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onestepbackwards · 6 months

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Love That Bites Pt. 10

Hi there! Welcome to part 10 of my Dracula x Reader fic! It's a little later than I had hoped, but I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After waking up the next day, you contemplate your situation, trying to find a way to make the best of it. It all starts to come together until you get an unexpected visitor. At least Dracula seems insistent on taking care of you? CW: Injury mention, threats of harm, hints at an abusive situation Word Count: 5224 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link every little bit helps me out!

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Tag List: @onewiththebeanbag, @starrlo0ver, @sleepyendymion, @dame-sunflowers, @sapphicsfordracula, @ursamajor17, @maorizon, @marshmelloe, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @rvautomatic,

First: Here!Last: Here!Next: Here!

Your dreams were surprisingly pleasant that night.

Given the fact you had actually even fallen asleep in your family’s enemy’s castle, it was something you were a bit taken aback by.

The dreams you had were confusing and odd, but almost comforting. Once again, like a few times before, you were in a comforting presence. As if being protected, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Like something was holding you. Comforting you. Someone was whispering as they held you, too. However, no matter how hard you strained your ears to listen, you could not make out what they were saying.

You couldn’t see, it was as if you were wrapped in a blanket of darkness, but you did not feel worried. It was as if whatever was holding you seemed to scare off any danger that would consider hurting you.

It was arguably the most at ease you had felt in years.

Which is why you were so incredibly confused when you woke up.

“...What…?” you sleepily asked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

However, you suddenly sat up, realizing you had no idea where you were. Your instincts screamed at you, and you had a moment of panic, before you felt a twinge of pain.

Looking down, you noticed your wrapped up injuries, and suddenly you began to remember just exactly where you were.

You were in Dracula’s castle. Castlevania.

Your heart still thudded in your chest, but you felt yourself beginning to calm down as you remembered everything that had happened.

Dracula was back, alive and presumably well. You had accidentally broken him free from his prison, with your own blood no less.

Good going, you. Bringing back the potential end of humanity while in a manic state!

Sighing, you turned to lay on your side.

What’s done is done.

But… you were surprised.

Dracula had every reason and means to kill you. By all accounts, he should have.

You were technically his greatest living enemy, or at least the living descendant of the clan that killed him over and over again. Your family has foiled his plans for centuries, killing him many, many times.

He had every right to want to kill you.

But he didn’t.

From the moment he was freed from his stony prison, he had done nothing but show you concern. It was incredibly jarring for you. Where his hand should have been sharp and piercing, his touch had been gentle and careful. He had carried you to a guest room and patched you up himself, telling you to rest.

The thought stirred feelings up inside you. When was the last time someone cared enough about you to ask you to rest?

Then he came back, with food for you.

It was more or less broth, sure, but he had taken time to have some made in a castle full of the supernatural, and gave it to you himself.

All while patiently listening to you mumble and talk while still in a frazzled state of mind, and answering a few questions you had.

You don’t remember much after eating. After getting something in your stomach, you remember growing increasingly exhausted, past the point of being able to fight it.

After everything you had been through, you weren’t entirely surprised you crashed.

Though you felt your face grow hot when you realized Dracula must have sat and watched you fall asleep, taking your bowl and tucking you back into the bed.

Some scary vampire hunter you were, when your ‘worst enemy’ was tucking you into bed.

You curled into the covers further, your face no doubt bright red.

Why did the thought of him caring so much please you? Make you feel warm inside? Were you really that desperate for positive affection after all these years, receiving it from the King of Vampires made you blush like a teenager?

“I must still be horribly injured. Easy.”

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true.

As much as you wanted to ignore it, you can’t deny you had gotten attached to the man when he had been trapped as a statue. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew there was always the possibility he would not have heard you, or would have killed you right away.

You had just been in too deep to stop.

His statue and castle had grown on you. You knew coming back over and over again would have consequences.

But…

Sighing, you pressed your face into the soft pillow.

You were so fucked.

Why did it have to be Dracula though that was taking care of you? Did fate like doing this to you, making you and your family its own personal chew toy? It was beginning to feel increasingly personal at this point.

With a groan, you looked over to the side, seeing your whip on the pillow next to you. Even when Dracula had carried you here, you had never let go of it, having it hang on your hip. Before you slept, you kept it next to your pillow, keeping it close for comfort.

After a moment, you reached for it, and pulled it close to your chest.

You weren’t anticipating any sort of attack, not really. However, your whip had always been a comfort for you, for as long as you could remember. It especially was an emotional crutch for you after your mother passed, being something she used all her life before handing it to you.

Even if you didn’t really have any real or close family anymore, you at least had the whip.

It was funny. Despite being deep in enemy territory, you were inclined to believe you actually didn’t need to use it.

At least, you hoped you wouldn’t have to. You’d keep in on you just in case.

You trusted Dracula’s word, yes, but you didn’t trust all his lackeys. Most of them had free wills of their own, and would probably love to take a shot at you.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to set you up later if Dracula tells them they can only attack in self defense. If they can convince everyone you attacked first, then it was free game.

Perhaps it’d be best to keep your phone on you as well, and to keep it charged? You never know when you would need to take photos or a video.

You’d like to think Dracula would at least give you the benefit of the doubt, given he has been rather fair so far. But if several monsters ganged up on you and tried to provide false testimony? You wouldn’t blame the Lord of the Night for taking their side.

Gripping your whip tighter, you scowled.

Funny how you trusted the King of Vampires more than his underlings. Something you never thought you’d think. Maybe you should start a list, with how often you found yourself thinking that?

You stayed in bed a few more moments, before sitting up. Your stitches tugged, and you winced. No doubt you’d need to clean those soon.

Carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the massive bed, and shakily stood on your feet. Whip loosely in hand, you walked over to a nearby chair.

Dracula had at some point, set your bag on the chair before tending to you. As much as you didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed, you wanted to grab your phone in case you needed it later.

Gently picking up your bag, you turned around, and totally did not let out a short scream.

Death itself was hovering above the bed, staring down at you.

“U-Uh… Can I… Help you?” You asked, swallowing thickly.

The air had grown unsettling cold, as if the air itself was sapping your heat from your body. Your feet felt like they were stepping on ice from how cold the floor had become, and your heartbeat was pounding in your ears.

You had never encountered Death before, having only read descriptions of it from your ancestors in their journals.

None of the journal’s descriptions could compare to seeing Death in person, while you were critically injured, and very, very vulnerable.

The Deity looked down at you, and you weren’t sure if it was from curiosity, or disdain.

Just how long had Death been in here? Since you got up? Or had it been here the whole time and had been hiding its presence?

The answer didn’t really matter. It was Dracula’s castle, and Death was his most loyal lieutenant. For all you knew, he was assigned to keep an eye on you so you didn't do something stupid. Or, perhaps he wanted you gone. Who was to say?

Shaking, you forced yourself to keep your whip lowered. You were a guest, you reminded yourself.

You would not attack or threaten unless struck first.

Though it was hard to keep that in mind when literally staring Death itself in the face.

Death gripped its scythe tight, before floating close.

Your mouth went dry as you struggled not to panic and fight your instincts.

