#(I spend too much time thinking about what happens next & rereading parts that I like)

[laughing-sock]

I've temporarily banned myself from both ao3 and twitter until I finish my (belated) goyuugo week fic. it's working, kind of? unfortunately I cannot ban myself from work too 😔

if I could write faster than like, 5 wpm I would be so happy...

[nadvs]

the power play (part eight) (end)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

Time folds into itself as you lie in Rafe’s bed, slipping in and out of a tired daze, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

When he shifts and exhales a sharp wince, you don’t know how many minutes have passed, but you’re sure it’s time to leave, to give him all the space he can get in his bed.

“I should go,” you whisper, sitting up slowly.

He’s in a trance, his shoulder aching, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Your warmth is gone.

He sees your figure in the dark.

You leave as quietly as possible.

════════

The next day, Rafe walks out through the campus gym doors after meeting with his coach and physical therapist. Turns out the tear isn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, but as expected, there’s no chance in hell he can play for a while. He’s out of tournament.

He’s lost. It’s like he forgot his own name. Hockey is the constant in his life, or it was, and it’s messing with his head that he won’t be spending hours training or practicing or playing anymore. Instead, he’ll either be in physio or resting, and the closest he can get to the ice is on the bench.

His coach had said that at least it happened at the end of the season, that he’s only a sophomore with so much ahead of him, but all Rafe can feel is disappointment ripping through him.

His phone buzzes with a text from you.

I hope you’re ok. Guessing you can’t make it today?

Right. It’s Thursday. He’s supposed to meet you for tutoring in an hour.

If he never hurt himself last night, if today was a normal day, he’d be in class right now, his morning workout done, his body buzzing with the hot anticipation that he feels every time he’s about to see you.

But today’s far from normal. You said nothing after he kissed you last night. He’s an idiot for making a move on a girl who’d told him so many times that she doesn’t want a boyfriend.

But you’re the one who curled up next to him, who cried over his pain as if it were your own, who told him you care about him.

It’s insane what you do to him. He never runs in circles like this, never dwells on what a girl might be thinking, because he doesn’t have to. In any other situation, he’d cut to the chase and tell you that he wants you.

But the embarrassment from what happened last night still stings. He wouldn’t survive it, hearing you say you don’t see him like that, that you’re not looking for a relationship. When he’s so sure it’d end in an awkward rejection, what’s the point?

After everything that happened in the last 24 hours, it’s a loss he wouldn’t be able to cope with.

════════

You’re writing in your agenda as you wait in the study room, your pen smoothly gliding over paper. Your phone is sitting beside your notebook, and you unlock it to reread Rafe’s text from half an hour ago.

I can make it.

You’re tense about seeing him after last night.

You don’t know what to do. There’s no misinterpreting it. He kissed your forehead and there’s no way he would do that if he didn’t feel something deeper than friendship for you.

Still, it’s sad how hard it is to believe that a guy sees you like that, all because of the mark that Beck left on you. Rafe had once called you clueless about this stuff, and he was right.

The memory of how he’d snapped at you in the car that night serves as a reminder of how cold he can be, and how you’re not entirely confident you could handle loving someone like that.

You’re carrying too much baggage. So is he. You’d thought Rafe came into your life at the perfect time, but if anything, the timing couldn’t be worse.

You’re still working through your heartbreak and you don’t know if you can be with someone when you need to work on yourself. Especially when that someone distances himself from you whenever you ask the wrong question.

You’re scared. If you gave Rafe your heart, truly, all the way, there’s no telling if it’d be in good hands.

His broad figure appears in the doorway, his expression guarded.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you say. You motion to your own arm, immediately noticing that he’s not wearing the sling you saw him in last night. “You don’t need the…?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rafe murmurs, nudging the door shut with his good elbow.

“I thought you tore it,” you say, your voice laced with concern. He sits down with his elbow bent, his injured arm tight against his body.

“I’m not going to need surgery or anything,” he repeats what he discussed earlier at the gym. “Few months of physio and meds and I’ll be good.”

“And rest, right?” you say. “You forgot to mention rest.”

“What do you know?” he says with a small smirk.

You mirror his smile, glad that although something so awkward is weighing over both of you, you can share a lighthearted moment.

“A lot,” you reply. You hold up your pen. “Do I need to give you another reminder tattoo?”

He scoffs, but he’s not sure he could tell you no if he tried, especially if the offer includes you touching him.

To your surprise, he lays his forearm on the desk. You chuckle, leaning forward, gently writing rest! on the inside of his wrist, right where you’d written your study room number on him all those nights ago.

“I think I have a future in this,” you say, admiring your work. He gazes at you as you tilt your head and blow cool air over the wet ink. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answers, in a melancholy daze. “You?”

“I’m good,” you reply. You meet his eyes again. “So, only a few months until you’re better? What’s the healing process going to be like?”

“The physio gave me a whole list of crap I gotta do,” he answers with a sigh.

“Do you have it with you?”

He hands you the sheet of paper jammed at the side of his backpack. You read over the instructions, tips on managing pain, on the importance of nutrition and rest, on avoiding rigorous activities.

You skim over one of the bullet-points in the middle. Sleep on your back with the injured arm supported.

“They even tell you how to sleep?” you try to joke. “So, you shouldn’t have someone else on top of you. Lesson learned.”

What happened last night is out in the open now, the atmosphere strained with tension. Your eyes are still on the page. He can see you’re uncomfortable and he respects that you’re addressing it.

“I shouldn’t have…” He grimaces, embarrassed all over again. He has no choice but to brush the kiss off, to lie his way out of this. “I was on a lot of painkillers last night.”

He wants you to look disappointed so badly that it makes him ache, because then he’d take his words back and call bullshit on himself. But when you glance up at him, the look on your face is one of relief.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, looking back down at the paper. You’re alleviated of your anxiety. He either didn’t mean the kiss, or he doesn’t want it to turn into something, and it’s better this way. Safer. “How often do you have to do therapy?”

Rafe tells himself he can deal with the hurt later, that now’s not the time to lose it, even though he’s on the edge. He pulls his laptop out of his bag, finding it so much harder now that he can’t use both arms.

“Twice a week,” he answers, his words stiff.

“And exercises you have to do on your own,” you murmur sympathetically, reading over the page. “This is a lot. I bet you can get accommodations for school. Deadline extensions at the very least.”

You put the paper down, smoothing out the wrinkles, trying to make sense of why your heart is racing right now. Rafe throws you for such a loop that you don’t even know how it’s possible to be both eased and troubled by him shrugging off what happened last night.

“I’m really sorry you can’t play anymore,” you tell him.

“Nothing I can do about it now.”

His scowl is hard as he logs in onto his computer, typing with one hand.

“I’m not just saying this,” you tell him. “The team wouldn’t have made it so far without you.”

