you’ll never be rid of me. I won’t even let you go in death.” 

“I’ll— mm— have to test that theory.” 

Something passes over his face then. Is it exasperation? Dismay? Hurt? 

“Go ahead then,” he says. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes. “Do your worst.” 

An odd sensation sweeps over you then. You furrow your eyebrows together, trying to place it, all the while Chrollo increases his speed. This is a phenomenon you’ve experienced and recently at that. It’s akin to puzzle pieces fitting together, everything falling back into its proper place. Then it hits you, the realization causing your eyes to widen and your breath to catch in your throat. 

This bastard just returned your Hatsu. 

You try (and fail) to lift your head. You can barely think straight, much less properly harness your mess of an aura. Being condemned to an eternity of hunger and thirst with food and drink receding from your reach would be preferable to this. It’s wicked; it’s Chrollo making good on his surname. His cock twitches inside you at your futile struggle. He hits a spot in you that makes you keen, you ruined orgasm from earlier growing closer and closer. 

“What are you waiting for?” Chrollo challenges in between soft pants. “Have I rendered one of your country’s best fighters incapable of making a single strike? Hm?” 

“That isn’t—” your own mewl cuts you off, “This is… not fair…!"

He shakes the hair covering his eyes so nothing can obstruct his current view. “I can’t be, darling. Not with you.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you might think he sounds apologetic. 

This is quickly disproven when his fingers find your clit and rub it just right. 

When you come, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your back arches into him, your lips part in a silent scream, and you manage to exert enough strength to free your hands from Chrollo’s grasp. You scratch your fingernails down his back, leaving angry red streaks in your wake. Chrollo curses under his breath in a rare instance, given his proclivity for formal speech. Your walls squeeze down on him like a vice. 

His hips stutter and his grip on you becomes bruising. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, quietly moaning your name as if you were a deity; and he, your most devout follower. 

Warmth floods your insides not long after, a seemingly endless stream of cum painting your walls white. Chrollo holds you in place, absentmindedly rubbing circles into the skin he just bruised, a satisfied smile on his lips. You feel him go soft inside you, yet he still makes no sign of pulling out. To add insult to injury, your Hatsu slips away like sand between your fingers, back into his wrongful possession.

Then thick ropes spurt across your tits, accompanied by something like a growl from Feitan. Seeing you come undone must’ve pushed him over the edge. He pumps himself to completion while you struggle to make sense of what just happened. What you just did. 

The aphrodisiac is still active in your system, you can feel it clouding your senses and diluting your judgment. However, it’s far less potent than it was earlier. At its peak, it threatened to fray your sanity. What a dreadful ability. You regret killing the one who used it on you. Had he still been breathing, you would’ve flayed him alive for doing this to you. 

Feitan must not be the pillow talk type. He’s quick to redress, slinking out of the room after giving you an additional once over. He smirks and then leaves you to the whims of his boss. 

Chrollo places the back of his hand against your forehead. “Your fever’s gone down.” 

You avert your eyes and he tilts his head. 

“Don’t tell me you’re upset,” he comments, while finally pulling out. You feel his release seeping out in thick globs. “You would’ve been far worse off had we not intervened. Our guest in the basement can attest to that.” 

When you stay stubbornly silent, he sighs your name. “I know your vocal cords are working just fine. Whatever it is you wish to say, say it.” 

Your head snaps back so you can properly stare him in the eye. There’s a trembling of your lower lip that takes him aback, although he smooths his expression to one of indifference almost immediately. You aren’t the crying type. If anything, he’s probably cried more than you have in the time you’ve known him. He goes to wipe at your lash line, but you smack his hand away. The hit barely has any force behind it. Unexpectedly, he stills, his gaze boring down. 

“I can’t believe I actually l—” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head. You’re exhausted, not thinking straight, and you probably won’t be able to move without help. Whatever lapse in judgment that almost caused you to admit an intimately held secret closes as soon as it opens. 

Chrollo studies you. Whatever he feels then is a mystery, though you hope it cut him deep. Through flesh and sinew, down to the bone. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he eventually says. “I know you hate feeling dirty.” 

When he lifts you up, careful not to aggravate the bruise on your person, you mull over a single question. 

Did he change the subject for your sake, or for his? 

[0asisbliss]

Parings: Yan!Feitan x fem!Reader

A/N: This takes place in a zombie AU I also put Feitan words in a little bit of broken English because that’s kind of how it is in the anime. Sorry for any spelling errors.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, and Feitan being his own warning.

Blood. There was blood everywhere not just the undead’s, but the living. Now that the laws of society have been lifted ever since the breakout. Everyone is either killing to live, or living to kill. Either way you wanted no part of it. Even if your boyfriend was apart of some disgraceful acts. Every time he just explains all that with it being “harmless fun with friends”.

His friends weren’t that terrible at least to you. When the virus broke out Feitan urged you to come with him to be safe. Explaining that you two would stay there for the time being together. While you were panicking about everything he was as cool as a fucking cucumber. Calm as ever seeing people get mauled, and bitten. You’ve seen at least a hundred people die in this week.

I mean people were turning into walking dead creatures. And the worst part about it they weren’t even dying they were turning into cannibalistic-man biting monsters. Feitan started dragging you everywhere he went. Going to get supplies? You’re coming with him. Need to find a restroom? Yeah, he’s going.

You witnessed what the phantom troupe can do. Honestly you found it quite horrifying. Your just glad you with them instead of against them. Until the breakout you had no idea Feitan did all of these things. Yes. He was a bit experimental, and a little weird, but these were the things you liked about him. He stuck out, and he was different.

He didn’t give you the same ol’ love story other guys did. He was thrilling and made you do different things. He honestly took you out of your comfort zone. Feitan wasn’t normal and you knew that and that he was strong, but you would’ve never thought he would kill.

The first time you saw him kill was when he slaughtered a man that was trying to hit on you during the time you, him, Nobunaga, and Phinks were looking for resources. You were sure you could’ve handled yourself, but he took it upon himself to ruthlessly kill that man.

You also had your fair amount of encounters with zombie you shot a couple and got away. You thought they were all the same you know the ones in the movies. They were slow, blind, and basically walking corpses, or those were just the ones you encountered.

There were categories when it came to the “zombies”. There were whispers, walkers, and creepers.

Whisperers, are zombies that were once people who could use nen. Now they use all of their nen to lure in the uninfected. Ex: Calling their name, looking like the uninfected, impersonating a loved one, etc. Advantages: Amazing hearing, sight, looks almost humanly, could be mistaken for a survivor, and can use nen.

Walkers, are your typical walking dead zombie they roam around like undead corpses, and any living thing that moves is automatically food. Advantages: None.

Disadvantages: Slow, blind, decaying skin, after a couple of days their skin breaks down, eventually rots.

Creepers, hide in the daylight and come out into the night lurking, and waiting for any survivors, and uninfected to make the wrong move. They pounce on people who come in their sights. Advantages: Good eyesight, hearing, and reflexes.

These were the categories Chrollo set every zombie in from his observations. Each zombie category showed different skills, and abilities. Only the troupe knew about these categories. They were sure people who were smart enough picked up that not every zombie acted the same, but unlike them you were smart you just weren’t outside enough to understand the aspect of every one of them.

It was the new normal that you stuck by feitan at all time. Even when he was with his “friends” you had to warm up to them, but they were nice the more you got to know them. Pakunoda shared her food with you, Shizuku always talked to you not wanting you to feel lonely, and Machi know how clumsy you can be, so she sticks around you just in case you get any cuts.

You and usually keep medical kits, and antibiotics in case anyone needs them. The people around you rarely get hurt if they do you, and Machi are quick to the rescue. Even with all of these people surrounding you, you can’t help but think about if your friends and family and if they are alive.

You can’t count how many times you’ve broken down about it. Every time you confront Feitan about it he always tells you there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even though you want to seem irritated at his response you can’t help but think he’s right. You’d be risking your life going out there to find any of them. You cant fight, and all you have is a gun. Though you do have Feitan, but when you’re with him he likes doing things his way like you when have a certain time to the eat and bathe.

Everything centered around him basically, and how he thinks he can keep you safe. Closet thing you get to seeing other people other than Feitan and his friends are the group of people that circle the block of buildings everyday to look for survivors. Sometimes every time you see them some people are missing from that group.

You wonder what happened to them. Maybe they turned into zombies, or maybe they were killed. Either way you felt bad for them. They were such nice people going out of their way to look for survivors, and giving out food. You wondered why you never saw anyone get anything from them. They seemed pretty generous to you.

Feitan got back inside after looking around the city for resources. Fortunately he came back with a lot of things. Tissues, canned food, wipes, more antibiotics for you to treat people with, and something in a pink bag. Feitan looked at you before walking over to you and staring into your eyes. He handed you the pink bag and walked into another room in the building. You concluded that he was going to talk to other members of the troupe.

You were kind of hesitant to opening the bag, but your curiosity got the better of you. It was a bracelet with the first initial of your name. You looked at the bracelet and put it on your wrist it was a perfect fit.

You smiled at the bracelet. Feitan watched you through the doorframe secretly there was just the slight smile on his lips. He would never admit it, but he wanted you to stay happy even in times like this.

You looked out the window to see that the group of people were still outside.

They were waving up at the window to get your attention. You looked down at them, and wondered what they wanted. You opened the window, and stuck your head out of it.

They held up a sign made out of cardboard stating “We need help finding our team member.” They turned the board around to the other side. “She has red hair a crop top, and blue jeans on. Have you seen her?”

You shook your head. Giving the group a bit of a pitiful look. That’s when Feitan came up from behind you and shut the window.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“The people outside lost one of their friends. They had asked me if I saw one of them-.”

“What people? I see no one.”

“Huh? I- they were just out there I swear Fei-.” You stutter trying to prove there were just people outside.

“You are hallucinating. You need sleep.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with Feitan so you just did what he said. You weren’t hallucinating you knew you saw them you just had to prove it to Feitan.

The next day you decide to get proof that they are out there. They would surely come back. You made it your plan to go out there and meet them, and get a picture with them to show Feitan. You were going to take your gun just in case, and a camera. Just because you wanted to meet them didn’t mean they were good people you still had to be aware of the world you were still currently in.

You would get a couple of photos of them, and meet them. Just to see how they were as people, and maybe you could join their group part time. Maybe even help them look for their lost teammate. Though you had to wait when Feitan left to leave again.

