NIKOLAIIII!!!!~~

― interlude

norton campbell x you he finds you crying in your room out of anxiety

(this was requested here)

As you slip out of the manor’s ballroom, the sound of lively conversation follows behind you. Voices blend together the further you go, dulled by the winding hallways, and soon you can’t tell them apart anymore. Once in a while a hearty laugh will ring out, shrill and distinct above the rest—a laugh you can usually identify as Demi’s, her self-restraint long lost to copious glasses of wine.

By the time you reach your room upstairs, the chatter is still thrumming through the floorboards. That rhythm is all you can focus on: the pulse of the party, the drum of your heart. You shut your bedroom door behind you before sinking to the floor. All night you’ve felt like an anvil has been weighing down your spirit, and it’s finally snuffed out the last of your strength. With shaking fingers, you clutch your mouth and choke out a staggered gasp, no longer able to stifle your cries.

The manor’s walls are thin, you know that well. Maybe you should feel lucky that the party under your feet will drown out any noise you make. But you still feel the need to make yourself quiet as a ghost, afraid a single sound might hush the entire downstairs into curious silence. As if they’d be climbing over each other to press their ears against the ceiling, eager for a chance to hear the crying guest upstairs. But the party goes on, and your tears go unnoticed.

Time starts to blur in the dim confines of your room. You don’t care to count the minutes, but enough time passes that you rub your nose raw. Before long it starts to feel like you’re teetering on the edge of sleep: swaddled by the pitch-black room, with the neverending song of muffled laughter and clinking glasses as your lullaby. If you shut your eyes long enough, maybe you’ll really fall.

All of a sudden a foreign sound cuts through your haze. Heavy footsteps, like that of a pair of boots. As they drag down the hall your ears prick up, the entirety of your body freezing over. They trudge along slowly, then stop in front of your door.

It’s Norton. He doesn’t announce himself, but he doesn’t have to. You know it’s Norton from his weary gait and the faint whistle in his breath. He pushes open your door without bothering to knock first. It’s clear he’s not expecting anyone to be on the other side of it, because he loudly clicks his tongue when it jams into you, and keeps trying to force it. The wood thuds against your back a few times before he releases the knob with a scoff.

“It’s me,” he says, striking the door twice with the flat of his hand. “Move whatever’s blocking the door.” His knocks feel urgent, but careful. Even when pressed flush against the wood, you don’t feel the jolt of his usual aggression. Still, your eyes squeeze shut. There’s no strength left in you to muster an answer.

Norton himself isn’t what concerns you. It’s having to show him the state you’re in. He’ll have nothing sensitive to say about it, and you’re not in the right mind to brave through that callous indifference of his. Honestly, the thought of addressing anything feels utterly impossible. You’ve been holding your breath ever since his footsteps came trudging down the hall, wishing you could just disappear.

“(Y/N),” he presses.

I’m sorry, you think.

There’s nothing you can offer him that he wouldn’t be able to find at the party. It doesn’t matter what he wants or if you let him in—your answer won’t change from a mortified I can’t help right now, sorry I’m so useless. At least staying in here eliminates the need to say it to his face. He’ll get the memo eventually.

. . .

. . . .

. . . . . .

When you’re certain he’s not fussing with the door anymore, you lean back into it, waiting for the click! of its close. Then you exhale, shallow, shaky, but quiet still. The fresh air tastes sweet in your lungs. It’s your own fault for holding your breath so long, but you’ve never been kind to yourself, especially not in moments like these.

You decide to wait a few seconds before locking it. Every sound you make is another tick on the time bomb, after all. Counting down to what exactly, you wouldn’t know; that’s a detail you’d rather not uncover.

Right when you’ve decided enough time has passed and you fumble for the lock, the door bursts open again. The force catches you off guard, practically sweeping you across the floor, and Norton strides in before you have the chance to push him out again. His eyes lock on you, shadowed by the dark of your room.