He doesn’t need the reminder of what he’s lost, the agony of how much work he put in just to spend the rest of the school year behind the boards.

“Those guys will be fine,” he says with a sardonic chuckle.

It hurts you to see him so sure of it.

“No way,” you reply. “They’ll miss you.”

His throat is raw and he wishes he could just disappear right now, because he’s seconds away from breaking down. His eyes burn and he swallows it down, forcing everything he’s feeling away.

“Let’s not do this, okay?” he says sharply, his gaze still off you.

And with that, Rafe proves your point. That it’s not just you who might be emotionally unavailable, but him, too. Even after what you’d done last night, even after you’ve shared so much with him, you’re kept at an arm’s length, good enough to kiss, but not good enough to be honest with.

“Did you finish the book?” you ask.

“No,” he states, stoic and disinterested.

You’d normally call him out for his bad attitude, but after what he’s gone through, you’d just feel guilty for it.

You compel yourself to just be his tutor right now – not his friend, not the girl he pretended to date – but his tutor, tasked with one job and one job only.

Rafe finally lets his eyes land where they want to be most, on you, when you ask if you can take his laptop to start working on the next assignment.

But you won’t look at him back. He can tell that you don’t want to.

════════

The moment Rafe gets to his dorm room after your tutoring session, he feels like he’s stalling with nothing left to drive him. His thoughts are tangled together, his body aches, and he has no idea what to do next.

He sits on the edge of his bed. He should probably look over those recovery instructions again, email his profs and teaching assistants about accommodations, do some school work to keep himself busy, but it’s like he’s frozen.

He looks down at the floor, his vision going blurry. The only person, if anyone, he could talk to about this right now is you.

But he can’t even do that. Especially not when you’re mad at him. He snapped, and then you were distant and talked only about his schoolwork for the rest of your hour together.

He feels like shit for how he treated you. He didn’t expect to do it, but you can be so stubborn, forcing him to talk about shit that he can’t talk about.

He lies in bed, still in painful disbelief of how quickly things can change, and how he has no control over any of them.

════════

It’s nearing six p.m. when Rafe wakes up. He checks his messages, hoping you texted him like he always does when he picks up his phone. But of course, there’s nothing from you.

He reads over the team’s group chat texts that he didn’t get to answering. After a few messages asking Rafe how he is after Coach told everyone he’s out for the season, some of the guys texted about a party tonight.

Being surrounded by noise and getting a break from reality sounds like just what he needs. And because he misses you and has no willpower when it comes to you, he texts you: Down to go to a party tonight?

You reply minutes later: Look at your tattoo.

He smirks to himself, glancing down at the word you’d written on his skin, and texts you again: I’ll just be standing there. That counts as rest.

You’re walking through campus to grab dinner, staring at your phone as you weave through crowds, your stomach in a knot.

It’s been that way since Rafe left the study room earlier today. You hate that you’re back in this headspace, overanalyzing, wondering what a man really feels about you.

You did it for years with Beck, going back and forth between being sure he liked you and feeling sad that he didn’t.

It shouldn’t be this complicated. You have fun with Rafe. He gets you, and you think you get him. He’s flawed, but so are you, and that doesn’t mean things can’t work out.

But it feels impossible. You’re not sure you can give each other what you both need. And you’re still hurting from the way he’d brushed you off today yet again, refusing to let you in.

With an aching heart, you text back: Sorry, I can’t tonight.

════════

Rafe’s limbs are heavy and hot as he leans against a wall, surrounded by his closest friends on the team. He’s letting them do the talking, too in his head to even think about having any real fun.

He wishes you were here.

He heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink. He spots a familiar face. And it’s the last thing he needs.

“Hey,” Emma says, leaning over the counter as she fills up a cup. “Where’s your little girlfriend? Not hanging onto you like usual?”

It’s the first words she’s spoken to him since their breakup. That night feels like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck are you doing talking to me?” he mutters.

Her eyebrow raises in that infuriating way that tells him she’s enjoying getting a rise out of him.

“Warning you,” she laughs. “She’s kind of twisted. I don’t know if a normal person would hear all about your red flags and then like, cling onto you.”

“What’d you say to her?” he asks, his jaw tensing.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“We don’t talk about you.”

Rafe hates that it’s a lie, that he wasted so much of his limited time with you talking about someone else.

“I just told her the truth,” she says.

His nostrils flare as he glares down at her, at a loss for how he ever thought he saw any good in her. After he’s gotten to know you, after he’s seen what it’s like when someone treats him like he’s not a burden, he could never want someone like Emma again.

“I’m sure it’s nothing she hasn’t seen for herself by now,” she says when he doesn’t respond. “Obviously, she heard what an asshole you are. That must be her type. Or it could’ve been the part I said about how pathetic you were, crying to get back together. Maybe she wants to fix you.”

So, that was your first impression of him. That’s what you’ve kept from him.

Rafe heads back to his friends without saying another word. There was a time he was dying for Emma to talk to him. Now, he can’t waste another second around her.

He got what he wanted. She’s jealous. And that guy he saw her with before isn’t around.

He won.

But the victory is hollow.

════════

“It’s not pretty,” Isaac tells you, one foot outside the locker room, “but I got everybody to write something.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the card. You look around the hall again, as if Rafe will catch you, even though you know he wouldn’t be in this part of the arena right before the semi-final game.

“I did say I owe you,” he replies.

“He’s watching from the bench?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Isaac answers, wincing. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess,” you reply with a sad shrug. “He won’t really talk about it.”

You haven’t heard from Rafe since last night after you texted him back. But based on how Isaac’s acting, you can tell he hasn’t told anyone about your breakup, saving you from having to come up with any explanations.

“The guy’s a vault,” Isaac half-chuckles.

You nod, glancing down at the card, opening it up to see messy, scribbled messages from the guys on the hockey team written across the inside.

You’d bought the blank card at an on-campus convenience store after asking Isaac if the team did anything to commemorate Rafe after his forced departure. When he told you everyone was too preoccupied with the tournament, you took it upon yourself to do something.

You’re not upset with Rafe anymore. Not after you’ve taken time to reflect that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to, no matter how much you wish he would. Not when you recall how heartbroken he was when he insinuated that his teammates won’t miss him.

“It’s nice of you to do this for him,” Isaac offers.

“Thanks. I think he needs to hear that people care about him.” You take a step back. “Good luck tonight.”

════════

It’s difficult for you to even imagine watching the semi-finals. You tell Lyla you’re too swamped with studying to attend.

The truth is that you know sitting in those stands will just make you feel the lack of Rafe, the wrongness of him not being on the ice, the gap in your chest that he left.

It’ll break your heart to see him on the bench, instead of in the game where he belongs.

You stop by his dorm room to slide the card under his door. And then, you go home to distract yourself with schoolwork, hoping that with enough time, you can finally feel like yourself again.