Not just your hunting instincts, but your survival instincts as well.

After all, it was only natural for any living thing to have such a reaction to seeing Death with their own eyes.

Death’s sockets were empty, besides two small glowing blue and white fires where each eye should be. They seemed to zero in on you.

“Little Belmont…”

Death’s voice felt unnatural, in a way that felt… inhuman. No vocal cords.

It was as if it were a mix of strings on an instrument untuned, while being nothing more than an echo in the wind. Your brain was barely able to grasp it.

It was speaking again, and the chill down your spine felt like someone pouring cold water on top of you.

“Just what are your intentions here? What are your plans with my master?”

Death’s question almost had you shocked out of your stupor.

Plans? What plans?

“Pardon?” you asked, a bit confused. Death looked at you closely, and you tried to ignore how your body was breaking out into a cold sweat.

“What do you intend to do to my master?” he asked. Despite the absurdity of the situation, his question had you thinking.

Just what were your plans? Challenge Dracula to a duel to the death? You wanted to laugh at the idea.

No. You still wanted to see what possibilities are ahead of you. Given Dracula wasn’t hostile towards you, perhaps the future wasn’t too bleak for you.

After a moment, you spoke up.

“I… Have no idea.” you spoke, the words slipping off your tongue. Death was quiet, and you continued speaking.

“If I’m being honest, I hope I don’t have to fight him at all.”

You turned away from Death, and sighed. It was the truth. You didn’t want to fight the Vampire King.

Death was patient, as if sensing your thoughts, waiting for you to continue.

“Not because I’m scared to, no doubt I’d be afraid if I were to fight him to the death. But…”

Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a loud crack of lightning. You swore it was beginning to rain.

“...Ever since I entered this castle months ago, seeing Dracula as a statue, I have not wanted to fight him. If I had to, I wanted to make it an honorable one, not attack him when he could not fight back. Not out of pity, mind you.”

Gripping your whip slightly, you remembered how you felt that day.

“But when was the last time any of my ancestors talked to him? All my family has taught is that he is the ultimate evil to be killed. The journals passed down by my ancestors talk about his desire for destruction and how he would do anything to achieve it. My mother taught me to think otherwise.”

Death seemed interested in what you were saying. At least, you think he was interested. The deity was floating above you, and seemed to give you some space as it stared curiously. You looked it in the eyes.

“My mother taught me to ask questions if I can, that nothing is black and white. She didn’t know if I’d be fighting Dracula or not, but told me to question things. My family only paints one side of the picture, after all.”

It felt kinda weird admitting this to Death itself, you’d admit. However, it was most certainly the truth. Your feelings were very conflicted, and you felt like a broken record at this point with how often you have thought about it, and have stated this fact.

Thankfully, Death was considering your words.

“So you wish to find a common ground? A compromise?”

Death’s voice had gone from feeling like a scratch on a chalkboard, to a weird empty echo. Somehow you were getting the feeling Death had made its voice like that originally on purpose to intimidate you.

You were quiet for a moment.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

Once again, you felt by saying those words, something was stirring inside you. Like signing a contract, or making a vow.

Death tilted its head.

“I see…”

Another part of you was surprised the deity accepted your answer so readily, no longer seemingly cold and accusatory.

Then again, Death was a part of the divine, yes? Perhaps it could see your honesty? How unsure you were about the whole thing?

Death was silent for a while more, though it didn’t feel as if he was about to blast you off the face of the earth, or decapitate you with its scythe.

“How curious…”

Death seemed to study you, and the posture the deity carried seemed less hostile than before. You hoped that was a good thing.

“Young Belmont, honest to a fault, just like the rest of your ilk.”

You tried not to take offense to how he said that.

Death paused, as if considering its words, before speaking once more.

“I can see souls, you know. Belmonts can not hide from me. Your souls have a very distinct glow. Each and every one of them is different, but always have similar features unique to your family.”

Death suddenly leaned in, and gave you what you could only describe as a crooked grin. The air around the specter felt like it was sapping the warmth from your very core.

“Therefore, knowingly lying to me is pointless. So imagine my surprise that you seem to be telling the truth. Perhaps my master was right when he said he saw something special in you. Of course, I had to see for myself if you were going to cause trouble…”

That made sense. No doubt Death had its reservations about you staying in the castle. If you were in his shoes (cloak?), you would probably have checked it out too.

Seemingly satisfied with the conversation, Death hovered away from you.

“For now, I’ll trust your word and my master’s judgment. However, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Little Belmont.”

The fire in Death’s eyes grew red hot.

“Just know this. If you betray him and his trust, I will personally be the one to devour your soul.”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded.

“Uh… sure thing, sir…”

The fire died down in the deity’s eyes, and he nodded. The room then slowly began to grow darker once more, as if the shadows were reaching out to Death.

“Till we meet again, Belmont.”

With a flash of darkness(?), the deity was gone, and your room began to warm up and brighten.

Slowly, as if in a daze, you walked over to the bed, and fell face first into it. You groaned into the sheets as your wounds throbbed from the sudden pressure, and you tossed your bag to the side.

“Fuck me.” you mumbled, and you felt the tension in your body release as you groaned into the sheets.

Death. You met Death. Death didn’t point at you and obliterate your entire existence.

That was a plus at least.

“My life is a fucking joke, and I’m the damn punchline.”

For some reason, you began to wonder if every Belmont before you felt the same way to various degrees for different reasons.

Though you’d admit, you think your situation feels like it takes the cake. What Belmont can say they accidentally freed Dracula after growing attached to a statue of him and get lightly warned not to fuck up by Death?

You had a feeling it was probably a pretty slim number.

Taking a deep breath, and letting out a long sigh, you forced yourself to sit up. Sitting now at the edge of the bed, you grabbed your bag and dug around for your phone. Pulling it out, you held it for a moment.

The last thing you wanted right now was to see any ‘concerned’ messages from your fraud of a family. It wouldn’t be the first time they had done so to get you back home and under their thumb again. No doubt guilt tripping you, to threatening you if you didn’t listen.

When you bit the bullet and turned the screen on, you were actually pretty surprised you didn’t see any messages. Not yet anyways.

For all you knew, they were actually giving you a few days before getting pissy about you being gone. You did throw them around a little, so perhaps they were also licking their wounds and their pride.

You’d take any bit of peace you could get.

As you sat there, staring at the screen, a sudden knock was at the door. You let out a yelp, and your phone slipped from your hands. Comically, you tried to catch it, but it merely bounced out of your grip a few times before smacking the floor.

The person waited a moment, before seemingly hesitantly knocking again.

“Come in!” you spoke up, trying to awkwardly reach for your phone from the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain. You glanced up, seeing Dracula entering with what you assumed was another first aid kit. Presumably to check on your wounds.

Looking back down, you try reaching for your phone again.

Just as you almost had it, you nearly jumped when a large, pale hand grabbed your phone for you.

Glancing up, your face was hovering just a few inches away from Dracula’s. All the while, amusement seemed evident in his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be resting, and not straining your stitches?” He asked. It might have been your imagination playing tricks on you, but it sounded a lot like he was teasing you, rather than him scolding you.

