#this used to give me so much anxiety when i first became a stay.. i had no clue what the shows and points everyone was talking about were

[asakurahaos]

*tired sigh*

can yall.. idk, just enjoy their songs and the holiday season and not make it into another obligation?

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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[volturissideslut]

Hello!! Can you please do a yandere Marcus x stubborn human reader who’s a shield like Bella so when Marcus kidnaps her, they can’t use Chelsea or Corins gifts on her and she tries to escape multiple times which increases Marcus’s anxiety about her safety so he locks her up in the tower with Sulpicia and Athenodora. She stops talking to him when he comes to visit and finally Marcus falls to his knees begging for a chance and she ignores him, so Athenodora and Sulpicia explain his past to her. She feels sad and gives him a chance in return he has to let her have her own room and not in the tower. He reluctantly agrees and she slowly becomes more affectionate with him. Maybe height difference+ cute ending🥰please ignore if you don’t like it!!! Thank you!! 🫶🏻

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

"I am not a bird Marcus! You cannot expect to cage me and have me stay willingly" you huff from the other side of the room at him, too angry to allow him into your space. It had been an immediate adjustment, having gone from having your own place and freedom, to being confined to the hallways of the castle, and now locked in this one teeny (roomy, but the walls became suffocating in the long hours) tower.

"I do not intend to cage you, but you are so infuriating! How is it you attempt to escape from a fortress of vampires and not be caught, just to walk around the town willy nilly? It is not safe for you to wander. It is not safe for you to leave here. I am your mate and my duty is protecting you, and so you shall remain here" his glare is cold and it makes you wonder what warmth you might have imagined in him when you first met.

"And what if i don't want to be your mate, hm? What if i'm happier gone?" A step too far perhaps. He marches from his place up to you, invading your space completely. His nose brushes against yours, and though his touch may be delicate the fury in his eyes sure isn't.

The silence is palpable, the only noise in the room being your heavy pent-up breathing. He towers above you, head tilted down, and all your eyes see is the pitch blackness of his. Oh how you've angered him.

Your mouth goes dry, tongue dropping, and heart beating. "I'm sorry Marcus, I didn't mean-"

"Don't ever doubt my intention with you, Tesoro" the pet name seems more acidic than before, yet his forehead pushes against yours oh so sweetly. "I will tear down covens to bring you joy, burn the world for your mere satisfaction. I will not risk your safety. You want out of this tower? Fine. Come back to our chambers and play by the rules." The vibration of his voice has she almost in shivers. Perhaps with brazen lust of a deeply connected fear.

Heart in throat, you nod- not once breaking eye contact with the inky black of his. "i'll come back" your voice is a whisper, delicate like this moment as you watch him physically relax. He straightens up, now towering a whole head above you. "and i don't doubt you"

And for the first time in weeks, since you first tried hopping out a window to visit some stalls, you see his face relax and a small smile grace him.

Marcus leans over, a chaste kiss pressed into your lips. "Good" his eyes close, and he lets out a silent breath of relief.

"But we should talk about assigning me a guard, so that i might be able to have some freedoms at least?"

"If that is what keeps you with me" his head is in the crook of your neck, much like an overstimulated cat hiding with their chosen person. And you let the moment last, him getting affection the two of you had starved yourselves of for a week.

[onestepbackwards]

Love that Bites Pt. 13

IT'S DONE AAAA Sorry this took so long, I have had a rough few months, it's made it hard to write and focus. BUT! This chapter is at least 8000 words to make up for it! I hope you enjoy!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Summary: Despite what he had hoped, Dracula has decided to spring a talk of 'business' with you earlier than he had intended. He anticipates it to end in disaster, destroying what little peace you both had. However, he finds things might not end like he presumes...

CW: Anxiety, talks of depression, allusions to abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of sexist behavior, brief mentions of injury

Word Count: 8039 Words!

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First: Here Last: Here Next: Here

-----

Dracula, if he were being honest with himself, had dread when this day would come.

Deep down, he knew eventually you two would have to talk. There was no getting around it, no avoiding it forever.

After all, you were still a Belmont, and he was King of the Night.

He had known this talk would come before he eventually had been freed. How you mentioned wishing to talk instead of immediately engaging in battle.

However, he would admit that a small part of him looked forward to this, especially before he had been freed from his stone prison.

Back then, he could not help but imagine different scenarios of himself and you discussing the future. This primarily was before he had got to know you a little bit more with each ‘visit’.

Before you broke the curse on him, he had planned on using this talk to gouge your own plans, and see just what kind of a Belmont you really were.

Would you be all bark and no bite? Or was the idea of wanting to talk really just a guise to make yourself more high and mighty than him? Another ‘holier than thou’ spiel he had heard countless times throughout history, and still managing to condemn him?

Perhaps it was even a trick to try and lower his guard? Just to attack like a snake on unsuspecting prey?

Not that he would have let his guard down that easy in the beginning, of course…

Other questions though still had run through his mind at the time as he slowly grew to know you in his imprisonment.

Were you really different? Did a small bit of Leon still persist despite the generations of Belmonts? Was it truly kindness that shone bright in those tired eyes of yours?

It certainly wasn’t naïveté, despite what some may think. Those eyes of yours had seen too much to be dull witted. Any kindness you had to give, it was because you chose to, despite knowing the risks.

That kindness, and your interest in asking questions for yourself. That still drew him in.

However, as time went on, it became almost alarmingly clear that you were in fact serious about this. How you didn’t particularly want to battle him, at least not without hearing him out personally.

No power play here, no desire to put yourself above him while seemingly giving the vampire a chance.

You were a rarity that Dracula didn’t want to let go. Especially when you were just within his grasp.

Humans like yourself were rare, he didn’t want to just let you slip through his fingers, even if you were a Belmont.

If anything, that made it all the more important to try and sway you to see his side of things.

Or to at least… come to an understanding.

However, Dracula was all too familiar with how finicky fate could be. Should he try and lock you away or strongarm you into staying, he’d simply be pushing you away.

It also didn’t help that the idea of simply holding you hostage didn’t sit well in his gut. The last thing he wanted, (even if he refused to admit it out loud), was for you to hate him for stealing you away.

…He would admit he did consider it, though. Dracula had already lost so much, was it hard to blame him for wanting to protect this Little Belmont who was clearly a hidden gem amongst the rotten trash that was humankind?

Still, he couldn’t afford to risk losing you to his own arrogance. Not like this.

Unfortunately though, you unintentionally threw a wrench into his plans.

Originally, he hoped to have you here for at least a week, if not two. During that time, he planned to gleam who had hurt you, and deal with them swiftly if need be.

All while healing you, and seeing if he could push past a few of your walls.

That way, hopefully when you eventually had to have a talk with him about where you both stood, he had hoped he would have enough information to form a way to convince you to stay.

Alas, things never went to plan for him. Fate seemed to enjoy taunting him that way, it seems.

Despite how receptive you had been to him, and how you accepted his care, you surprised him with what you had to say.

How you could not stay much longer. You had to leave soon.

Your words weighed heavy in his heart. However, it became clear this wasn’t exactly a choice you wanted.

It seemed you were oddly reluctant to even mention why, clearly unhappy and anxious about the idea of going back.

That had alarm bells ringing in his mind.

The Lord of the Night was no fool. When he wasn’t constantly being slain by your ilk, he was a ruler, a leader, and a tactician. Among many other things.

No one lived as long as he, and not pick up on different things about human behavior.

A part of him wanted to puff up in pride. You seemingly wanted to stay.

But that was unfortunately a double edged sword, so it seemed.

Sure, you were receptive to his care and being his guest, but that was far from being entirely trustworthy and comfortable around him.

…So just how bad was your home life for you to prefer staying at his castle, even after someone already tried to foolishly tamper with your life?

You seemed a bit dodgy when he delicately prodded about your home life. However, the less you said, the more of a picture it seemed to paint.

No words had to be said for him to assume the worst. The wounds you had must have been from wherever you resided outside his castle.

Yet you stubbornly refused to give him details. Even if you were different from your ancestors, you were still very much a stubborn Belmont.

It would be endearing, if not for the fact he worried about your safety the moment you left his property.

And the fact he had to have this conversation with you now, rather than when he would have liked. He had at least hoped you would be in a better physical and mental state before he sprung this talk on you.

After all, you both couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room forever. One of you would either have to give and declare war, or… Perhaps meet halfway.

Even though he hoped for the best, Dracula was well aware this may end in disaster. He at least hoped it wouldn’t be too explosive.

He’d like to at least fight you on even ground with respect, like you had wished to do for him.

The last thing he wanted was to fight you as you looked up at him, clearly still incredibly injured, despite what the potions have done for you so far. He wouldn’t underestimate you, but he knew that you would no doubt leave with permanent damage if you managed to win.

And if he were being honest, Dracula didn’t want to deal with the whirlpool of emotions he no doubt will have to suffer from if you choose to try and destroy him.

He may be a prideful man who didn’t like admitting his faults, but he was well aware how badly he handled losing someone last time. He didn’t want to kill you or try to hurt you with his own hand.

So he donned his King of the Night mask. Ready to face the music.

Your reaction to his change in demeanor was instant.

Those wide eyes of yours sharpened, and he could practically see the hair on your neck stand on end. Seems a hunter’s instinct never rests.

It was almost fascinating to watch in real time, if he were being honest with himself. Any Belmont he had faced, almost exclusively were ready to fight him from the get go.

So to see you so subtly shift, as if a snake preparing to strike, or a cat ready to react with a strike of its own…

Dracula would be lying if he didn’t find such a sight interesting, stirring a set of feelings in him he thought he had long since buried. A shame he had to see such a shift when he might become your enemy in mere moments.

The air around you both was tense, and was charged with enough energy Dracula idly wondered if it could charge a light at this rate.

“So,” Dracula began, his voice becoming a bit of a bored drawl, “what exactly do you intend to do now, Little Belmont?”

Your eyes nervously bore into his own, and you swallowed thickly as you sat up straighter.

“What I intend to do?”

Dracula kept his lips from curling up into a grin. He at least would try to hold off from antagonizing you like he would with annoying diplomats from other monster and vampire clans.

“Yes. Forgive me for being rather blunt,” he began, his eyes glowing idly as he watched you for any change in behavior, “-but you know as well as I do, that we can’t just pretend the other doesn’t exist after you leave.”

It was subtle, but he recognized the calculating look on your face after he finished speaking. He wondered what thoughts were flying through your head as you scoured your mind for an answer.

Dracula knew his words had to be thought on, though he also imagined you probably had thought about this long before he had even been freed. Although, imagining what one would say in such a situation, and being in the situation you had imagined didn’t mean things would go as one planned.

You were silent for a moment. Then another.

Dracula didn’t mind, nor did he rush you. Despite his shift in attitude, he didn’t intend to push you to make a choice at that exact moment, even if he did put you on the spot.

Though perhaps, that may just be his thin veiled excuse to keep the peace, just for a little while longer.

After a few more moments, you let out a sigh, and put a hand on top of your head. You averted your eyes from him, and closed them.

“I… I don’t wish to fight you.” you began, almost tentatively. Your hands gripped the blanket nearby, and began to fiddle with it.

“You have been very kind to me since uh… Since you were freed from being a statue. You didn’t have to do that, for me of all humans.”

For a moment, your eyes met his own, and Dracula felt some tension in his body lessen, just ever so slightly.

So you didn’t wish to fight him either. It was one thing to suspect as such, but to hear it from your own mouth relieved him in a way he couldn’t explain. No doubt it also took a lot for you to admit that, to your own destined adversary.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t fight him. No, it was clear you would if you had to. The words were unspoken, but still there.

Despite this, you were still clearly nervous, your heartbeat pounding hard enough for him to hear in the quiet room.

“I’ll be honest. I… may be a fool for admitting this, but…” you began, your eyes flickering between your whip, which sat next to you on the bed, and Dracula himself.

“...I probably wouldn’t even win. What’s the point, anyway?”

That was indeed surprising to hear from your lips. The way you practically sagged as you admitted such a thing, showing just how tired you really were.

Dracula could see it now. It wasn’t just exhaustion in your eyes from whatever happened to you at your home.

You were tired of life. You were tired of the burden you had on your shoulders. You didn’t have much to fight for, anymore.

Dracula felt those words of yours tear into his heart. They struck a chord with him in a way that was almost unsettling.

“If I fight you, then what? I ‘win’? There’s nothing in it for me. Sure, I save humanity, or whatever-” You say, making finger quotes as you shake your head, “-But then I just end up back home in my own hell hole, no doubt with injuries that can no longer be healed. Then I’d still be expected to keep hunting.”