════════

You send the text a few minutes after you check to see that the team won, left with one more game to potentially win the championship.

Can you come over?

Nerves stitch your stomach when you receive his response that he’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Eventually, there are soft raps on your door, and when you open it, Beck looks exactly how you expected him to. Confused.

“I’m going to talk,” you tell him, “and I want you to listen and be honest with me, got it?”

He nods, brows furrowed as you step aside. He walks into your room, leaning against your desk as you sit on your bed.

You take a deep breath, nervous but already relieved that years of pressure will be off your shoulders after you say this.

“You know what you did to me,” you say, “and I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t. You strung me along. For years. You knew I liked you, didn’t you?”

Beck glances to the side, adjusting in his haphazard seat.

“It's not like I…” he mumbles.

“What?”

“I liked you, too,” he says, looking like it pains him to admit it. “I – I do like you. Still.”

It’s not what you expected.

“Since when?” you say in a huff of disbelief.

“It’s been a long time,” he answers.

You can only scoff. He sighs, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’re my sister’s best friend,” he says quietly. “Can you imagine how weird it would be if it didn’t work out?”

It’s a sudden, overwhelming realization, hitting you like an ice cold wave. The only reason he never acted on his feelings was because he was afraid of a mere possibility. Maybe it wouldn’t end well, so he saw no reason to even try.

“That’s why?” you say. “Why not just tell me?”

“Because of this,” he says tensely, motioning between you.

“Because of an awkward conversation?” you say. “How is that any better than what happened after your final? You stopped talking to me after that.”

“I thought… with time, we’d go back to how it was,” he mumbles. “And that maybe, we’d both just lose feelings. But then you started dating Rafe and… I can’t handle seeing it. You shouldn’t be with him.”

You hate how he said Rafe’s name, as if it was a swear word. It’s the only thing you can focus on. Not that he just told you what you’ve been wanting to hear for years. Just that he speaks about Rafe like he’s bad.

And Rafe isn’t bad. He can be difficult and short-tempered, but he can also be warm. Passionate. Funny. Caring.

And you love him.

Damn it. You love him.

“I don’t need you worrying about who I’m dating, okay?” you say sharply. “Maybe if you were a friend, sure, but you’re barely even that anymore.”

“Why are you talking like this?”

Beck seems jarred by your contempt. You’re surprised yourself. You always thought you’d sugarcoat your words with him, that you’d care about his feelings too much to ever be brutally transparent.

But this is necessary. And you realize you couldn’t have gotten here without Rafe.

“Because I deserve honesty,” you say. You let out a shaky sigh. “I know you didn’t want to have a hard conversation, but avoiding it led to this. An even harder one. You weren’t wrong to worry that we would never work out. We wouldn’t. I just want things to be civil from now on. Like you said, Lyla’s my best friend.”

Beck shakes his head slightly. It almost looks like he had some semblance of hope that this conversation would go another direction.

“You know he’ll just hurt you, right?” he says. “I saw him fighting with his old girlfriend all the time. He’s a jerk.”

“You don’t know him,” you mutter. “And you’re in no place to call him that. Not after how you treated me. You expected I’d always be on the sidelines, waiting for you, and then got mad when I started seeing someone else. It isn’t fair.”

Beck shakes his head in frustration and walks to the door, but stops himself before he turns the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his back still to you. “You’re right. Let’s… be civil.”

It’s a glimpse into why you once liked him so much. He has a soft heart, desperate to run from conflict. But conflict is inevitable. And you can’t be with someone who doesn’t see that.

“Okay,” you say to his back.

The door shuts behind Beck with a hard thud, closing a chapter you’re glad to see end.

════════

You eventually text Rafe: Are you going out with the team? I’m free. Just saying.

Now more than ever, you miss him. It feels silly to distance yourself, to do exactly what Beck did with you and stay away from someone just because there’s a chance that it’ll end badly.

Every part of you longs for him, for the feeling you get when you’re around him, and you can only hope he wants to see you tonight, too.

He responds that he’s on his way to pick you up.

════════

Rafe pulls up to your building, unable to stop his mind from stumbling down memory lane. He idled here for the first time so long ago, with only revenge on his mind, waiting for a ridiculously cheerful and talkative girl to sit in his passenger seat.

When you open the car door and flaunt your bright smile as you climb in, it’s like his heart found its way back to him, like you hold onto it when you aren’t together and parade it around when you are.

“Was it you?” he asks.

“Was what me?” you say.

“The card.”

You grin, glad he got a chance to go back to his room before coming to pick you up. You don’t need the recognition. You’re just glad he seems happy about it.

You notice both of his hands on the steering wheel, recalling how he could only type with one a few days ago.

“Nice,” you say, buckling your seatbelt. “Your pain meds must be working. That’s great. I have to tell you something. I finally talked to Beck. I kind of… told him off, I guess. And… you can say you told me so. You were right. He did like me. Or actually, he does. It was a lot to take in.”

Rafe grimaces, hating to hear that the guy you once said you loved told you he wants you, too. He drives out onto the road, his body tense.

“I told him that it’ll never happen,” you continue. “And he was bitter. And he’s convinced things are going to end badly with you and me. I wonder how we should tell people we’re broken up. Do we just… mention it if they ask? I haven’t told anyone. You haven’t either, right?”

You finally look over at him, gazing at his profile.

Rafe is relieved that you really are done with Beck, that you’re acting like yourself, that you’re in his car again, rambling, filling his life with a light he never had before.

He’d rather not talk about your fake breakup. And definitely not about Beck. He doesn’t have it in him to waste any time with you focusing on someone who hurt you.

“Just admit it,” he murmurs.

“Admit what?”

“The card,” he mutters playfully.

You sigh, realizing he won’t let you get away with not taking credit for it.

“Did Isaac tell you?” you ask.

“Nobody told me.”

“If you want to call me corny, just do it,” you laugh. “Never stopped you before.”

Rafe smiles sadly. Admittedly, it felt good to read the messages from the guys, seeing that they really will miss him. But he doesn’t deserve you doing that for him after the way he lost his cool on you.

“I thought you were pissed at me,” he says.

“I was, a little,” you confess.

“Sorry I snapped,” Rafe says regretfully. “If you were mad, then why’d you do it?”

His voice is soft, just like it was when he’d asked you why you came to his room the night he injured himself.

“That’s why,” you say. “You always seem so surprised that people care about you. I just wanted to give you proof that they do.”

You interlace your fingers together, glancing out the window.

“And it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore,” you say. “I think at some point, I started to take it personally when you don’t want to talk to me. Sorry. I don’t mean to force you. I’ll stop.”

Rafe taps his thumb on the steering wheel. For once, he doesn’t want you to stop.

“It’s because it’s new for me,” he mumbles, giving in.