You could practically feel your face blossom red, both from embarrassment, and just from how close he was in general as he teased you.

Sitting up quickly, Dracula rose next to you, and gently handed your phone out to you.

Looking between him and your phone for a moment, you carefully reached out and took it. His hand was cool against your own as he slid it into your hand, and you tried to fight back the shivers that went down your spine.

Just how touched starved were you?

“Thank you. The knock had startled me, and I dropped it. I… Reached for it without thinking.” you finally spoke, trying to get your blushing under control.

Dracula looked you over for a moment. You had a feeling he was still amused by the whole scenario.

“Perhaps it would be wise to remember your wounds ahead of time then.” He spoke, and again, you couldn’t help but feel he was lightly picking on you. His tone wasn’t scolding at all.

Walking over, he sat the medical kit next to you on the bed.

“Now, may I redress your wounds? It isn’t sanitary to keep such injuries in the same wrappings for too long, and I would like to see how well they are healing. The last thing you need is an infection to spring up, and with how far you pushed yourself, I would not be surprised if you were fighting one.”

Someone who actually cared about your injuries? A man after your own heart.

When Dracula barked out a laugh, you jumped, and felt heat rushing to your face once more.

Had you said that out loud?!

“Forgive me, that had caught me off guard. I was not laughing at you, honest.”

Your face was still warm, though you were a bit hypnotized. You must still be a bit out of it if you couldn’t watch your mouth.

His laugh had you feeling as if your brain was stuck in a loading screen.

This just was not fair. How can he be pretty, have a nice voice, and a hot laugh? Life was a game and somehow he had rigged it.

Just from that small interaction, it wasn’t hard to tell Dracula was now in a good mood. Somehow, he seemed a bit lighter, the air around him not as… suffocating? Intense? Drowning?

You weren’t sure what to call it, but hey, if he was in a better mood, that was better for you.

Dracula then tapped the top of the medical box, grabbing your attention while giving you an amused look.

“Now, you still haven’t answered my request. Would you let me redress your wounds? I wish to see if they are healing well, and if any need more attention in case of infection.”

With a sigh, you nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

May as well let him. He did an amazing job yesterday, and you figure he probably knew even more than you when it came to this stuff.

Sure, it hurt your ego a little bit, but you knew it was the truth. You wouldn’t get anywhere fighting him on it.

Though if you were being honest, the fact he still wanted to treat your wounds so much was very… touching.

Dracula didn’t waste any time after you gave him your consent to look over your injuries. He started with your head, once again summoning an orb of some sorts, and having you look at it.

“How is your head faring? Does it ache?”

You winced a bit.

“Yeah, a little. It’s throbbing a little bit. Though it hurts kinda often anyway.”

His eyes flickered to your face, before looking back at the wound.

“I see…”

He gently looked over the knot on your head for another moment, and you didn’t see his eyes narrow at your words.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why does it hurt so often? Migraines?”

Blinking for a moment, you thought as you registered his question. Was he making small talk?

“Ah… Yes? It has for a while, really. Since I was younger, though I started getting more a little over a year ago. I think it’s stress and past injuries.”

Dracula hummed, before pulling away. His face was neutral, though you couldn’t help but feel he didn’t like that answer.

Was it from the fact you had migraines so often? Or something else? You held back from shaking your head, almost unbelieving that Dracula cared that much.

He then kneeled down, hand hovering over your shirt. Dracula’s red eyes flickered to you, and it hit you he was waiting for permission.

“O-Oh, uh, here-”

You went to move your shirt, before his large, cool hand covered your own.

“Easy. I can do it, don’t push yourself.” He told you gently, his hand carefully over your own.

You had to hold back the shock you felt run down your spine from touching his hand.

After a moment, you let go, and he gently began to lift your shirt. You had to suppress the shudder that went through your body at his tenderness, or when his cool hand briefly touched your skin.

Somehow, he still noticed, though seemed to assume you were shuddering from his cool skin touching your own.

“Apologies.” he murmured, gently trying to peel back the wrappings.

“It’s okay… no worries…” you mumbled back, feeling your head swim. His hand actually felt nice against your skin, which was still incredibly warm. It may not have been as feverish as yesterday, but his cool skin still felt nice against your own.

You didn’t want to think too much about that, especially when your head and feelings were seemingly everywhere for some reason.

Now was not the time to have conflicting feelings about your enemy/savior. Why did your head insist on being weird about it?

When Dracula pulled back the wrap, you found yourself gasping when some of your skin tugged, and Dracula gently shushed you. His eyes softened as he looked at your wound, which looked irritated.

“Ah, as I thought. You are fighting an infection. I will clean the wound and help you rebandage it to fight the infection.”

Swallowing thickly at his words and the way he gently held your sides, you nodded.

“Okay.”

‘I trust you.’ The words almost fell off your tongue, before you clamped your jaw shut. Did you really trust Dracula?

That itself was a loaded question in itself, but right at this moment?

You watched as he pulled out some medicine, and began to tenderly tend to the wound on your side.

Perhaps you could trust him to at least genuinely take care of you.

Like last time, his movements were quick and precise, yet surprisingly gentle. When you felt him apply some medicine to a more tender spot and sucked in a breath, he hummed.

“Good. You’re doing well. I’m almost done.”

You didn’t know if you should be horrified or not to learn you seemed to have a thing for being praised while The King of the Night tends to your wounds.

He was faster than yesterday, not having to worry so much about patching you up so much as checking up on you. Throughout the whole time, you inwardly were fighting with yourself in your head as he would praise you for staying still when an injury stung.

Being in a better state of mind, you didn’t have as much of an excuse growing almost hypnotized to his voice.

So when he started asking you questions and making more conversation, you nearly missed what he was saying.

“...Ah, sorry… What…?” you asked, feeling your cheeks burn again, this time more in embarrassment.

His eyes bore into your own, though there wasn’t any sign of anger or annoyance like you were used to seeing from home. More like there was just underlying concern.

“How did you get some of these wounds? Was it… from a hunt?” He asked, seemingly curious. When he saw your eyes widen, he looked back down at your leg, which he was currently tending to.

“You do not have to answer that if you do not wish to, although I will not take offense if it was.”

You were silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer him. As it may, you didn’t exactly want to air out your dirty laundry to Dracula of all people. Why would he care about shit your family has done to you?

…But then again, why should he care about you at all? Here he was… tending to your wounds.

“Personal issues, that’s all.”

You didn’t feel like telling him everything. What would he even do? Try and talk to you to make you feel better? Ask your step family to stop? The idea almost made you want to laugh.

It was pointless anyway. It’s not like Dracula could do anything about your family issues anyway. You even wondered if he would find it amusing how far your clan has fallen from grace.

His eyes flickered to you, and you could practically see the curiosity in his eyes. However, he didn’t speak, simply going back to patching you up.

“I see.”

If only you knew how much Dracula wished to ask you more.

Ever since he had seen you injured, he wanted to destroy whatever had laid its hands on you. At least it wasn’t a random monster he would have to hunt down, though now he had to figure out how to get you to open up.

He couldn’t just go on a warpath without information, after all. Though he had his suspicions.

You telling him it was personal issues only had those suspicions grow.