It was strange, as if a dam had broken within you. Dracula had a feeling this was something that had been building for years. No doubt from when you were a child, thoughts like those had been swimming in your head. Especially after you had lost a parent.

“Plus, what then, you rise again in a century? If even that? I know for a fact sometimes you have risen in half that time. What’s the point then? Just holding off until the next battle until someone else in my family stands up to fight you?”

Blinking quickly, you rubbed one of your eyes with your wrist, clearly trying to hold your emotions in check. The conversation clearly weighed heavy on you when you were already dealing with enough as it is.

He’d admit though, it was surprising to hear this from you.

Some Belmonts seemingly had been eager to seal him away. Either for glory, or the sake of mankind, thinking it a triumphant thing to succeed.

Here, you simply showed the opposite. How cruel fate really was, how winning against him was nothing more than a temporary, hollow victory in the grand scheme of things.

And how those words of yours echoed deep within his own mind. How many times had he been forced to answer the call of humans and other forces since he was killed that first time after Lisa’s death?

Those first few times, he had been vengeful. But after he had fought with his own son one on one, it had become increasingly clear how hollow his life had become.

How far he had sunk since he even lost his own dear Elisabetha.

How he encouraged this lonely life as a vampire after losing his first wife, then grew to detest the cursed cycle he had been put in after his second wife was murdered.

Fated to be the monster talked about in folk tales to keep children from misbehaving, only to reappear due to the whims of Chaos and Order. Cursed to be revived, when after all these centuries, he had finally wanted to rest.

He was tired too.

At least he was living in the hole he had dug for himself. He had no one to blame other than his own self and actions.

But there was a strange pang of sympathy for you in his chest. His actions were his own doing, but you? Your family was doomed because of both him, and your ancestor who created his whole clan just to slay him and his kind.

You were born to slay him, for better or for worse. Raised to kill him, and if he didn’t appear, raise a child in your family to kill him in your stead.

Did you even get to live a life of your own? Dracula doubted you could, unless you completely cut all ties, probably having to go as far as to change your own name.

After all, any Belmont was free game, regardless if they hunted or not. If there was a chance someone was related to a hunter, let alone a Belmont, beasts and monsters would hunt them for sport.

He would say at least you had your own family to support you. In the past, that seemed to be the case.

However… If your own family treated you like the dirt they walked on…

No wonder you were tired.

The room was silent for a moment, the tension having morphed from something tense and anxious, to somber and dreary.

“May I ask you a question?”

Dracula was almost startled by your voice, and how soft it had gotten. You were now looking out the window, watching as rain had begun to fall. A rolling thunder was heard off in the distance.

He wondered if that was due to the castle, or from him from the dull ache in his chest.

“You may.”

Dracula was also surprised by how his own voice had softened. He prepared himself to act like The King of the Night, yet here he was, already unable to stay cold and curt with you.

How his icy demeanor had already cracked seeing you so… broken.

It was silent for another moment as you gathered your thoughts.

“Why bother at this point? Is not coming back again and again exhausting? Why keep planning to attack humanity?”

At first, the questions seemed piercing and aggravating, until you finally looked back over at him. Those tired eyes of yours meeting his own.

“No one ever really told me. I have an idea, but… Most of what I know I learned from old journals. I highly doubt things written by a victor are always 100% accurate.”

That familiar, proud warmth stirred in his chest amongst the painful feelings that swirled from old memories.

But this… this is what he had wanted. When was the last time he got to explain his side?

…Though to be fair, he knew he would be seen as wrong, regardless of what he told you. However, it was still nice to at least have a chance to explain, without immediately being called a heartless monster first.

You at least were curious. You wanted to know for yourself, rather than just believe the words of your ancestors without thought.

Truly a marvel for most humans, even now.

Dracula looked over you, and how your eyes still watched him with a wary, curious gleam.

He sighed.

“Several centuries ago, my wife, Lisa, was murdered by humans.” Dracula began, letting himself relax slightly as he began to speak. You, meanwhile, sat up a bit further, clearly interested in what he had to say for himself.

“She insisted I go travel, and that she would be fine in the small home we had built away from the castle. Lisa wished to stay, having pursued the career of a doctor. Taught her everything I know.”

A small smile flickered on his face as he recounted his time with his late wife, though that smile quickly fell back to a frown.

Your eyes seemed to sharpen slightly, and it was as if he could see you calculating in real time what must have happened. No doubt you were already making educated guesses.

“Unfortunately, many didn’t take kindly to her healing others. Even a few of those she treated reported her to the church.”

Eyes widening slightly, a look of sorrow and horror briefly passed over your face. Had he not been paying attention, it would have been easy to miss.

No doubt you had an idea before, but his words were painting a horrific story, even if he hadn’t even said what had happened specifically just yet.

“For a year, she was fine. We occasionally wrote letters to the other, and she would tell me about her different patients. Sometimes how fulfilling it was to be a doctor, something she had dedicated her life to. Other times… She’d mention how her patients weren’t as kind or cooperative.”

Dracula held back a sneer at the reminder. He really should have noticed the signs so much sooner. How he could have avoided her horrible fate if he had just relied on his gut…

“They would groan or complain that she was treating them. How it wasn’t normal for a woman to do man’s work. They would sometimes curse her out or grow aggressive even. Some accepting her treatment while saying vile things about her. Although… My son at the time usually was around to help if things were too violent.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. Of course you would recognize his son, to some degree, if you didn’t already know him.

There was doubt in his mind however, that you knew his son. Dracula at least liked to think his and Lisa’s son would have stepped in by now to help you if he had an idea of whatever was happening behind closed doors.

Especially given how his son had been insistent on helping the Belmonts throughout the centuries, even if it wasn’t always by choice since it regarded slaying him.

Details.

Though that did make Dracula briefly wonder just where his son was. Had he gone back to resting? Or had he stirred now that he himself was awake and free?

Dracula was no fool. Alucard had a connection to this castle just like he did, even if it wasn’t on the same scale. His son’s powers being from his own would always have a connection to this place, so long as Dracula remained alive.

Those thoughts were pushed back into his mind. He could dwell on such thoughts and speculations later. If he was still alive and this went well, of course.

Clearing his throat, Dracula continued.

“It was nearly the time I was to return home, when it happened. The church and heads of the nearby town seemed to have had ‘enough’ of my wife ‘playing’ healer, despite the fact she had most likely treated someone they knew, if not themselves.”

Anger and irritation began to simmer a bit brighter in his chest as he thought of how his wife had been treated. How alone and scared she must have been that day.

“They came. They saw the instruments we both used for medicinal purposes. Something I believe you would find rather modern, or even old by today’s standards, but at the time…”

You looked up at him then, realization in your eyes.

“They accused her of witchcraft, didn’t they?”

It was more of a statement, then a question.

Dracula could only give you a small nod.

“She was.”

You had a pained look on your face, clearly upset.

“I’m… not surprised.” you began, a bit hesitant.

“Humans fear things they don’t understand. Or things they can’t control. I imagine being a woman, and a doctor who no doubt had a great success rate at that… Add the more modern medicine practices…” you mumbled, eyes looking down to the side as you thought out loud.

Dracula was at least somewhat pleased you were beginning to see the gravity the situation had been. He had no idea what your knowledge of his wife had been, but this no doubt was an eye opener. That is, if you were choosing to believe him.

Given how you were reacting though… he’d like to hope you were. At least you weren’t screaming obscenities at him and calling him a liar and a heathen like some of your ancestors might have.

“Indeed. It… was brutal.”

Your eyes were now back on him, and he mentally cursed as his voice nearly wavered. He wanted to grow angry once more, and yet, a part of him wanted to simply mourn.

When did he last ever get the chance?

“When I arrived at the small home we had shared, all that was left was cinders. She had been taken captive, and I had been informed… She was to be burned at the stake.”

The air was colder, and your body tensed as a growl slowly crept into his voice.

“By the time I had found where they were keeping her…” he began, his voice low, growing strained, “...They burned her, claiming she was a witch. That this was God’s will.”

He could feel his fangs grow just ever so slightly, as well as his claws. Dracula could practically remember the smell of those ashes of that home.

“It was a lie, of course. All of it. They simply wanted her dead, and used all of that as flimsy excuses to placate the town.” he snarled, leaning forward slightly.

Despite the anger clear on his face, you remained steady. You didn’t flinch away like he thought you might, though your eyes were still wide with horror all the same.

Though… he had the feeling it wasn’t horror from seeing him like this. You weren’t scared of the beast threatening to break free from his flesh.

“By the time I located her, she was already burning. Her soul was already beginning to fade. She was gone.”

Dracula leaned back into the chair, his heart heavy in his chest.

A moment passed, and then another once more. The only thing either of you could hear was the storm that had begun to persist around the castle. How the rain harshly hit the window against the wall, and the wind wailed.

“Not one human stood up. No one looked at what was happening, and said no. All they did was watch.”

Your eyes flickered to the arm of the chair Dracula was sitting in, how it splintered under the pressure of his claws.

Yet… you still didn’t look afraid.

“I then warned them. I gave them a year to apologize and admit they were wrong. A year to pack up and leave. No one did. Not one.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Dracula took a deep breath. In an instant, the air was no longer as heavy as it had been a moment before, though a deep chill still ran throughout the air.

A part of him wanted to feel a bit bad. The moment the air lessened, you slumped again. You were still wounded, and weren’t able to hold yourself together like you no doubt would have if you were healthy. He would have to be mindful how much of a powerful presence he had.

Thrumming his claws against the partially destroyed arm of the chair, Dracula looked over you briefly before continuing.

“In my grief and anger, I declared a year from that day, I would rain hell on those who killed her. I would raze humanity to the ground.”

Your eyes met his.

“And then you did. Or tried to.” you spoke, your voice surprisingly steady.

His eyes never left your own.

“Indeed. I did.”

You swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the sheets under you nervously.

Different ways over how you would respond flashed through his mind again, much like they had earlier these past few days. However, what you said next surprised him.

“I… I don’t blame you, if I am being honest.”

Sure, Dracula thought of the possibility of you saying something along those lines, but he didn’t think you’d actually say it.

Even if you were different from some of your ancestors, he still expected you to go along and claim he was still an evil bastard, that killing those people was still horrible.

Though, that thought isn’t wrong. He knew what he was doing all those centuries ago, and knew what he was doing each time he had been revived and set out to attack. How evil those actions were.

Yet here you were, so quietly admitting you didn’t blame him.

“I’ll be honest… If it were my partner, or someone close to me… I can’t say I wouldn’t have wanted revenge.” You began, head tilting slightly towards him.

“Though uh… I don’t think I would have tried to kill all of humanity, but… Well… I don’t know your situation in full, but I do know grief is a powerful motivator for a lot of things…”

Dracula wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he found himself standing up out of the chair and leaning forward. His arms caged you in as he rested his hands on either side of you on the bed, while he loomed over you.

“You, Little Belmont, would commit murder? To avenge someone close to you, despite what your ancestors have stood for?” he asked, curiosity truly burning in his chest.

You didn’t shrink back, instead met his gaze head on, even as he caged you in. Even as he heard your heart pick up, and your breath hitch, you didn’t back down from his question.

“I’m not saying I would have tried to destroy all of humanity… or even that entire town. But I would hunt down every single person involved. They would know I was coming, one by one.”

Your eyes spoke promise, as if this was something you had thought of plenty of times before. The certainty in them was surprising.

“I’m not my ancestors. I protect humanity, sure, but don’t assume I'm just like them.”

He stood over you for a moment, his face so incredibly close to your own as he stood above you as he took in your words. Your pulse was loud enough to ring in his own ears, and your body was stiff as stone, as if awaiting him to call you a liar.

Then, he laughed.

It was more of a chuckle really, though seeing your bewildered face as he pulled back away from you nearly had made him want to laugh harder.

Leaning back and sitting into the chair once again, Dracula ran a hand against his face and into his hair.

“Forgive me- Forgive me…” He began, his lips twitching into a smile. “I just never thought I’d see the day where a Belmont would admit something such as that. Though…”

Dracula adjusted his posture to a much more relaxed one, most of the tension that had been in the air washing away in an instant.

“You are correct. You are far from what some of your ancestors have been.”

You definitely had Leon’s fire. It was hard to say if Leon would have committed murder against humans if the past had been slightly different… But you had that gleam in your eye that his old friend once had. A fierce look that was different, yet just as vicious as Belmonts before you.

With such a revelation, Dracula could feel the heavy feeling in his heart lessen, but that didn’t mean you both were in the clear, even if you understood each other just a bit better.

Even if you were sympathetic to him, that didn’t change the fact he very much attempted to kill many people. Multiple times, sometimes against his will. He very much has caused harm again and again.

Still, you looked at him with such a complex look on your face. No doubt conflicted yourself with everything you had learned today, especially if you were going to go ahead and plan to fight him anyway.