“What?”

“Someone caring as much as you do is new for me,” he replies. “That’s why I seem surprised. It throws me off.”

Your lips part, but the words won’t form. You’re in shock that he’s opening up, especially when you didn’t ask him to, when you just told him you’ll stop pushing.

“And I’m not used to getting asked so many questions,” Rafe says. “You never stop.”

“I am kind of relentless,” you say, crinkling your nose and smiling. “You make me curious, though.”

“I can tell,” he mumbles, earning a chuckle from you. “We’re good now, yeah?”

You’re touched that he worries this much about you being upset with him. Some time in the last few months, throughout your tutoring sessions and the events you attended as a fake couple and all the moments in between, he really did start caring about you.

It’s nice, because you feel the same way about him. How deep those feelings go remains unspoken, and you’re not sure you can face them yet.

“We’re good,” you reply. “I can’t stay mad at you. You’re too charming. In like, a really grumpy, always mad at everything type of way.”

“Wow,” Rafe huffs, pretending to be offended while flashing the smile you always get hypnotized by.

“Was that rude?” you quip. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

His smile widens, certain now that if he only has you like this, as a friend, it’s so much better than not having you at all.

════════

“How’d that presentation go?” Rafe mumbles in your ear.

You’re standing on the bar’s back patio with the team and the rest of the usual social circle, surrounded by music and chatter floating through the warm late spring air.

You’re right next to him, but not touching in any way, because there’s no reason to fake affection anymore. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to stay away from him.

“For my group project?” you clarify. “Picture me and three guys in front of a full lecture hall. They’re taking turns reading off of Wikipedia and I’m trying to pretend that I’m not losing my mind.”

Rafe chuckles, enamored.

“I got a good individual grade, though,” you say. “Wait. Did you ever check what you got on your midterm?”

“No.”

“Please do,” you say, bringing your clasped hands to your chin.

He sucks his teeth, a little nervous as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He feels your cheek against his good shoulder as you lean in to look.

“An A,” you say proudly, leaning against him, your hand curled around his bicep. You did it without thinking, the closeness feeling more natural than anything you’ve felt before, a hard contrast to how hesitant you’d once been to touch him.

“Thought we broke up,” he murmurs, glancing down at your hand on his arm. It’s his way of testing why you’re touching him like this, aching to hear you say you’re doing it because you want to.

You look up through your lashes, eyes trained on his, silence sweeping over you. You have to feel it, too. He’s sure of it.

“Right,” you reply with a chuckle, hoping to smile your way out of the split in your chest. “Yeah. We did.”

You let go, crossing your arms as you awkwardly look away. You should have known your instincts were wrong, that Rafe is just another guy leading you on, confusing you, whether it be on purpose or not.

He can’t take what it feels like when you pull away like that. He once thought he could handle not acting on his feelings for you, but he can’t. He needs to know what’s so wrong with him, if Emma’s words poisoned you before he even had a chance with you.

“Is it because of what she said?” he says, squaring his shoulders to face you, to try to separate both of you from the rest of the group.

“Is what because of-”

“Emma told me what she said to you,” he interrupts.

You gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

“You talked to her?” you ask. Imagining it wrings your heart out, jealousy pooling through you.

He nods, his jaw tight, looking at you like you’re the one who needs to explain something here. Your forehead crinkles, your face falling with disappointment.

“I thought you didn’t care what she thinks,” you say.

“I don’t.”

You look down, as if you can find the answer somewhere on the ground. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning.

“Are you okay?” you hear.

Rafe looks over his shoulder to see that Beck has walked over, staring at you.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“I told you this would happen,” Beck says to you.

Rafe meets your eyes again to see that they’re glossed over with tears.

“Fuck off,” he mutters to Beck.

“I’m just looking out for her,” Beck says.

“I look out for her,” Rafe says angrily. His raised voice earns a few side-eyes, the conversations around you silencing.

“Do you?” Beck asks.

Rafe breathes a humorless chuckle, rage coursing through him as he turns around, his back to you, his fists clenched.

“Don’t,” you say. “You’ll get hurt.”

There’s a hole in Rafe’s chest when he hears the concern in your voice for Beck. But when he turns around, you’re gazing up at him instead.

“You’re already in enough pain,” you say to him, your eyes drifting over his aching shoulder. He stares at you in awe, again, like he’s in shock that you worry about him. “Let’s talk out front.”

You don’t wait for him to agree. You storm back into the bar, darting through the throngs of people, pushing the heavy entrance door.

Your shoes pad over the concrete, your breaths unstable as you pass by the small crowds outside the bar.

You round the corner, finding a quiet pocket of privacy in the dark parking lot, next to the wall. You turn to see Rafe right behind you, facing you, his chest heaving.

“What’d she tell you that she said to me, exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Rafe is in disbelief that he led himself back to doing this, talking about his past relationship with you again, letting it bleed into whatever it is that he has with you.

“That I’m a pathetic asshole,” he begrudgingly answers, his features shadowed in the darkness. “That I – I cried.”

“Her words don’t mean anything,” you tell him.

“She’s right, though, isn’t she?” he asks. “You agree. Just be honest with me. Tell me all of it. No more bullshit.”

Tears continue to sting your eyes, afraid you’re going to hurt him, but too worn down to fight.

“She said you were moody and mean,” you relent, “and yes, that you called her crying when you wanted to get back together. And you know what? The only person I thought was an asshole was her. She’s the pathetic one, okay?”

Rafe searches your face, his features hard, in pain.

“She was horrible to you,” you say. “You deserve someone better.”

What’s left of his composure burns away. He drops his head, his breaths barely escaping his mouth. He’d do anything to be what you want. Who you need.

“Why can’t it be you?” he asks through a ragged exhale.

You still, your heart pounding in your ears. A tear escapes past your bottom lashes, a result of one of the most overwhelming days of your life.

“What?” you whisper. You brush the wetness off of your skin, silently begging him to look at you again.

“What is it about me that’s so wrong?” he rasps, his voice starting to strain, putting sound to the question that he’s asked himself his whole life.

Rafe finds it in him to meet your gaze, all too acquainted with the sinking feeling of begging someone to love him.

Your eyes sweep over his face, your lips parted in silent shock.

He’s tipping over the edge, in slow, splitting agony, waiting to hear the words he knows you’ll say so he can finally let the hope that’s still somehow living in him die.

“What are you...” you say quietly, needing to hear it, to be sure. “What are you saying? You want me?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, sending a frustrated, pained exhale towards the starry sky, your name laced in a groan.

“Yes,” he says clearly, staring at you again, frustrated and afraid. “So bad that it fucking hurts.”

You’re able to feel every inch of your body, yet you’re numb all over. It’s an overwhelming, euphoric rush, looking up at the man you’ve given your heart to and knowing for sure that he’s given you his.