But this was a step forward. You answered him this time, and gave him means to make deductions. Educated guesses, sure, but he had a starting point.

Right now, he was at least 60% positive it was family or friend related. Presumably family, if he had to make a wager.

You hardly talked about them when he had been a statue, though it was clear from what little you mentioned, you didn’t seem to care for them.

Why was that? What had the Belmont family become? What had they done to you to get your ire?

The only exception seemed to have been your mother, who he figures has passed. A shame, really.

He disliked Belmonts, but you seemed to get your wisdom from her, so she must have been quite the lady.

Dracula had to tread lightly here though. If this was a family matter, it no doubt was messy. As much as he didn’t like to think about it, he knew all too well how badly messy family relationships could end up.

The vampire lord knew he was a powerful player here, considering this was a Belmont of all people. One wrong move on the board could send everything into chaos.

He could lose you, lose your trust, and be thrust back into this needlessly endless struggle between ‘good and evil’.

Bah.

However, he couldn’t not do anything. Your injuries had been horrifying. With how bad they were, and how much you had pushed yourself, you were very lucky to be alive.

There were also the migraines you had mentioned having. He knew they could simply be chronic, but he had a feeling in his stomach that settled like a rock.

Sure, it was just as likely to be from stress from whatever you were dealing with, or from a past injury.

However… He couldn’t help but feel almost anxious. Something wasn’t right.

Hopefully, if he gained more of your trust, you would let him examine you a bit more. He worried that it may not just have been from some injury.

If presumably your family had done this to you, who is to say they weren’t doing more? The feeling in his gut burned, and he had to hold back his eyes from flashing black and red.

A part of him, the darker side to his mind, was snarling. It thrashed, tearing at the edges of his mind wishing to be freed. It was a piece of him that only came out when his wife had passed. A much darker part of his mind that wasn’t human, one that he had to put in effort now to lock away.

That shadow in his mind demanded vengeance. He wouldn’t admit it, not outloud, but he had grown possessive over his Little Belmont. Whoever had hurt you needed to pay. Vlad wouldn’t just let your fire be smothered. He considered you under his protection.

And Dracula was very protective of those he considered his.

#castlevania #dracula #vlad dracula tepes #castlevania dracula #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #vlad dracula țepeș #reader insert #belmont!reader #love that bites #long post #cw injury #cw abuse mention

188 notes · View notes

killersfool · 5 months

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hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.

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infictionalwonderland · 2 years

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A request from this thirsty fellow — being in a poly relationship with Klaus Mikaelson and Stefan Salvatore I know you've written them already but i crave for more But ! I totally understand if you don't have motivation rn it's okay no problem JUST KNOW I LOVE YOUR WORK 💞

thank you angel! and i understand the craving, trust me — so, you ask and you shall receive 😩

you have these fossil men reduced to hopeless simps

and they have each other reduced to balls of fluff

I WILL NOT AND WILL NEVER GET OVER HUGS FROM BEHIND.

they will both come up behind you and gently entangle their arms over your waist and pull you back into their chest

you have to settle so many debates for these two.

‘y/n, love, will you please tell our boyfriend that he’s wrong and i have the best hair out of us two’

‘y/n, sweetheart, please inform nik that he is extremely incorrect and overall uneducated on the matter of what actually good hair looks like’

baby i’m sorry but you’re never gonna catch a break with these two

nik will randomly request that the two of you pose together and then he’ll spend hours drawing you, music playing in the background

you love seeing the soft moments between klaus & stefan :)

when klaus tucks stefan in after a long day and presses a kiss to his forehead with adoration in his gaze

or when stefan blushes at the range of adoring nicknames that klaus has for him

or when they both apologise at the same time after an argument and end up goofily grinning at one another

they always put your needs above their own

‘have you eaten today?’ when they haven’t even had a blood bag or any sustenance for a while

you go to concerts sometimes together bc stefan is actually quite a fan of various singers/bands

and you all get separation anxiety so therefore you must go together

klaus protectively wraps his arms around both of you and acts as an affectionate bodyguard

he glares at anyone who steps in your personal space which is practically everyone around

if either of you want to see better he will unabashedly hold you in his arms and hoist you up high so you get a good view

OMG ALL THE CAMERA BOOTH PICS

klaus will definitely be reluctant at first but gives in when you and stef start pouting

your fav photo is one where klaus is in the middle — you and stefan each sitting on one of his thighs, kissing either of his cheeks as a soft smile twitches at his lips

stefan’s fav photo is one where he had pushed klaus so his head was resting in your cleavage and the hybrids face was bright red, he ( stefan ) was mid laugh and you were sticking your tongue out at the camera — eyes happy and mildly intoxicated

klaus’ fav photo is when you’re sitting on his lap, sideways, and both him and stefan are tickling you with wide grins as you throw your head back in uncontrollable laughter

all the photos are placed around your shared bedroom along with the drawings and paintings nik has made <3

stefan put both yours and his ringtones for klaus as ‘wolves’ by selena gomez and marshmello

klaus retaliated by putting yours and his ringtone for stefan as ‘bunny, bunny, bunny’ by the golden orchestra

if either you or stefan can’t sleep then klaus will stay up with you and tell you stories from his life in a soothing, hushed tone to hopefully lull you to sleep

adding the hand combing through your hair

most adorable & most chaotic couple!

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landinrris · 5 months

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Lando’s hold over EDM DJs needs to be studied 😂

Zedd buying him a $5000 friendship necklace.

Martin seemingly getting instantly hooked and flying him to Amsterdam and buying him some decks like a month after they met and now them basically them traveling together like they’re each other’s wags.

Kygo bringing him up on stage at a festival with him and acting like Lando’s his long lost little bother or something.

Alesso turning up several times at GPs to support him this year even when he wasn’t playing the afterparty.

Same with Chris Comstock who has been at a few incognito without his Marshmello head.

When he got injured in Vegas his mentions were full of various famous DJs saying they were glad he’s okay.

It’s like he’s a been adopted as the EDM community’s favourite mascot 😂😂

Tbh I've only really paid attention to Martin and Zedd of late, but I absolutely love that it's so many of them. I saw this post the other day that laid out the timeline of Lando and Martin, and my brain promptly melted from my ears. Proper Found Your Person shit if you ask me.

The Lando Effect™ is truly a fascinating phenomenon that should be studied. He breathes and wraps people around his finger

#lando #ask

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dakotakazansky · 1 year

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One Thing Right

Word Count: 768 Tags: Mostly Fluff, hint of angst, mentions drinking and driving, wrecking, hospital

Bradley Bradshaw was not an easy child. He was easy to love, but wrangling that boy was easier said than done. He’d started acting out soon after Goose had passed. He’d been kicked out of every daycare as a child. He picked fights, he pushed and shoved, and he tormented the other children. It always ended the same for poor Carole. She’d love him until the end of the world, back, and then some.

Carole had eventually exhausted all the options she could with daycares. That was when she enlisted Maverick and all his squad buddies to help her care for Bradley while she worked.

“Acting like my mama’s little devilish child.”

During his school years he only got worse. Still always picking fights. Always had barely passing grades, was even held back a year or two before he shaped up enough to barely meet passing grades each year.