It’s an odd, silent reunion. You almost feel like you’re in trouble for something. He doesn’t even greet you before he tears his gaze away, peeking around your bed and bookshelf. Perhaps he thought you’d snuck off with someone.

“N-No one else is in here,” you croak.

“Where are the matches?” he asks, brushing off whatever you were insinuating.

He digs around your drawer until he finds a matchbox, then lights your bedside candle. From your spot curled into your knees, you gaze at his large figure, backlit by the candlelight. You’re still not sure what he came in here for. Though Norton isn’t exactly known for his transparency, not even with you. While he’s occupied at your nightstand, you try to wipe the puffiness from your eyes. It still doesn’t stop the next wave of tears from welling up.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur. He glances over his shoulder, waving out the match.

“For what?”

For crying. For leaving. For shutting him out. But with your words failing you, all you can do is shake your head — ‘forget it’ — and nuzzle deeper into your knees. It’s embarrassing to be the only one who’s ever crying between you two. Norton closes off his heart so stubbornly that you can’t even imagine a tear in his eye. You’re sorry for that, too. For burdening him and not extending the same care in return.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Stillness overtakes the room — with him standing by your bed, watching you; with you buried into yourself, soft sniffles leaking through. Finally you hear him approach. He crouches in front of you, bringing the candlestick holder with him.

“Hey.” His tone of voice always has a biting edge to it, even when he’s trying to be gentle. He takes your hands, guiding them away from your bloodshot eyes. “Stop crying.”

I’m trying.

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

You shake your head again. “I’m okay,” you insist between snivels. “You didn’t have to come up.”

What use is there in saying that? One look at you gives the truth away. Norton would never take the bait that easily. He reaches a hand for your cheek, wetting his thumb as a stray tear falls.

“You’re a lousy liar,” he says. His hand is warm. Rough, but warm. It tempts you to lean into it, to rest in its gentle hold for a little while. But even with him wide open in front of you, your lingering guilt anchors you in place. You meet his brown eyes, the flickering candlelight reflected within them. Come here, they say. You’re sure you’re just imagining it.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Norton makes the decision for you. He scoops you up effortlessly, and as you’re raised into his arms another rush of tears floods through you. At the same time, the heaviness you felt before begins to lift. It’s as if you’ve finally been given permission to cry, no longer weighed down by the shame you felt previously. Or maybe you’re just too relieved to care about that now. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“You never have to ask,” he murmurs to you. It’s a reminder you’ve ignored too many times before. He lays you gently on your bed, and you refuse to unhook your arms from around him. He slots himself beside you. You think you mumble out a reply, but you can’t remember what it was before the cloak of sleep comes over you.

NORTON

WHY ARE YOU SO ADORABLE

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH

AU where Norton has always been a hunter, and then one day he's granted a survivor form and has to adjust to that.

Pov: He's choking you to death ^w^

Here's some yandere Nikolai art

This ask

VALE boys x shy gn reader

I'm sorry it took so long anon😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victor Grantz

Expressing yourself has always been hard. Being shy makes talking to people a really hard task for you. Victor understood. He isn't good with words but can talk in necessary situations so it's not as hard for him. But he still understands.

Every day he saw how you struggled to keep a conversation and how nervous it made you feel.

He decided to leave notes for you. Notes that had words of encouragement. Notes that showed how much he loved you.

You always found notes in your pockets that had words that calmed you down.

It was his way of comforting you when he wasn't there.

Today was a tiring day. It was Emma's birthday and everyone decided to celebrate it together.

Parties aren't your thing. Kevin dragged you with him to talk to everyone else.

This was one of the most awkward days of your life.

You just stood there while everyone else talked and laughed.

Victor saw you and came towards you. He took your hand and walked to the green house.

The greenhouse is a quiet place. All the flowers and plants make the place feel like another world.

You sit on a chair as the moonlight shines on you.

Victor can't take his eyes off of you. You look beautiful is all he could think of.

He sits next to you and takes your hand.

“[Name].” He says.

“Hm?”

“You know you can ask me for help right?”

You giggle. “Where did that come from?”