You blink as you step a little closer, taking in every inch of him, his messy hair, his handsome face, unable to believe that there was a time you didn’t see the warmth behind his eyes.

You can’t find the words, and for once, you stop trying to. Instead, you follow your impulse and take one more step, your body brushing against his, tipping your chin up.

Rafe swallows hard, his veins tight and hot as your gaze flutters down to his lips.

“You said you wanted it to be real,” he says, a note of disbelief in his voice.

A smile tugs on your lips. In a moment like this, he’s considering what you’d told him about how you wanted your first kiss to be real, showing you how much he listens to the things you say, how much he cares about your comfort.

“It will be,” you say softly.

After wanting you so badly for so long, Rafe can’t be still for another second. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, ignoring the pinch of pain in his shoulder. His heart thumps as he leans closer and gently leads you towards him.

His lips press against yours and every piece of you melts away. You were wrong when you thought his kiss would either be rough or gentle. It’s both, the pressure perfect, the urgency just as present as the tenderness.

He kisses you deeper, his lips hot and soft. When he smiles beneath the kiss, you smile, too, hooking your arms around him, hands splayed over his firm back, because you can’t possibly have him any closer.

He gently guides you backwards, pressing you against the cool brick wall, your face still in his hands, holding you as if you could slip away.

Rafe is warm against you, shifting to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, your jaw, the side of your neck. His breath is warm on your skin as you try to catch yours, squeezing him.

He’s never been so sure that he’s where he’s supposed to be. It’s like you’re grounding him with how tight you’re holding him, ensuring him that he’s wanted.

He shifts to kiss your lips again, panting. He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, never having felt so lucky before.

But he’s unsure of how to even navigate this when you’ve told him you don’t want a relationship.

“‘I’ll wait,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Until you’re ready.”

“Ready?” you ask.

“To date,” he says.

You smile up at him, your lips still warm from his. You know you both have work to do on yourselves, but you’re confident you can do it together.

“We already dated, didn’t we?” you tease. “I’m ready. If it’s you.”

He sighs a breath of relief, kissing you once more.

════════

You haven’t done much since you made it to Rafe’s dorm room.

You’ve been lying in bed together with your heads on his pillow, his desk lamp blanketing the room in a soft light, facing each other and talking.

“We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving,” you realize, even though you left the bar about half an hour ago.

The way your eyes widen in worry is so adorable to him that he can’t help but kiss you, and he loves that he doesn’t have to hold himself back from doing it anymore.

“Should we go back? Say sorry to everyone?” he murmurs, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t mock me,” you laugh.

“But it’s so easy.”

You scowl at him, although you’re hardly able to stifle your smile.

“Don’t be mad,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on your lips again. Your cheeks burn, still reeling from how intoxicating it is getting touched and kissed by him now that you know it’s real.

“Right, that’s your job,” you joke, nuzzling in, your forehead against his chest.

A pinch of shame digs into him, his hand running up and down the curve of your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all the happiness from his voice gone.

You shift back to look at him again.

“I was kidding,” you say, your voice thick with worry.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe says.

You bite your lip, studying him.

“Is there a reason?” you ask.

“I just… I’ve always been like this,” he admits. “Sometimes, I can’t feel anything but pissed off.”

“It’s an easy emotion to feel.” You gently trace shapes over his chest, your finger skimming over soft cotton. “They say anger is hurt’s bodyguard.”

“You read that somewhere, huh?”

“You know me so well.”

Rafe’s smile is sad. He had no reason to hold back, not anymore.

“Nobody’s ever tried to understand me like you do,” he admits, “and it was shitty of me to get mad at you for trying.”

“Being mad is comfortable for you,” you empathize. “I get it.”

He takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“I grew up around a lot of fighting,” he tells you. “It was a relief when my parents split up.”

Rafe’s stomach twists with discomfort, the memories rushing back, the pain of being at that damn birthday party and seeing such a happy family still cutting into him. Seeing a proud father. Seeing a mother who stays.

And he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud, and that he wants to, and that you didn’t even have to ask.

“But then my mom… stopped trying to be a mom,” he continues. “And I was left with my dad and my sisters and it was like to him, they could do no wrong and I was nothing but a fuck-up.”

You look into his eyes, unable to believe that he holds such a deep, painful wound. Earlier tonight, he asked you what was wrong with him. You can see now that he must have been asking himself that since he was a child.

“I was always trying to make him happy and it never stuck,” he tells you. “Then I started playing hockey and… I could let out how mad I was. And people liked me for it. I finally had a place to go and – and I hate not having it anymore.”

The puzzle pieces click together. Your instincts were right when you’d assumed he was much more sensitive than he let on, hiding behind anger when all he’s ever wanted was love.

Knowing he was in a relationship where he was pressured to hide those types of things makes the pang in your heart even sharper.

“It’s temporary,” you remind him. “You’ll get back out there. But there’s so much more to you than what a good player you are.”

“You think I’m good?” he says. “You didn’t write anything in the card.”

You breathe a chuckle, gently gripping his wrist, the ink you’d etched washed away now.

“I prefer to write on you,” you tease, then gaze up at him again with sincere adoration. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Thank you for telling me. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

He stares at you in concern, as if he’s afraid you’ll take it back.

But you don’t. You just brush a kiss against his hand, squeezing his fingers with yours.

And this is so much better than the doses of temporary happiness he used to find to fill the gaps. After feeling empty for so long, this is real, complete wholeness.

════════

“Last book on the syllabus,” you say happily, already seated like usual. “We made it.”

Rafe smirks at you as he shuts the door behind him. It’s been almost a week since the night at the bar, and he’s only falling deeper for you, missing you even more when you’re not around.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually tutoring me today,” he answers.

“What’d you expect?”

He drops his backpack on his seat and stands behind you, leaning over to wrap his arms around you.

“Somethin’ more like this,” he murmurs, his lips against the side of your neck.

You smile, squeezing his forearms as you breathe in the crisp aroma of his cologne, remembering when you’d noticed how good it smelled at the first party you went to together.

“You think you can get away with this?” you say, although you feel weak all over. “Did you read the book?”

He kisses the side of your neck, sending a warm tingle through you.

“Rafe,” you sigh. “We have work to do.”

“Oh, shit,” he chuckles. “Your serious voice. I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you laugh. “How was physio?”

“Fine,” he replies, giving you one last kiss before he heads to his seat. Then, he remembers he doesn’t have to lie to you, that you’re the one person in his life that would never give him shit for telling the truth. “Brutal, actually. How are you?”

“Not ready for finals,” you reply.

“You’re already thinking about finals,” he scoffs as he unpacks his things.

“Of course I am.”

You can’t believe that the exam season is just three weeks away and that in two days, the hockey season will be finished and that before you know it, your freshman year will be over.