You told yourself that you needed to be back before he did. You saw him mad before, but you could tell he was really serious about you not leaving where he placed you, so you needed to make sure to avoid that scenario.

You waited a couple hours, when Feitan got himself together to leave.

“I’m going now. Don’t look out the window again. I have something to tell you when I get back.”

“What is it?” You asked wanting to know now.

“I said when I get back.”

“What if you don’t come back.” You spat at him.

He only glared at you before leaving. He didn’t know why you were acting so different lately. Maybe you just needed some fresh air?

“I’ll take you somewhere when I get back.” He thought to himself.

You waited till you saw him leave with Phinks to prepare your bag to leave. You had a gun, and couple knives Feitan gifted you, your camera, and bullets. You waited till you saw them again and rushed outside to meet them. They were walking in front you, you just needed to get their attention.

“Uhm hi!”

They all turned in unison and looked at you weirdly. Their eyes seemed dazed, almost like they were confused. They were pale looking you just thought they haven’t eaten in a while. I mean it is hard to find food around here right?

“You guys seem a little hungry yeah? Uh I have a couple of scraps in my buliding I share it with my uh boyfriend so-.”

You were cut off by one of the members loud groaning. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise. You stood there confused on why you felt afraid, and why they were acting like this.

Feitan was raiding abandoned buildings nearby with Phinks. Phinks was looking out the window while Feitan was in the back ripping some dudes teeth out.

He spotted you frozen in place standing behind whisperers.

“Oh shit. Feitan I think there’s a problem.”

“What?” Again there was a hint of annoyance in Feitan voice due to Phinks distracting him from torturing his poor victim.

Feitan walked over to Phinksand looked out the window. His eyes widened in shock. He ran out the building trying to get to you as fast as he could.

Back with you, you smelled the familiar smell of a rotting corpse though you didn’t see any dead bodies around. You looked back up at the group of people one last time. These weren’t people.

You turned around to run away. In the midst of running you pulled out your gun to turn around and shoot the zombies. You fired three bullets at the zombies. The bullets stopped in mid air and paralleled back to you.

“But how? These aren’t people who can use nen?” You thought to yourself.

Your eyes widened in fear. Just as you were about to meet your fate Feitan pulled out his concealed sword, and adverted the bullets killing off three of the zombies. Although there was one left.

“I’ve got this one.” Phinks was eager to see what the whisper had in store for him.

Feitan didn’t hesitate to grab you and bring you back to your place of residence. Once you two got there you didn’t say anything, and turned around to leave. Feitan stopped you right in your tracks.

“What the hell were you doing?”

You got teary eyed and looked away.

“I wanted to show you that the people I was talking to yesterday were real, so I went out to get a photo with them. I just wanted to show you that I wasn’t some crazy person.”

You stumbled on your words and began to choke on your sobs. Feitan just stared at you he wasn’t big on physical affection nor did he really understand it, but he could understand when some needed a hug. Feitan went up to you from behind and embraced you. It was short, but it was something nonetheless. You didn’t want his warmth to leave, so you grab his hand bring him back close to you. You started to mumble little sorry’s here and there.

You two stood there for a little while before he took you to your shared bedroom. You won’t be going out for a while after this.

[meyousing]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 [𝟐]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: chrollo + prompt 27 “you know that I’ll find you. I always find you.” + reincarnation(& or soulmate) au

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re able to find a place to rest before you continue your journey home, but you can only make it so far when your soulmate has so many methods at his hands to keep tabs on you.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this is PART 2 [final part] of a soulmate au where mates have a nen tattoo of the other's portrait on their hand. sfw, manipulation, some violence, implied side character death. 

return to 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 here!

You’d managed to run for half a day, adrenaline taking you as far away as you were capable. When the sun had started to set that same night, your energy began to diminish along with the sunlight, and your legs simply couldn’t carry you anymore, not even in a walk or trudge. Thankfully, you’d made it far out enough from the previous wasteland, that there was somewhat of a city surrounding you now. A city, with more people around, and less of an odour plaguing the air. 

Despite the security you felt from having more people surrounding you, you were very worried about taking a break. You had none of your possessions, so paying for the safety that four walls of a motel room could provide was impossible, short of begging and pleading for one with the receptionist. But you weren’t certain of where exactly you were, your paranoia made it so that you still felt like you were in close proximity to your initial drop off– still in close proximity to Chrollo, who must have been hunting you down this entire time. That thought also had you worried about finding a place to rest outside; the risk of being entirely exposed and out in the open scaring you out of it immediately. It was out of the question. 

“Please, I’ll find a way to pay it back later. It’ll just be one night, I’ll even take a room that hasn't been cleaned yet! I’ll take anything that you have, please…” you begged the receptionist with interlocked hands, your head bowing down in desperation. He only groaned.

“Listen, I don’t want to keep repeating myself. I can’t let you have a room without an upfront payment, that’s how it works here. You’re gonna have to pay here, or go somewhere else. Those are gonna be your only options around here.” 

Rage boiled within you, nails digging into your skin as you glared back up at the man. 

“There has to be something else I can do instead of an upfront, I don’t have any money to pay with right now!” To prove your point, you reached into your pockets and pulled them right out in a dramatic display to show him just how empty they were.

 As you did, a handful of coins flew out and onto the floor. 

The receptionist raised his eyebrows at you. Surely now he must have thought you were a complete idiot who just exposed your plan to swindle him. You blinked off your shock at this discovery, laughing nervously as you bent down to pick the coins up and place the right amount onto the counter; shocked once more to see that you still had some money left over after the room was paid for. 

You were still in your work uniform. To save yourself some time while doing laundry; any money that you got from tips were immediately taken out of your pockets and kept in your purse, which was back at your apartment right now. This money was not in your pocket before… but, whatever higher being placed it there for you would be getting plenty of praise and thanks later on as you fell asleep in a cheap and warm motel bed for the night. 

The room had two single beds, and the water here was lukewarm at best, but you had never been more thankful to have a somewhat heated shower in your entire life, than you were right now. It could have been freezing cold for all you cared, you were just incredibly grateful to be able to fully wash off the parting gift of grime and filth that Meteor City left on you. 

As you hummed a tune and worked the fragrant motel shampoo through your roots, you knew that while this moment of peace was delightful–you couldn’t relax just yet. Tonight was a privilege, you didn’t know if inns or rest stops would be as easy to come by, like this one had been, as your journey home continued. Not to mention the lucky coins appearing in your pocket, would you have to pick up a part time job somewhere to afford transport fees later on? After such an exhausting day, you wanted to at least try and relax, to avoid thinking about stressful matters such as this before the actual treachery of your trip ensued. 

Instead, you chose to live in this moment as immersively as possible. You relished in the feeling of weight being lifted off of your scalp as the shampoo scrubbed out the debris, appreciating the relief that it brought. Then you prepared your conditioner slowly, taking your sweet time as you worked it through your ends. You wished this could last forever, if forever meant confining you to this bathroom in exchange for Chrollo never being able to track or find you. Though all good things must come to an end, so when your hands began to prune like raisins and the air became a bit constricted from the steam, you turned the water off and wrapped yourself up in a bunch of towels. You shivered from the further drop in temperature as you stepped onto the bathmat, remaining there for quite some time until your trembling ceased, keeping your eyes shut and letting the towels warm and comfort you until you were effectively air dried. 

Unfortunately, there was no second miracle of the night with new clothes magically being provided to you, so you had the option of either changing back into your work uniform, or hoping your towel would stay wrapped as you got under the sheets. You decided on the latter, as going back into your outfit would have rendered your memorable shower meaningless.

You unravelled the towel that had wound your hair up, dropping it on the floor and using the dryer that hung from the wall until your hair was more damp than soaked. Usually you’d be more cautious of sleeping with wet hair at all, and would dry it completely. Your mother, friends, coworkers, always warned you of how harmful it could be to let even the slightest dampness remain overnight, but in your current situation, you were just happy to know you’d be sleeping with a pillow under your head in the first place. 

Turning the bathroom light off after you were finished, you wrapped another towel around your shoulders for some extra warmth while the other stayed around you, tied at your chest. You tried to fight off a yawn to no avail as you shuffled over to one of the beds, your exhaustion obvious as sleep became imminent. Your arms felt like jelly as you untucked the comforter and sheet, sliding under them and instantly finding a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Frailty from everything that your body had just been put through allowed you to rest for the night, succumbing to a slumber the very moment your eyes closed. 

Waking up the next day was strange. Being supported by a mattress was lovely, and your reintroduction to consciousness allowed you a few seconds of blissful forgetfulness as you slowly came to. As far as you knew, you had just woken up from your morning nap after work and were ready to get some tasks done for the day. But as you writhed in a stretch, everything came back. No, all of what had just happened was not just a bad dream. 

You didn’t know what time it was either, which only disoriented you further. You had no phone to check, and no watch or clock in the room anywhere to show you. The idea of leaving this bed could have made you cry, but you knew that you couldn’t stay in one place for too long in these circumstances. You begrudgingly sat up, rubbing your eyes and hunching over as you mustered the strength to throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand up. As you did, you noted that the towels you wore stayed on through the night, an indication of how solid you must have slept. 

Walking over to where you had thrown your uniform the night before, you stared it down while fearing the idea of putting it back on–the junkyard scent that still lingered on the material served as a reminder of where you had just escaped from. With no other choice, you slowly changed into it, wishing that wearing a towel dress in public was socially acceptable to save you from that reminder. 

Thinking about parting with the clean towels had you wondering if you could sneak one out with you as you set off. You’d definitely have to deal with that pesky receptionist asking what you were doing with it, since you had to go see him anyway. Not only to return your room key, but also to ask what time it was. As much as you wanted to procrastinate on this interaction after the way your last one went, you knew that too much time was passing and you had to get moving. Keeping one of the towels folded in your arm, you left your room, embracing the soft breeze of the somewhat fresh air as it cooled your face and blew your hair. 

Inhaling softly, you opened the door to reception and cringed at what was coming next; probably a huge eye roll and no show of thanks as you returned your key. The door shut behind you, and what you hadn’t expected was for the receptionist to be standing there facing you, already staring with his hands folded behind him and a wide grin on his lips. Since you were still annoyed with his lack of empathy the night before, you hadn’t planned to go into this too kindly, but the intensity of his smile had you mirroring him subconsciously. 

“Here’s the key,” you stated, dropping it on the desk and waiting for his response. He only blinked–with one eye at a time–which unnerved you greatly. Was this some kind of sarcastic retaliation to show that he was still annoyed with you from yesterday? Whether he was being petty or not, you didn’t want to waste more time here than you already had. “Could I ask what time it is?”

