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princessanonymous · 3 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

20. 𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 (𝓞𝓻 𝓪𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭)

As the days unfolded, (Y/n) found herself slowly embracing a sense of ease. It marked the third day away from the vampires, and Dorian had yet to find her. The sisters at the nunnery, though aware of little about her past, treated her with kindness. They likely assumed she was a noble child whose family had fallen victim to a vampire attack. While not entirely true, the fact remained: she was now an orphan. The idea of being sent to an orphanage lingered in the background, but for now, the sisters seemed to enjoy her presence, and she, in turn, appreciated theirs.

In the cozy living room, (Y/n) engaged in companionship with some of the nuns. Glancing outside on the sunny day, she made a face — too bright and too sunny. After months of living nocturnally, adapting to the daytime proved more challenging than (Y/n) expected.

Turning her attention elsewhere, she marveled at the beautiful handcrafts one nun was creating — a delicate handkerchief adorned with flowers and butterflies. "Does this take a lot of time?" she inquired, observing Sister Margaret's skilled embroidery.

Smiling, Sister Margaret shook her head. "Once you've mastered the basics, it becomes an easy, even pleasant task," she explained calmly.

A knock at the door disrupted their peaceful moment. Three men entered, one clad in religious garb and the other two resembling battle-hardened hunters. Knives and stakes adorned their brown leather belts. Father Thomas, a familiar face, led the group. The priest routinely visited the nunnery. The hunters, though, were completely unfamiliar to her.

"Hello, (Y/n)," Father Thomas greeted with a grandfatherly smile. "How are you today?"

"Good," she replied briefly.

The priest gestured to the hunters. "Allow me to introduce Archibald and Jonah Rowan. They are vampire hunters. They will help us track down the vampire that attacked you."

Vampire hunters? A shiver ran down her spine at the sight of their weaponry. "What will you do to him?" she asked hesitantly, trying to maintain composure.

Archibald stepped forward gruffly, "We'll track that beast down and send it back right where it's s'posed to be; in Hell."

She bit her lip, uncertain.

"We just need ya' to tell us everythin' you know 'bout this thing," added the other.

Reluctance crept inside her ; she was unsure if she wanted to do that. She couldn't bring herself to tell them anything she knew. Killian was with Dorian, which meant that if she sent the hunters to him, his partner would be attacked too. Even then, she didn't want to aid in killing Dorian. She knew she should, but she didn't want to. He hadn't hurt her that bad; he had treated her— no matter how he had treated her, he just didn't deserve such a fate.

Looking away, she clutched her doll, Clementine, close. Killian had put it in her bags and she had been relieved when she found it. It was like a souvenir of him. "I don't— I don't remember anything,” she gulped.

"Are you sure, (Y/n) ?" The priest questioned skeptically with a probing stare.

"I don't remember anything," she reiterated more fervently, hugging the doll defensively. "Why would I lie?"

They exchanged hesitant glances, some unconvinced, unsure why she'd conceal the vampire's identity. Opting not to disclose further information, (Y/n) focused on rearranging Clementine's dress, witnessing the frustration on the hunters' faces as they posed more questions unanswered. She simply chose silence.

⊱ ────── {⋆𖤐⋆} ────── ⊰

Someone knocked at the door to the room she had been staying in for the past five days. She stood up from her modest bed, a sense of routine settling into her life.

"Good morning, dear. Why don't you come down to eat?" Sister Margaret invited, her voice gentle and reassuring. The girl nodded appreciatively, grateful for the sense of normalcy and compassion that surrounded her in this place. She followed the older woman, their footsteps echoing through the quiet corridors, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the estate she had left behind.

Together, they descended the stairs, arriving in the communal area where the other inhabitants of the house were already seated for breakfast. The atmosphere was a far cry from the gloomy estate she had escaped. Here, the air was filled with a calm and pleasant energy, a stark departure from the tension that had become the norm in her previous surroundings.

Breakfast unfolded as a tranquil, communal affair. The residents engaged in light conversation, sharing anecdotes and laughter that resonated with genuine warmth. The contrast to the heavy, stifling meals at the estate was stark. Here, the air was filled with a sense of camaraderie and acceptance.