During highschool was when he finally met her. What she saw in that boy always shocked Bradley himself. He tried his hardest to push anyone and everyone away, including her, but she never faltered.

Bradley had turned 16, and that just enabled him to be more reckless and wild. His first car was supposed to be Goose’s beloved Bronco. Carole never allowed that to happen, Bradley ended up with some beater that should have been dead on the road from how badly he ran it, but it never faltered as well, until one fateful night.

Bradley had been at a party that one of the school kids had thrown when their parents were out of town. He had one too many drinks and made the decision to drink and drive. He’d swerved all over the road, eventually wrecking that beater car into a tree. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, and was thrown through the windshield of the car.

That night sobered him up well and fast. When he awoke in this hospital bed, he felt that his right hand was soaked. There he had found her. Devoid of all energy, tear stained cheeks, and sleeping. From that night he decided he wanted to be better, if not for himself, but for her.

“When I was getting crazy, reckless and wild…”

That night should’ve been the night that she threw in the towel and walked out of his life once and for all but she didn’t. She stuck by his side through it all. She went to school, got a voice recording of his lessons, and would grab his schoolwork, and as soon as the day ended she was right back in that hospital with him. When he was finally discharged she’d continue on just like before, but arriving at his house after school.

With her help, his spirits after the wreck were lifted, and his grades greatly improved. She saw something in him, and during the worst of it, she never left. She helped him get to and from PT, even sometimes planning little outings for them. On the particularly hard days, she took him to her favorite ice cream shop, before taking him to the beach, where they would spend their time decompressing from stress, with the sound of seagulls and crashing waves.

That had quickly become a tradition for them. Even on the anniversary of Goose’s death, they’d get ice cream, and then head to the beach. It was only a shock to her on that day, that Bradley had asked her to be his girlfriend. It was an even bigger shock to him when she agreed.

“It took a heart like yours to find its place.”

They’d graduated high school together, and eventually graduated college together. They were stuck together like glue. They ended up back on that same beach that they frequented all those years ago, and that was when Bradley dropped two of the biggest bombs on her. Firstly he wanted to join the Navy, to continue to improve himself. The second bomb he dropped was asking her to Marry him. She of course said “Yes!” They had an extended engagement.

Two years and a deployment later, came to this very moment. Bradley and his now wife, dancing their first dance at their wedding reception. Bradley spinning her is slow elegant circles as he sang their entire first dance song to her, as she giggled those music like giggles that he’d never get tired of. He looked her in the eyes finishing the song, “But I got one thing right.” He placed the most tender yet passionately filled kiss to the soft lips of his now wife, before looking deeply into her eyes, whispering, “You.”

If you like what you read, check out my MasterList, for more one shots or stories.

Tagging some people that may be interested:

@mayhemmanaged @roostette @roosterforme @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @desert-fern @lovinglyeternal @sarahsmi13s @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe

#controlled chaos squad #callsign loki #callsign-loki #Bradley Bradshaw imagines #bradleybradshaw #rooster #top gun imagines #top gun maverick imagines #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #Spotify #DakotaKazanskyStories #DakotaKazanskyWrites #one thing right

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branches-in-a-flood · 6 days

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Hey! For the music ask, 1, 24 and 30

1. first song that comes to mind

Unfairly, Cereal Wars by AFI because that was in the last answer I posted. Clearing my mind and trying for a fresh song, we end up at No Plan by Hozier

24. favorite song from 80s

I'm sure I have an actual favorite that I will never actively remember unless it's playing, but I'm gonna pick Blasphemous Rumours from Depeche Mode. (Master and Servant is also high on the list, but Blasphemous Rumours is more fun to sing)

30. song you wish you could make somebody listen to who isn't in your life anymore

I don't know that I have an answer to this one. Maybe Ceremony by Svdden Death and Marshmello. I think it's a song they would have enjoyed, based on the things we used to listen to together.

#con clavi con jae

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tomorrowxtogether · 2 years

Photo

25/09/22 Taehyun’s Tweet

Your secret is safe with me @marshmello

#TAEHYUN

#txt #tomorrow x together #220925 #twitter #kang taehyun #taehyun #marshmello

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hanggarae · 6 months

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big deep breath OK SO . ive been so excited for this comeback like idk with every new cb i feel like i get even more excited than with the precious one yk so i was really waiting for it to come out!! they released the mv while i was in class (they hate me) but during a little break not long after i managed to watch it and i was bobbing my head and swinging my feet at the sound LJKE U DONT GET IT I WAS GENUINELY SO HAPPY

honestly this is one of my fav svt albums and idk it just makes me so happy all the songs are so perfect and good there's not a single one i don't enjoy and the aesthetic is so cute and im so excited and impatient to FINALLY HAVE MY ALBUM IN MY HANDS ARGHHHH but yes this was such a success im so happy they broke so many records and they just continue to prove how talented they are wooooo

for the songs there isn't one i dislike at all but i really like SOS idk the beat js so nice and the lyrics are really good and this may be also due to me loving marshmello when i was younger but STILL !!! Diamond days makes me SOOOOO NOSTALGIC i love it so much im so glad they used kind off the same sound/sample as Shining Diamond im in love 💔💔 i think back 2 back is my fav song of the album!! i love minghaos highnote and the beat and just the overal vibe idk it stood out to me sm their voices fit the song so well im obsessed with the part around 1.30 where dino and hao sing in like a low voice? YGM BUT ITS SOOOOO GOOD just the entire song is so good i think tbh i have a soft spot for pu songs 😭😭😭😭 i haven't had much the time to really analyze yawn but the soft voices and vocals are heavenly i genuinely passed away BECAUSE YOU ARE MY BREATH 💔💔💔💔 LIKE WDYM UR MY BREATH WHY IS THIS SONG MAKING ME TEAR UP DONT EVEN LIE RNNN monster is such a fun song i just know I'll play it on repeat like fire while im walking to uni to wake me up and get me in study mode 💥💥💥 it's giving Halloween vibes and im here for it!!!! it's also just fun to me because my roommate/bsf and i bet on who sang the first line and she swore it was gyu and i swore it was vernon and today we didn't see each other much so like 1h ago she told me she saw in a lyric vid that gyu sang that line and i was like ??? girl i have weverse and i follow it religiously so ik it's both of them AND WE COULDNT AGREE BECAUSE WE DIDNT HAVE ANY PROOF so i ended up showing her weverse and it was so fun we were both right in the end and we did a silly dance LMAOOAOOOO IT WAS SO FUNNY 😻😻😻😻 but lemme tell u about headliner. FUCK THAT SONG BRO WHY AM I CRYING ??????? no it's actually my fav song along back 2 back like are u actually kidding me ???? this song makes me wanna study even more for my Korean classes like FUCK HEADLINER SO BAD 💔😭😭😭😭😭 I CRY AND LAUGH WITH YOU THIS NIGHT💔💔💔💔💔 WHERE WE OFFER ALL OUR LOVE💔💔💔💔 HOW BEAUTIFUL💔💔💔💔💔 BEVAHSE YOURE MY HEADLINER 💔💔💔💔💔 this moment when we shine together don't lie rn I'll actually kms and take a bath with my toaster like wow jumping of the 9th floor of the apartment building next door seems like such a fun activity today 😻😻😻😻😻😻