“It’s time to go back home” he whispered, voice quiet and syllables muffled under his breath. You mistook this as some kind of inn-culture joke. Like, obviously you’d be going home after staying in a motel! 

You chuckled, a bit fakely to appease him, while waiting for him to actually tell you the time. But when he continued to stare and not say a word, your smile started to fall and your brief laugh tapered off into silence. Okay…you get it, he’s bothered by you. Asking for the time would be your last question for him, then you could leave and part ways for good. Why was he dragging this out? 

You were about to repeat yourself, saying Can you just tell me? When his next move caught you off guard. You flinched back as his face fell expressionless and he collapsed forward, straight for his desk– he had gone unconscious. Rushing over, you leaned atop the desk’s edge to see him; how his arms had stopped him from falling to the floor entirely and surrounded his head, but his legs contorted beneath him, they looked broken. From such a slight fall? The sight was frightening, and you were about to back away to look for help, when you noticed something that you hadn't seen initially. There was something sticking out of the back of his neck…was that… an antenna? 

“I heard how impolite he was to you last night. Chivalry truly is dead in today’s day and age, isn’t it?” 

That voice was all too familiar, and it certainly didn’t come from the receptionist. You snapped back to stand up straight and try to turn around, but you did not expect your back to collide with someone’s chest. His hands found your hips, effectively stilling you before they slid along your waist, meeting to clasp over your abdomen. You looked down, recognizing and hating how Chrollo’s hands were ingrained in your memory from the countless times you’d held and caressed them before. 

Rather than experience dread and paralysis upon your first meeting like you would have expected (sure, you’d love to lie and say that you wouldn’t ever get caught, you never expected a first meeting. But you knew this would happen, didn’t you?) you only felt defeat. His chin pressed into your shoulder and you cowered, the gentle exhale from his nose tickling your cheekbone. 

“Why did you run?”

Of course he didn’t seem mad at you. All he ever had for you was patience and understanding. This almost made you feel worse, like you were a rebel acting out against a caretaker who wasn’t mad at you, just disappointed. You didn’t know how to answer him, but thankfully he continued before you could. 

 “I knew that you would try to, It’s a natural reaction to have in a situation such as this. I just want to know why…did I do something wrong?”

Was he being serious right now?!

“I paid for your rent…I made food for you, no expenses paid on your part. I did this all without complaint, because I wanted to. How else do you think you were able to afford a room here?” 

So… it was him who put the coins in your pocket? You had him to thank for a restful night after, causing you so much grief to begin with.

“As my soulmate, you deserve the finest. So what is it?” He spun you around in his grasp, embracing you face to face. He was looking right into your eyes, though his appearance caught you off guard; his usual head cloth was lacking, revealing some type of cross tattoo, and his hair was styled back rather than down. He’d never appeared to you this way before–it made you nervous, it had you squirming away but he only squeezed you closer, fingertips caressing you as he held on. 

You were at a loss for words, heart thumping too loudly in your ears for you to even hear your own thoughts. His eyes seemed so sad, like he was on the verge of tears.

“Did you think that after doing all of that, I would just let my soulmate go?” his eyes hardened then, tone dropping a few decibels as if it were only meant for both of you to hear. Nobody else was around to save you, anyway, yet it still sent a chill down your spine. 

You shook your head, not knowing what else to say. Your throat felt like it was full of thorns as you swallowed, eyes welling with hot tears as the reality of this situation dawned on you. 

He didn’t say anything else, only gazing at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on the back of your head to pull you into him fully, pressing it into his chest while his other arm was secure around your waist. You trembled softly, like a mouse caught in a trap, being loomed upon impendingly by its predator. That wasn’t too far off from the truth, was it? Chrollo had a way of hunting you this entire time, even letting you have some time to yourself before making it known that he could have taken you back whenever he saw fit. If only he had given you some more time. 

“Did this teach you a lesson, about how it’s useless to try and run?” He whispered the last part right next to your ear, lips tickling your skin as he nipped at the lobe softly, pulling away with it in his teeth until it couldn’t follow anymore, and nuzzled his cheek into yours. 

The closeness and intimacy of what he was doing, mixed with the implications behind everything he said, had you flustered and panicking. You whimpered as you tried to wriggle away from his grasp, and astonishingly, he let you out. Your body flew back into the reception desk from the force in your movements, you winced from the sharp surface digging into your spine. You braced yourself and tried to find stable footing as the tears that streamed down your cheeks began to impair your vision. Chrollo remained in his place, watching you with sympathy written across his features, moving his hands to rest in his coat pockets.

“If I let you go right now, let you run as far as you liked, or even paid for your transportation; you know what would happen, don’t you?” His head teetered to one side, giving him a flair of condescendence that made you feel utterly stupid. You shut your eyes, unable to keep looking at such an expression and absorbing such an aura that only made you feel so, so bad about yourself. He was surely convinced that he was entirely justified in every aspect of this situation, completely civil in how he was handling everything. He spoke again, and this time his voice was a step closer, making you tense and screw your eyes shut even tighter.

 “Tell me what would happen.” 

You shook your head, the only verbal response you offered being a choked out sob. You raised a shaky hand to wipe your tears away, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to clear them, to gain some form of solidity in this. 

It was when Chrollo’s hand romantically lifted towards your face that an idea came to you. Ever the amorous, the poet that he was, surely if you had expressed your perspective to him in some kind of fairy-tale-esque device, he would be more understanding of you. Of why he was not in the right here, and how what he did was not the only realistic solution. 

You stopped him, daring to press your palm to his, fingers quivering as you held him there. You sniffled before looking up, your voice breaking as you chose your next words slowly and methodically. 

“If you truly love me the way you claim to, as my soulmate…you should let me go.”

As you tried to gauge a reaction from his unchanging expression, anxiety filled your nerves. You tried to drive the point home by forcing your fingers to intertwine, clutching his hand in a (false) show of affection. 

After a moment, one where he looked contemplative, he finally smiled at you. You returned his smile, thinking that your words struck something within him and that he would agree with you. Then his fingers curled around your knuckles and his hand squeezed yours with such bone-crushing strength, you cried out and brought up your other to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Your soul is bound to mine, nothing could ever keep us apart.”

He leaned in, his nose inches from yours as he pushed your hand down and pinned it against the desk, the force in the movement making it vibrate and jolt the rest of your body. 

“Even if I did let you run free, Y/N, you know that I’d find you. I will always find you.”

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[uvobreakmylegs]

Refuge

part 1 of a werewolf!Nobunaga x female!reader fic

Part 2

Warnings: blood, gore, self harm, mentions of death

Word Count: 8.2k

The pale full moon shone down upon the quiet forest, illuminating the pure white snow that lay like a blanket across the forest floor. Light from the moon made the shadows of the barren tree branches even more obvious when combined the bright surface beneath them, and the pattern they made upon the snow resembled that of gnarled arms with outstretched hands, forever reaching out with extended fingers. Any animals that lived within the vicinity were asleep, either only for the night or in hibernation, waiting for the weather to warm before they dared venture out again.

Within the sleeping forest sat a wooden cabin, an obvious and out of place interruption to the quiet landscape of the endless trees. Someone had carved out for themselves a home within the woods with the small, simple cabin in the equally small clearing. It could either be viewed as a cozy space or an invader of the natural state of the forest, but regardless, it stood there, the chimney softly carrying up the last remnants of smoke from a dying fire. Above it, the moonlight hit the man-made building in a way that made it instantly noticeable.

And in the forest, there was one that noticed it immediately.

Where almost everyone and everything was asleep within the dead quiet of the wilderness, one was awake. And when he noticed the cabin, he stalked closer, his snout sniffing the dry air as he tried to discern who or what was inside the small structure.

Not many chose to live so far away from the rest of civilization, and when they did, it was for a specific reason, some job or craft of theirs that was better suited for out in the wilderness. For what reason was this cabin here, he wondered. A quick glance showed nothing of interest; only a small, frozen over garden to one side, and a dead log on the other that had clearly been used as a way to chop firewood.

Who was in there? A family? Or perhaps a couple that intended to start one?

Regardless of who was in there, they would be easy targets. Being so far away from anyone else and being attacked in the middle of the night would make them as much, as the sudden chaos that would interrupt their sleep would catch them off guard.

But perhaps, he thought to himself, there might be just enough time for his hunt to become interesting.

Standing between two pine trees, he breathed in.

Only a single human scent could be identified.

And as he listened with sharp ears that strained to hear of the interior of the cabin, little else was to be noted other than the faintest noise of someone breathing evenly.

Only one.

The longer he stood, the more he was certain that there was only a single person with in that structure, someone who was asleep like the rest of the forest.

That revelation dampened his mood.

Someone being alone in the woods must have been some elderly person who was stuck in their ways, he thought. They wouldn't be able to move fast, and they would hardly offer up any sort of challenge should he choose to attack.

While it wasn't always what he was looking for in his hunts, the thought of it being too easy was unappealing.

It would be several miles to the only town he knew was in the area, however. He would spend several miles trekking there and back to his own little camp if he chose to head that way. If he killed the person within, he'd satiate his hunger and have a better shelter for the night, possibly the next few days.

It was far more pragmatic to attack the cabin. While there would be little sport, he could always wait for the next month if that was what he wanted.

Yet even as he told himself that, he continued to stand there, staring at the quiet cabin.

….. No.

After waiting a month for this night to return, that wasn't the way he wanted it to end. Perhaps it was his own instinct that told him that. The need to have a proper hunt.

Regardless, he made his choice as he stepped away, turning and heading towards the direction of what must have been the nearby town as he followed his nose, picking up bits and pieces of more human scents that the gentle breeze brought his way. The cabin behind him was quickly forgotten as he continued forward. Thus the cabin and the woman within were left in peace.

And not an hour after, gunshots could be heard ringing through the night, though in the safety of your home, you weren't aware of any of it as you slept through the ordeal completely.

Winter was rarely kind.

That was a harsh truth that everyone in the region had learned, as the area where you lived was always hit with heavy barrages of thickly layered snow. Icy winds would shriek through the open spaces, running past trees and buildings as it brought with it a torrent of ice that clung to whatever surface it could. The blizzards would always beat down upon the wooden doors of the homes that did their best to keep the harsh weather out, and sometimes those storms would last for several days if not longer.