“So, Little Belmont.”

His voice had you looking back up at him.

“Now that you’ve heard it from my lips, why I detested humanity for so long, what do you plan to do now?” he asked.

Dracula wouldn’t lie. He was genuinely curious what your response would be. Anxiety began to creep up his throat once again, however.

…Maybe you would say something that would once again surprise him.

It was silent for a few moments, as you looked deep in thought, before looking back up at him.

“Well… Do you intend to keep trying to kill every human? Seems kinda… counter productive to do so now. Especially when things have changed so much in the centuries that have passed.”

Though you gave a slight wince.

“Granted, I don’t expect you to like anyone. But at this point, what do you gain? Are you… Not tired of fighting and dying and being revived?”

Once again, he could sense a genuine curiosity in your questions.

What did he gain, at this point?

Killing every human would be suicide for vampires everywhere. It would do more than just destroy vampires, but ecosystems as well.

As much as Vlad hated to admit it, humans were a necessary factor when it came to the earth.

But why should he care?

The moment that thought crossed his mind, his eyes landed back on you. How you fidgeted a bit on the bed, though seemed far less anxious than before. Your instincts didn’t seem as on edge as they had been when he first initiated this conversation.

Granted, he hadn’t been as… enthusiastic about world domination in centuries, if he were being honest with himself. His last run in with his son definitely left a mark, how his son grimly told him what Lisa’s last words had been.

But even though he often wished to stay dead, many would find ways to bring him back, and it was as if a cord was attached to his back, tugging him like a string. A force urging him to kill once again.

He’d barely be awake even a few hours, before he was set to be killed again.

Dracula would admit, he was definitely tired.

This wasn’t exactly what he expected his life to become after he chose to forsake his own humanity to spite God. Though he supposes that’s what he gets for doing so in the first place.

Who knew immortality would be full of boredom, tragedy, and bone deep tiredness?

Still, without it, he wouldn’t have experienced the brief bouts of love and joy that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

His eyes stayed on you as those thoughts swirled in his mind.

Despite everything that has happened to him, he found it hard to regret meeting you, at least so far.

For a moment, his eyes gazed to the side, different thoughts conflicting in his mind, but…

He didn’t wish to fight you, either.

Fingers thrumming against the arm of the chair, Dracula leaned his face against his hand.

“I suppose that is a fair point. Nearly every human that has personally spite me is dead. It gets tiring being woken up, and then killed for attempting vengeance when those who personally wronged me are gone.”

Your lips twitched upwards slightly at his ‘admission’, before giving him a look.

“But tell me, Little Belmont…”

He leaned in close again from his spot in the chair, looking at you almost amused.

“What should I do instead, hm?”

You blinked, and your face briefly flushed from the proximity.

“Um… Well, what did you do before declaring humans as your enemy? Uh, I’m no historian, but didn’t you just kinda do your own thing, only killing people that came to bother you or hurt you? Like how the church likes to refer to you as Vlad the Impaler to hide that you are a real vampire that exists?”

Dracula stared at you for a moment.

“They what.”

Hands flew up, and you shook them a bit in front of you as Dracula leaned back.

“Uh- don’t worry, I can tell you that later, but in all seriousness-”

Arching a brow, Dracula briefly wondered just what the church and human historians have been saying about him all these centuries if they were attempting to hide his existence. Despite being freed for a few days, he still had much to catch up on.

Regardless, he gave what you said some thought.

“That is true. I… did mostly keep to myself. I had no desire to join or hide amongst humans. Though I had little pity for those who sought me out to destroy me and met a… bloody end.”

At his words you blinked, before nodding to yourself as if you agreed. However, your eyes widened ever so slightly, and you were looking at him with that familiar spark in your eye he had seen come and go.

“Um… Why not do that again? Actually, how about a compromise?”

Now he was interested. What kind of compromise would a Belmont come up with? You were different from many of the others, sure, but he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Well…” You began, clearing your throat, “Unless any innocent humans are harmed, I have no desire to or need to hunt you, or anyone in the castle, really. What would be the point? I know from personal experience not everyone of the paranormal nature are ‘evil’, after all.”

Your hands were fidgeting in your lap, and you were having a hard time sitting still.

“Uh… that is to say I won’t hunt anyone that hurts any innocent folk. But at that point, that was their own choice, right? Unless you ordered it, I can deal with them personally. No need to go to war if you aren’t attacking anyone. And…”

It was clear you were growing more and more flustered as you tried to explain yourself and your reasoning. It wasn’t for the fact he had to take this seriously, he would have found it cute.

“And I- um- I can try to keep people away? I own a part of the property nearby and can have the road closed off. Of course, I can’t stop trespassers if I am not here, but I have plenty of traps set around the property… close to my cabin, really. I can try and keep people away…”

You were mumbling more in thought now as you tried to come up with ideas.

“...And I know a few blood banks for vampires, and a few other paranormal people who require blood to live. I know a witch that owns one, too. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to bits to help.”

All were interesting ideas, if you felt you both could really pull it off. However, he still had one question.

While you were rambling, he gently reached forward, clawed fingers tenderly grabbing your chin to have you look at him. You stopped talking and froze, eyes wide.

“All very good ideas, Little Belmont, but please answer me this,” He began, watching as your eyes comically flickered between his hand and face, “What about your family legacy? It was founded on the very idea of killing me.”

You swallowed thickly as he spoke, eyes trained on him.

“You asked why it mattered. Are you really willing to throw away the one thing your clan was founded for? For peace? For both humans and monsters? Are you willing to toss aside the very reason your ancestors became hunters in the first place?”

You stared at him in silence for a moment, swallowing thickly once more. After a few moments, you moved your head out of his grip, a sudden annoyed look in your eyes.

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again. I’m not my ancestors.” you began, a sharp look on your face.

“I didn’t ask to be born a hunter. To be born a Belmont. I’ll protect humanity, sure, but why do I have to limit myself and people’s lives based on what my ancestors decided what- 500 years ago? Why should every rule my ancestors made define my life in its entirety?”

It was as if your nerves had dissipated, and you crossed your arms in annoyance. Dracula wondered if this also was something you have thought about for years.

It made sense, he supposed. If your personal life was as much of a mess as he suspected, then what did you have to show for being a Belmont besides pain and strife?

His lips twitched upwards slightly into a small grin. You just keep finding ways to surprise him.

“Fair enough. It’s admirable to forge your own path rather than be held down by your ancestors.”

Dracula then tilted his head, that smile never quite leaving his face.

“So, Little Belmont. Let’s say I do agree to your ideas. I won’t destroy humanity, and you won’t hunt myself, and the residents of my castle. You’ll help keep humans away, and help anyone here who needs a meal. What will you do then?”

The annoyed look on your face fell, and you thought for a moment.

“Um… I could show you a bunch of modern stuff? No offense, I know you are a genius and all, but uh… I doubt you know all the ways civilization has changed since you were last around for more than a day.” you said with a wince, though you perked up almost instantly.

“Oh! I could get you a cell phone! Oh, I bet you would like some of the online libraries as well-”

He would admit, he had no idea what a cellphone was, but he was intrigued by the idea of a library.

But he was more interested in the very idea of you not only not slaying him, but you coming back to visit.

Yes, the idea of you wanting to come back was very pleasing to him, indeed.

It was at the cost of playing nice, but was that such a hard thing to achieve?

If it had been several decades ago, he doubted he would have been so… willing. He has had plenty of time to cool off, being imprisoned in stone. That urge to kill never truly left…

But that urge to devour humanity whole… that was dwindling. He’d argue that it had been dwindling for a while now.

He may be King of the Night, but this song and dance was growing tiresome.

That, and your ideas had merit. He could work with them, within reason.

“Alright Little Belmont.” he began, and you paused in the middle of your muttering.

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

You sat up straight again, eyes at attention, and he could practically hear your heart pick up in anticipation.

“For starters, I won’t attack humanity, not as a whole. However, I won’t show mercy to anyone who personally slights me. That, and any human foolhardy enough to come to my castle in an attempt to destroy me shall be dealt with accordingly.”

After you gave him a brisk nod, he continued.

“You, on the other hand, shall not lay a hand on anyone in this castle, unless they attack first. Am I clear?” He spoke, his voice becoming firm. You tilted your head, and he decided to elaborate before you agreed.

“Everyone in my castle is under my protection. They are here either as a direct connection to me as my servants, are here for sanctuary, or are here for political endeavors. They are not to be harmed unless they attack you first, or attack humans on their own accord.”

He could only imagine the shit show that would follow if you killed one of the political guests for another coven. A part of him actually considered letting you loose on them, now that he thought about it, especially with those nasty guests that like to undermine him for dying to Belmonts…

That could be a thought for another day.

A look of understanding crossed your face, and you gave him another nod.

“That’s reasonable.”

It was more or less your idea, after all, but he was glad you were willing to agree to what he added on to it.

“Next, you said you own the property nearby, and could help keep other pesky humans away. I’ll hold you to that, because I may not attempt to kill humans for existing, but I do not wish to be bothered.”

Though he’d admit, he wondered if you would be willing to show him the land you own. Vlad was curious how a little cabin you owned.

What would it look like? Did you keep it clean? Messy? Was it large? Small?

Questions he could ask later, should he see you again and you agree to these terms.

You blinked, before nodding at him slowly.

“I mean… I’ll try and do what I can. Of course, If the government or church discovers you, they may try to override me, or send someone to attack from a different position. I can’t stop that, but… I will do what I can. If I can’t, and you haven’t done anything besides exist…”

Your eyes flickered to a nearby mirror, before looking back at him.

“Well, like you said, they’ll be dealt with. I can try to persuade but… well at that point, if they won’t hear me out… I can’t stop anything you do to someone trespassing.”

That was a fair compromise, he supposed. He had little idea how the human government worked in this day and age, let alone how entangled hunters were with them. Should anyone be foolish enough to challenge him, then he’ll make sure to deal with it.

But if you were at least willing to help him out, even a little, in regards to keeping humans away. Even if you most likely weren’t a fan of the idea of him exterminating any human that foolishly sauntered into his domain.

“Agreed. Now, another thing…”

Dracula tilted his head as he looked at you.

“I’d like to see you again after this, Little Belmont.”

Your eyes widened a degree, and your face grew slightly flushed from surprise.

“What-”

“What I mean is, you intrigue me. You fascinate me in ways I had long since forgotten, and I’d like to hope this simple compromise will simply be the beginning of a… commendable relationship.”

He felt his lips curl upward again at the look on your face. Clearly you weren’t expecting him to be so forward in asking to see you once more.

“Are… Are you sure? I uh, no offense, didn’t think you’d want a Belmont around after I leave… Or your castle’s inhabitants, since I know how some of them feel with me recovering here…”

Oh, how you had no idea how much he wanted to see you again. Vlad knew his time with you now was short, and his old heart was beginning to pound in his chest at the possibility of this little meeting actually working out.

He had to see you again. One way or another.

“I am sure. You will soon find that I don’t say things I don’t mean without reason, especially in company I like.”

He wished he had a camera, it was clear you weren’t quite used to subtle compliments. Or perhaps there was more to it?

Dracula could think more on that later.

Gently, he held out a hand to shake.

“What do you say, Little Belmont? Are these terms agreeable?”

Eyes flickering between him and his hand, you held out a hand, before hesitating.

“Okay… On one condition.” Dracula raised an eyebrow, but was curious nonetheless.

“Name it.”

After a reluctant pause, you spoke up.

“It can’t be this easy.” You began, though quickly continued when you saw his face fall.

“When I say that, I’m not referring to you. I mean our circumstances. I worry something might come up that would be… disruptive to this ‘peace’. I propose that we at least try to talk about something before acting rashly if one of us feels slighted, or if the other may have broken the agreement without realizing it.”

Dracula had to give you credit, even while injured and under what must be an absurd amount of stress, you were managing to think ahead. Something a hunter no doubt had to be good at while on a hunt, so why wouldn’t it show in other areas as well?

Plus… It pleased him you were still being careful, critically aware of your situation instead of blindingly agreeing. You were no fool.

No doubt your mind was whirring with possibilities, ways he, or someone in his castle could try and trap you by these agreements. Those thoughts weren’t unfounded, at least involving his subjects.

He had no doubts there would be chaos when you started coming around for visits.

Even if he himself wouldn’t dare try and trap you by your own rules to invoke a battle, it still impressed him that you were cautious. There were too many conniving fools when it came to such politics, even now as he settled back in as King.

Vlad smiled.

“Very well, that is agreeable. Anything else?”

You were still hesitant, but after a moment, you reached forward, your smaller hand meeting his own.

“No, that will be all for now.”