“I just don't like seeing you struggle so much to talk to people. I mean you slightly change when you're talking to different people. It's tiring no?”

You look down to the floor. He's right. Altering your personality every time you talked to someone was tiring. You could only be yourself around Victor.

“I know you're worried it's just…I can't do anything about it it just happens.” Your said with a low voice.

“I know.” He said while smiling. “That's why I said you can ask me for help."

You blushed. You felt happy. He was the first ever person you expressed yourself to. The fact that he goes out of his way to tell you this made you feel warm inside.

You lean towards him and kiss him on the lips.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you too.”

Andrew Kreiss

You've been participating in matches day after day.

You not only have your matches but end up participating in place of others when they can't attend.

This match was a long one. You ended up kiting Bane for pretty much the whole game but in the end you lost.

You came back to the Manor with cuts and bruises all over your body.

Andrew rushed to Emily's office to check on you.

“Are you OK?” He said as he panted.

“I'm OK don't worry.” You said with a weak smile. “I'm just tired.”

He took a deep breath and sat on a chair next to your bed.

He took your hands and sat there quietly.

The sight of you like this made his heart ache but also made his blood boil. Those selfish people. How can they keep giving their work to you?

“Andrew?” You said as you brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

“Why do you keep doing this?” He asked.

“What?”

“This. Why have you been attending others' matches left and right?”

“...Are you mad?”

“Of course I'm angry. I'm angry at you for throwing away your needs. I’m angry at you for overworking yourself. Im angry that you never asked me for help.!”

He went quiet for a second and then continued with a lower voice.

“But most of all I’m angry at myself. At the fact that I’m so useless that I don’t stand up for you…Whenever I think of the times where I could've pulled you away when someone asked for you to do something. The times where if I didn't let you attend a match you wouldn't have been in pain. Whenever I think of those I hate myself. I hate myself because I didn't do anything.”

Andrew understands you well. You two are really similar. So you can understand what he's feeling right now. You know how much he's beating himself up for it.

You drag him into a hug and you don't let go.

You start to kiss the top of his head and caress his hair.

“I'm sorry.” You muttered. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Please. Just stop wearing yourself out. For me.” He said in a low voice.

You nod. “I promise.” You whispered.

Luca Balsa

How many times has Orpheus made you “help him” and then dump all of his work on you because “he got a new idea”? You've lost count at this point.

You've gotten used to it but you obviously don't enjoy it but you just can't say no to him. You wanted to a couple of times but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to turn him down when he asked for your help. Well that was one of the reasons. You didn't want him to dislike you. You don't want anyone to dislike you but Orpheus was one of the people that the idea of him disliking you scared you.

It wasn't only you who was bothered by this situation. Luca was really worried about you. You would come to his room, exhausted and drop yourself onto his bed and pass out pretty much every night.

Luca always stays up late. You have to drag him to bed if you want him to sleep. But after this routine with you and Orpheus started you would sleep without a word out of exhaustion. On some days he barely even saw you.

Orpheus told you to wake up earlier than usual today. You didn't sleep last night which didn't help. You get up, wash your face, get changed and go to the library where Orpheus told you to meet him.

“These are murder case files. I'm going to use these in my Novel.” He says. “So read these papers and write me a summary of them. I need it by tomorrow evening.”

You blacked out for half of the conversation. Your mind started to properly work just now and this is all you understood. You sighed and were about to say “I'll do it.” When you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry Orpheus.” Said a person you cherish. “But I need y/n's help today. I know you had plans but it's really urgent. I'm sure you can do this yourself.” He continued with a smile.

“Oh.” Said Orpheus. “Well I guess I wouldn't mind since they've helped me so much. Then bye for now.” He takes the papers and takes a seat in the library.

“What's wrong?” You ask Luca.

“Come on I need your help.” He takes your hand and drags you to his room.

You enter and he closes the door. “Well?” You ask.

He lays on the bed and pats the spot beside him. “I need you to sleep.” He says with a cocky smile.