All of that left everyone chilled to the bone and desperately clinging to whatever shreds of warmth they could get their hands on. As such, everyone would ensure that their fireplaces or their wood burning stoves were in proper order. Nothing would grow during this time either, so if one wanted to survive, having ample food stored away was required. That could be a difficult task depending on how many mouths one had to feed.

Though for you it was a bit easier as you only needed to worry about yourself.

You lived several miles away from the nearby town of Willsden, and the area of the woods where your cabin stood allowed for enough extra space for you to grow your own crops. The summer and autumn months were spent growing your own food in the little garden, harvesting the vegetables when they were ready and storing them away. And for the food that you couldn't produce on your own, you would buy or bartering for whatever it was that you needed. All you needed was enough in your storage that would last you until spring came, and then the process would repeat itself.

Though the winters weren't always the same; sometimes the snow would thaw later than anticipated and that would cause you issues as you scrambled to find a way to provide for yourself, but overall you managed to do fine. The fact that you were surviving on your own for so long was proof enough of that. Even if it was difficult, you were happy with what you had and what you were able to accomplish.

As you stepped out from the warm confines of the cabin and into the harsh cold, you shuddered as a chill instantly set into you. The winters were far too cold and you wished you could simply stay beneath the covers where it was far more cozy.

But with the work that needed to be done, that simply wasn't an option.

The empty basket on your back shifted as you closed the door behind you, though you quickly readjusted it as you turned towards the forest that surrounded your home. Today's chore would be tiring: you needed to collect wood that could be chopped up and be used as fuel for your fireplace. It was simple enough to say that, but all parts of that process would be obnoxious, from finding and putting what you found into the basket, to carting it all back to your home and then chopping it up so it would be fit for use.

Obnoxious, but you needed your fireplace to remain lit so you could survive the winter.

Though as you looked up to the sky, you noted that the weather didn't look promising. Whereas the day prior had been rather clear, now the skies were dark and clouded, and there was something in the air that felt strange.

If you were to guess, a blizzard was likely going to hit the area, and soon.

You sighed to yourself. That work would need to be completed in short period of time. The last thing you needed was needing to go out and try to chop wood while a blizzard raged around you.

Best to get to it now.

After pushing your scarf up over your nose, you adjusted the basket once more before you walked forward, your boots sinking into the snow as you did so.

But when you had traveled a few steps, you noticed something.

At the very edge of the clearing, in between a pair of large pine trees, you spotted two prominent footprints that were set deep into the snow. Curious, you walked in that direction, wanting to know what might have left those prints. Most likely it had been some sort of animal.

You felt you were correct when you reached them and saw a faint indents in the snow where the claws had at one point gouged in. And when you looked at how long the prints were, it was clear that whatever had been standing here had been large.

A bear?

The thought made you gulp; bears being awake during the winter was dangerous, as they were always angry if they were awoken before the season had ended. They'd be hungry, too, and with a lack of food to be found in the forest, they were generally driven to find the food they wanted in the homes of people like yourself. Glancing back at your cabin, you found that the prints had been facing the door directly. An image came to mind from that: one of a bear standing in the snow as it watched your home while you were blissfully unaware inside.

But you hadn't heard anything the night prior. You had slept rather soundly, and that was part of what left you being reluctant to exit your bed that morning.

If you had made more noise in your sleep, would the bear have tried to come in?

A shudder ran through you as you thought of what might have happened if it had heard you. No doubt you would be dead, torn to pieces by a wild animal.

That would have been a gruesome way to go.

Looking back down at the footprints, you noticed that there were more than just the two, and your eyes followed along as you saw that the beast had decided to turn west, walking away from your home.

That was the direction of Willsden, you noted. Worry then hit you as you hoped everyone there was alright. Ideally, you would have tried to head towards the town and see if that was the case, but when you glanced up to the sky again, it was clear that you didn't have time for that. You still needed to collect your firewood, and even if you did decide to forgo that, the journey both to and from the town would eat up too much of your time. At the absolute worst, you would get lost in the snow and freeze to death.

It was better to continue doing what you needed to, and then, once it was safe to make the trip down to Willsden, you would do so.

You set off again, telling yourself that the people of the town would be fine. The town had a lot of people living there, after all. If some lumbering beast was on the attack, they would no doubt notice quickly. They also had the manpower to defend themselves, so whatever fight might ensue likely wouldn't last long.

Before you turned your mind completely to the chore you needed to start, you glanced again at the set of tracks.

…. Strange.

Looking at the placement of the tracks, it almost seemed as if the animal had been walking on it's hind feet the whole time.

….. The thought was utterly ridiculous, you told yourself.

That was the last you thought of the prints before you settled onto your task.

The basket on your back was nearly full with the soon-to-be firewood when you noticed an unexpected flash of color within the whites and browns of the forest. Turning your head to look, your brows furrowed as you couldn't quite make it out whatever it was as a dead bush stood in your way, blocking you from seeing whatever it was clearly.

Whatever it was, though, it was red.

You shouldn't have bothered to get a closer look. You had work to do and a short time limit to do it, if the clouds above you were any indication. All you would be doing by pushing your way past the bush was wasting spare seconds that you needed to make sure you would continue to live comfortably through the winter.

Yet your curiosity managed to be stronger and you did just that, the tall branches of the bush clinging to your clothes as you made your way by, snapping a few of them in the process. The sounds echoed out into the empty forest as you did so, and it served as a sign as to how alone you were within that space.

Though, evidently, you weren't alone completely.

The thing that had caught your attention could now be seen clearly, and as you stared down at the ground just as you had earlier outside of your cabin, it was obvious that this thing that had caught your attention was blood.

It marred the pure white snow with bright red spots, spattered across the surface like ink blots on parchment. They were sporadic and spread out, and you realized then that they trailed off in a singular direction. As your eyes followed them, you found that alongside them were gouges in the snow, like something had been dragged through. Almost seeming like footprints.

You would have noted another strange parallel when compared to what you had found hours earlier had it not been for the question that interrupted you:

Were these made by a human?

The size and the way the feet had dragged seemed similar to the footprints you might leave behind in such conditions. It certainly seemed unlikely that these would have been left by an animal. So a person had been through here. Given the blood trail that followed after the messy prints in the snow, whoever it had been was wounded.

Grievously so.

Without another thought you began to walk forward, following along the trail as you kept your eyes open for any sign of the person who had left it behind.

The trail was a long one, and often meandered about as the drops of blood and the footprints in the snow were erratic, going from one end of a clearing before doubling back and continuing the opposite way. You wondered what had driven this person to walk about in such a way – had they been out of their mind from the cold? Or had they been looking for something? Perhaps some sort of shelter before they attempted to dress their wounds. It was possible they had managed to find such a place.

Though with how much blood you could see, you had a bad feeling that whoever it was would be long dead by the time you found them.

The wind was picking up, you noted. You needed to be home before the storm hit. But it felt just as important to follow and see who was at the end of the blood trail and what condition that person was in, if just so you could leave a marker to indicate where their body was so they could be retrieved at a later date.

You felt that it was the least you could do.

Time seemed to pass slowly as you followed. How far you were traveling away from your cabin worried you – it wasn't smart to rely entirely on the trail you had followed, not with a blizzard that lurked overhead and threatened to cover the path you had made for yourself with freshly fallen snow. If you didn't find the wounded person soon, you would be forced to turn back, despite knowing the guilt that would weigh on you after such an action.

Just a little longer, you told yourself. If you didn't find this person within the next few minutes, then you would abandon the search effort.

As luck would have it, it was only a few paces more before you heard something. Something that sounded like a human voice groaning out in pain. Hearing that renewed your energy, and you rushed forward along the blood trail, your neck straining as you looked around the trees, trying to spot the person you had heard.

And when you walked past a gnarled old oak tree that sat upon an incline, you saw someone.

A man.

One that you didn't recognize. Not from the town or even beyond the slice of the world you called home.

His long black hair was frayed and messy as it flowed down his back and shoulders, and the blood that was speckled in his hair matched the blood that was present in the slight bits of hair upon his face. More worryingly, there was a wound on his shoulder, a small puncture wound that could have come from a bullet if the dried blood that still managed to look bright against his pale skin told you anything. His skin was also decidedly frostbitten, and the patches of red marred his cheeks, feet and hands in particular. As for his clothing, he only had on a ragged pair of pants that looked ready to fall apart.

He looked as though he was on the verge of death. But none of that seemed to concern him.

He was fully focused on the knife he was stabbing into the side of his torso. On the left of his body, just beneath his ribs, a curtain of blood had long since fallen and dried, and it was clear that at one point, he had been walking with the open wound as the left leg of his pants was also soaked in the substance.

Fresh blood was dripping down his skin as the blade he'd forced into his flesh moved to and fro, his numb hands moving the hilt as best they could with their limited mobility. His teeth were clenched as he did so, and the look on his face was nothing short of desperate.

Why was he doing that?

Then he let out a pained noise, and with both hands, he pulled again on the hilt.

You stood still, staring at him as you tried to understand why he was doing this.

It was almost as if he was trying to dig something out of his side.

He breathed hard as he continued to pull on the hilt before eventually giving up, letting out a loud gasp of pain as he fell back against the tree trunk in frustration.

Then he noticed you.

Gray eyes widened upon the realization, and he sat still for a few moments, as though he was amazed that he had only just now realized that he wasn't alone.

You didn't get a chance to speak before his face scrunched up in pain and he doubled over.

You didn't know what his situation was, but seeing that was enough to break you out of your stupor, and you rushed over immediately, pulling the basket off of your back before you knelt down and put your hands over his, trying to get them off of the knife hilt so you could remove it from him as safely as you could.

Only you weren't allowed to do so.

Without removing his grip on the knife, he pushed himself against you to shove your hands away. With how weak he seemed to be, the amount of strength that was in that shove was surprising.

You almost didn't hear it when he spoke at first, his heavy breathing making it difficult to understand him.

“I need it out of me.”

After a moment, you responded.

“It?” you asked, confused.

He didn't reply. Or rather, he couldn't. He was groaning in pain again, and you saw the veins in his forehead pulse as he struggled with the knife.

“You're going to kill yourself,” you told him.

He wasn't listening.

He only continued to dig that knife into his side.

Once again, you watched, truly uncertain of what you should do.

Except no, you knew what you should do. You should get that knife away from him. Stop him before he hurt himself any further, so then he might have a chance of surviving.