With your warm hand clasped with his own, Dracula felt his body finally relax, and his gaze on you softened.

For now, things might finally start going his way.

Even if that meant his desires had morphed into something different than pure destruction. All he wanted was to learn more of you.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

How to Leave Comments on Fanfiction

So, I recently made a poll to know if people might find it helpful to have a list of things they could talk about when leaving comments on fanfictions, be it on Ao3 or on here. A majority of people were interested in seeing the post so, well, I'm making it. I started writing and posting stuff online when I was a teenager, on a website where leaving constructive criticism was the norm. It's by far the place where I've gotten the most feedback and it was an incredibly formative experience for me as a young writer — and it taught me how to leave detailed comments.

Writing comments doesn't necessarily come easy. It's something that you may need to learn how to do, but the good news is that you can learn how to do it, so don't worry if you don't know what to say at first. Hopefully this list will give you some pointers on how to do that.

This is more or less the list I go through when I want to leave a detailed comment. Even if I don't have a specific idea at first, I'll go through the steps and I never come out empty-handed.

Comment etiquette:

What became apparent with the poll I made was that a lot of people worry about how they'll be perceived by the writers if they leave a comment. Now, obviously, writers aren't a monolith, but 99% of the time writers will be thrilled that you took the time to leave a comment to let them know what you enjoyed in their fic. I cannot stress this enough. We're not going to judge someone based on a positive comment they leave.

As it stands, on Tumblr and Ao3, it's seen as rude to leave negative feedback, unless the author has explicitly asked for it/agreed to it, so that's what I'll be going over here. Since quite a few writers did say on that post that they would like to get constructive comments as well, stay tuned, I'm trying to get something together to do that for authors. Other than that, you're good to go.

The main ways to let an author know your thoughts on a fic on Tumblr are:

reblogging a fic with your thoughts underneath it

reblogging with your thoughts in the tags, which is often less formal

leaving a comment as a 'reaction'

sending in an ask if they're activated on the blog (which means you can stay anonymous, if anon asks are allowed)

Reblogging means that your followers will see the post as well, and is therefore really appreciated on Tumblr.

As a note, you may find different systems work for different fics! Maybe leaving tag rambles works for you when commenting on drabbles, for example for me it's the system I use to leave comments on smut.

General advice:

Everything I'm saying in here is for people who want to be able to leave longer/more detailed comments and don't always know where to start. If, for whatever reason, you're not comfortable or you don't have time to do it at the moment, a simple "I love the fic, thank you for writing it" always goes a long way for an author.

The key thing to keep in mind if you're trying to find something else to say, I think, is to try making the comment specific to the fic you're leaving it on. It shows the writer what you took away from the fic and the fic's strong points, which is both meaningful and helpful to an author.

Comments don't have to be long to be meaningful. Don't stress about writing a ton; a one-sentence comment highlighting the fic's humor or how emotional it made you can be incredibly impactful.

With this out of the way, I'll go through things you can talk about in a comment, starting with what I think is the easiest and moving on to things that could require more thought. You don't have to do all of that. You may never use some of the things on that list. Leaving comments should not be a source of anxiety. So take what you want from the list, maybe come back to it if you need more inspiration, and don't worry too much about it :)

Favorite line(s) : pull from the fic to let the author know what your favorite line was. If you wish, you can expand on that by saying why it was your favorite: did it make you laugh? Did it make you feel something specific? Did the author nail the characterization with it? Was there some incredible metaphor? Did you find it beautiful or poetic even if you can't go into detail? Is there one line in particular at the beginning of the fic that hooked you in and made you want to keep reading?

All of that is very valuable for a writer to know. Some of my favorite comments I've gotten were a list of a reader's favorite lines from a fic with one or two sentences to explain why they liked them, so don't hesitate to do that more than once if you can!

Emotions:  if there’s one thing I know about writers, it’s that we’re thrilled when we’ve made you cry. So tell us: how did the writing make you feel? Did you laugh out loud? If you did, was it the dialogue, or the narrator? Did it make you cry? Which part? Could you relate to one of the characters? Did it make you feel seen? Did the fluff make you feel all fuzzy inside or did the angst twist knots in your stomach? This isn't an exhaustive list, and emotions are great to draw from when you're leaving a comment!

Favorite element of the writing: Is there one thing in the writing that struck you as being particularly good, or what was your favorite thing to read? Is the author a master at writing dialogue? Are their descriptions so good you could see the whole scene? Are they really good at getting in a character's head and describing their emotions? Were you hooked from the start and couldn't stop until you reached the end?

Characterization: Now, this might be less instinctive, but if you've been in a fandom for a while, you'll probably be able to identify these things fairly easily. You can tell the author if you think they've nailed one aspect of a character. Did you have a favorite character in the fic? What did you think of them? Did the author manage to capture their voice? Was the attitude spot-on? Which parts of the character, if you can name them? Were there aspects of the character you particularly enjoyed? Did the author shine a light on something you hadn't considered or on something you don't think is highlighted often enough? Is there one thing from the fic you can actually picture/hear a character doing/saying in your head?

Style: I'd argue this is the hardest part, and you shouldn't feel bad if it's not something you can really comment on. As someone whose first language isn't English, I know I struggle with it. Style can be perceived as the way the author's voice comes through in the text. It can come through in punctuation, in the way sentences are formed, in the choice of the words themselves. If, when you read, you feel something intangible that doesn't fit well in the other categories, it just might be the author's style.

Here are some things (non-exhaustive list, of course) you could say about an author's style: it can be direct, straight to the point. The author doesn't bother with ornaments. Every sentence feels impactful. Maybe the writing feels intense. You're overwhelmed by the characters and their feelings and you feel truly engulfed in the story. Maybe the style is light and airy. It's so easy to read you don't even notice you are reading. Maybe the writing is intricate. Going through it is like piecing a puzzle together, sentences are foreshadowing and metaphors reveal deep truths about the characters. Maybe the style is rich. While not always the easiest, it's a pleasure to read through it, the author has a wide vocabulary, and you might want to compare it to a well-written novel.

If you identify specific elements of that style (metaphors, interesting use of punctuation, etc.), don't hesitate to point them out and let the author know you enjoy them!

That is it for this post, hopefully it doesn't look too daunting — again, you absolutely do not need to do all that in any comment, but maybe going through this list can help you leave comments for authors you enjoy.

I like to end my comments with 'Thank you for writing and sharing this with us', so I'll tell you thank you for reading, I hope this was helpful, and please consider reblogging if you'd like to save this or if you think it could help someone else!

As a bonus, my friend @elidebrey and I (but mostly her) made a 'checklist' for commenting, to help remember all this if that's something you'd like, so use at will!

A big thank you to @elidebrey, @yoongihan and @antoniorhinothethird for their precious opinions on this ♥

[adventuringblind]

Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

[moralesluvr]

could u write e!42 miles comforting reader when they’re have a panic attack and just overall helping them through it ? you can ignore this ask if it’s too much of a sensetive topic ! (•‿•)

feel better ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: miles comforts you while having a panic attack <3 ♡ warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of past trauma, think that’s it? ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! as someone with anxiety, this made me feel better <3 ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICED was that it was hard to breathe.

Your breath kept hitching in your chest when you inhaled, warm and sharp air filling your lungs as you gasped out. Then your eyes became sensitive to the light and your head was spiraling, intrusive and worry filled thoughts circulated in your brain like clockwork.

You laid atop your bed in panic, a blossoming heat spreading through your body. The one day that you insisted Miles leave you alone, and that you were ready to finally be by yourself— of course, you have a panic attack.

Hot tears come down your face as you try to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. Everything’s coming back to you all at once, so fast, so quick, it’s drowning you and tearing you apart. Your hands shook as you chewed at your lip, curling into a ball as you grasped your nimble fingers around your phone, quickly tapping your boyfriend’s contact and holding it up to your ear.

The line quickly picks up, “Hola, mami. ¿Estás bien? (Are you okay?”

“Miles…I-I’m having…a panic attack.” You heaved quietly, but it was just perfect your Miles to hear. He doesn’t even wait one second before you hear keys jingling in the background, along with the starting of his car. “Oh, amor…I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You whimper out a ‘yes’ as Miles flies down the road— you can hear his engine whirring as he does so.

“Baby, I’mma need you to name five things you can see for me. Okay? Talk to me. I’m right here for you— I’m almost there.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, “O-Okay. Um…I see…” you look up, “I see the picture of us…on the wall, my laundry basket, my bag of snacks…um..”

“Come on baby,” Miles urges you, “I’m almost there. Can you give me two more, cariño?”

“I-“

“Hold on, ma, I’m coming in.” You hear him say, the sound of his personal key unlocking your door filling your ears as he approaches your room. The footsteps sound too familiar, though, and you sniffle when he bursts through the door. He looks at your pitiful expression, running over to you and engulfing your face in his palms. “Mi vida…siento no haber estado allí.” (my life…i’m sorry that i wasn’t there)

You can’t even get out a word before he kisses your forehead, sliding onto your bed and pulling you into his lap. Miles placed his thumb underneath your eyes as you fluttered them closed. Your chest heaved against his arm, and he clicks his tongue at you.

“Ma, you’re okay. You’re safe with me.” He reminds you, “Try to breathe for me, yeah? In…out…” You look up at your boyfriend, trying to steady your breathing like he asked. He smiled at you, “Attagirl…that’s it.” He kissed your lips, bringing you close as you rested your head on his chest, facing the wall. You felt your boyfriend’s fingers coarse through your curls as you felt your eyelashes fluttered close. He lulls you to sleep with his sweet touch, “Sleep well, mi princesa.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses

[klausysworld]

Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Daddy Klaus fluff where the little reader has a really bad issue with her heart (prone to heart failure and has a defib implant like me) and when she's having a bad anxiety attack he helps calm her down, makes sure her heart is beating okay, etc???

His Sweet Little Heart

Klaus had noticed something off with Y/n's heart since day one when Marcel begrudgingly introduced them. Apparently she was one of Marcels only human friends, and he made it very clear that she wasn’t for Klaus to play with.

“Leave her be, Klaus” he muttered, not a hint of anything other than seriousness as Y/n approached them with a smile.

It only took one incident, Klaus had grabbed the poor girl, threatened her and pushed her into a panic. Marcel quite literally threw Klaus off her and was stroking her hair. After he took Y/n home and came back to yell at the hybrid, he spat out that Y/n had a heart condition and that he wouldn’t allow Klaus or anyone to risk her life.

Klaus didn’t really understand how Marcel and Y/n had become friends, perhaps through Davina who Y/n was also close with as it turned out.

She never spent too much time with Klaus to begin with but once everything happened with the baby, and she was under the impression that he had lost his child to witches, she tried to be as kind as possible to him. Klaus latched onto that kindness quickly.

He fed on it, he needed it. And she was so willing to give in. She’d talk with him for hours, sit and watch him paint and listen to him explain what the paint strokes meant. She would ask if he liked human foods, he said he liked beignets and she offered to go get some but he shook his head. “You do enough sweetheart, I’ll get them for us” he smiled and she softened, nodding and sitting back in the round snuggle chair he had bought for her.

Everything was quite sweet for a while, the Mikaelsons rarely went out and Klaus spent all his time with Y/n.

But then Hope turned out to be alive and suddenly the world was chaos again. Esther, Mikael, Dahlia, and anyone else was at the doorstep. Suddenly Y/n had a target over her head due to her relationship with Klaus and she couldn’t handle that well at all.

Far too often she would be wheezing for air, her heart failing to keep up with her breaths. Klaus would find her just in time, worry spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around her and held her in his lap. “It’s okay” he whispered “it’s okay, I’m sorry” he repeated, stroking her hair. His attention would be solely focused on her heart, waiting for it to beat correctly. There were few occasions when the fear settled in and he would pick her up, promising it was okay and speeding her to a hospital to make sure she was actually alright.

They always said to keep away from stressful situations.

Klaus never knew how to respond to that.

Often he would suggest she stay indoors, in his room preferably but that upset her. She wasn’t incapable and he knew that but he didn’t know how else to keep her safe.

Sometimes she would get herself so worked up about not being able to help that she’d push herself into a panic or anxiety attack. The first time it happened, Klaus had thought someone hurt her and was desperately trying to find a wound on her but after they kept happening and she refused to talk about it, he knew what was happening. And it scared him as much as it did her.

He would sit and listen to her heart weakly patter in her chest, the irregular pattern became familiar to him and alarm bells rang as soon as it went away from its peculiar rhythm.

On instinct he would scoop her into his lap, hips lips would find her face and soft words would be whispered into her ear. Gently he would caress his hand over the spot where her heart lay, waiting for it to calm down. “It’s alright my sweet little heart, let Daddy hold you” He would soothe quietly, his face nuzzling into her neck.