“You dragged me all the way here to sleep?” you asked a bit annoyed. “I was supposed to help Orpheus.”

He gets up and sits on the bed. “You call that helping?” He asks. “He is using you. Well even if he doesn't have bad intentions he still doesn't care if you want to do it or not. You can't just say yes to everything people ask of you.”

He sounds a bit mad but he's keeping his cool. You lower your gaze and play with your fingers. You don't know what to say. I mean what can you say? You know he's right.

He sighs and gets up from the bed to stand in front of you and takes your hand. He grabs your chin and gently pulls up your head. “I'm worried about you OK? You're just tiring yourself like this it's not good for you.”

“You're one to talk.” You say annoyed.

He laughs. “Well at least I do something I enjoy. Plus you always make me rest. But you just won't listen to me no matter how hard I try.” He kisses your forehead. “I won't let you try to please people like this anymore. You have to start saying no to them.”

You don't say anything. Instead bury your face into his chest. Luca wraps his arms around you and kisses your head. “Come on. Let's sleep. Neither of us have slept these days.”

You tighten your arms around him and nod in response. Then both of you get on the bed and drift away into a deep sleep.

Edgar Valden

Failed rescues, terror shocks, short kites. You really messed up in today's match.

Well, everyone messes up.

But Freddy came up to you and started bickering with you.

“How can anyone be so bad?”

“Practicing is a good thing you know?”

“If you're going to mess up everything don't play the games.”

“Why did you even come to the Manor?”

His remarks didn't stop.

You couldn't say anything. You knew you did terribly in the match but it happens to everyone. He doesn't have the right to be this mad. But you couldn't say anything. Not a single word came out of your mouth. You just stood there while he said anything he wanted to you.

“What makes you think you can talk to them like that?!” You heard someone shout from across the room.

You look over Freddy's shoulder and see Edgar. He was fuming and coming towards Freddy.

“Your little lover over here messed up the whole game!” Freddy shouted. “Why do they even participate if they plays like this?”

Edgar grabbed Freddy by the collar. “You're disgusting.Have you forgotten how many times you've messed up the game yourself? How many times our win turned into a loss because of you? You think you have any right to be shouting at them like this?”

Freddy was surprised. His face was turning red. He quickly snatched away from Edgar's hand and left the room.

He huffed. Then he turned to you. “Why weren't you saying anything to him?” He looked angry.

You just burst into tears. He was surprised and came to his senses.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that. I'm sorry.” He panicked and pulled you into a hug.

“I'm sorry. I couldn't stand seeing you like that.”

You just cried into his chest. Freddy shouting at you like that scared you.

He caresses your hair and whispers “It's OK.” Sometimes.

After you've calmed down he pulls you away and wipes your tears. “Please. Stand up for yourself OK?” Then he pulled you into a hug again.

“I'm always here for you.”

LUCA PREFER WHITE ROSES OVER RED

Solitude over socialising (even tho he is a friendly guy)

A bright moon night over hazy one

And think people with dreams are imaginative

Ok .. can we marry now I passed the test??

Margie/Female Dancer Headcanons

(A/N)

I love Margie and I don't see many people write for her

-Margie would love her partner to go to her performances. She wants them to be her number one fan.

-Margie would love to teach them how to dance even if their not very good at it she doesn't care.

-She would love it if her partner could spoil her with nice things like clothes and jewelry, but understands if they can't.

-She doesn't want her lover drinking much if ever due to her past trauma.

-She loves baking and loves to do it with her partner.

-Margie loves physical touch and words of affirmation.

-She loves receiving words of affirmation, physical touch, and gift giving.

-Margie loves to go out for dates but also loves smaller things like picnics.

-She loves showing off her lover. She loves them so much and wants to let the whole world know.

This is so good holy shit

Yandere Norton Hcs

Content warnings: Constant gaslighting, social manipulation, death/it’s all your fault thoughts abt reader, Norton fractures ur bones sometimes, and forced hair alteration

Important note: This is a two part commission that my client would like public! Y/n format, but they are upbeat and happy with friends and all. 5.5k words.