But with how determined he was to do whatever it was he thought he was doing, you didn't think you would be successful in getting him to stop. Nor did you want to wrestle a knife away from a man who was clearly crazed from the cold and his other injuries, and especially not when he wasn't as feeble as you had first thought. He could easily injure you if you tried to do that, or worse.

So then what were you supposed to do? Wait like this? Leave him?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a strange sound come from where he had stabbed the knife into himself. A sound that resembled metal scraping against metal.

…. Something really was stuck in him.

And since it was clear that he wasn't going anywhere until it was out of him, you had little other choice.

The warning glare he gave you when you reached your hands out to him was harsh, but his gaze softened when you placed your hands on top of his as you said “please, let me help you.”

The man didn't answer, but he turned his attention back to the knife. This time, your steady hands helped his shaking ones when he began to pull at the knife again.

It didn't feel as though this was the right thing to do. Even with the knowledge that there was something inside of him, surely the correct thing to do was to take him somewhere warm and bandage his wounds, and then once the weather was more mild you would take him to the local physician. Surely whatever it was could wait to be taken care of until after he was out of the cold.

With every passing second that you tried to help you worried that you were only hastening this man's death. That the chances he had of surviving even until the next hour were only growing more and more slim the longer you kept this up with him. With every pull you made on the knife and the blood that came out of the gash that was only increasing in size, you were forced to wonder that if this man were to die, how much of his fate would ultimately rest upon your shoulders?

Then it came out.

You had felt it through the way you held the end of the knife hilt, how it traveled through the open wound, over his exposed insides until it reached the outside. The knife came out from his side forcefully and the thing inside of him fell out. It was too small and the blood coming from the wound was too great. Whatever had fallen out of him, it vanished into the snow next to him. The only thing you could discern was that it had been silver in color.

You didn't need to tell him that something had come out; immediately after his shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief, the kind you hear when a moment of great agony had finally passed.

Now that it was out, he might listen to you.

You took that opportunity to speak, saying “we can't stay here. There's a storm-”

He fell forward.

Onto you.

You barely managed to catch him, holding him beneath his arms and keeping him from falling face first into the snow. His head rested against your shoulder and he shuddered, his eyes now closed. He was unconscious.

Though if he stayed out here in these conditions any longer, he'd be dead soon. With all the blood he'd lost, it was amazing he'd held on for as long as he did. You needed to get him to shelter as soon as possible.

But at this point, would he even make it?

Despite his chances being grim, you knew that you needed to try to get him back alive. After tearing off a bit of your skirt to wrap around the wounds on his side and shoulder, and then wrapping your own cloak around his shoulders in a desperate bid to keep him somewhat warm, you began the task of taking him home.

The way you transported him through the woods was unceremonious, to say the least. His height and weight when compared to you meant that you couldn't sling one of his arms over your shoulder and carry him that way, and even if you could, the basket on your back would have gotten in the way. So you were forced to hook your arms beneath his armpits and drag him back to your cabin while you shivered from the cold after having given up the protection your cloak offered for his sake. The basket only made the task all the more difficult with how heavy it was. It was exhausting, and a look at all of the blood still spattered on his skin had you doubting more and more that he would make it back alive. The state of his heels was also worrying, as with every pull you made over a rough tree root, they appeared more scraped and raw every time you looked at them.

All you could do was hope that the makeshift bandages you'd fashioned on the spot were enough to staunch the bleeding in the areas that were worst.

Somehow, you managed it. After a grueling forty five minutes of dragging the unconscious man and praying that he didn't die on the way there, and after the anxiety that swelled within you once the storm finally started with the snowflakes that began to rain down from the cloudy sky, you caught sight of your cabin in the distance, and that was enough to give you a burst of energy to take you the rest of the way.

It was good timing. The wind was picking up and it was only getting colder. By the time you dragged him inside and slammed the door shut, a great deal of snow had managed to get inside as well. And with how high the snow had risen when you had returned, you noted that you very well may need to dig a path out from your door.

But that wasn't important right now.

You turned your attention to the man. The exhaustion of having dragged him through the woods had you falling to your knees before you crawled over to where he lay and placing your hands on him, reaching for his mouth and the side of his neck to see if you could feel some sign of life. Either his breath or that of a pulse.

…..

It was soft, but you felt a little bit of hot hair hitting your fingers when you gently pulled his lips apart. The pulse you felt in his neck was just as faint, but it was still there.

He was still alive.

The relief you felt upon that realization was so great that you reached down to hold him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your face against his hair.

“I'm so glad,” you murmured, “I'm so glad you're alive.”

With the way you had your face pressed against him, you didn't notice how his eyelids fluttered open.

It was only for a brief moment, and when you pulled yourself away from him, he was unconscious once more.

The first thing you had done once you had fully composed yourself was properly clean and dress his wounds for fear of infection. You had no idea how long he'd been in that state, and the knife that he'd been stabbing into his side certainly wouldn't have helped in keeping that side wound clean. Although oddly enough, when you went about cleaning and dressing those wounds, you found that they didn't seem as bad as they did when you had first discovered him. And despite your certainty that he would be suffering from frostbite, his skin now showed little sign of any such issues. Perhaps he hadn't been out there as long as you thought.

Your mind went to your second priority, which was to get him warm as he was still ice cold to the touch. Once again you were forced to drag him awkwardly, this time to your bed as you had no other place to put him. By that point your limbs were screaming over the amount of exertion you had put them through that day, and now your movements were even more slowed and pained as you dragged him across the wooden floor. Getting him onto the bed was no easy task either, as he slipped off once or twice while you were trying to place him, forcing you to grab at him as best you could to keep him from tumbling onto the floor.

Eventually you were successful in placing him on the bed, much to the relief of your sore muscles. Given that you had no clothes that would fit him, the best you could do was cover him with as many blankets as you were able to spare. The man ended up bundled on your bed, the sheets up to his neck.

After taking a step back, it didn't feel like there was anymore you could do for him.

Whether he lived through this or not all depended on his own resilience.

You then took a moment for yourself to breathe, and from that point, the rest of your day didn't last long. The amount of effort you had put in to bringing him back to your home had drained you, and you barely had the energy to make yourself something to eat before you felt the strong pull of sleep overwhelm you. You ended up settling onto the floor not far from your fireplace, a few blankets placed beneath you to protect you from the hard surface of the floor while another was pulled around you.

You spared one last glance at the man from your makeshift bed, and found that he was the same as he had been earlier.

There wasn't anything more you could do for him, you reminded yourself.

Nothing other than sincerely hope he would pull through.

The blizzard was going strong when you awoke the next morning, bursts of wind hitting the entrance of your cabin repeatedly as the winter chill tried to force its way in. But the front door stood strong, and as you sleepily added more wood into the fireplace, the warmth within the room remained as it was at a comfortable temperature.

As much as you wanted to focus on the stiffness in your back that came from sleeping on the floor and the ache in your limbs from the strain you had put them through yesterday, you turned your attention to the man you had rescued.

He was still unconscious. But as you took a few steps closer, you noted that some color had returned to his cheeks. His breathing was also more even, though the longer you stared, he showed no signs of waking up anytime soon.

But he did seem better than he had when you went to sleep, and that was a sign of good progress for his recovery.

You hoped it was, at least.

With the blizzard keeping you inside, you spent your morning doing your best to care for him. After propping his head up, you managed to get a bit of water down his throat before you checked his wounds. The gash on his side seemed better. It actually looked smaller than you remembered it being when you first saw it. And the wound on his shoulder didn't seem serious at all once you lifted up the bandages.

That seemed a bit odd, though with all of the focus on the side wound, perhaps you were incorrectly remembering how severe the one on the shoulder had been. But as long as he was getting better, that was all that mattered.

Once you had changed out the bandages, you set about cleaning him up a bit more. You wiped away the blood that was still on his skin, doing your best to apply enough force to wipe it off but not to cause further pain. You even went as far as to brush out his hair, removing the tangles and the blood that had dried and clotted in the long black strands.

He looked much better once you had finished, and you remained seated on the edge of the bed while you watched him steadily breathing in and out.

Though you were still unable to tell when he would wake up, at that moment it seemed guaranteed that he would be alright.

A relieved sigh left your lips before you got up from the bed to make yourself a meal.

The mystery man slept through the entire day, and again on the day that followed. You did your best as you looked after him, making sure he was warm and that his bandages were clean. And while you weren't sure if there was anything you could feed him in his current state, you made sure to bring cups of water to his lips to ensure he had enough fluids in his system.

That night you felt that he looked better than he had before, and you went to sleep hopeful that he would soon awaken.

Your wish was granted the next morning.

A chill in the air awoke you suddenly, pulling you out of sleep as the warmth you so desperately craved was snatched away from you. You pulled yourself up with a groan as you looked about, trying to find out what had caused you to lose your rest.

You figured it out quickly when you turned and saw that the cabin door standing wide open with a pile of snow that had tumbled inside.

Your mind became clear in an instant as you wondered who had done that.

Then your gaze went to the bed to check on your guest, only to find that it was empty.

He had gone outside? In his condition?

Now that you were fully awake, you jumped to your feet and rushed to the door, worried that he had wandered off so far that you wouldn't catch sight of him. The snow was still coming down hard, and if he wasn't in the immediate vicinity, there would be little you could do for him. You couldn't take the risk of getting lost yourself to go after him.

It was a relief when you stopped at the open doorway and saw him.

He stood out in the open, between a pair of pine trees, clothed only in the trousers you had left him in and one of the blankets you had wrapped around him. Though it didn't remain there long as it slowly dripped off his shoulders before it ended up on the snow around him. Yet he didn't seem to notice or care that he was standing half naked in the freezing cold.

Instead, he was facing your direction, staring at the cabin in what seemed to be…. Amazement? Surprise? You weren't sure; it was hard to tell what exactly that expression was with the snowflakes that were still swirling about.

Right. The snow. The snow that was fast entering through the open door of the cabin, that was showing no signs of stopping and that your injured guest was still standing in. Enough of the snow had fallen that it was deep enough to submerge up to his knees, and he had no shoes. Or socks. Or anything other than the tattered trousers that were barely holding themselves together.

Best to get him back in case the frostbite managed to get him this time.

His attention was finally turned to you when you walked out, calling to him as you did so.

“Come back inside!”

He didn't make any move, and it didn't look like he understood what you said.

Wrapping your own blanket tighter around yourself, you huffed as you approached him. Trudging out into the snow like this was the last thing you wanted, especially when you weren't dressed for the outdoors. Your nightgown did little to protect you in that moment, so you tried your best to move fast, though the large amount of snow made it difficult.