Rafe pulls out a paper bag from his backpack and places it in front of you, the logo stamped on it familiar.

“Did you..?” you say with a smile. He must have driven to the cafe you’d once met him at right after class, the one you said had the best treats. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just take it,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you sing-song, putting the bag in your lap, sneakily opening it. “Food’s not allowed in here, but this is worth it.”

“Nobody’s going to care,” he teases. “And the door’s closed.��

“Did you miss the windows?” you reply with a laugh. You take a bite and then reach for your copy of East of Eden that you’d lent him and fan through the pages.

“There’s some beautiful prose in this one, isn’t there?” you say.

“Sure,” he says, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that,” you chuckle.

“When do I just say things?” Rafe challenges.

You shrug in agreement.

“So, the discussion question is about the changes of perspectives between both families and how it…”

You trail off as you notice a circle around a paragraph in blue pen, standing out from the yellow highlight and pencil you’d previously etched throughout the book.

“Did you mark something in my book?” you joke. “Who gave you permission?”

“Permission?” he asks amusedly. “God, why do love rules so much?”

He watches as your eyes skim over the page. He only marked one thing in the book and he’s aware of exactly what you’re reading.

You tilt your head, your smile fading, your heart weightless as you read.

A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And I was not afraid any more.

“Why did you circle this?” you ask.

“Why do you think?”

Another smile ghosts over your lips as you look down at the passage again, brows furrowing.

“What?” Rafe says, afraid you’re actually annoyed he marked your book.

“I guess I…” You clear your throat. “I used to read stuff like this and imagined someone thinking it about me, but never thought it would actually…”

You meet his eyes, your voice faded into silence as you exhale. He’s never seen you like this before. Uncertain. Afraid to speak.

You spent so long wanting to be loved just like he has, and while he spiralled into anger, you fell into insecurity, convincing yourself that someone would never care about you the way he does, questioning every sign.

Rafe sits up, reaching forward. You put the book down and take his hand. He gazes at you, feeling so damn fortunate that he walked into this room all those weeks ago, and even more fortunate that you see something in him.

He’ll have to prove to you that he sees something in you, too. He knows there’s work for him to do here. It’s work he wants to do.

“It’s true,” he says, glancing down at the book. “You changed everything for me, you know that?”

You breathe a soft, appreciative laugh, offering a small nod.

“Like your grades?” you joke.

He bites his bottom lip, smirking as he leans closer. You meet him halfway, sharing a soft, slow kiss, your eyelashes overlapping.

“Everything,” he repeats, inches away from your lips. “Thank you.”

You’re dazed, lost, and finally, a little less afraid.

════════

“Get as many as you want,” Rafe says, putting his car in park.

You stare ahead at the shop he just pulled up to, your mouth agape.

This morning, you’d asked him if he had to sit on the bench for the final game of the season this afternoon, or if he could sit in the stands with you. He’d told you he’d rather not watch it at all and that he had something else in mind, refusing to elaborate.

Your eyes travel over the sign hanging above the small bookstore, boasting its collection of old and rare books.

He pulls out his key, then chuckles when he sees that you’re frozen, staring ahead in awe.

“Really?” you say.

“No, I just wanted to show you the front of the store,” he mumbles. “Yeah, really.”

You laugh, excitedly getting out of the car. It’s a surprise, seeing just how much he likes to give you things to show he cares. He might not be great with words all the time, but his actions show you what you need to know.

Rafe follows you as you browse the shelves, picking up books, taking some with you and leaving others behind. He doesn’t understand how this could make you so happy that your smile hasn’t left your face, but he’d do it for hours for you.

He starts to take the books out of your hands, holding them for you as you search, but you don’t let him carry them for long, worried about his injury acting up.

He’s glad this is how he’s spending the afternoon. His coach and his friends on the team were cool with it when he told them he wasn’t going to attend the last game of the season.

It’s too hard to watch from the bench, wishing he could be on the other side of the glass. He’d rather be where he feels best: with you.

At one point, you’re reaching for a book on the top shelf, on the tips of your toes, and the sight warms his heart so much that he takes out his phone and snaps a photo.

“A little help?” you giggle, your voice strained. You look over your shoulder to see him smirking with his phone directed at you.

Rafe pockets his phone and steps forward to face you, his chest brushing against yours as he grips the book you’re trying to reach.

Your gazes stay locked as he hands you the book, looking down at you with a pure smile.

“Can we do this all the time?” you ask.

“You like it?” he says. “Bet there’s lots of places like this between us.”

A look of apprehension flashes across your face. You’re weeks away from the end of the school year, when you’ll both be moving back to your hometowns for the summer, three hours apart from each other.

“Do you mean it?” you ask.

You’re uncertain, needing to hear that he wants to keep this going over the summer, and after, that he’ll keep making an effort to see you.

“Three hours is nothing,” Rafe says.

You beam. You don’t need any more words, entirely comforted.

════════

“You made the right call not coming today,” Isaac says as you and Rafe enter the common room an hour later, the team dispersed across the small space. “That was embarrassing.”

“Shit,” Rafe replies, their hands clapped in greeting. “Was it that bad, man?”

“Never got my ass handed to me like that before,” Isaac says, a few of the other hockey players nodding in agreement. “Meanwhile, you’re on some cute little date.”

You share a smile. It’s clear he’s seen the photo of you that Rafe posted.

“It was cute,” you laugh. “Sorry about the loss.”

“Crappy way to end our season,” Isaac tells you. “But there’s always next year. Rafe’ll be back throwing punches.”

Rafe catches your frown.

“Thanks for the help with my essay, by the way,” Isaac tells you. “Got an A.”

“Great,” you say sweetly. “No problem.”

“You think Lyla’s coming?” Isaac asks. You nod, having texted with your best friend on your way here.

“She is,” you say.

Isaac grins when he looks up at the door. You turn to see Lyla come in. He steps away, eager to greet her.

You smile to yourself. After everything you’ve heard from Lyla, you’re pretty sure they’re only a few days away from becoming official.

“What was that look?” Rafe asks quietly.

“What?”

“When he said something about throwing punches, you looked mad.”

You adore it about him, how much he picks up on, but at the same time, it hurts to remember that the reason he knows how to do it is a result of his lonely childhood.

“I’m protective of you,” you say. “I know you’re healing well, but I don’t like the thought of you getting hurt. Is that so crazy?”

Rafe smirks, stepping forward, putting his hands on your hips, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” you whine with a soft laugh.

“It’s cute that you’re worrying about me, baby,” he answers, revelling in the feeling of touching you in public because he wants to, not because he’s supposed to be making someone jealous.

“You think I’m cute?”

His grip tightens, holding you like he always does, like you’re too good to be real, like someone might take you away.