(Y/n) appreciated the small talk, the mundane discussions that seemed almost magical in their simplicity. The nuns were welcoming, never pressuring her to conform to any expectations. It felt like a breath of fresh air, the light-hearted and carefree atmosphere she had been deprived of for far too long.

Seated at the table, (Y/n) chose to remain quiet, observing the interactions around her. She found solace in the light-hearted banter, relishing the newfound freedom to simply listen and be present. It was a stark departure from the oppressive silence that often accompanied her meals in the estate, and she savored the moments of normalcy.

The people around her in this new place seemed genuinely kind, their gestures and words motivated by a compassion that was almost foreign to her. Their warmth enveloped her without being overbearing, and she found solace in the genuine care that surrounded her. It was a stark contrast to the kind of love she had experienced in the gloomy estate.

As she sat at the breakfast table, her stomach twisted a bit. The contrast between the meals here and those at the vampire’s estate brought forth a mix of emotions. Dorian's way of caring, though vastly different and at times unsettling, lingered in her thoughts. In a strange, messed-up way, she found herself longing for it even in the midst of this newfound haven.

Her mind wandered to memories of hands brushing through her hair, the warmth of a kiss on her forehead, or the sensation of a hand holding her wrist with a vice-like, firm grip. These were nothing but fragments of the past, haunting her in the present. These were nothing but phantom touches, feelings that would most likely disappear eventually. For now, however, they felt comforting ; like she wasn't alone and he wouldn't leave. It was a thought that both terrified her and brought her a form of solace.

Was it normal to long for someone who had caused her so much pain? The question lingered, only troubling her more,

Five days.

Only five days and she already missed that place; her lavish prison. He must have done something to her, must have messed her up somehow, causing this inner turmoil to brew within her.

She flinched visibly, the sudden touch triggering an instinctive reaction that she couldn't control. The hand that had innocently rested on hers quickly retreated at her adverse response. Sister Gloria, with a heart full of concern, had a visibly worried expression on her face, having keenly observed the gloom that had settled over (Y/n). The girl gave her a strained smile, not knowing what else to do. The woman's expression softened slightly, but the creases of worry on her forehead remained.

After the meal, once she finished helping them clean up the place, Sister Glaria requested her help in feeding Pepper, the horse that had aided in her escape. While the nunnery didn't have a stable, they had set up a small temporary cabin to ensure the horse was well taken care of.

The girl readily agreed and followed Sister Gloria to the makeshift stable. As they entered, the familiar presence of Pepper greeted them, the horse's gentle eyes reflecting a sense of trust that had been forged during their shared journey through the forest.

(Y/n) petted the horse affectionately, expressing her gratitude for Pepper's assistance. The revelation that horses could be trained to navigate an entire trip on their own had been surprising to her. The journey through the dense forest had been long, and she hadn't arrived until the sun had set. It hadn’t been a linear path either, Pepper had trudged through the plants and trees masterfully, turning left or right at different points until they finally reached their destination.

"What is her name?" asked Sister Gloria with a soft smile, her curiosity evident. It was then that (Y/n) realized she had never shared the name of the mare with those at the nunnery.

Caught off guard, she blushed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Pepper."

The nun's eyebrows rose in recognition, a light of realization in her eyes. "Oh, that must be why she looks so familiar."

(Y/n) furrowed her brows in confusion. "She does?"

"A brunette with long hair. He took strolls around here for the last month, practically every day, with the same precise path, and occasionally came to talk to us. That’s how we learned this mare’s name."

As the nun spoke, (Y/n)'s mind raced, trying to piece together the information. A gentleman with a familiar routine, someone who had taken the time to introduce Pepper to the nunnery. She smiled faintly; Killian.

The woman paused for an instant and placed a hand on her mouth. "Oh dear, he hasn't come here recently... Is he— was he... your father ?"

The nun jumped to the unlikely and wrong conclusion that Killian could be her dead father, but (Y/n) shut that down quickly. She shook her head, "No, an... acquaintance. Someone that helped." Misunderstandings were quick to happen when she wasn’t telling them the whole truth, but she thought it was better that way.

Sister Goria sighed in relief. There was a moment of silence as she fed a carrot to Pepper.