The man continued to stare at you and said nothing, even when you reached him. Even when you knelt down and pulled up the blanket from the surface. Even when you once again wrapped it around him, he still seemed out of sorts, so you decided it was best to be gentle with him.

“Come back inside,” you repeated.

That time you put one of your hands in his while the other went to his shoulder, doing your best to be encouraging as you added “please?”

After a few moments more of him staring at you with a bewildered expression, he nodded. With that, he allowed you to lead him back inside, much to your relief. The cold air was brutal against your exposed skin, and you didn't want to imagine how bad it must have been for him.

The door was slammed shut once the two of you were back within the cabin, though now without some difficulty as quite a lot of snow had gotten in by that point, much to your dismay. Oh well. It would melt soon enough, wouldn't it? Besides, right now you needed to give your full attention to your guest.

The snow that covered his hair and shoulders quickly joined the pile on the floor as you brushed it off of him as best you could before you ultimately took off the blanket you had wrapped him in and grabbed another off of the bed, repeating the action you had made outside when you placed the fresh one on his shoulders. He only continued to stare at you with that same bewildered look.

While you found the way he acted strange, you decided not to think much about it – if he had any memory of what it had been like a few days prior, perhaps he was just astonished that he was still alive.

“Here,” you said, taking hold of his arm as you prepared to lead him again, “lay back down. Your injuries are bad.”

Again, he said nothing but allowed you to do as you pleased, letting you take him back to the bed and tucking the sheets over him once he took his place on the mattress. Part of you wanted to ask what he'd been thinking by going outside, but that was a question to be saved for later, if you remembered it.

“Are you feeling alright?” you asked him. It felt best to keep your questions to ones that could be answered with a 'yes' or a 'no', at least for the time being.

He was looking about the cabin, taking everything in when you asked your question, and when he turned his attention back to you, he nodded.

That was a relief, and you smiled at him as you replied “am I right in thinking that you're hungry? You must be, after all the time you spent asleep.”

Again, he nodded.

“Alright. If you'll wait, I can make a breakfast for the two of us,” you said.

He replied with yet another nod.

Things were quiet as you cooked, and you were happy to be next to the fireplace after the brief amount of time outside. The minute or so you had spent out there had chilled you to the core, and you hated to wonder about what it had been like for him.

You glanced over to find him watching you, and you thought that perhaps now you might try to get some answers, if he had any.

“Was there a reason for why you went outside?” you asked.

His brows furrowed, and he turned his head so he was staring up at the ceiling. And then, for the first time, he spoke.

“I don't know,” he said.

“Ah. Alright then.”

Clearing your throat, you decided to push forward with your next question.

“Do you know what happened to you?” you asked.

At that, his mouth pressed into a line and he looked uncomfortable. Quickly, you added “if you aren't able to talk about it, that's fine.”

“No, no, it's not that,” he told you, “I…. Uh, I don't…. I don't remember.”

“Oh.”

What exactly had he gone through before you found him?

“It looked as though you'd been attacked,” you said, “you have bullet wounds.”

“You were behaving strangely when I found you, as well,” you added.

He shook his head.

“I don't remember,” he reiterated.

Then he turned his head towards you as he asked “where are we?”

“In my cabin?”

“Yes, but where is it?”

“Ah. We're outside Willsden. About eight miles away from there,” you explained.

“Have you been in contact with anyone from there?”

You blinked.

“No?” you responded.

“I see.”

He went back to staring at the ceiling, though you noticed movement beneath the blankets after. His hand went to his side – the one that he'd been digging the knife into, where he'd gotten that bullet out of him.

Foolishly, you only then realized why he had been asking about where the two of you were.

“I'm sorry – with the weather still being bad, it'll take some time for the roads to clear up even after the snow stops, but as soon as it does I'll fetch a doctor for you,” you told him.

For some reason, he seemed surprised when you said that, and again he stared at you for a few moments.

You wondered if you really were as strange as he seemed to perceive you to be.

When the food was finished cooking, you moved to help him sit up in the bed only to be surprised at how easily he lifted himself up without your assistance. After the way you had found him half frozen to death in the snow and then the days that had followed, you would have thought him to be weaker, yet he moved without much trouble, though the wound in his side seemed to still be giving him some trouble as you saw him wince and grab at it again. At least the shoulder wound seemed to be better.

He spoke again when you were in the middle of your meal, having paused with his own as he asked you “what's your name?”

You answered him, and asked for his in turn.

Nobunaga, he told you.

The introduction seemed to help him, as once the two of you had the other's name, he was more open with you when he spoke. He'd been traveling, he told you, going from town to town in search of work. While he had been on his way to Willsden from Doveport before he wound up where you found him in the woods. Again, he told you that he didn't remember what had happened to him, but it seemed safe enough to conclude that he had been attacked, robbed and left for dead.

Hearing that, and remembering the way he had been when you first laid eyes on him, all you could feel was immense pity for the man. What sort of people leave another person to die in such a manner? Although it was silly to ask that question as you knew the answer – the number of people in the world who had no issue cutting short the lives of others for the sake of their own greed were far too many.

“I don't suppose you have an idea as to how long you were out there,” you said.

“Since the night prior,” Nobunaga answered as he sighed.

“The night?” you asked, confused. It didn't seem likely to you that one man could have lasted that many hours outside in the cold with the way he was.

Nobunaga seemed to realize that as well, as he corrected himself with “ah, maybe I'm misremembering. I couldn't have been out that long. So it must have been the morning at the latest.”

You nodded, as that made more sense.

“I wonder why I didn't hear any gunfire,” you then said, “wherever it was where you were attacked, it couldn't have been that far from here.”

“I do remember bits and pieces where I was walking for a long while. Maybe the area where I was attacked was further away,” he suggested.

Nobunaga then added “or maybe you were in too deep a sleep.”

“Ah… I suppose.”

It felt slightly embarrassing to admit it, but that explanation would make sense. It didn't bode well for you to sleep so deeply if something was wrong, however. But regardless of that, the person or people who had attacked Nobunaga posed a threat and they would need to be taken care of.

You got his attention again as you said “as soon as the road opens up, I'll fetch a doctor for you, and I'll report the crime as well.”

“Report it?” he asked.

You nodded.

Instead of seeming relieved, he seemed wary, his eyebrows furrowing as he said “I don't see much point in doing that. Those thieves are likely long gone by now. It's best to not bother.”

“Not bother?”

That didn't seem like a normal response. Was Nobunaga ashamed that he had been attacked?

“No one will blame you for what they did,” you said.

“I'm not worried about that.”

“Then may I ask what you are worried about?”

Nobunaga paused, his mind seemingly racing to find an excuse.

Why was he trying so hard to convince you to drop it?

“I just think there's no point because,” he began, waiting half a moment before he continued with “I'm…. I'm not getting any of the things they stole back. And I don't care much about what they took, anyway. I'm also still alive, so I have the satisfaction of knowing that they failed to kill me.”

He seemed hesitant about everything he said except the last part. That seemed to be the only part that seemed genuine from what he was telling you. Though why he wanted you to stay quiet was still a mystery.

…. Maybe he was still confused after that time he'd spent in the cold.

“I think you're right about that, that we won't retrieve your items,” you agreed, “but if there are murderers running about the area, others should be warned about it. What if they attack someone else? We could help the others in the town if we tell them.”

“Ah…… Right….”

It was clear he hadn't thought of that, and he didn't have any argument to make against that point.

Nobunaga leaned back on the bed as he continued “shouldn't you be worried about yourself, though? It doesn't look like you have any way to defend against murderers.”

“I don't, but I also think we'll be fine for the time being.”

“Why?”

“There is an advantage to the weather being so poor,” you stated, “no one will be coming here while the outside is still like that.”

Nobunaga nodded slowly, though his gaze was a bit distant after you said that. Was he worrying about his attackers finding him again?

“We'll be okay,” you told him, “I'm certain of it.”

He nodded slowly again.

Shortly thereafter he said that he wanted to rest more, and you retired to read quietly beside the fireplace while he settled back into the bed.

It was almost pitch black in the room when you were suddenly awoken as an unsettling feeling washed over you, a feeling that your subconscious was able to recognize. That it was strong enough to rouse you from sleep was odd, and even more odd was the sensation that had been recognized.

It felt as though someone had been watching you.

Someone had been standing over you, watching you as they took every slight movement you made, every soft breath you took as your tightly wrapped blanket rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Why had they watched you so intently?

Some part of your mind told you with certainty that was what had happened; even though you hadn't been awake for it, you felt certain of that fact. After taking a few moments to process those thoughts, you glanced over at the one person who could have been doing such a thing.

Though it was hard to make out in the dark, you were able to see enough of Nobunaga's form to tell that he was in bed, and it appeared that he was asleep.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness further, and though you couldn't make out everything, you felt that he didn't look as though he had moved from the bed at all; he was still in the same position he had been in when you both had retired for the evening. It certainly didn't seem as though he had quickly returned to the bed once he realized you were awake, and you surely would have heard him if he did. Not only that, how could he have moved that fast with his injuries still being as grave as they were?

It seemed unlikely.

You looked away from him as you stretched out your arms.

You were imagining things, likely due to the poor quality of sleep that came as a result from resting on the floor. But you had no alternative to that at the moment, so it was all you could do to simply make the best of it.

Once again, you laid down on your makeshift bed while you did your best to ignore the feeling of discomfort that it brought.

Instead, your mind went to the brief conversation you and Nobunaga had before you both had gone to sleep. Right before you had settled down, he had asked you about what you had said to him when he was on the brink of death.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“When you brought me inside,” he clarified, “I think I was partially awake for that, and…. I thought I heard you say something.”

“Oh. Ah….”

You remembered the words that had tumbled out of your mouth at that time, ones that were brought out through sheer relief when you had realized that he was still alive. For whatever reason, that moment felt more embarrassing now that you knew he was somewhat conscious for it, though the source of that embarrassment was unknown.

“I… I may have said something, yes,” you answered, looking away from him.

He nodded again, his eyes going back up to the ceiling.

The next morning he was awake before you were, and the way he sat up in bed almost made it seem as though he was waiting for you to wake up.

You weren't able to get out a greeting before he spoke.

“I realized that I haven't thanked you once for saving me,” Nobunaga said, “so…. Thank you. I really mean it.”

You hadn't even thought of that until now, but his gratitude was appreciated as you smiled at him as you answered “I'm just happy I was able to help.”