He sighs a sigh of relief when she snuggles back against him, her heart stabilising and her breaths coming out slower. “Mm sorry daddy” she would whisper but Klaus would always shake his head

“Don’t be sorry for something that’s not your fault” he would tell her with a loving smile and a soft kiss. Her head would rest against his chest and he would hum softly while picking her up and carrying her to their bed or the sofa so that they could be together and bask in the warmth of the other.

(It’s short but it’s something 😄 Once again struggling to write. That’s a lie, I’m struggling to write on here, Im actually trying to plan out a proper book that I wanna write one day. Probably won’t happen but it’s nice to have goals?)

[sweetismyaddiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Visiting his mother that likes you dearly, to Spencer’s happiness, taking care of each other makes butterflies go all over the place. Asking for advice for friends. (They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love)

Word account: 1905

Warnings: Fluff, friends to lovers, anxiety, possessiveness?, pain, menstruation, innocent kisses?, talks abour orgasm...

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like and comment. I am accepting suggestions for next parts. Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner 

Chapter 3: Narcotics, care and family

Spencer's Point of View

She figured out my narcotic problem.

She didn’t ask a single thing, she respected and is supportive. I love how she takes care of me. I remember when she put the pisces together, I was in pain and was so rude to her, I wonder if someday I will deserve her.

—----------------

I was having a bad day, a bad week, and treated my friend in a way she didn’t deserved.

“I am sorry, I am really sorry”

She kept looking at me, in her door. I felt gray again, I felt worse than I was feeling.

“You never told me your name.”

“What?” Confusion was spread across my face.

“You never told me your name Sugarpout. We talk for months, but we have never said our names, we bonded, became friends and never had asked for names.”

She was right, now that she said it… I think about her constantly, I know so many things about her as she knows about me, and we never asked, it never even crossed my mind, it was so easy to be around her, I craved the company so much that I never remembered this little detail, such an important detail.

“My name is Spencer, Reid. Spencer Reid. What is your name?”

—----------------------

In this instant I had major head and back pain, thanks to the last unsub. At least we got him.

“Hey Sugarpout, I did a lot of research, and you basically can't take any painkillers meds. But luck you, I have a few tricks, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Say the girl owner of my soul, invading my home, isn't she satisfied with invading my dreams and thoughts?

“Would you prefer to lay on the couch or in your bed?”

“Couch” I will have so many problems controlling my imagination and body responses if we get to my bedroom now.

“Leave your head like… this”

She adjusts me, and starts rubbing my forehead with some oil. I love her touch. I closed my eyes, starting to relax and feel better with the delicate massage she was giving, so caring, so… everytime was harder not loving her the way I do love. The selfish way I love. Wanting her all for myself.

—-------------------------------------

Y/N’s Point of View

“May I open a little of your shirt?”

He silently agrees, my hands slowly travel off his forehead, the sides of his face, his neck… starting to open a few buttons so I can reach and massage his shoulders more properly. My fingers do their magic putting pressure on his skin, feeling the tension slipping away second by second, every time my skin runs his skink, more comfortable is set between us.

“Feeling better?”

“You always make me feel better.”

“You should rest a little, I can keep you company if you want.”

“I would love you staying here with me.”

And so I did, I stayed for the whole day. Light music, reading, healthy snacks and lots of water, just enjoying our time together.

“I am going to see my mom this weekend.” He pauses, pressing his lips in a flat line raising his eyebrows a little looking at me as if considering his idea. “I… you know… my mom… would you… do you want to… go with me?”

“To see your mom?”

“Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to. I know she… well…” He laughs without humor. “It wouldn't be your first time seeing her, but I know…”

“Sugarpout, I would love to go with you, I want to go. I like your mother.”

He relaxes, and looks at me, in a way I don’t know how to describe, I just know that it makes me feel good, better, makes my skin light up and the butterflies alive in my whole body.

—------------------------------------

Spencer’s Point of View

Adoration, love… There are not enough words to describe my feelings for her, for Y/n, my Sugar, as I am her Sugarpout.

She made a few things to eat, and she called the doctor in the clinic to know if it was ok and what she could or couldn't make. So now we have a lot of cookies, cupcakes, cakes and brownies. She made sure to have enough for everyone in the clinic, and a side a special treat to my mom, in a special box.

“Hey mom”

“Ah, Spencer”

“Hi Mistress Reid. It's good to see you again, we bring a little something for you.”

“A present?”

“Yes, a special present for you Mistress Reid”

My mother's face lights up a little when opening the box. That is my Sugar, always bringing light to every place she goes… Maybe someday she will be truly mine.

“Oh, dear, you didn't have to…”

“It was a pleasure, as you can see, I put phrases from a few of your favorite books, so you can read and devour the words.”

“That is very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

They got to talk, a lot of talking, my mother even showed my baby pictures, to my embarrassment. But I couldn't feel that bad when they smiled so happily, the womens of my life.

“You are a very wise women”

Sugar compliments my mother, she is always so gentle and true. She is called by one of the doctors and excuses herself.

“I see the way you look at her. She is a good girl.”

“She is.”

“You should put a ring on her, a rare creature like her… is meant to be taken care of, I can see she cares about you.”

“We are friends, mom.”

“A mother knows Spencer. A mother always knows”

“Hey Sugarpout, sorry about that, the doctor just wanted to be sure about the ingredients. We don't want anyone having allergic reactions. Care to keep teaching me Mistress Reid?”

“I would love.”

“Once a professor always a professor.”

She pays attention to everything we say, to the whole conversation, until it is time for us to go.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s Point of View

Cramps.

The every month torture that people blessed with uterus go trough.

I don’t have the will to move, everything hurts, I am tired all the time and soon there will come the blood. I am thinking about calling in sick, or just losing the day… but I do need the money. Oh God, why wasn't I born a billionaire?

A knock at my door and a voice take me out of my sad thoughts.

“Sugar? Are you okay? Haven't heard of you yet today, I am starting to get worried”

“No, nothing is ok” I make a crying voice, to add more drama.

“May I come in?”

“Yes, use your key, I don't want to move”

Spencer cautiously entered my place, looking around, the view was terrible. I am swollen, feeling tired, dark circles under my eyes, some pimples… and even worse, I am in pain.

“What is wrong Sugar?”

“I am awful and everything hurts.”

Spencer comes closer and hugs me, the warmth of his hand is in the exact place, making the terrible pain more supportable.

“Oh, don't you dare move your hand. It is the perfect spot.”

“As my Sugar wish. Now. Can you tell why everything hurts? What is the problem?”

“The problem is that seems like the Devil is using needle high heels, knife needle high heels, made a fireplace and is dancing around my uterus.”

“So… cramps?”

“You say it like that because you ain't the one feeling it.”

“Oh, no Sugar. I am sure this is really horrible.”

He places his warm lips on my forehead in a tender kiss.

“There is anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just keep your hands in place. It is good.”

“Orgasm. It can help with the pain. When you orgasm, your body releases chemicals like oxytocin and dopamine that act as painkillers.”

“Are you saying that next time you are in pain I should give you an orgasm?”

“What?”

I laugh a little about his comment, poor Doctor Reid, someday I may kill him out of embarrassment.

“It is ok Sugarpout. I am just not in the mood for any sex activity. I am swollen and ugly.:

“You are as beautiful as ever. You are always beautiful”

“Thank you Sugarpout, you are always so gentle.”

We stay a moment in silence, just in each other's arms, but he has to break this moment even if neither of us want to. 

“Are we not going to work today?”

“We are going to work today.”

“Good, cause I kinda just passed by to see how you were doing. I got to go to the office. But, if you want, I can call back and see if I can take the day off…”

“No, no Spencer, you should go to work.”

“I really don't mind staying if you want me too.”

“I will be fine. Go make the others life more sweet Sugarpout”

I feel him relaxing against me, and stopping holding me really slowly.

“Do not worry, you are going to have a lot of time to take care of me. It can last fifteen days, ten days, a week… my cramps ain't regular. In the end it will be all fine.”

“Hope you get better as soon as possible.”

“Good work Sugarpout”

And then, he really has to go.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer’s Point of View

I am trying to concentrate on the job, but my mind always comes back to my Sugar, I know she said it will be fine, and she can be a little dramatic sometimes, but it does not change my concern.

“Ahn… hey Emily, what do you usually do to alleviate your period cramps?”

I did a lot of research about the subject, everything I could find, but with experience I learned that just reading isn't enough and every human experiences stuff in different ways.

“What? Where did it come from?”

“What am I losing?”

Emily is uncertain about answering Morgan, why he always shows… well he did grow up with sisters.

“I was asking Emily, how could someone alleviate period cramps.”

“Is this about the door girl?”

“What girl?”

“Sweet girl, that lives right across Pretty Boy and has his keys.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Ask him.”

“Well, Spencer?”

“Yes, she is my neighbor, she is a really nice girl, and she has an extra key to my apartment.”

“If she is just a neighbor, why the cramps questions?”

“She is also a friend.”

“A very dear friend.”

“You should invite her to go out with us. I will love to know the girl occupying the Doctor Reid thoughts”

“Are you going to answer my question or just amuse yourselves with the new information?”

“Ok, I may have a few tips, but you will need to see what works for her, it isn't always the same.”

“And I can give you a few tips on how to survive this period, cause women can be savage, and I ain't talking savage in a nice way.”

Prentiss reprimanded Derek with a look and a little hit in his head.

I paid very close attention to what they had to say, so I was more prepared when I came back home, and being able to take care of Sugar, my Sugar. Doing my best to make her the more comfortable as possible, and the smile bright in her face was the best part of my whole day.

---------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

Tag List: @mikitsuki

[daycourtofficial]

I don’t know about the other gingerfucker freaks but rest assured I have been well behaved, in fact, I would say the most well behaved to receive a lil snippet your grace 🙏🏻

This made me laugh so here’s a big snippet of what I’ve been working on since yesterday 🫶🏻 it’s unedited so 🔫 be nice 🔫

Kidnapping gingerfucker fic snippet below!!

Lucien’s mate seemed happy to carry Atlas around, her soft voice explaining to him the recent travels she and Lucien had gone on.

“Tulips of every color covered the fields. I’m sure one day Lu and I can take you to see them.”

“Uh oh, Elain. The High Lord’s going to kill you for speaking of kidnapping his son.” He wasn’t sure if Nesta knew he needed banter to keep his mind occupied or that he needed her to act as she always did. Either way, her words put him slightly at ease.

“Nonsense, Elain. If I had you killed, Lucien would mope about the house for the reat of his life.” His hands reached out, gently taking Atlas from her hold. “You keep him entertained for him. I owe you a great debt for it.”

Elain never knew how to respond to Eris, had only truly interacted with him a handful of times up to this point. She swallowed, determined to make some headway with her mate’s brother.

“Perhaps you could entertain him with the dog toys?”

Eris tilted his head, his thumb stroking down his son’s back as he bit back a laugh. He knew any Cauldron fated mate of Lucien’s and sister to Nesta was surely somebody of interest to him, but Elain had yet to show anything Eris found to be interesting until now.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Yes.”

Eris nodded, accepting that maybe he had underestimated his brother’s mate. The air held a hint of awkwardness as they all stared at each other, the two sisters filing out quickly. The click of the door behind them was a beautiful symphony to Eris’s ears. To be alone with his son at last. It had only been twelve hours, but it was more like weeks had passed since he had seen Atlas’s small face, kissing his forehead goodbye. Nothing had felt off - no sense of anxiety overcame him, no fear for his family. Just annoyance and sadness at being away from them.

His mate had only made Autumn her home not even two years prior, but they spent every night in the same bed, arms wrapped tight each other in slumber.

Eris had always hated sharing a bed - he ran so warm when he slept, the few occasions another fae was in his bed lasted mere hours before he kicked them out in the middle of the night, hurriedly giving them their clothes and shoes. The years had softened him and he dreaded spending an evening alone in the bed much too big for one.

Eris slipped off his shoes, gently cradling Atlas as he made his way up the mattress, propping himself up against the headboard, back cushioned by pillows. His son had been restless in his arms when he took him from Elain, his little arms and legs trying to disturb the perfectly swaddled blanket around him.

The room had no windows and technically connected to his private chambers. When he was a boy, he had a full time nursemaid stay in here. Once he outgrew her, the space became his own private sanctuary. It took many years to turn it into its glory, a safehaven of his own design. Many nights spent hidden in this room, no concept of the passage of time as he poured over books, back curved in desperation to stay awake so he could finish it.

The shelves of books and notebooks still lined the walls, but he had some of the furniture removed and replaced with the bedframe and mattress should his mate eventually want her own chambers.