"Sister Gloria, what is going to happen to me now?" (Y/n) finally asked a question she dreaded the answer to.

The woman remained silent for sometime, before saying, "Word of mouth has already begun to circle around. Local villages have been informed. We will find a place for you. Maybe in an orphanage or a benevolent family."

Dread took hold of (Y/n). She didn't like the sound of those options, neither an orphanage nor being placed with a family she didn't know. However, the nun offered an alternative, a glimmer of hope in the form of staying here.

"But, you could also stay here if you wish to," she added with a warm smile. "We would love to have a young girl around here to liven up the mood. I am sure nobody would mind."

The idea of being part of a community that had shown her kindness and understanding felt less daunting. She mused at the possibility, imagining herself contributing to the lighthearted atmosphere she had grown to appreciate.

"You don't have to decide now," assured the nun.

That struck her in an odd way. 'You don't have to decide now'. She had a choice, didn't she? The realization sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

"I like that," she managed to say, her voice cracking slightly, "I like that very much."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #toxic relationship #abusiveness #Our girl seems to be healing :)

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poetrybyonur · 4 months

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Life is full of choices. How a person treats another is also a choice. If they choose to cherish you, it means they chose you. It means they want you in their life. If they choose to mistreat you, it simply means they didn’t choose you. They don’t care if you stay or go. Be wise and leave.

(Music by Willowbay)

#poets on tumblr #love quotes #love poetry #romantic poetry #love poem #romantic writer #onurtaskiran poetry #poets and writers #gentleman poet #love #poetrybyonur #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #choices #i choose you #friendship quotes #relationship quotes #kindness #abusiveness

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keytomyheartxoxo · 6 months

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The reality is, you treated me like shit and I tolerated it. I questioned my reality and my worth. That wasn’t love, that was abuse.

#abusiveness #relationships #emotional abuse #recovery #fuck you

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writerofadream · 4 months

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Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI! Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Twenty-One: The kids we left behind

(Netflix isn't working once again so enjoy a flashback chapter! You and Duncan are both seven, and this mainly revolves around his older brother, not a long chapter, sorry but i havent paid my internet bill or whatever so i wanna savor it- is that how that works-)

Mick watched Duncan wait patiently by the door. He knew that his youngest brother was anxiously awaiting for you to arrive. It seemed that the boy was always waiting for you.

Leo, was asleep and was nearly on top of Mick by the time you finally arrived. He didn't stay asleep for long though, you burst into the house nearly oozing with light.

"OKAY SO-" You jumped on top of Duncan who already was laughing.

Mick was amazed by the transformation you held over Duncan. The abused child who typically was quiet and reserved turned into this happy and joyful creature.

It was horrifying, but in a fun way.

"Miss me?" you smiled still nearly straddling the other boy. The boy smiled, and flipped you onto your back. "Always." He winked.

Oh these fuckers- Mick rolled his eyes, he never thought he'd say this about two children- but fucking marry each other already holy shit it's wild.

James walked by the living room and stopped seeing his youngest brother straddling the girl, James considered as another sibling.

"Uh-" James looked onto the couch and saw a half-asleep Leo, an amused Mick, Kenny who was for some reason under the coffee table, and Henry and Lucas staring at the TV.

"You gonna do something about this?" He questioned Mick who smiled and shrugged.

God, brothers.

"Idiots, I'm going to tell Ben about this I swear to god-" James turned around and ran up the stairs into the communal room he shared with his six other brothers.

Ben was scrolling through his phone doing situps on the top bunk. "Ben, how on earth does Duncan get more girls then you do?" James smiled scratching his nose with his middle finger.

"Dude, it's cause I'm gay-"

"Fair enough."

Ben rolled his eyes and jumped off the top bunk and whiped his hands on his sweatpants. "Show me the damage." He ushered his brother back downstairs into the living room.

The two bestfriends had now migrated onto the couch, and they were sitting next to Leo who was back to his usual snoring.

Y/N had her arm intertwined with Duncan's and was rambling about her day, but both brothers were a good 90% sure he wasn't listening, his eyes were focused on you, and there was this dreamy look in his eyes which made it clear he wasn't all there.

"You understand that they are like literally in love with each other, right-" Ben turned around to James unsure of what the problem was.