Nobunaga looked away quickly as a blush formed on his cheeks.

[5eraphim]

omg i have a request... like a scenario type with vampire mercs (norm or yandere i dont mind either) and a vampire hunter s/o? I am THINKING very normally about this hehe

Ahhh, love this! I'm so weak for all things vampiric and gothic, but in general I keep my requests 4 characters max. Sorry if this is so few, but I'd prefer to really go in depth with a few than to shallow-ly touch on all the mercs, (with very rare exception) but you're free to asks for others when requests open back up,. I hope you're ok with the characters I chose to feature here! :) (Also note, I refer to demo and Engie as living with demons who, for the sake of the story are meant to stand in for Medic's medical equipment/weapons and Engie's machines respectively.)

Characters: Demo 🐏, Engie 🦫, Heavy 🐻 and Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M (MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 2.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- See the Light, Ghost)

Medic

One of the elders of the vampires Medic's all too familiar with your type. He's been targeted by countless hunters over the years and managed to survive every encounter. He was never shy about killing and feeding and made many enemies with humans over the centuries. No one's managed to kill him yet though he had to admit you came closer than any he had remembered before. But Medic felt far more shaken than usual, discovering the demons you slaughtered to get to him.

He'd always been so fascinated by mortals and loved pursuing them at night, to watch the precious fear which tempted him onward before overpowering his victims with his enhanced strength. As a powerful, supernaturally charged vampire, he hardly considered mortals much of a threat, just a bit of a challenge keeping him from his next meal. When he was transformed into a vampire, he was blessed with a mystical charm, the ability to hypnotize humans who let their guard down around him and compel them to do as he pleased. Many vampires possessed the power of "suggestion," but Medic brought this to a new level. Typically he'd use this charm to instigate things to get mortals alone in a vulnerable, more suggestive state of mind before going in for the kill. Luring and stalking his victims just long enough to know what they feared and desired most, using that to his advantage.

Unlike so many misanthropic vampires, Medic was quite captivated by humans; he was turned into a vampire ages ago and, under the conditions of how he was turned, forgot all about what his life was before he became a vampire.

He regrets the lack of memories of his time among the living but tries his best to make up for it by learning all about humans in their lives now and is quite fickle in this regard. Finding a new obsession every time he dwells among the living to feed. His obsessions come and go as soon as he has his fill. It wasn't until he met you that he genuinely felt like he had met his match.

Not physically, of course; his sparring matches with you were more to stave off his boredom and for amusement than to actually try and kill you, but still, you had his attention all the same.

Sure, if he really wanted to best you, he could compel you to obey his sinister will and eliminate you in a matter of minutes, but where was the fun in that? You were prey unlike any he knew before, and he wanted to give you a violent and gruesome end worthy of the time the two of you shared together.

What Medic wants more than you under his total control is for you to come to him of your own volition. He wouldn't dare try to corrupt a mind so sharp and captivating as yours. While he dreams of being the one to deal your killing blow, he can't help but imagine how charming it would be for you to join his side. To become one with him, living in the night as his mate. Until then, this little ongoing battle would have to do.

Medic deluded himself into believing all your fighting and animosity was your unique way of trying to get his attention. Like you were only acting out because you were jealous of the others he spent his time with and fed upon.

You were so precious to him, and truly loved him deep down. You merely had an unconventional way of showing it. Medic would be the type to see you getting ganged up on by other monsters before jumping into action to save you, tearing the vile creatures to pieces, covering the two of you with the gore, only to stroke your hair and comfort you afterward. To ensure that you are all right and don't sustain any damage. He'd hold you tenderly in his arms as though cradling a baby bird while he whispered,

"The only one who gets to kill you is me. Is that understood?"

Heavy

Heavy has been out on his own for so long now, living in his eternal purgatory in isolation. He doesn't remember much of the past. It hurts too much to try and remember what he once had. But he knew he gave his life to protect his family from a vampire ages ago. Though in a cruel twist of fate, he managed to survive the attack only to wake up cold, alone, and ravenously hungry.

Unlike some vampires, Heavy had to slaughter a living creature every night to sustain this unbearable hunger. It wasn't exactly that he felt guilty for killing more that this was all a part of the balance of nature. It wasn't his fault he was so large, so capable of killing. The fact of the matter was that Heavy needed an awful lot of blood to survive, and it was the job of smaller prey creatures to provide for him.

So long as he mostly kept to himself, Heavy wouldn't worry about anyone bothering him, and he wouldn't bother anyone else. Animal blood kept him alive well enough, even if he gave into temptation, slaughtering masses of human livestock in a bout of gluttony, so long as he didn't drink from the living, everything was fine.

The fact that you managed to hunt him down and tried to target him in the first place was quite curious. He couldn't understand why one so small would bother trying to pick a fight with him of all vampires.

Heavy forgot how long he'd gone without interacting with another intelligent lifeform, and you caught him completely by surprise the first time you ran into him. It hurt all over again, remembering how long he'd been alone. How long it'd been since he'd seen the last of the family he knew as a living mortal, he tried so hard to forget for centuries, but you wouldn't let him.

When he was a younger vampire, he was so cruel and bitter, taking his frustrations out on his food, tearing whatever poor creature was his dinner that night to shreds leaving trails of carnage behind, but now he was more efficient. Though it still required a great deal of blood to sustain a creature of his size, he wasn't so careless anymore. Encountering you was a break from the regular routine it had been sometimes since he met prey that managed to put up such a fight.

While he wasn't blessed with otherworldly charms or powers of hypnosis, his already powerful physical abilities were somehow the only things amplified by vampirism, and trying to take you in a fight felt cruel. But if this was a fight you wanted to pick, he supposed he had no choice but to satisfy you.

At first, he was mainly apathetic to your existence. You were stubborn and hard to kill, but you were still just a tiny human fighting a supernatural entity, and it was only a matter of time before that caught up with you. During a particularly heated battle, you finally slipped up, realizing too late you were out of silver arrows and defenseless when you felt his hands drawing around your neck. But when he finally got close for the first time in his life, Heavy decided to spare his prey. And just a moment away from dealing the killing blow, he hesitated, halting for long enough for you to escape.

Later that day, he lay restlessly wondering where this change of heart came from and couldn't stop himself from dreaming about what it would be like to take you under his wing. Thinking about sharing a more domestic, peaceful life with you. In his eyes, you were the last remaining tether he had to the human world, and killing you would sever that bond for who knows how long.

He dreamed of harnessing your fiery human spirit, training you to work at his side, and showing you how to hunt from the shadows, creeping silently and evading human attention.

From then on, he'd be anticipating your arrival. Wondering if it was wiser to jump right into the action and turn you into a vampire the first chance he could or to wait for the hunter to come to him. The time spent awaiting your return was agony, painfully aware of his loneliness while you were no doubt back home, licking your wounds, hopefully regaining your strength enough to rechallenge him. He desperately missed the feeling of your warm skin against his cold body, your precious blood pumping away, practically begging for him to take a bite.

Demo

He was a vampire with a fearsome reputation known for his explosive anger and the bloodshed he brought with him. However, the supernatural powers he was blessed with were almost more akin to a werewolf's than a vampire's. Demo was blessed with the gift of rage, the ability to manifest every ounce of his anger and lay ways to whatever poor soul was stupid enough to invoke it.

But it wasn't just rage which captivated Demo, but hedonism in all forms. Unlike many vampires, Demo liked to keep around a few humans to amuse himself with. Not precisely to a consensual agreement, but a mutually beneficial one. He would keep his captives fed and safe, and they would provide him sustenance in return, and it wasn't long until the hostage began to grow comfortable and compliant. Demo found blood tasted much better when laced with pleasure, far better than fear, and he loved to wait until the last moment, when his captives were comfortable, before draining them of their delicious blood.

Even when Demo feeds from his harem before going in for the kill, the man is well-practiced and knows how to make the feeding sessions as pleasurable for the victim as it is for him.

All this was quite familiar for Demo, humans were easy prey at the end of the day, and even the holiest and most righteous would eventually succumb to the flesh's temptations. The process was familiar, but the pleasure was sweet all the same. When he did have to fight back, it only made the inevitable meal all the more precious. He loved when people played hard to get, and there wasn't a human alive who managed to escape him and his temptations.

You were so adorably feisty and stubborn the first time he crossed you. A cute little mortal who wanted to play Van Helsing, using your little toys of pure silver, holy water, and scriptures to keep him back.

Though Demo was amused, he was impressed at how well you managed to keep him away. After all, holy relics and verses only worked against the supernatural if you really believed and put all your faith into your words calling upon your deity to protect you. You were a fighter, that's for sure, and the way you were so confident God would protect you from demons like him. It was almost enough for him to spare you, but how could he deny himself a feast such as yourself?

Not only were you pious, but you could also physically fight him back, a rare combination greater than any he'd encountered. Most who tried to protect themselves with holy relics would begin to doubt when he really let out his rage, but somehow, you didn't falter. Not even for a moment. It would be an honor to be the vampire who finally managed to conquer your pure heart and turn you into one of his own. The only issue is how hard it would be to catch you.

While your faith appeared, unshakable Demo would still plant seeds of doubt in your mind whenever he could. Promising you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, endless time to spend pursuing knowledge of whatever you wanted, powerful supernatural abilities you could conjure at will, and trying to use a bit of materialism to sweeten the deal. Promises, more specifically, to convince you to align with him. Demo telling you about how he would spoil you with riches, the most beautiful clothes, the finest of jewels, anything your heart desired would be yours. All you had to do was submit. It was meant to be, so why resist?

Engie

Out of all the vampires, he was the least happy to be sought out by a hunter.

He didn't want to end up like this. He didn't want to kill to survive, and being hunted down by you was just another cruel reminder of how far he'd strayed from humanity and how no matter how hard he wanted it, there was no place left for him among the living.

Furthermore, unlike Medic, who was apathetic to the slaughter of his demons, he felt personally offended as he was much more compassionate and personal with the demons who lived with him. Engie hated you before he met you, wanting to kill whoever was responsible for damaging his property slowly and painfully.

But you were far from easy prey. And no matter how hard Engie tries to take you down, you somehow always manage to remain just a touch out of reach. The game of cat and mouse is far less endearing to Engie than it was to any of the other vampires.