His head dug into the headboard as he realized this might be the first anyone’s used this bed. A pity, he thought, it was extremely comfortable. His muscles ached less the longer he stayed still, and he softly piled up pillows on each side of him.

Atlas was stirring in his arms, tiny coos resembling the chirping of birds. He broached a long finger close to Atlas, tiny hands wrapping around it as he settled back down. If he could, he’d strip his shirt to allow his son to rest on his skin, but thought better of it. The jostling would wake him for good, and he’d be doubly upset to know he was on someone’s chest who wasn’t his mother.

The sound of deep breaths was all that could be heard in the room as Eris used his magic to put out the lit candles littering every surface. The darkness of the shadows made his eyes heavier, but he fought to stay awake, not wanting to let his guard down.

“My beautiful son.” Hushed words filled the room, the warmth of his voice almost visible in the darkness.Atlas didn’t acknowledge the words, content in his slumber and being with his father. He felt warm in Eris’s arms, Vanserra babies always running hot.

“I will always find you.” Outside the moon rose high in the air, the cold bringing a slight frost to Autumn. The midnight hour was one Eris made most of his best kept promises, all relating to the mate from the Night Court he found centuries ago. A tradition he unknowingly passed on to doing with his son. He was so pale, cheeks flaming pink. He didn’t know his father was High Lord or general of Autumn’s armies for centuries. He had yet to experience the parts of himself Eris wanted to keep hidden. Eris’s eyes closed slowly, lulled by his son’s breathing, content to know that for now, his son only knew the best parts of his father.

[theshiftingwitch]

Hello ^^

I really want to make a shifting affirmation tape for myself and give it try, it kinda resonates with me and it feels right. I’ve been trying to use LOA to shift to my DR but it has been on and off so that’s why I haven’t managed to get anywhere yet.

I just keep stopping myself with doubts, anxiety and horrible intrusive thoughts, I’m also dealing with depression and with a 3D that I just want to escape from. Sometimes I can feel at ease and think I’m already in my DR but then the 3D hits me and I just start spiraling with doubts and fear throughout the day, specially in the night (‘what if it doesn’t work?’, ‘what if I never shift’, ‘what if it’s a lie?’, ‘what if I’m doing things wrong?’… and I could go on with so many more examples).

How can I learn to trust and knowing it’ll be okay? Did you ever felt this way? I want to completely surrender because I’m so tired, but I’m scared I’ll stay here forever being unhappy. I’d love to wake up in my DR one day and act as if all of this was only a long bad dream.

If I start listening to tapes for shifting during the night, how can I make sure to not mess up with the process when awake? How can I stop feeling so anxious and trapped in fear?

I know no one can do anything for me but myself, but maybe you have some kind words and advice that could help. Do you have recommendations or something you’d do in my position?

Thank you for taking the time if you answer this, and I’m so sorry for the long ask. Stay healthy and happy. 🥺

If an affirmation tape feels like the right thing to do, you should definitely do it.

I always emphasize the importance of following one's intuition. Whatever feels right, feels good, brings you joy and peace, is what you should be doing at all times.

Having doubts, anxiety, fear, paranoia... Most of us have been through the exact same thing. I know I have. I shifted twice and I still get those nights when I'm convinced I made it all up and my mind is playing tricks on me and I'll never escape. What helps is just letting those thoughts flow in and out. The truth is, nothing and no one can stop you from shifting, not even yourself. People have shifted by complete accident. Anti shifters shifted on their first try when they only wanted to prove that shifting is not real. Imagine that, our biggest opps became a part of the community when all they wanted was to prove we were crazy!

Once you decide that you are a shifter, nothing will derail you from that path. It is inevitable, unavoidable, destined. It is done. Whether it happens this next second or it happens in a couple of years, it will happen regardless. And once you shift, nothing about this 3d reality would even matter anymore. Not how much time you spent trying, not anything that went wrong, not even your cr self would have any say in it anymore.

The best advice I can give you: don't give up. Everything else is noise. You owe it to yourself to see this through. You owe it to yourself to finally accomplish the one thing you've wanted more than anything in the world. You owe it to yourself not to give up on all of your dr selves. They are you.

Methods, subliminals, tapes, saturation sessions, meditation, robotic Affirmations... They are all tools to help you on your way. You don't need them, but if they make you feel better then by all means, use them. But at the end of the day, you only need one thing.

Decide. Stick with that decision. Don't change your mind. Tune out everything that's not working on your favour. You need tunnel vision, everything else besides your goal is a blur. Focus.

You already shifted.

I hope this helps!

Happy shifting ❤️

[nebula-blitzar]

Just kinda in the mood to post this so like

There’s a lot of rumors and speculations on how Fizz and Oz met and when so I thought I would share my personal theory.

I think when the incident first occurred, Mam freaked the fuck out because he had just signed a contract, had been doing work for him on the side, and made him lots of money. So Mam calls up Oz and asks him for prosthetics for cheap. They were decent quality (especially for the price,) and Oz had written instructions and stuck them to the prosthetics so Mam would see them. Mam, being the lazy ass he is, threw them away and just gave Fizz the prosthetics, with no guidance on how to use them.

Now Fizz was further indebted to Mammon, so he couldn’t really leave. He worked full time for him, and was still paid as much as he needed to get by (decent apartment, food). At some point along this timeline, Mam also had Asmodeus make the Fizz-bots, which lightened the load. But Fizz’s performances became more intense, and further put stress on him.

I do want to note I have a theory that imps with irises (all the time) have chronic anxiety or other problems. Since other imps’ irises only appear when they’re upset in some way, shape, or form. So that would be Barb, Blitzø, and Fizz. Cash didn’t have irises, but Tilla did, and since she was sick and shit, it kinda makes sense.

So with all of this stuff happening to Fizz and around Fizz with no one to help him, he had worsened anxiety. But he kept performing since he felt so indebted to Mammon. Around the four and a quarter year mark, Fizz started to feel some pain where his limbs were attached to his body. So he asked Mammon. Mam, being the asshole he is, said no, obviously, so he just kinda..kept performing through the pain.

Since the pain was persistent enough to get in the way of Fizz’s performances, he kept asking Mammon. Finally, Mam let him go do it so he would shut up about it. So Fizz and Oz finally got to meet in person, and they learned the problem was basically some pretty severe friction burns from not wearing them properly (y’know since Mam threw the instructions away) and so Oz was pissed about Mammon not listening to him (as always) and wanted to call him to give him a piece of his mind.

Fizz stops him, saying it’s a bad idea, and that Fizz will get in more trouble, so he doesn’t call Mam.

Then Fizz leaves, and Oz goes back to work, but not without texting Bee asking if they can meet up (if you don’t hc Bee and Ozzie as friends we can’t be friends/j) sometime soon. Bee is obviously like totes dude and a few days later, they meet up.

Oz asked to hang out to consult Bee on the fact he kinda had a crush on Fizz, Bee is super excited (duh) and is like tell me everything they talk more and come to the conclusion Oz has a genuine crush, and him and Fizz should talk more.

Oz doesn’t want to be awkward and text Fizz just to talk, but lucky for him, a few weeks later, Fizz applies for a job application at Ozzie’s, cause he wants to be able to afford some luxuries, and for that he needs more money, and Mammons not gonna give him a pay raise. Since Fizz actually is a really good fit for the job, he gets it.

Anyway the pair get really close both business wise and friend wise, and Fizz does more shifts at Ozzie’s. Mam isn’t actually that mad since he has the Fizz-Bots to perform, advertise and sell.

At some point near the five year mark, the pair kiss, and while both sides enjoy it, it keeps both of them up late. So the next day after Ozzie’s closes they talk it out and end up accidentally confessing their feeling to each other.

So yeah that’s first meeting, how they got together, and why they got to know each other. I am writing a fanfic about this in more detail, and this is probably not the last time I mention this theory, so stay tuned!

Ps thanks for reading this long ass rant lol

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

(Not) A Whole New World .pt2

A.N: part two of this , kinda inspired by all the Great Seven Au ('cause let's be honest, that AU has a lot of interesting things to play with

Part 3

The second time it happened you were 12 years old.

You were 12 and sure you weren't lost at all, yet you found yourself in a familiar forest.

Apparently you were back.

You were excited, so you started running towards where you knew the exit was.

This time you managed to notice that the forest was full of plants useful for potions, not that you knew how to prepare them – Frau Grimhilde would not let you until you understood the theory – but now some details stood out in your eyes that you would have never noticed years before.

Once out of the forest you were convinced it would take little time to find the Trein Mason, but unfortunately you didn't seem to be in the Shaftlands anymore.

You started looking around, looking for something, anything, that would give you an indication, but again, like the first time, it was someone else who found you

“You look more like a lost puppy to me”

The voice came from a handsome man with two-tone hair, one side was black and the other was white; compared to Trein who was elegant but perhaps a little old-fashioned in clothing, this man looked quite fashionable, while retaining a certain elegance – and then that fur coat looked really comfortable.

A little embarrassed, you asked where you were and if you were very far from the Shiftlands

The man replied that you were in the Queendoom of Roses and that you were actually quite far from the Shiftlands.

At the new information you became concerned and the man raised an eyebrow

“ Don't you have a Mirror address, little stray? Because otherwise I will have to report the presence of a lost minor to the authorities”

At those words a feeling of anxiety and relief invaded you at the same time.

You had someone to contact, but you had no idea what the Mirror address was.

So you explained your dilemma to him and following the name you asked him to contact his gaze opened up a bit, but he didn't ask any questions.

Indeed, he told you to follow him and so you did, finding yourself in the study of his house, hoping that his mirror would do what according to the man - Divus Crewel - it was supposed to do. When its surface rippled you recognized the Trein home office, but it was not he who answered the call (?)

"Mr. Trein is not at home Professor Crewel, can report to me or prefer to be contacted"

Not even the time to get the man you automatically greeted to answer

"Hi Stacy"

And for a moment there was absolute silence, but the silence lasted just a moment to be replaced by a

“Drizzy! it's Y/N! She is back !! “ and other incomprehensible screams.

After a few quarrels between who should speak between the two and a few meows from Lucius – to which you answered under Crewel's interested gaze – Drizella asked you why you were in a completely different part of the world, how you came back to this world and much more and you very calmly answered

“As soon as I have the answers myself I will inform you”

You spent a lot of time on the phone with the two sisters who, in addition to updating you on their lives, also told you that they were about to leave, while Trein was busy with school.

They made Crewel make you stay with him

(“As if I could abandon a stray like that”)

If with Trein at the beginning you had to take a lot of courage to interact with him, Crewel didn't have the same aura and moreover

“Is that Ashwagandha? It's the first time I've seen it unprinted"

Crewel asked how you were sure you hadn't got the name of the plant wrong, since it was with others and you, all excited,

“Those are all herbs against stress, I could recognize them with my eyes closed…well, not yet, but Frau Grimilde says that I'm getting better at recognizing plants and that therefore I will soon be able to prepare potions that aren't just for health of my skin. But she doesn't have any Ashwagandha either, it's completely out of season for us at the moment"

And so, a bit like what happened with Trein, albeit with much less difficulty, you approached the magic of this world again, so different, yet so similar to the one you came from.

Crewel was as strict as Trein, but compared to the other man he didn't just compliment you when you were good at something.

( What a self- esteem boost)

You had discovered that Crewel was a colleague of Trein's and that they both worked - Crewel was getting ready to work - at Night Raven College a school full of 'off-leash puppies' according to Crewel.

Divus kept Trein updated on your improvements and Trein informed him about your abilities and your condition in your home world.

For quite a while you had continued to send letters to both Stacy and Drizzy and to Trein, but after a while a strange rectangular thing was sent to you by the two sisters and when you asked about it Crewel explained that it was a cell phone.

The man had left the task of instructing you on how to use that incredible object for you to your acquired sisters, and so you understood that that cell phone was used to communicate remotely with people, but faster than letters - which however you continued to send to Trein – and that there were small digital worlds called “apps” that allowed you to play games or take and share photos, among these, the app they recommended to you the most was 'Magicam' where apparently, in addition to publishing photos and videos it was possible to make "live events" and you could find other people who liked what you were doing and who could become "followers"

(Crewel enjoyed seeing every expression you had every time you discovered something new and ran to him for recognition, you were just a good pup, he thought you needed a little more confidence in yourself)

After a while Crewel started sending you on errands for him around the city, it was mainly about buying materials for his creations, whether it be potions or items for his fashion house – already several times you were was the tester of the new creations, Crewel couldn't let you go out looking like a stray – and during these mini adventures if you happened to see something that interested you, you photographed it and posted it on your Magicam, – you weren't famous, but it couldn't be denied that you still had a good following Not that you paid much attention to it.

It was during one of these errands that you ran into an old acquaintance who had become quite famous in the meantime.