"... well for starters... their seven-"

"So? You had your first kiss at seven." Ben pointed out and James gave him a pointed glare. "I was asleep and it was the dog." James hissed.

"Your just sad because your brother is getting more action then you are." Ben laughed patting his brothers arm and sitting down on the couch, ruffling you and Duncan's hair with a fond smile.

"There is seven of us, it's almost guaranteed that one of us has to be." Mick said his eyes on the TV. "Why were you listening?" James raised an eyebrow. "Well it was either listen to you loose your shit, or listen to this idiot snore." He flicked Leo's nose upwards causing the snore to stop for a moment.

Before continuing.

"If any of you are wondering what to get me for Christmas, I beg of you, earmuffs, headphones, anything." Mick begged the lot of you.

You handed him a pair of shop class headphones and everyone looked at you curiously. "Ya'll I'm in three shop-classes, I'm always gonna have these on me." You blushed hiding your head in Duncan's collarbone.

"Marry her." Mick mouthed to his brother as he put the headphones on, sighing in relief.

Duncan blushed hard and shrunk in his seat.

That night when Henry walked into his room, he didn't hear the usual sound of his youngest brother trying to get his older brothers to include him in the conversation.

(The conversation typically revolved around: How the hell are we gonna save up enough money to get out of this hell hole?)

So usually it didn't work.

But tonight he heard your soft chatter with Duncan, he stared at one of the bottom bunks and saw Duncan without a shirt on, he winced seeing his brothers bruises because Henry had the same if not worse.

You held ice on the bruises whispering your apologies each time Duncan whimpered. The bruises were so purple they were nearly black.

Duncan always seemed to have it bad in the Tarun household. No one really understood why, I mean sure the father hit them all, but not like he did Duncan.

As you grabbed Duncan's hand and positioned it to hold up the ice to one of the more nasty bruises you went into your backpack and pulled out a pack of bandaids.

You started off with the butterfly ones. When you had went over to your house for dinner, thats when their father came home, he decided that target practice was in order, and as usual it ended with the youngest child.

You slowly picked out the glass shards and went over the cuts with the butterfly bandaids. On the larger ones, you used typical bandaids that had actual butterflies on them.

Soon enough it seemed that Duncan had all of his major scrapes taken care of. Henry watched as you helped his brother slip on a shirt over his head and you tucked him into bed.

You seemed to be asking a question but you were far enough that Henry couldn't hear.

Duncan nodded, clearly tired, most likely from blood loss. You carefully climbed on the bed, and you angled your head so it wouldn't touch any of his bruises, and you laid your head on his chest.

He smiled once he saw how happy his brother looked as he wrapped his arms around you.

Henry was sad to say he knew the truth, he knew that he didn't need to call your dad and ask if you could stay the night. Truth be told he was pretty sure your father wouldn't even be there.

Y/N L/N was made for his brother, through and through.

---

bonus: quotes from you, duncan, and his brothers!

You: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

Duncan: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

You: Three of us saw it, Duncan. How do you explain that?

Duncan: *points at Henry* Sleep deprivation. *points at James* Paranoia. *points at Mick* Delusional personality disorder.

You: Where's Duncan, Henry, and James?

Mick: They're playing hide and seek.

You: Where?

Mick: I don't think you get how this game works

You: oh then maybe my mom isn't dead

Mick: what do you mean?

You: well she's been hiding for almost three years now, maybe everyone was trying to play a trick on me

*Duncan falling out of the top kitchen cabinent, Henry unfolding himself out of dishwasher, and James stepping out of the garbage can, all of them are looking at you in horror.*

Seven year old you laughing and pointing: HAH **** YOU ALL I FOUND YOU WITH MY TRAUMATIC ******* BACKSTORY SUCK MY **** YOU ABSOLUTE SONS OF ******

Seven year old Duncan smiling and clapping you hand: Shes my best friend

tagged: @lostsomewhereinthegarden

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whereserpentswalk · 4 months

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God. My dad is talking about his imprisonment/rape fantasies he has about me again and he's violating a lot of my physical boundaries. I'm just not equip to deal with this tonight.