“All the time,” Rafe murmurs, earning a gentle nudge from you. “Gonna miss you when you get too busy for me during finals.”

“You know I’m going to want to read all those books you got me, right?” you say. “I need you to keep me in line and study with me. Make sure I’m not getting distracted.”

“I thought you said I distract you.”

You chuckle, still in awe of how affectionate he is, of how much he loves to touch and kiss you whenever you’re close. He absolutely does distract you, and you love it.

“I mean, yeah, but everyone needs study breaks,” you say with a shrug. “And I don’t like it when you’re not around.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, neither.”

Rafe takes a second to just stare at you. It’s impossible to get enough of you. He never really looked forward to life in general, but since you made him yours, he looks forward to everything.

You press your cheek against his chest in a hug, listening to his heartbeat. And you love the feeling of knowing, with absolute certainty, that part of it beats for you.

(the end)

epilogue >

au masterlist

author’s note this was such a fun series to write!! thank you to everyone who supported the story. the epilogue is pure fluff and smut, so for the readers who don’t like spice, def skip it!! ily all!!

[clockwayswrites]

Bitty birb in the nest is worth...? Part 19

Masterpost This is going to have many typos and spelling issues, but it currently feels like I've got an ice pick in my temple and my skin hurts so there's no rereading happening atm. Sorry!

-

Danny looked up as Tim Drake-Wayne strode into the lab and closed the door quietly behind himself.

“Tim?”

“Mm-hum?” Tim hummed as he sat down his thermos before he shed his messenger bag, coat, and school jacket onto an open part of desk.

Danny watched on with bemusement. The kid looked half asleep. “Not that it isn’t great to see you again, but what are you doing here, honey?”

“Bruce is on a call running Luthor in circles and then has to talk to legal about some stuff because Luthor is always an ass. We’re supposed to go run an errand and then to dinner together, so I’m stuck here until he’s ready to leave for the day.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said honestly.

“It’s okay, at least Bruce won’t forget, not like—” Tim shut his mouth with a snap, seemingly suddenly thinking about what he was saying.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Danny said, because he did. “You need somewhere to hide out then?”

“Yeah, it’s… calm here.”

“Okay. Sit wherever you want that’s clear. If you need to move something, let me know first, okay?”

“Thanks,” Tim said, shoulders finally losing some of their tension.

“Of course, whenever you need.”

Not wanting to push Tim in any way, Danny kept a subtle eye on the boy as Tim absently wandered around Danny’s office. To Tim’s credit, he did try to touch anything or move things around, even as he obviously grew increasingly tired.

It would be a lot, Danny supposed, to be a teen ager trying to live up to the legacy of two important families in the area, learn the business, go to school, and (hopefully) also spend time with friends. Danny knew how hard it had been only having Phantom as an obligation.

While, sure, Danny wished Tim had made chosen a less neck cramping spot, he was happy to see Tim finally settle down and seemingly fall asleep… under one of Danny’s work benches. Danny couldn’t fuss too much, he’d done that plenty in grad school himself. Once Tim seemed properly asleep, Danny got up to fetch his cardigan from the hook by the door and took it to drape over the sleeping kid. Tim let a little huffed breath of air before he snuggled further into the cardigan and settled back into sleep.

It made Danny’s heart melt in a way that he didn’t want to think too hard about.

It really was no surprise when about forty-five minutes later one Bruce Wayne poked his head into Danny’s office. The door was hardly open when Danny had his finger up and over his mouth in the universal sign of ‘shush’.

Bruce titled his head curiously. Danny gave a little nod of his head towards the workbench that Tim was sleeping under. Silently, Bruce moved to the work bench and crouched down next to it. There was a soft, amused sound before Bruce reached out to brush his hand over Tim’s forehead, as if habitually checking for a fever.

When Bruce returned to where Danny was working, he asked softly, “How long has he been asleep?”

“A little over a half hour. It took him about ten minutes to settle in,” Danny answered, voice equally quiet.

“Then do you mind if I let him keep resting for another fifteen minutes or so? He’s likely to wake up on his own then.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope, let the kid rest. He seems like he needs it.”

Bruce glanced at Tim, his expression that soft sort of worried only parents seemed to get. “He does. He works too hard at… everything. He’s always trying to prove himself even when he doesn’t need to anymore.”

Danny made a little questioning noise as he got back to fiddling with the annoyingly tiny screws.

“His parents were… demanding. They had very exacting ideas of what proper high society behavior was,” Bruce explained. “I’m sadly not the best suited at dismantling those ideas either.”

“Ah… well, what do you do that encourages him to be a kid?” Danny asked.

“He skateboards, actually. And he enjoys photography, but even that became a goal what with art competitions at school.”

“Maybe take him and Damian on a mini art vacation? Somewhere pretty. Somewhere where it’s not about judges,” Danny suggested. He finally got the last screw seated so he glanced up at Bruce’s thoughtful face.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said. “I’ll start looking at what might work. Thank you.”

“Sure, ideas are kinda what I do,” Danny said and motioned to the office around him with the screwdriver.

Bruce’s answering chuckle was low and warm. “I suppose it is. I hope you’re also not overworking yourself.”

“I’m doing much better,” Danny assured Bruce. “I just needed some rest.”

“Which my children made sure you got. I’m still sorry that they kept you so long on Friday.”

It was Danny’s turn to laugh. “Honestly, I don’t think you really have much control over what they do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Bruce admitted. “But I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

“That’s good; they’re a pretty amazing family,” Danny said with a soft smile. “And if I don’t get to be sorry about falling asleep, you don’t get to be sorry about making me rest.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”

“I am a master business man,” Danny teased and ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I’ll have to watch for corporate take overs. Keep an eye on the stocks and papers.”

“Maybe. Oh, speaking of… Well, not speaking of but sort of related? You know, I was joking about us making the papers.”

Bruce hummed curiously so Danny set aside his tools to pull up the story that several coworkers had sent him on his table. He spun it to face Bruce. The picture of them in the box was big on the screen. They were pressed almost chest to chest with Bruce’s arms around Danny. It certainly looked incriminating.

“Well shit,” Bruce said with a sigh. He picked up the tablet to scan through the article. There wasn’t anything in it, of course, just wild speculation. “I hope you haven’t been harassed about this by anyone.”

“I don’t think anyone knows who I am to harass me,” Danny said honestly. “Some coworkers have sent me it, but apparently it’s just my luck to have both randomly run into a Wayne and be invited to an event and have one of my ‘spells’ when I’m around them.”

Bruce looked at him with one well manicured brow raised. “You have interesting luck.”

“Yep. It’s been quite a life so far. I was pretty much born into interesting luck and life has really lived up to that luck and died by it,” Danny said with a little chuckle as he took his tablet back.

“I feel concerned by that last part.”

Danny hummed in question, distracted by pulling his notes back up.