RIGHT OMG I WAS LITERALLY TUNING IN EVERYDAY AT 12 AM KST TO SEE IF THEY DROPPED FHE ANNOUNCEMENT AND WHEN THEY DID I WAS SOOOOO HYPED ‼️ like fml was SO huge i couldn’t wait for this one ALSO THE MV LITERALLY RELEASED DURING A PRACTICE FIRE DRILL FOR ME 😭😭

it genuinely is one of my faves too, like although the songs aren’t necessarily my fave of each unit (i still LOVE each one) the album was just so well put together ?? everything flowed perfectly and like usually it’ll take me like two or three listens to like some songs but i listened to the album start to finish ONCE and fell in love w EVERYTHING i’m not even kidding ❤️‍🔥 I CANR WAIT FOR MY ALBUMD TO GET HERE AYSHSHAHDJHS

right like there wasn’t a bad song at all !!! my fave has to be headliner bc it’s just so fucking emotional like woozi why u got me crying on the train home 😐😐😐 it gives me MAJOR our dawn is hotter than day vibes which i love sm !! the whole album vibes reminded me a little of you make my day a little i think it’s just me but yeah ‼️ i LOVED back 2 back too omg perf unit ALWAYS hits and YAWN OMG 😓 every track was amazing 😓😓😓 STOP THE DEBATES ON THE MONSTER FIRST LINE LMFAAOAOAO 😭😭 speaking of monster, cheol’s part.. changed me . i loved SOS too omg it gave such like band vibes ??

ALSO HELPPPPP HEADLINER’S LYRICS OMG 😓😓 my mom heard me listen to it and said “girl why are u listening to such sad lyrics..”

#dori .. 🪼#seventeenth heaven we luv you

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onestepbackwards · 7 months

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Love That Bites Pt. 9

Hiiii! Welcome to part 9 of my Dracula x Reader fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I apologize if it feels kinda wonky. I finally got a new pc built during writing, and a bunch of other stuff has happened. It was hard to piece it all together with so much happening in my life. I hope you all enjoy it though! Just in time for Nocturne to release :D Summary: After arriving in Dracula's castle, you can't help but feel you are in a dream, though you certainly wish it was to avoid the awkward air. Meanwhile, Dracula contemplates his next moves. After all, he's sure he's bound to be the center of the world's gossip mill when they find out he's caring for a Belmont.

CW: Anxiety, references to bad home life, injuries mentioned, blood drinking

Word Count: 4216 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @Onewiththebeanbag @starrlo0ver @sleepyendymion @dame-sunflowers @sapphicsfordracula @ursamajor17 @maorizon @marshmelloe Wanna be on the taglist, let me know in the comments!

First: Here Last: Here Next: Here! --

Sorting his affairs turned out to be a much more annoying endeavor than Dracula originally intended.

Despite this, he wasn’t all too surprised.

For the past few centuries, despite being the King of the Night, he has had very little presence in paranormal societies.

Every time he had been revived since this cursed cycle began, he had barely been alive long before a Belmont or some other hero would come and battle him to the death.

Even if for all intents and purposes he was the King of Vampires, he has had little or no time to rule.

He absentmindedly swirled his glass, before taking another sip.

There were two probable scenarios because of this.

Vampire covens and supernatural communities were in chaos.

Or-

They were in various communities across the globe, staking territory. He doubted any of them would be happy he was back to rule.

No one liked their own power to be threatened, after all.

Even when he was actively King, vampire covens and paranormal communities weren’t always happy to serve him. Many just did for his power, or the safety he offered.

Some felt the call of power from him and Castlevania itself. Others are uniquely tied to him and his castle. Those ones he hardly had to worry about.

No, he had a feeling his return wouldn’t be as happily accepted outside his usual circles. Most would probably only lend him an ear since he was Death’s master, and Chaos’ champion.

Did not mean they would be cooperative or happy.

He let out an agitated sigh. No doubt being killed over and over made him appear weak. Dracula suspected many would be aiming for his throat and his throne.

Nevermind the fact he was almost always slain just after being revived, before his powers ever had a chance to settle.

And he was sure many underestimated the power of the Belmonts. He may have always just woken up around each battle, but each Belmont still had power beyond belief.

“What a nuisance.” He muttered, downing more blood.

While normally he would handle this himself, he couldn’t afford to sit idly and wait for such pathetic attempts on his life and power from want-to-be rulers.

Dracula had a guest this time. He had you.

Back when his precious Lisa had still been alive, he had been alive for several centuries at that point. Almost every underling knew she was off limits, lest they desire something more painful than death itself.

Even those he knew wanted his head knew better than to go for his wife.

Lisa had been left alone by his servants and other creatures of the night. Ironic how it was the humans that took her from him.

The gall and irony humans had to call him and his own monsters after that. Bah.

The glass in his hand cracked, and he looked at it in annoyance.

Banishing it, another drink was brought to him as he continued to think.

Things were different this time. At least back then, no one dared to lay a finger on his wife. But now?

He had no doubts a target would be on both his head, and the Little Belmont’s.

Dracula was sure word was already spreading across the castle, and no doubt would soon do so to other communities nearby.

‘The Dracula? Taking in another human?’

He can already imagine the gossip.

The scowl on his face darkened.

It would only be a matter of time before word reached across the globe.

He knew you could take care of yourself, sure. You had told him several stories of hunts you had when he had been imprisoned, usually involving the death of a beast hunting innocents.

However, there was no way in hell you would survive in your current state. Whatever had happened, had intended to either permanently harm, or to kill you.

Dracula’s free hand gripped his throne tight, and he felt the arm of it splinter slightly.

How you received those injuries was a whole different issue that he would have to investigate later on. An issue he planned on thoroughly going over.

So for now, you were under his official protection while you healed.

Unless of course, you decided to go against your word. Though, Dracula heavily doubted you would do so.

You really were different then those who came before you.

This would not be easy, but when had it ever been? He was just thankful you knew how to defend yourself, and had the means to do so.

Once word got out, and you were healed, he also had suspicions you would be hunted. Either as a Belmont, Dracula’s human, or a ‘traitor’.

He may not have been privy to any sort of personal information regarding hunters and their circles, but he knew back a few centuries ago, helping out a ‘monster’ was a death sentence. It did not matter if they didn’t wish to harm humans, simply helping a beast was an act against god and humanity itself.

Hunters and the church considered such a person no better than the very beasts they hunted at that point.

Dracula doubted that sentiment was completely gone, even now in more modern times.

Reaching up, Dracula pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

He had someone making potions for you at least. Hopefully you wouldn’t be badly injured for too long.

After that, he wondered if you would be opposed to staying here at his castle? You didn’t seem disgusted by it, nor did the castle seem to try and push you away like it did other intruders.

Those who were not welcome usually felt such pushes on their mind and body. Only the strong willed could push onwards past it.

Even his castle seemed to see you as a guest.

The castle bent to his will, sure, but it was still a being of Chaos. This small revelation also intrigued him, how such a being seemed not to mind your presence.