#please help #tw abuse #abusiveness #emotional abuse #tw sa mention #tw sa implied #narcissistic parents #abusive parents #vent post #vent

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intersexfairy · 9 months

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your feminism is dangerously missing something if you don't acknowledge that the patriarchy gives abusive and bigoted women power to hurt other people - people of any gender. yes, men included.

the idea that women are weak leads to the belief women couldn't hurt anyone. the idea that men are powerful leads to the belief men cannot be truly hurt. bigotry can mix with genderism to turn what was once a positive stereotype into a negative one (ex: privileged men are strong vs. marginalized men are dangerous).

all these things ultimately give protection to abusive and bigoted women. it allows them to fly under the radar in plain sight. it gives them a sense of trustworthiness and justification. you need to accept that, otherwise your feminism best serves women in positions of power. at one point or another, it leaves anyone else in need of support in the dust - or worse, for dead. you need to be better.

you need to believe and protect all abuse survivors and marginalized people, period.

#ifairy #genderism #sexism #patriarchy #intersectional feminism #intersectionality #feminist #feminism #anti patriarchy #marginalization #abuse #abusiveness #abuse survivor #trauma #gender stereotypes #gender roles #gender norms

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sulasnsleep · 7 months

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“and there is an anger—an ugly anger—bubbling inside of me all the time. and i attempt to douse it with water, to make it stop, all to no avail. and it burns. this ugliness inside of me.”

— sulasnsleep

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cynthiakatilyn · 3 months

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Having an abusive mom at childhood made my mind still bleeding

#child abuse #abusivelanguage #abusiveness #bullying #childhood #actually traumatized #hurtful #mother issues #mental health #actually mentally ill #send help

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lala1267 · 11 months

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No Escape Now.

The room spun around slowly as she struggled to keep her eyelids from closing shut. The liquor slowly seeped into her brain. The man before her had a mischievous smile on his blurred face. His mouth moved, but no words escaped. The silence was deafening. His distorted face contracted until his eyes became visible. The fury and anger in his raven eyes were disguised by the flirtatious grin he maintained. His big hand reached down to grip her soft thigh that quivered slightly. It slowly moved up until his hand layed on her g-string that was soaking more by the minute. A smile formed on her ruby-red lips as her hudded eyes struggled to stay open. His other hand played with her boobs that were covered by the short pink dress. Her arousal grew as his ego got the best of him. She used all of her strength to lift her arm up towards his face. She needed to feel him, feel his love that was non-existent. She craved an ounce of true love. Her hopes were suddenly crushed to dust when his large hand landed on her face, leaving a strong sting. Her eyes widened in shock. Her now swollen cheek was throbbing. She reached her hand up to cup her red cheek. She could feel the handprint Ingraved into it. A sea of tears flooded her face as his words became audible. His face scrunched whilst his body towered over her defenceless self.

"You really thought that you were getting it after you made me wait for my food. Whore!"

He yelled as the vibration in his raspy voice echoed throughout the dim room. He stomped away into another room. She struggled to keep her balance as she thought the liquor and built up emotions. She was confused but not surprised. He usually had temper tantrums, but this one was uncalled for. She turned her caked-in makeup face to look at the reflection in the glass window. She saw a hopeless girl who was devoted to a man who couldn't give a shit about her. She was too far gone to be saved. She glared down at the veiw with her watery doll eyes as the city lights stared back up at her.

The clock chimed, waking her up from a long needed sleep. She slowly sat up off the cold floor. Her eyes squinted as she looked around the room. The throbbing in her head grew worse as the hangover began. She heard her heart beat against her ribcage as she heard footsteps behind her. She closed her bloodshot eyes tightly as she curled up into a ball, shielding her powerless figure from the beating she thought she was about to endure. Her heart skipped a few beats as she held her breath. But to her suprise, the footsteps passed her and carried on until she heard a door slam shut. She gradually unwrapped herself as her eyelids lifted from her glassy eyes. She bit her nails as she scanned the empty room. He was gone. Her fear died down as the feeling of relief filled her drained grey heart. She lifted her body up from the cold floor before looking around for him. He had left the apartment. She let out a deep sigh before bringing her hand up to her chest. The feeling of her bare feet on the chilly floor sent shivers up her spine.