“It was downright rude of you to disappear like that Potato”

Vil still had that critical look of him as he looked at you, but maybe he was right this time; from his point of view you had disappeared for a long time without showing signs of life.

You sent a message to Crewel telling him you'd be a little late and on Vil's advice you went to a little, little frequented cafe, and so Vil became your second… friend (?) – could you call yourself that? – to learn about your unique situation.

He later told you he was there because he was filming a series and would be staying for about a week, made you promise to see you at least one more time and gave you his number so you could stay in touch, at least while you stayed in this world.

Vil still had a bit of a brusque manner, but having grown up - and having dealt with Grimhilde who was even more brusque, despite a certain royalty - you definitely understood that this was, as Jack had said, Vil's way of being friendly.

You asked him if Jack was mad at you and he shook his head, almost annoyed, without deigning an answer

(Jack couldn't be mad at you, according to Vil you were his first crush, not that either of them would let you know)

He asked you if you had Magicam and once he knew your name he started following you and you did the same, shocked by the number of followers she had.

He told you that the number would probably go down a bit as he would put his star life on hold once he started school.

(After Vil's follow your followers also increased, and among them was a certain Cay-Cay who you would contact later)

In addition to the newfound – or perhaps formed was more correct – friendship with Vil, you got to know what you could have defined as your first crush, if you had recognized the signs of a crush

He was a guy older than you, with green hair and particular eyes that you would have defined as almost golden.

You had met him inside his parents' pastry shop - even if you had discovered it much later - where he had offered you a slice of wild berry cake "First time in here" and winked at you from behind his glasses , making you blush and calling that reaction "cute."

Whenever you could get into that cake shop you did, and every time Trey would put up an extra berry muffin for you for free, you didn't talk for a long time, but every conversation with Trey had something interesting.

It wasn't until his friend Che'nya called you both "disgusting" that you exchanged contacts

(Che'nya's messages were definitely spam but very funny to you, because they didn't make any sense at first, but then in some strange way, they acquired it)

Drizzy and Stacy were ecstatic when you talked about your friends, Trein and Crewel a little less.

During your time with Crewel you also learned the history of this world you found yourself in, with particular attention to the traditions of the Queen of Hearts – the fact that the aforementioned had instituted 810 rules amazed you more than it should have –

You got back in touch with Cater, who you'd contacted on Magicam, to let him know you were back indefinitely.

He had left you reading for 10 minutes, before letting you know how worried you made him.

Both Crewel and Trein forbade you to be on the phone with him more than two hours.

The two teachers – father figures – refused to jeopardize your health after the last time you lay sleepless after talking with Cater

Not Under Their Watch

And then, just like the first time, you found yourself opening your eyes to a room that was neither your room in the Trein house nor your room in the Crewel house.

No, this was your makeshift room when you stayed late at Grimilde's, but this time you were sure you hadn't dreamed it all.

You still had your cell phone. It didn't work, right. But it was with you in your world, where you were pretty sure there was no such thing yet.

It took some time before you set foot again in Twisted Wonderland, but in the meantime you became the apprentice of a rather ancient Fae who had heard of you from Grimhilde, who had introduced you to the great magicians of your world.

The Fae, who revealed her name to you after a long time, explained that your magic was some sort of hybrid of gray magic, but no one would want to teach someone who had negative magic in them in your world.

It was a big surprise when, trying to channel some of your magic, your cell phone turned back on and you saw that an unknown number – which you would later discover was Jack – had contacted you, and that Crewel and Stacy and Drizzy had also tried to get in. contact you ( Vil, Cater , Trey and Che'nya had contacted you, but more rarely)

You made your situation known and asked to inform Trein too that you were fine, you explained and told what had happened to you and what you had learned up to that moment.

You also went back to updating your Magicam, where no one seemed to notice that some of the things you posted didn't exist in that world

They say that all good things come in threes and the third time you found yourself in that forest you were 16 and had half an idea of ​​what to expect.

Only that you were stunned when you found yourself in front of a school gates.

"Well, that's kinda new"

[obxsummer]

Gut Feeling // The Pogues

as john b's younger sibling, it was your job to make sure he didn't do anything too stupid. when he leaves with ward to go on a fishing trip, you find out just how cruel the cameron family can be... little did you know john b was finding out the exact same thing.

john b x gn!sibling!reader, platonic!pogues

warnings: the usual shitty cameron parenting, verbal threatening, no use of y/n, tried to keep things gender-neutral but let me know if I missed something!

a/n: sorry if things are out of character, I couldn't really find a way to make this flow the way I wanted. thanks for your patience with this request anon!

navigation 

--

John B getting pushed off the Hawk’s Nest was definitely not on your bingo board for this year. Ward Cameron offering to be your legal guardian on top of that wasn’t even a thought in your mind. So what the hell was going on?

Your bond with your older brother, John B, was unshakable. Only a year separated you in age, yet your connection ran much deeper than that. You were best friends as kids, guardians of each other's secrets, and steadfast anchors in each other's lives. Everything only became more intense when your father disappeared. 

Sharing friends was expected, as well as the fact that where there was one of you, the other wasn’t far behind. Everyone in OBX knew the Routledge siblings traveled as a pack alongside their friends. 

Topper shoving John B off the ridiculously tall spot created more than just sprained joints and concussions. Sarah told her dad, and to your dismay, Ward Cameron, was suddenly in front of you, offering to be your legal guardian.

The offer hung heavy in the air as the older man dismissed himself for the two of you to take some time. The expression on your face must have said everything since John B instantly tried to assure you. "Listen, I know you're skeptical, but we're running out of options here. Ward can help us."

You stared out the window, a mix of worry and doubt tugging at your heart. "I don't trust him, John B. There's something off about him." The idea of being in Figure Eight, away from your friends, was terrifying. 

John B let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I get that feeling too, but we need his help. We need to keep DCS off our backs. Nobody said we had to stay there all the time. It’s just a cover."

Despite your hesitation, you nodded, knowing that he had the right idea. The bond between you and John B was your anchor, and you were willing to trust him, even if the circumstances were far from comforting. “I’ll go where you go, JB. But I really have a bad feeling about this.”

--

Moving into the Cameron house was extremely awkward. The walls felt unfamiliar, and Ward's presence seemed to loom over you. The first change came when you and John B were assigned separate bedrooms, a decision that made your unease grow.

Standing hesitantly in the doorway of your new room, you looked at John B with a mixture of concern. "Why can't we share a room?"

Ward exchanged a glance with John B, and the unspoken conversation between them only fueled your anxiety. Was this John B’s decision? "It's important for both of you to have your own space," Ward said, his voice carrying a hint of finality. “Gives you time to grow in your own way. You don’t share a room at home now, do you?”

“I’d feel a lot better by him,” You replied without any regard for your ungrateful attitude. It seemed like Ward was doing a great job at driving a wedge between you and your brother. And even though you did have your own rooms at the Chateau, being separated here felt much worse. Usually, there was just a wall between you, not three hallways, a set of stairs, and locked doors. 

“We can share a room, Mr. Cameron, it’s really no-”

“You will have separate rooms. That is final. I already have a lot on my plate getting you two adjusted, please don’t make it harder.”

As night fell, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only intensified your discomfort. Unable to bear the thought of being separated from John B, you found yourself sneaking into his room. The floor became your refuge, a makeshift bed where you sought solace in his proximity.

Your unease didn’t disappear overnight. The gold was still waiting to be pulled out of the well and when Ward interfered with the plans for that too, your anxiety resurfaced. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

You had been standing awkwardly on the sidewalk when Ward approached John B and Sarah to bring up the idea. He finally acknowledged your presence. "This trip is just for John B and me. Some bonding time while we talk things out, man to man about dating my daughter…"

John B leaned over, ruffling your hair affectionately even though he wasn't a major fan of this himself. "It's just fishing, Birdie. I'll be back before you know it." He could tell you didn’t like being here by yourself and he didn’t blame you. “Plus, Sarah will be here. You guys could hang out?”

Despite his attempt to reassure you, the feeling of unease clung to you like a second skin. "Promise you'll call if anything goes wrong?"

John B's eyes softened as he nodded. "I promise. Can always hang with JJ and them too, you know. Figure out some plans.”

He hinted toward what you were supposed to be doing the following morning: pulling the gold out. 

With a heavy heart, you watched them head out to the dock the next morning. It felt so silly to be worried about being alone without John B. You retreated to your room, the morning sun casting golden rays across the floor, hoping for the best.

Minutes dragged on like an eternity as you cowered in the suffocating darkness of the room. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside, sent shivers down your spine. The air was heavy with fear, your heart beating in a frantic rhythm as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and your heart jumped into your throat. Ward's sinister smile greeted you, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to engulf the room. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence. “Where’s John B?”

He completely ignored your question and threw the light on as he stepped closer. "I think we need to have a little chat."

“Don’t touch me!” Your breath caught in your throat, and you stumbled back off the bed, your hands pressing against the closet wall as if it could shield you from the threat before you. His grip on your arm was like a vise, cold and unyielding, as he pulled you into the dimly lit room. 

"You see, I have a problem here," Ward hissed, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity, "Your father thought he could outsmart me from the gold. I killed him for it. You and your brother don’t stand a chance, especially if I take you out one by one…but just how do I go about it?"

As he spoke, his words were a twisted dance of intimidation. His threats were like icy daggers, each word digging deeper into your psyche, igniting a firestorm of panic. The room felt like a cage, and you were trapped in its suffocating grasp.

Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as your mind raced to find an escape route. The weight of his words bore down on you. The room seemed to close in on you, the walls narrowing as Ward's presence loomed over you. Your dad. Ward Cameron killed your dad.

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and another figure entered the room—Rose Cameron. Her demeanor was cold and calculating, her eyes scanning you with an unsettling intensity.

Ward's gaze flickered between you and Rose, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You remember Rose, right?"

You felt a knot of unease tighten in your stomach. Rose's presence seemed to amplify the danger, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were trapped in a spider's web.

Rose's voice was silky, her smile masking an undercurrent of manipulation. "Ward and I are only concerned for your well-being, sweetie. We want what's best for you. You don’t have to worry about going back to the Cut ever again, okay?"

The words felt like a strong hand tightening around your throat, and you backed away, your heart racing as you tried to maintain some semblance of control. "I don't need your concern, I need my brother."

Ward's laugh was chilling, his amusement a stark contrast to the terror that gripped you. "John B’s gone. Why do you think I took him out on the boat? Easier access to dump the body where someone won’t find it."

A wave of panic crashed over you, and you instinctively turned to flee, only to find Rose blocking your path. The realization struck you like a lightning bolt—this was a trap, and you were caught in their twisted game.

Before you could react, Ward lunged forward, his grip like a vice as he forced you into the closet. The sound of the lock clicking shut sent a shock of terror through your veins, and you pounded on the door, desperation fuelling your efforts.

"Let me out! Let me out of here!" Your voice cracked with fear, each thud against the door a desperate plea for escape. “John B!”

From the other side of the door, you heard Ward's voice, his tone taunting. "You're not going anywhere. This is where you'll learn your place. And stay quiet until we finish digging out the gold. Actually, thank you. Without your help, we wouldn’t have even gotten this far."

The reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Trapped, alone, and at the mercy of their manipulation, you felt a surge of panic rise within you. You were a pawn in their game, a helpless victim in a twisted power play. And they knew about the gold.

As you sat in the darkness, the silence was deafening, broken only by your ragged breaths. The taste of fear lingered on your tongue, and you knew that escaping this nightmare would require every ounce of strength you possessed.

You waited until silence covered the house before slamming your body against the closet door. Pain radiated through your shoulder, but you remembered JJ’s direction on kicking a door out before putting it to practice as best as you could.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins was a lifeline, propelling you forward as you lunged for the door and finally broke the lock free. Panic fed your speed, and your heart pounded in your chest as you burst into the hallway, your breath ragged and harsh.

As you fled down the corridor, the taste of freedom was tantalizingly close. You turned a corner, your pulse racing, and then… silence. Panic surged as you realized you were trapped in a dead-end hallway, the walls closing in on you like a vise.

Footsteps echoed ominously behind you, and you whirled around to see Rafe's approaching shadow—no time to spare. Your heart hammered in your chest, and desperation surged within you. With a gasp, you spotted the open doors to the upstairs balcony. Adrenaline-fueled strength carried you forward, and you sprinted toward them. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rafe’s voice taunted as he started to round the corner. You pushed yourself over the balcony rail and tried your best to hang on as you slowly slide down the column to the ground. Until you lost grip, that is.

The world outside spun in a blur of green and blue, and your body collided with the ground, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through your limbs. Dazed and disoriented, you scrambled to your feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Rafe's voice echoed behind you, but you didn’t dare look back. 