Perhaps it was that it also didn’t consider you a threat? It was obvious you currently had no intentions to fight him.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, a presence pulling him out of his thoughts.

The room grew darker, and a familiar figure rose from the shadows. It flew around his throne, before giving a bow in front of him.

“Good to see you back, Master.”

Death.

Dracula looked over the divine being that had worked under him for centuries. His second in command, his devout lieutenant.

Dracula gave the being a brief nod of acknowledgment, and Death rose.

Even after all the deaths Dracula had endured, Death itself still remained loyal after all these years. He supposed he should count it as a blessing now.

“Report?” Dracula then idly asked, drinking from his glass.

“Things are running smoothly. Everyone is settling in quickly, as usual my lord.”

Dracula hummed.

“Good. Good.” He mumbled, mind still partially elsewhere.

A moment passed, and Death gripped his scythe.

“Master, if I may be so bold…”

Dracula held back a sigh, already having an inkling to what he was going to say.

“Do you think it is wise to have a hunter, let alone a Belmont residing in the castle?”

There it was. He knew his subordinates would be asking sooner or later. He wasn’t particularly surprised Death was the first to make an inquiry.

“They pose no threat. This Belmont is… different from the others. I would like to speak with them properly about our standing with one another as soon as they are recovered.”

He then looked Death in the face.

“They are not to be harmed while under my care. Do I make myself clear?”

Death studied him for a moment, probably wondering if he had a few screws loose, before nodding his head.

“As you wish, milord.”

Death was silent, and a beat passed. Dracula hoped his warning managed to sink into the other entity’s skull.

He was no stranger to the fact Death was his most avid supporter. Although Death had always followed his orders, the entity didn’t shy away from making its own decisions if he felt it was best for his master.

Staying within Dracula’s orders, but bending the rules just enough to do his own thing if he could get away with it.

Typically Dracula didn’t mind. Death was his most trusted lieutenant for a reason.

However, he couldn’t help but feel Death may try and get around this one rule if it felt it was best.

As much as he hated it, he would have to keep an eye on all his close subordinates.

Dracula tried not to focus on the growing migraine building in his head.

“Now, what of the vampire covens across the earth?”

Death gave him a subtle crooked grin, and Dracula had a sinking feeling he would need another drink before returning to see you.

—

Dracula’s castle was far more pleasant than you would like to admit.

Your brain was in and out of a fog, but even then you could appreciate just how nice the guest room and washroom alone were.

You almost felt like royalty with how classy and intricate the rooms were, and how they had convenient modern touches.

Never had you stayed somewhere so elaborate and fancy. All the hotels you have been in couldn’t even come close to compare.

Even now as you laid in the giant bed with its soft, velvet sheets, you couldn’t help but be amazed.

Kinda ironic, the home of your ‘enemy’ was way better than any place you had ever stayed at.

Besides maybe your own home before your step family took over, you supposed, though that was a long time ago.

Slowly rolling onto your back, you winced as your wounds flared and your stomach churned. You continued to admire your setting.

The bed had a beautiful silk canopy around it, and you still couldn’t help but be enamored by it.

Or by it all, really. Even if it was a bit overwhelming.

…Just how long has it been?

You had been in and out of sleep, occasionally slipping into a doze before startling awake. The time was lost to you.

In retrospect, you couldn’t help it. Your instincts were going haywire from… well, everything.

The bed and sheets were nice at least. Almost too nice.

You were used to your old sheets, or stiff bed sheets you’d find in cheap hotels.

Not soft satin sheets and pillows that were as fluffy as a cloud.

There was also the glaring fact you were in monster territory. Despite how nice the decor was, it was something on the back of your mind also keeping you up.

Yes, Dracula said you were a guest, but it was hard to lower your guard when you knew just outside the door were monsters roaming up and down the halls. That this whole castle was filled to the brim with the paranormal and monster kind.

You were also a hunter, and a notorious one from a notorious family at that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine some monsters may go ahead and take a shot at you, regardless of Dracula’s orders.

To some, it may be worth it to suffer Dracula’s wrath or ire if it meant eradicating you from existence. It wasn’t exactly a secret that a lot of the paranormal hated you.

You carefully laid on your side, and looked out the window.

A small comfort. Originally, the window had been covered by thick curtains. However, you had pulled them aside to attempt to relieve your anxiety.

The clouds were dark. You couldn’t tell if it was night or day at this point. Perhaps that was the point.

But you were so tired. Exhausted.

You really couldn’t even sleep if you wanted to, knowing Dracula, or at least a servant, would be bringing you a meal sometime soon.

The hunter in your soul didn’t wish to be taken off guard, even if it was to be fed.

A small part of you wondered if you should even eat. Your instincts whispered in your mind about poisons, warning you of incoming death.

But that was ridiculous. Imagine it, you, a hunter, dying from poison.

No, if Dracula wanted you dead, he would have killed you by now. By his own hand no less, you were sure.

Still, that didn’t stop your instincts from making things difficult.

You curled in on yourself a bit tighter, wincing when some of the stitches tugged. Reluctantly, you adjusted to keep them from stretching.

You reached over, and grabbed the nearby pillow, and hugged it close to your body for some comfort.

It smelled nice.

That was another issue. You were so sleep deprived and struggling with blood loss, your brain liked to bring up such things, no matter how much you were trying to shut them out.

Gripping the pillow tighter, you felt your face form into a sour look.

“What am I going to do…” You mumbled, closing your eyes again.

At least if you didn’t sleep, lying here would be some rest. Better than none.

Though you hated to admit how much you jumped when you heard a brief, but loud knocking against the door. Talk about acting like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…

You sat up in bed with a wince, and you noticed that no one seemed to enter. Another knock followed the previous one. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Uh… Come in…?” you called out, uncertain. Were they waiting to see if you were awake, or what?

The doorknob slowly turned, and you felt like the breath was punched out of you when Dracula stepped through.

Right. He had mentioned he would return.

He looked different though. Better, if you had to put a word to it. He wasn’t particularly disheveled to begin with, but now he didn’t look as… Hungry? Irritated? It was hard to figure out the words.

The Lord of the Night had also changed. Similar style, dark cloak and all, though he had on a vest with a dark red dress shirt underneath, and some sort of fancy slacks.

You imagined you probably would have wanted to change too if you had been wearing the same clothes as a stone statue for however many years.

But seeing Dracula again? You hated to admit how he practically took your breath away.

His power and presence were just as intimidating as before, and he wasn’t even angry. How did your ancestors handle him before, when he felt this powerful without seemingly intending to harm you?

Dracula looked you over briefly as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Even if there were no traces of malice on his face, a shiver still ran down your spine, instincts still screaming to run or fight.

You swallowed your nerves down as he walked closer.

He stopped at the side of your bed, and once again, you had to crane your neck just to see him at his full height.

That is, until with the wave of his hand, a chair nearby in the room came scooting forward. It came to a stop behind him, and he sat down without a glance.

Internally, you hoped your awe wasn’t blatantly on your face.

When he sat, he crossed his legs, before holding a tray with some sort of bowl on it. He held it forward, and you blinked at it slowly.