Her man, her master, was a hypocritical narcissistic bastard. He was allowed to fuck as many sluts as he wanted but if she did so much as even lay her eyes on another man she would receive a painful beating. He went out every night, but that was alright because no matter what he did, she would always be by his side. She loved him unconditionally even if he layed his hands on her. It was like her name was engraved in the back of his cocaine heart, whilst all of the other girl's names were neatly placed on the front. His black heart overcast her innocent heart. A boy is a gun. If his bitch flew to high he would shoot her down. She had been shot down too many times at the beginning of their relationship, but over time, she learned to stay in her place. His manipulative words would pull her back into his arms.

"I only do it cause I love you. I would never hurt you intentionally."

His empty words would echo around her hollow head until she believed it. She never would have thought that her feelings could get thrown in the air like they were meaningless. The thought of her with somebody else, he didn't like that. He fucking hated her, but he wanted her. He loved the power and glory he felt when he was dominant. He was bad at keeping his emotions bubbled, his anger would overflow. She was like a puppet to him, a ragdoll even. Crazy who makes her the happiest can make her the saddest.

"Actually, if you even consider leaving, I will stop breathing. I will find you and fuck up your life. I'll make ya disappear. Life without you has no gaddamn meaning. So don't even think about leaving, cause ya won't get very far."

His sharp words lingered in her heart. He would pop out of the dark to find her and do harm to her if she dared to step out of the door that separated her from his punches and reality. He hit her and it felt like a kiss, it felt like true love.

"Come on baby, I still love you. But if I see you with another man, I just might have to kill him, and you too."

But she still cared for him. Because he still loved her, right?

She would sit in the empty apartment. Patiently waiting for his return. A Polaroid sat in her hands. The both of them were hugging in the picture. She stroked it with her fingers as all of the memories flooded her foggy brain. The times that they were in love, real love. A single tear ran down her cheek.

"I wait for you."

She whispered with her shaky breath.

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greyaugustuspoetry · 1 year

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ruined my life

I am in pain.

Because you cursed my name

With words filled with bile

That dripped down my face

I am broken.

Because you smashed my heart

With your bloody fists

That left me scarred

I am numb.

Because I’m now used to your yelling

Nothing you do will sting me

There’s nothing left to burn.

I am nothing.

Because you turned me into a ghost

You put your mess on me

And watched it eat me whole.

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princessanonymous · 3 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

19. 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻’𝓼 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

"Where is she?!" Dorian's frantic voice echoed through the estate, his worry palpable.

As servants scurried in a hurried search, their footsteps resonating in sync with the ominous silence that enveloped the estate, Dorian's desperation escalated. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and the once serene atmosphere now crackled with tension. Meanwhile, Killian leaned lazily against a wall, a stark contrast to the frantic pacing of the distressed father. His nonchalant demeanor, seemingly unaffected by the unfolding drama. He appeared to be more an observer of chaos than a participant in the search.

In a corner of the room, the coffin manufacturer sat in a plush chair, bewildered by the sudden panic that had gripped the once serene household. His eyes darted nervously from one end of the room to the other, as if expecting answers to manifest in the luxurious surroundings. The elegance of the room juxtaposed with the disarray of emotions, creating an atmosphere that seemed almost surreal for the mortal.

"She couldn't have left without anyone noticing," Dorian reasoned, his brow furrowed with concern. The frantic search continued, but the mansion offered no clues to the disappearance of his daughter. The air was thick with uncertainty, and the urgency of the situation hung palpably in the atmosphere. The blonde, casting a penetrating gaze at Killian, turned to the other vampire with an accusatory tone. "Why don't you do anything?"

"What is there to do?" Killian retorted haughtily. "She left. Accept it."

Anger flared within Dorian. "Accept it!?" he repeated with outrage. "My daughter is out there somewhere, alone with nobody to protect her !”

As the words lingered in his mind, Dorian's panic escalated. The memory of (Y/n)'s previous escape, when she had been attacked by a sanguini, intensified his resolve. He wouldn't let this happen once again. She was mortal, completely defenseless and weak.

"Walking around aimlessly will not help," Killian answered with a sigh. "You may live."