Eventually, he became increasingly obsessed with the hunt, spending his waking hours preparing for your next ambush, dreaming about the night he would capture and slaughter you. Avenging all his creations you destroyed before now.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his obsession with you grew as fervently as the hunt itself, culminating with the day Engie decided to try to stalk you during the daylight. Engie was a younger vampire, native to a sunny climate. He never found sunlight to be as unbearable as it was to other vampires, so long as he didn't linger in direct light. Direct sunlight was unpleasant, but it wouldn't burn him to ashes as it would to elder vampires. The real reason he stayed on his own more was to stay away from crowds and give into a feeding frenzy.

He wasn't prepared to be so taken aback by your human vitality. The freshness of life pumping through you, giving you a rare kind of beauty he never saw from any sort of prey before now. You were nothing less than radiant in the light of the sun, a deity incarnate. Your skin flushed with life, your voice pleasant and calm, and your smile all appeared ethereal as though he had seen you for the first time. Engie never thought he'd see you as anything but a mortal enemy, yet at this moment, he was undone. All his resentment and hostility felt so trivial now. He didn't want your hatred. He wanted your adoration. He needed to have you all to himself, but not to kill.

If he couldn't kill you, he thought it was only just to turn you into a vampire.

Only then would his loneliness and resentment for being a vampire be satisfied, and you would be forced to rely on him to survive the strange new existence. All newborn vampires were fragile, and it wouldn't be hard for him to keep you from running away.

Not to mention the bond shared between vampires and their scion would help do away with all the hatred you held for Engie in life. No matter how hard you thought you hated him, once Engie sank his fangs into you and infected you with his venom, it was only a matter of time until your will crumbled as you gave in to the surreal newfound devotion you developed for your vampire mate. All resistance was futile, your rational mind silenced as your primal vampiric urges began to take over.

[onionsoop]

I lowkey hate how I'm such a stickler about "canon" Chrollo. It makes so many fics unenjoyable for me because I'll be there like, "He would not say that 🤨 He would not do that 🤨"

Granted, I think that within the fandom he's absolutely a victim of being watered down into certain stereotypes, but no fandom or character is free from that.

I think a more controversial take I have on it though is I rarely see any situation where Chrollo could have a "normal" relationship with anyone, I feel like it always makes sense for it to be yandere in some way. I don't think he's mentally available or stable enough to function within a relationship without it being a front, but I feel like people forget that a lot and just reduce him to charming man who will treat you like a princess, which I think is super interesting in a yandere context but not normally just because it's so ooc for him to do without an ulterior motive.

Anyways, obviously this is just my opinion on it and this isn't meant to target anyone (I consume tons of "watered down" Gojo Satoru fics every week, I am not free from sin).

[myrequestblog]

Request Rules and My Favorite Characters

I can do other characters, but if you don’t specify which characters you want I will choose from these

Undertale AUs:

Classic

Swap

Fell

Nightmare

Dream

Ink

Error

Geno

Reaper

Fresh

Paperjam

Fellswap

Swapfell

Horror

G

Mafiafell (Sooner or Later You’re Gonna Be Mine)

Grillby AUs

Gaster AUs

Flowey AUs

FNaF DCA:

Sun

Moon

Eclipse

Bloodmoon

City of Blank:

Jericho

Claude (I will only write gay headcannons for him. Sorry notsorry)

Rex

Black Butler:

(I refuse to do Ciel or Alois, unless the reader is of similar age)

Sebastian

Grell

Undertaker

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Gojo

Yuji

Maki

Geto

Mahito (He’s an jack@$$ and I hate what he did but he’s hot)

Sukuna

Toji

That one white and blue curse that almost killed Yuji, and that I’ve decided to call ‘Akuma’ (Mostly platonic and/or pet-owner type relationships (Keyword ‘mostly’))

Hunter X Hunter:

I refuse to do Gon or Killua, unless the reader is of similar age

Hisoka

Illumi

Chrollo

Demon Slayer:

(I refuse to do any minors x reader, unless the reader is of similar age)

Kagaya (Platonic/parental only)

Giyu

Shinobu

Rengoku

Mitsuri and Obanai (All headcannons with these two are gonna be poly)

Muchiro (Parental/fraternal/platonic only)

Uzui

Muzan

Rui (Parental/fraternal/platonic only)

All upper ranks aside from 4 and 5

Enmu

Sabito

Senjuro

Dummy’s Dummy:

Paris

The Lalah twins

Polakov (We’ve been conditioned to hate him and have no major reason to actually dislike him)

Ivan

The Toy Soldier

Creepypasta:

Slenderman

Splendorman

Offenderman

Jeff the Killer

Jane the Killer

Eyeless Jack

Laughing Jack (Mainly gay headcannons for him)

Candypop

Ticci Toby

Masky and Hoodie (All headcannons with these two are gonna be poly)

Jason the Toymaker

Ben Drowned

Lost Silver

Zalgo

Evil

John Doe:

John Doe

House Hunted:

Maison

Yandere Simulator:

Yan-Chan

Rivals

Senpai

Gaster Gang:

Wingdings

Swap

Fell

Stars

Blindy

Swapfell

The void anomalies (Pet-owner relationships only)

Welcome Home Wally AUs:

Wally Darling

Reboot Wally

Lovesick Wally

Watcher Wally

Rainbow Factory Wally

Opposite Wally

Other Wally AUs

Sally Face:

Sal/Sally Face

Larry

Ash

Trevor

Fran Bow:

Only platonic relationships

Fran Bow

Mr Midknight

Itward

Deltarune:

Kris

Ralsei

Suzie and Noelle (Only lesbian poly for them, sorry)

Ralsei

Jevil

The Amulet Series:

Trellis

Emily

Gabilan

Max

Misket

Riva

Leon

SCP:

(Too many to say, but to start with-)

The indestructible lizard

The plague doctor

SCP-914 "The Bettering Machine"

The shy guy

"God"

Deal with the devil

A LOT more

Hazbin Hotel:

Charlie and Vaggie (Only romantic options for them is lesbian poly)

Alastor (Platonic, parental, friendship only. I’m sticking with the cannon that he is AroAce. Sorry 😅)

Angel and Husk (Gay poly is the only romantic options here. If u don’t like it, just keep it to yourself.)

Vox

Valentinto (He’s the worst person in existence but he’s damn sexy (unfortunately). We can all agree on that. I won’t make my bias against him known in the requests, I promise.)

Velvette

Lucifer

Adam (Because some people like him🤷 )

Rosie

Lute

Lilith (Or my rendition of her)

Carmilla

Zestial (Or my rendition of him)

Sera

If you have headcanons to ask for but don’t have anything specific in mind, use some emojis:

🥰 Fluff

🥀 Angst

🔞 Smut (Smut will be kept private unless the asker wishes to share)

😎 Chaos

🤩 Reader has powers/magic

🥳 Birthday Ask

🤕 Injured Reader

🤒 Sick Reader

🙅 Platonic

🫀 Yandere

🪢 Soulmate AU

🏳️‍🌈 LGBTQ

🐣 Reader is a Child

😺 animal or animal-related reader

👾 IRL reader

⚙ Using SCP-914

❤️/🧡/💛/💚/💙/💜/🖤/🤍 Reader Has a Specific Soul Color

💀 Undertale

🌓 DCA

👤 City of Blank

🤵‍♂️ Black Butler

👻Jujutsu Kaisen

🍀 Hunter X Hunter

🗡️ Demon Slayer

🪡 Dummy’s Dummy

🔪 Creepypasta

👁️ John Doe

🏚️ House Hunted

💘 Yandere Simulator

🕳️ Gaster Gang

🎨 Welcome Home Wally AUs

🎭 Sally Face

👧 Fran Bow

⚜️ Deltarune

📿 Amulet

❓ SCP

😈 Hazbin Hotel

👹 Homicypher

🪄 Harry Potter

🧙‍♀️ Wicked

(Example: 🐣+😎+👤 would be ‘Young reader causing chaos in the City of Blank’)

✅✅✅:

Fluff

Suggestive ideas or themes

Platonic Child X Parental figure

OC X Character

Fandom Crossovers

Yanderes

Character X Pregnant!Reader

Homosexuality

Heterosexuality

Polyamory

Depression

Anxiety

Mental Illnesses

Black Lives Matter

Any and all religious beliefs are welcome, however I know very little about most religions, so please be gentle with me

Death

Dealing with death

Pain (physical or emotional)

Injuries

Traumatic accidents or happenings

Bad parenting

Memes

Vines

Puns

Commented ideas

Suggestive

Having characters avoid their cannon death

Nicknames for characters

Furry-related content

Trans reader

Gay reader

Lesbian reader

Bi reader

Pan reader

LGBTQ readers welcome

Readers and characters with different nationalities

Readers and characters with different skin tones

Readers and characters who speak other languages

Readers and characters who are different species

Readers and characters with disabilities

Readers and characters with autism

Readers and characters with mental abnormalities

Readers and characters with physical abnormalities

Readers and characters with physical ailments

Readers and characters with varying levels of intelligence

Readers and characters with trauma

Readers and characters with conditions like vitiligo

Readers and characters who need things like a cane, a wheelchair, or limb braces

Young reader

Pyrotechnics ❤️‍🔥

Fandom crossovers (Highly encouraged for SCP ideas)

Age regression

Settings in different countries and continents

Truth or dare

❌❌❌:

Pedophillia

Necrophillia (Unless the person who is ‘dead’ becomes ‘the walking dead and can give permission’)

Power plays (unless sexual and with permission from the partner)

Sexual assault or r@p3

Homophobia

Transphobia

(What’s another phobia- we don’t like spiders either. Spiders are ugly)

Rac*sm

Abuse of any kind, unless part of and/or needed for a backstory or something

Politics

Hate crimes

Alcoholism

Drugs

Human trafficking

Child abuse

Underage drinking

Death of major characters

Death of comfort characters

Slurs

Smut (Suggestive stuff is a yes but a no on smut. Sorry peeps)

This account is SPECIFICALLY for requests.

ALL OF THIS IS COMPLETELY FREE!

Most of these will be in headcannon form or incorrect quotes but feel free to ask for something different!

I often update this post so remember to check every once and awhile.

If you have questions or concerns, let me know!

Main blog:

[rokishimizu4]

Letters from Snake Shoppe for Cosplay Con

Ello~ everyone, I have an amazing idea to write different letters and pass them out when I go to the Cosplay Con. However, I don’t know which anime, video games, books, movies, etc to do.

That’s where you come in~. The top five will also be put up on my tumblr for everyone to enjoy~.

I’m making letters from Death Note and the FNAF series