“I hope you are resting well, Little Belmont. I had some servants make you some soup. I fear eating solids may upset your stomach, which would aggravate your injuries if you were to grow sick.” He spoke, his voice low and deep. Even if he wasn’t loud, his voice still seemed to vibrate in your chest.

It took his words a few moments to register, and you looked between him, and the tray. He took in your expression for a moment, before speaking once more.

“If you fear it has been tampered with, I assure you my servants-”

“Oh, no… It’s fine. Sorry, I’m…” You spoke, cutting him off, ignoring how your pulse spiked when you realized you did so.

“S-Sorry… My head is a bit foggy, is all…” You then explained, before shakily reaching for the tray.

Dracula was quick, or perhaps, your brain really was slow. He held out a hand, and quite gently might you add, set the tray down on your lap.

“Of course. You must not exert yourself, and you must eat. I do not know how long it has been since you last ate, but you need something in your stomach.”

As if hearing the conversation, your stomach loudly growled, and you felt your face flush in embarrassment. When was the last time you ate? This morning? Night before last? You couldn’t exactly remember…

It was brief, but you swore you could have seen Dracula’s lips twitch upward seeing you grow flustered. It must have been your foggy mind and imagination. Or not, he could be internally laughing at you. Who knows?

Meanwhile, Dracula knew he had been right to bring you soup. He just hoped you could hold it down.

Though he didn’t want to admit how… endearing it was seeing you grow flustered like that. For a Belmont, you were quite the adorable human.

He would never admit it of course, but hell save him if Death ever found out he had such thoughts. Dracula would never hear the end of it.

Especially considering such thoughts were about a Belmont. Someone he should be wasting no time slaying.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

There was something so different about you, even now, as he watched you pick up the spoon and attempt to eat.

You didn’t stare at him with burning hate in your eyes, but curiosity. There was a sharp mind behind those eyes that asked questions. Someone who didn’t just jump to conclusions.

Was it so wrong he wanted to see more of that, especially in the family of his enemies, who had blindly ran and fought? Killing innocents of his kind?

He was no saint, far from it. But he knew of many others the Belmont clan had killed.

But you… You were so different. He didn’t wish to say it outloud, but he wished to push forward that way of thinking. Perhaps he could even find a middle ground with you.

You weren’t just some ‘scary hunter’. The Little Belmont in front of him showed so much more, showing the better qualities of humanity.

His face almost soured at the thought, but even he could admit every one in a million, perhaps one good human was born. You seemed to be that one in a million exception so far.

Just like Lisa had been.

He decided not to think too much on what that could mean, though he hoped it promised good things in the near future.

It was quiet for a while, and Dracula couldn’t help but study you as you ate. First and foremost, it was to watch and make sure your body could handle it.

But he had his own selfish reasons for doing so.

He could move again. React to you. Speak to you. Touch you.

However, he found it hard to speak. There were many things he wanted to talk about with you, and half of them he intended on waiting until you were a little bit healthier.

Anything he thought of before now though, was suddenly caught on his tongue as he observed.

Perhaps it would be better this way. Dracula prided himself on being charismatic and influential, but that was amongst the supernatural. This was a Belmont, and he knew things were… shaky at best.

However, as he watched you try and consume more of the soup, he found himself managing to say something.

“Are you feeling alright? Adjusting well?”

Briefly, you tensed when he spoke, before you seemed to force yourself to relax. He made a mental note of that reaction, wondering if it was because of him, or if it was a natural response.

Dracula could understand it if it was from him, given the circumstances, but even he could tell there was something off about it. He didn’t like the feeling settling in his gut over the bigger picture.

“It hurts a lot, but I’ll live.” You spoke, your voice still rough, but sounding leagues better than before. For a moment, it looked as if you wanted to say more, but held your tongue.

Interesting.

You were still for a moment, struggling to look at him. No doubt you were still having trouble thinking clearly, and struggling with everything that had happened. Have you even slept?

He had his doubts you’ve even rested. You may not look as manic like before, but you looked completely exhausted.

For a moment, he briefly thought about using his abilities to make you sleep. It was something Lisa would request on occasion if she hadn’t felt well or couldn’t settle.

However, he stomped that idea down. The last thing you needed was him using his powers like that on you, unless explicitly agreed upon. Even though you were… receptive of him taking care of you at the moment, he didn’t want to shatter that small bit of trust.

Given that he had suspicions about your home life, he imagined just the small bit of trust you had given him at all was momentous. Dracula couldn’t afford to lose that. Not now.

Though Dracula hated the odd pain in his chest as he stared at you. He was worried. Something he didn’t think he would ever feel again.

“Thank you, by the way.”

His eyes were on your face in an instant as you spoke.

“I… You didn’t have to take care of me. I do appreciate it.” You spoke, your eyes still on the bowl in your lap.

Your voice was small, and quiet. Dracula could tell though, saying that must have taken strength.

You didn’t see his eyes soften ever so slightly.

“You are welcome. As my guest, I will do my best to make sure you are taken care of.”

Internally you wanted to scream. You hated how much you liked the sound of that. When was the last time anyone cared enough to take care of you? Your mother before she had died all those years ago?

It had been way too long, and it was Dracula who was seemingly wanting to take care of you.

Damn your foggy mind.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I… Um…” You began, unsure on how to word this.

“About when you were a statue…”

You had so many questions, but didn’t know where to begin. Was it even a good idea to ask in the state you were in?

“You could hear and see everything, right?” you asked tentatively.

Dracula was silent for a moment, red eyes staring into you. It seemed he was contemplating what to say, and you tried not to get nervous as the seconds awkwardly ticked onward.

“Indeed I was. I was aware the moment you stepped foot in my castle the first time, though I was not aware it was a Belmont, not at first.”

His voice was still like velvet. No wonder vampires were such good hunters if they could talk like him.

You really needed to force yourself to sleep. Maybe if you smacked your head hard enough on the table, you could knock yourself out before you did or thought anything weirder.

Clenching your fist, you attempted to figure out what to say next.

“Um…”

Internally you cursed yourself for making this awkward. Why did you have to bring this up?

“Then… What now?” You asked, trying to find some semblance of what comes next. Just because he was taking care of you didn’t make everything all happy and cheery.

You couldn’t wash away centuries of history and bloodshed out of nowhere.

Dracula shifted, then reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a glass of water. You looked at it confused.

When had he brought that in?

Before you could ask, he was gently holding it out to you.

“We can discuss that after you have rested. We have much to go over, but worrying about that and discussing it while you are injured won’t help your healing.”

He looked away a moment, as if contemplating what to say, before his eyes met your own once again.

“You have gained my interest and respect, enough to hear you out and discuss everything. When you are in a state to do so, of course.”

A part of you opened your mouth to speak, as if to say you could do it now, but you froze. Your eyes landed on the glass he still held out.

After a moment, you closed your mouth, and took the glass.

In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel like some sort of agreement or contract was formed, as if your fate was sealed.

As you sipped the refreshing water though, and looked over at Dracula himself, who seemed pleased you accepted the drink…

…You wondered if this would really be that bad?

Perhaps your future wouldn’t be as bleak as you thought.

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