Yandere Joseph pt.2 (coming soon)

Norton

Didn’t trust you at first

He’s wary of everyone, but even after you had learned the horrifying truth of the manor, you had high spirits for everyone including yourself

Of course you were scared shitless just like every other newbie, but unlike him, you didn’t shield yourself away from people

How envious he was of that natural click of yours

Introverted or not, you were still friendly and approachable when the atmosphere was right

His stoic stare and large build intimidated people. Great attributes for scaring off unwanted trouble back in his part of town, not so great for making potential friends in a never ending death game.

Even the nicest ones hesitated to talk to him from time to time

It’s not like he wants everybody to be buddy buddy with him all the time. All Norton wants is something to ease his loneliness.

The only time where you could’ve interacted with him as a rookie was in matches

Sitting next to him, slightly panicking and asking him for tips, staying near him in the beginning of the game, etc.

“Don’t wait at every pallet, but don’t be scared to put one down if you need to. With some hunters, it’s better to keep a decent distance.”

Keep reading

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

CW & TW: Manipulation , nonconsensual consumption of substances, stalking, obsession, mentions of suicide and death

WC: 0.6k Words, 3.5k Characters

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊

He smiled at you with his lopsided smile, the very same one that charmed you to loving him— the deep dimples on either side of his cheeks that only got deeper whenever he laughed or smiled a little too hard. The same deep brown with a tinge of auburn hair, messily tied back with a barely kept together hairband you gave him eons ago- that tickled your face whenever you hugged or slept together in the same bed to enjoy each others company. The same rough but delicate and diligent hands that held you whenever you cried out of somber, or even just pure delight- that congratulated you or emphasized with you no matter what. The same skinny, a little frail, pale skinned boy you fell in love with oh so long ago- that never failed to hurt you intentionally; keep you safe like a experiment that could never be recreated.

He took care of you all this time, remembering every detail about you to make you feel loved and special- writing down every detail in a journal he claimed helped him remember due to his incident from his past... That you didn't hear much about, but assumed that he'd open up to you after a couple years.. Yet he didn't. It made you suspicious, but was taken care of when he explained the slight trauma of arguments and used that to his advantage. He made breakfast every morning for you, slipping in chemicals to see how they would alter your mind chemistry- being the perfect lab rat. You always told him whenever you got a headache, blurry spots in your eyes, or other things of that nature- even when his small dosages of homemade aphrodisiac caused a small.. problem for you.

He took every little thing in account for you, listing down every meal you ate and drank- stalking you with a pair of binoculars and watching from afar. If you were at a cafe, after you left- he'd ask and describe what you ate to see the ingredients to make sure they didn't interfere with his work. He marked down everything, intending on keeping you around forever as his lab rat until he himself died...

He took everything in account except his own self feelings. He didn't really know why he wanted you to be his own little human test subject... Just that everything about you was so perfectly... constant. You never changed your hair, didn't try anything too new- and when you did; you always asked him for his advice first. He loved the way he counted your every heartbeat when you laid on him, letting him card his fingers through the ends of your hair- even if they got a bit tangled; careful to not tug on any knots. Seeing the smile on your face at the favorite of your foods he cooked every day, the same thing every week unless you asked him to- grinning ear to ear and happily eating his homecooked food with other components.

So the day you died, he didn't understand. He did everything correctly, looked over every bit of his journal and schedule- nothing could've called for the sudden stop of your heart. The nurses and doctors said they did everything to help, but he didn't believe it. He kept you healthy as if you were his pet, the house littered half with his "research" about you- some crumpled from his mourning grip on them late at night. You were the reason he stopped. He couldn't take the loss in his own field, to his best work.. You. He couldn't stand seeing the hallucinations of you coming down the stairs in his white blouse that he wore to his graduation, before disappearing when we placed a plate in front of you. He lived like this for so long, before he couldn't take it anymore.

Thank you guys for being so patient again. I decided to post this now considering I will have to be moving and I'll be getting off of school next week!