Dorion looked at him, bewildered by the command before realizing the second part had been aimed at the coffin-maker who was still in the room. He turned his gaze toward the mortal, a bewildered look in his eyes as he processed Killian's command. The man, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. Slowly, he made his way towards the exit, leaving the room as instructed by the enigmatic vampire. He had forgotten about him, his mind having focused on the girl.

Dorian's focus, however, quickly returned to the pressing matter at hand – the whereabouts of his daughter. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. The thought of his daughter being out there, alone in an unforgiving world, sent shivers down his spine. The once grandiose room now seemed suffocating, its walls closing in as Dorian's mind raced with worry. He couldn't fathom what his daughter might be experiencing, and the very idea that she could be subjected to unforgivable things gnawed at him. His protective instincts kicked in, overshadowing everything else.

Some people would not think twice about taking advantage of young, impressionable minds like his weak, fragile (Y/n). She was so frail; she wouldn't survive on her own. She was utterly, completely, truly alone. The child was so naive thinking that any mortal would simply take her in hearing her plight, but they wouldn't.

He felt Killian's hand on his shoulder. "Sit," he advised him while leading him to an armrest. "Your power is affecting the room; calm down."

He looked around, noticing the ice covering the place where he had been standing just moments before. "She's out there," he protested, clenching his fists, "I just can't..."

"You must stay calm," his partner said with conviction, "servants are already looking for her."

Dorian's eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and fear. Despite the efforts of the servants scouring the estate, the absence of tangible information only fueled his worry. Useless. They were all utterly useless. It was preposterous. She had left once, and now once again they managed to let her slip through them. They would pay. He would deal with them after after finding his child. He could feel the seconds ticking away, each one adding to the uncertainty surrounding his daughter's disappearance.

He shook his head and stood once again, resuming his pacing, "There are three paths she could have taken," he mused out loud." The first is the one she took during her first escapade which I doubt she would take again. She can be quite clever. The second is one more remote that leads to a nunnery, but I doubt she even knows of the existence of this path. She would have had to walk through the nearby forest for at least an out by foot to even notice it. She doesn't leave home. She knows she isn't allowed to... and yet here we are. The third one however... while long, leads to a village and if this foolish daughter of mine—"

"The carpet; you're freezing the carpet," Killian admonished while pinching the bridge of his nose. "(Y/n) is a resourceful young girl, Dorian."

He tried laughing, but it sounded wet and slightly hysterical. "Don't be ridiculous. She can't survive on her own! She's so—fragile, and helpless and she could break at any second and— and she's out there!" He gestured out the window. He collapsed on the couch, shaking his head. "And if something happens to her... if something happens to my poor child..."

Each day, she mattered so much more to him. More than she had when he had first met her on that clearing. She had made him care for her. He cared so much for her. He couldn’t just let her go. He wouldn’t forgive himself.

If something happened to (Y/n), Dorian knew it would completely shatter him.

Dorian looked up, his eyes teary and filled with a mix of frustration, fear, and desperation. Killian, sensing the need for comfort, passed an arm around Dorian's shoulders. The touch, though subtle, carried a warmth that overcame their cold exterior. The blond vampire reacted by resting his head on his lover's shoulder, finding solace in the physical closeness. Killian's presence, like an anchor in the storm of emotions, had a way of grounding Dorian back to the present when he felt himself spiraling into the abyss of worry and uncertainty.

"Dorian," Killian whispered, "calm down, just for a second. Breathe."

He nodded, chuckling slightly at the suggestion. He didn't need to breathe. "Such a human thing to do," he commented, feeling himself calm down slightly, slowly but surely.

Killian nodded, agreeing, "You know me." He sighed softly. "Why don't we focus on something else while the servants search?"

"Like what ?' He questioned reluctantly.

"Forget the girl for now, Dorian," he suggested calmly. The words were said with a soft, yet confident voice. "I'm sure she is fine."

The bland looked up in anger at the remark. His anger grew once his icy blue eyes met Dorian's bright red ones. A cold feeling washed over him, realizing the other had tried to use a moment of emotional vulnerability against him. Leaning forward and clenching his fists, he demanded, "What did you try to do?"