The sound of your own breath, the rustling leaves, and the pounding of your heart filled your senses as you ran. You thanked JJ for dragging you through these paths as kids so you never got lost by yourself. 

And then, suddenly, your foot caught on a root, and you were tumbling, colliding with something solid. Pain radiated through your limbs as you groaned, disoriented and breathless. You looked up, blinking away tears, only to find yourself staring into a pair of familiar eyes.

"Birdie?" John B's voice was a mixture of disbelief and concern as he rushed to your side, his hands reaching out to steady you.

Your heart raced, emotions swirling within you as you tried to process what was happening. Your eyes widened in panic, and your hands shot up defensively, a guttural gasp escaping your lips as you stumbled back.

John B's expression shifted from surprise to a gentle concern, his voice cautious. "Hey, it's me, it’s me. You're safe. I'm here."

The flood of emotions was overwhelming, and your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Slowly, you lowered your hands, your vision clearing enough for you to see your brother's worried eyes, the deep lines of concern etched into his forehead.

"John B?" Your voice trembled, a mixture of disbelief and relief coursing through your veins. “You’re alive?”

He nodded, his voice soothing as he extended a hand toward you. "Yeah, it's me. You're okay now."

You felt your legs give way, the tension and fear of the past hours finally catching up with you. John B caught you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he eased you to sit. He held you close, the warmth of his embrace grounding you in reality.

As the tears spilled over, you clung to him as if he were the lifeline you had desperately needed. He whispered reassurances as he held you close, reminding you that you were with him and everything was fine.

Gasping for breath, you clung to John B as if he were your anchor in the storm. Tears streaked down your face, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the words to explain the terror you had just experienced.

"John B, I… I couldn't stay there. Ward…" You choked on the words, your voice a fragile whisper. “He said you were dead.”

John B's arms tightened around you as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Shhh, take your time. Just tell me what happened."

Taking a deep breath, you began recounting what had just happened—how Ward had cornered you, the sinister threats that were enough for you to kick a door out, and the desperate flight through the woods. As you spoke, you finally let your shoulders sag in relief. Your brother was okay.

John B's grip on you tightened even further, his voice shaky when he realized how fucked up this whole thing was. "He attacked me on the boat. Said he was the reason Dad is gone and… he-he tried to get me to share the gold with him - lashed out when I said no."

As the reality of the situation settled in when you didn’t answer, John B's protective instinct kicked into high gear. He helped you to your feet, his gaze never leaving yours. "Are you hurt? Did he… did he touch you?"

You shook your head. "I'm okay. He didn't… he didn't hurt me."

John B's features softened with relief, but his anger remained simmering beneath the surface. "We're getting out of here. Right now. Let’s go find the others."

Your friends were waiting at the Chateau when you arrived. They attempted to share their progress with the tools to remove the gold but you and your brother moved past them wordlessly

Kiara, Pope, and JJ filed into the house instantly. "Guys? What's going on?" Kiara's voice carried a note of worry. It only got worse when JJ got shoved aside by your brother. “John B!”

John B's gaze darted around the room, his eyes finally settling on yours before he looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. Without a word, he made his way past your friends, his steps determined as he headed for the door, this time with JJ’s gun in his hand.

“Where are you going?” You screamed after him in shock and ran onto the porch. This was not what you figured he would do. 

John B ignored your shouts and kicked JJ’s dirt bike to life before speeding off with no explanation.

JJ exchanged a confused glance with the others. "What's up with him?"

You groaned and flopped on the couch, the heaviness of the truth threatening to consume you. "Ward... Ward killed Big John."

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. Kiara, Pope, and JJ stared at you in shock, their expressions a mix of disbelief and horror.

JJ's voice was barely a whisper. "What?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the memories flooded back, the pain of the past resurfacing with a vengeance. "He was investigating something about the Royal Merchant, and Ward killed him when he wouldn't agree to share the gold."

Pope's voice was filled with anger and disbelief. "That son of a..."

Kiara's hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh, my god."

As the truth settled in, the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating you with its weight. John B's abrupt departure on the dirt bike now carried a new layer of meaning—if he killed Ward, they would turn this all on your brother.

Hours passed, each moment heavy with the weight of the revelation. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a somber glow across the Chateau. No one spoke, the tension growing with every passing minute.

Kiara eventually got up to grab you something to eat in hopes of calming your nerves. You appreciated the gesture but as you huddled together between JJ and Pope, the reality of the situation began to sink in. 

What the fuck were you going to do now?

--

navigation

read my outer banks x the summer i turned pretty crossover

[rosazoldyckk]

-Yandere Hisoka X Kidnapped! Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of Kidnapping, physical violence, bungee gum usage and overall abusive/violent behaviour. If any of subjects mentioned above make you uncomfortable in any way then please read with caution or skip. I do not promote any of this behaviour and if you or anyone else you know is going through something like this then please seek help and stay safe <3

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter Character: Hisoka Morow

A/N: I’d like to give credits to @haikyuu-simpr for giving me inspiration for this fanfic and also recommending me bunch of amazing ideas and oneshots to use in the future! Thank you sm for sending me your brilliant ideas and I can’t wait to hear more of them!😊❤️

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The adrenaline rushing through your body was almost unbearable as you bounded down the gravel road leading from Hisoka's home. The rock dug into the soft soles of your bare feet yet the pain was a mere afterthought compared to the anxiety and stress you felt. You had calculated your escape for weeks now. Timing the footsteps from the room you were forced to share with Hisoka leading to the front door. Contemplating how fast you could unlock all of the locks on the door before you could slip out. Wondering how long you had until he realized you were gone.

It had been a painfully long while for him to let his guard down. It took you bearing the weight of the perfect darling that he wanted you to be. The little pet that he had been coaxing you into. You accepted his love and reciprocated. Of course he was skeptical at first and not much of your circumstance changed with our change of behavior, but slowly he would begin to let his guard down. He wasn't so adamant about locking the doors to the interior rooms as he first was, and he even let you spend time in some of them alone. He also started trusting you with small cutlery and glass cups instead of the childish plastic ones he provided you with originally. He became satisfied with his work; you being his little project. He became happy with the little darling that was at his disposal constantly. You became sweet and submission. He became sloppy.

Hisoka was a man of habit and one of his many was his strict bedtime. He went to bed so early and of course, he always had you in bed next to him with an arm draped over your waist. He slept pretty sound and hardly moved, keeping you locked firmly in his embrace. You began to make a routine of getting up in the night to use the bathroom. At first he would sit up alert in bed while you went to the bathroom, waiting for you to come back into his arms. As the nights went on though, it became less of an ordeal until he didn't wake up from it at all. That's when you had taken your chance.

You gently picked up the ring of keys that he kept in his beside table drawer, clutching them in your sweating hand so they wouldn't clink together.

'Okay now for the bedroom door' you had thought to yourself, talking yourself through the process so you wouldn't begin to panic.

You made your way over to bedroom door and slowly turned the knob, slowly pulling the door open just enough for you to slip through. Another hurdle cleared. Now for the big task.

You had watched Hisoka lock and unlock the locks attached to the front door for weeks now, memorizing what key went with which lock. Another deep breath. You inserted the first key and turned with a click. As you unlocked each lock you could feel the rush through your body. You were so close. As the last lock unlatched you gripped the handle and waited for a few seconds. You knew the moment that this door opened, the alarm would set off and you would have to make the most of the seconds head start that you had made for yourself. This entire plan was risky for you and you knew if you failed any chance of escape would be gone forever. However, if you succeeded you would finally be free from him.

Click.

This is how you got to where you were now. Running for your life down the gravel driveway and onto the main road as the house alarm blared behind you. It wouldn't be long now. You had to get away. To where you had no idea, but you were desperate. As you made it to the main road you prayed that a car would come by and maybe you could convince them to give you a ride into the city. But Hisoka was smart and had picked this home for a reason. It was secluded outside of the city and brushed up against the forest.

"Y/N!"

You shuddered at the rage behind his voice as he screamed for you. A small squeak escaped your voice and without thinking you bolted for the trees, running as hard as you could until you were panting in desperation for air. You could hear explosions in the distance as he called for you. His footsteps were so heavy, and you could hear the crunching of gravel.

boom boom boom more of his explosions set off in the distance, and you took this as the incentive to keep moving forward.

Soon enough you couldn't hear his footsteps or quirk explosions anymore, warranting an eerie quiet through the trees that you were walking through. It was so dark and the canopy blocked any moon light. You couldn't help but look behind you every once in awhile out of fear and paranoia. He couldn't have possibly given up so soon, you knew how Hisoka was.

What came into your view next sent a shudder into your body. 15 feet tall, and barbed with wire was a black wire fence that lined the trees. This couldn't be. You looked as far as you could down the tree line, looking for an opening or an ending point. Tears began to well in your eyes as you realized your escape route was a dead end.

"Quite inconvenient isn't it, darling?" A grating voice came out from around you, but before you could scream there came the powerful bungee gum only Hisoka could be able to create. The force knocked you over, and you felt a weight on your chest. Looking up you met similar dark amber eyes, although this time the rage within them took the breath from your already empty lungs. You didn't think you could speak even if you tried. A strong hand wrapped around your throat and your own two clawed at them.

"I never knew you could be so bold Y/N," Hisoka said with a sneer, "And that really upsets me!" he hissed as he moved his hands to pin yours above your head. You were a sobbing mess. It was all over and you knew it. You would never have an escape chance again. You were going to die in that house after a miserable life of being chained within it.

"Come on now, don't cry. I hate it when you cry , baby." he cooed under his breath, the anger still painted on his face.

"H-Hisoka! I'm sorr-"

"Ah ah ah" he cut you off. His teasing was earie as he wasn't yelling like he usually was. "That doesn't change what you've done now does it?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You could only stare up at him from where you were on the ground, lip trembling and body in so much pain. In a quick movement he hoisted you up over his shoulder while his rough arms locked around your waist. His Bungee gum trying your wrists tightly together

You couldn't help but let a sob escape your body as you dangled there staring at Hisoka's ankles from where you dangled over his shoulder. You had from the forest line to house to grieve. Grieve for the freedom that could have been. Grieve a different opportunity that could have worked better. Grieve for yourself as you knew it, because soon enough that would be gone.

The sound of the door being swung open pulled you out of your own thoughts. You swung your head up once more to look at the outside world for the last time before it was obscured by the thick front door with a slam. Gone.

Once more you were dragged back into your shared bedroom, and dropped onto the bed. When you were able to sit up again, Hisoka was there staring down at his feet with furrowed eyes as he contemplated something.

"Hisoka..." you whimpered out. You wanted him to say something. Anything. This silence was killing you.

He let out a huff trying to control himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly his amber eyes flashed up to look at you as he let out a hiss of frustration.

"Damn It, Y/N!" He exclaimed. You could see the pink glow of his bungee gum setting off in his palms. "If you had just let me take care of you it wouldn't have to come to this! I thought that by now you would have learned, darling." He grumbled as he stepped forwards and sat himself on the bed without decorum. You couldn't help but shy away. with a small whimper as he did so.

His hands suddenly struck out to with cobra-like speed and grabbed both our ankles. The sudden sensation of being dragged forward and knocked back to lay down made you scream in surprise and fear. His hands wrapped around the soles of your feet with an iron grip and you looked up to see his angry eyes once more. "Just remember, that you could have had it easy if you had just listened  to me and trusted in me, darling." Hisoka said gruffly, his eyes wide and glowing. "You brought this on your self. I have to do this to keep you safe."

"W-Wait! Hisoka-"

Your protest was interrupted with Hisoka's bungee gum suddenly wrapping around you, squeezing you do unbearably tight. The pain was unimaginable. Your body felt like it was being crushed, and that smell. What was that smell? Was it the bungee gum? And what was that noise? It sounded like someone was screaming.

It took you a few seconds to come out of the bungee gum to realize that it was in fact you who were screaming. Screaming in pain and agony at the pink pain that you felt on the bottoms of your feet. You tried to breath deeply and gently, hoping it would remedy the ferocious sting of your skin. Faintly you could hear the click of something lock into place. It was Hisoka. He had placed a bungee gum chain around one of your ankles. The one he had used when you were first captured and taken here.

Messy pink hair made its way into your watery line of vision. Hisoka was looking down at you, Amber eyes looking less angry than he was before. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before he grabbed your chin firmly but not painfully, prompting you to look at him.

"I know it hurts, baby." His tone was so smooth for once, maybe even comforting to your current state of violent distress. "But I gotta make sure you are safe from any danger, even if that danger is yourself." He cooed, a hint of mockery escaping his lips, leaving another kiss before getting up to leave. For once you agreed with him. You should have never even thought you would be able to escape from here. You should have never tried to escape him.