Killian looked away, giving him no answer. The blond gripped his lover's arm, his nails digging in his skin. The other only flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly, "What did you try to do?" He winced, but Dorian did not care. Fury roared through his mind.

He knew his partner's power very well. Knew that he hardly used it, but knew nonetheless the signs of it. "Did you try to make me forget about her?"

His silence was enough of an answer on its own. He felt betrayed and furious at the mere idea that Killian of all people would dare to use his mind control powers on him. He was about to explode with rage, unable to understand why he would try to use them for this. Dorian had seen Killian and (Y/n) interact together, he had witnessed the bond they shared grow. He couldn't understand why the man would simply decide to let it go. One shouldn't let go of the people they cared about so easily.

Wheels turned inside his head, and realization dawned upon him. He stood up and Killian followed suit. "It is you," he accused, pointing a finger. "You let her leave.”

While Killian neither confirmed nor denied it verbally, Dorian already knew the answer. In a surge of fury, he lunged at Killian, gripping the other's shirt threateningly as his mind spun. "Killian, you—"

"Sir," a servant entered the room, breaking the tension. "It appears she has left on horseback; one is missing."

Flashes of worst-case scenarios flooded Dorian's mind. (Y/n) could have had an accident, been attacked. The horse might have rebelled. (Y/n) didn’t know how to ride a horse; he had never taught her for that reason. So that she wouldn’t attempt anything stupid. She could be dead by now. Dead, alone, and rotting in the wilderness.

He clutched Killian's shirt with a vice-like grip, feeling wetness in his eyes and his throat tightening. "You can't—" he glowered. "You can't do this to me, Killian."

The other offered no response. His eyes were cold and held no regret. He might have left the poor child to die and he did not care. Dorian’s weak pleas were met with indifference. This was his child, his daughter. He couldn't let her be taken away from him. How dare he do this ? How could he ? "Tell me!" Dorian pleaded desperately. "Tell me where you told her to go !"

No answer.

No reaction.

Dorian's face fell, and he began to tremble. "You can't do this to me, Killian," he whispered weakly. "You can't..."

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nefkyo · 2 months

Text

To my friends and those who need to hear

//tw: mentions of abuse, fuck you Wilbur Soot

With the recent developments I can't help but reinstate, as many others have before me, that what's most important now is to support victims. Abuse can never be excused. What Wilbur did (say his name he doesn't deserve the peace of mind) was disgusting and monstrous, and his idea of addressing the situation was beyond disrespectful. Read it again if you don't believe me, he didn't even try to apologize. Never once wrote the words "sorry" or "I was wrong" in there. He is not being cancelled, he's an abuser. He's a criminal.

Damage has been made and can never be undone and his little paragraphs don't mean anything. Plus if the victim herself doesn't accept the apology, it's a dead giveaway it doesn't mean shit.

I hope Shelby knows she is loved and heard.

Now onto a more personal note.

A point I saw being made in regards to Wilbur's strange behaviors and early signals was how he surrounded himself with younger people who were at times intimidated or scared of his reactions while they were, in fact, just acting like normal teenagers. I never read this as a negative behavior, not only because I too was blind sighted, (at the time it reminded me of my own family dynamics, older brother I wrestled with, younger cousins that would get me in trouble for fun etc) but because I myself have a 3, sometimes 4 year age gap with friends I made during the dsmp. I still hang out with them regularly and greatly appreciate their company.

This is a message for them.

NEVER let any strange behaviors from your loved ones or your idols slip by and snowball into witnessing, or being part, of situations you'd never want to be in. Trust your instincts around people older than you too. If he was a comfort to you, believe me you will find something else of comfort, that actually makes you feel safe. It will take a while, it will suck for a while, but you have to hold yourself, your well-being and your sanity to a higher standard.

And if I, ME, have ever made you uncomfortable while hanging out, via text, on call, I am beyond sorry. Please tell me immediately, repeat my words back to me, anything I may have ever said or done that could have caused you to flinch and grimace I MUST be held accountable for. You deserve closure and respect even in what you think are minor things. You have boundaries, hold them up.

Support victims. Talk to yourself and to each other. It's going to be ok.

#support victims #fuck you wilbur soot #tw: abuse #tw: domestic abuse #abusiveness #shubble #shelby

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