“The having died by the luck part.”

“Oh.” Danny smiled, but he knew that expression was less than a happy one. “I think I mentioned that there was an accident when I was a kid?”

Bruce nodded and lean his elbows on the work bench and crosses his arms. “You did. One that is apparently still affecting your pulse to this day.”

“Yes, well,” Danny glanced away from Bruce. Why was it still so hard to talk about. “When I was fourteen, I was electrocuted at at an… industrial level of voltage. Unsurprisingly it killed me. And hey, obviously I came back! But that sort of thing sticks around.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny looked back at Bruce, honestly startled. In all this time, Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard a ‘I’m sorry’ about his accident, not without strings attached. His lips quirked into a smile again. This one felt more pleasant. “Thanks. Trust me though, I’m grateful that life has, had been calmer.”

Whatever Bruce was going to say to that was cut off by a loud yawn, the sound of someone shifting around, and then the unmistakable bang of a limb against the metal legs of one of the workbenches.

Quiet cussing followed a moment later.

“You okay there, Tim?” Danny asked.

“Fine,” Tim hissed back.

“I’m sure I have an instant icepack in my office. We can grab one before we leave,” Bruce said.

“B?” Tim asked, voice noticeably brighter. A moment later he appeared out from under the desk.

“Hi, sweetheart, sorry that I had to take that call,” Bruce said as he stepped over to Tim. He reached out to brush the teen’s hair a little straighter.

“It’s fine, it’s Lex, I get it.”

“I know you get it, but that doesn’t mean it has to be fine.”

Tim just shrugged. The action made him notice the the cardigan draped over his shoulders. A little blush rose on his cheeks as he took it off and handed it back to Danny. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for Tim, you weren’t any problem,” Danny assured him. “You’re welcome in my office whenever.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Tim said.

Danny just shrugged with a smile.

“Come on, chum, let’s go find that icepack. We’ll still get to your store before it closes,” Bruce said and started to guide Tim out by the shoulder.

Bruce glanced behind him and Danny gave a little wave to the retreating Waynes.

His luck indeed.

-

“What happened in Danny’s office that’s bothering you?” Tim asked. He had the icepack pressed against his elbow and was sitting almost sideways so that he could take in all of Bruce’s expression.

Bruce was doing that thing where he was feeling big, complicated emotions and wishing he wasn’t. Tim could read it in the way that Bruce’s shoulders were set, that little bit of tightening under his eyes, and the way he was very purposefully not frowning.

“B,” Tim pressed.

Bruce sighed, the sound all of his air. “I think we should leave Danny alone, both as Waynes and as Bats.”

Tim jolted and scrambled to sit up further. “Wait, what? Bruce, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Bruce assured Tim. “Nothing bad happened. Vicky got a picture of Danny and I at the ballet. We spoke some about it and Danny talked about how he had interesting luck. He said he was grateful that life has been calmer; he had to change that to had.”

“…oh.”

“It’s just that—”

“No, you’re right. I’ll try to talk to the others about it because you know they won’t listen to you about it.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

[heartyluv]

Note: The amount of love you luvlys have shown me for this mini-series has not only shocked me, but it’s made me so happy. Music is one of my favorite ways to show emotions in my writing so as you read, I’ve included two songs to represent both the POV of you and Caleb. You can reread the section where they appear and think of what both of them are thinking and feeling, if you’d like. But, I don’t wanna yap your head off, so I’ll let you get right into it. I hope you enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the pink dividers! I don’t know who to credit for the plane, but I got it off of @/aew-regression-cove!

Warning: Caleb masturbates, mentions of you wanting to masturbate, very brief mention of depression after the divorce. Other than that, this is just really fluffy and cutsey.

Word Count: 4.6K+ (WOWWW) !!MDNI!!

Summary: Part three to Ex-Husband!Caleb

Part One • Part Two • Part Four

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader ~ Part Three

Caleb couldn’t help himself as he stood in the shower and fisted his cock the more he thought about you. While the hot water fell onto his body and trailed down his muscles, his mouth stayed slightly parted the closer he got to finishing.

He’s supposed to be getting ready for the date he had finally gotten together for you. He was on track up until he came to shower and began to lather himself in a mix of yours and his favorite body washes.

Caleb never stopped buying a lot of things that reminded him of you after the divorce. Like your favorite shampoo, a small bottle of your signature perfume to spritz around his lonely apartment when he missed you a little too much, and even down to the honey body soap that had the privilege of touching your soft skin everyday.

When he pumped a small amount into his hand and started to rub it down his stomach, his mind instantly went to all the times he used to join you in the shower when you least expected it. How your wet body was so eager to press against his.

He thought about your pretty tits that you’d let him hold and suck on, about how wet your pussy got for him when he’d lift you up without a second thought to wrap your legs around him. How he’d slide into your cunt as his tongue made love to your mouth and neck.

There was no guilt in his system as he firmly grasped his cock and teased his slit with his thumb like your tongue used to do. None of that existed when he came so hard that he had to brace a hand on the tile wall to keep himself steady while his cum hit the shower floor. He breathed deeply, watching his spend fall into the drain.

Determination coiled through him because he was certain that everything was happening the way that it should be. He’d get all of that back and it would be more—better. How could it not be if it was given to him by you?

You sat side by side with your mother in the living room as you folded the laundry you helped her with this morning. It was a beautiful Saturday, Mother Nature granting you the opportunity to enjoy temperatures a little more tolerable than anticipated in early February.

Jonah and Blythe were sitting on the floor next to each other, indulging in the cartoon on TV while they snacked on a small plate of their favorite fruits.

“What time are you leaving, love?” your mother Casandra asked as you handed her a few towels you finished up. “Forgot to ask when you got here earlier.”

“Caleb said he’d be here by three,” you confirm, watching how she purses her lips with a gentle nod.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “Just…I’m shocked you’re really going for this again, is all.”

You plop the shirt you’re holding down on your lap with a frown. “I thought you were okay with Caleb, ma.”

“While I may not hate the man, I’m not too fond of him and neither is your father. You know that.”

When you told your mom about what Caleb was putting you through before you separated, she wanted to hurt him for hurting you. Especially when she found out about all the times you felt so isolated in your marriage—a bond that’s supposed to do the opposite for people who genuinely love each other.

Your father Simon on the other hand? Caleb was lucky he never got his hands on him.

Simon is a man who absolutely values the women in his life and wasn’t someone who believed that second chances existed when you screwed up as badly as Caleb did, but he respected and trusted you enough to make your own decisions. Still, it didn’t mean he had to like it.

It’s why he’s been in the garage all day after you asked them if they could watch the kids until tomorrow morning so you could attend the date Caleb asked you on about two weeks after that night of Jonah’s game.

“I really think he regrets it all and that he’s changed,” you say with confidence, thinking of all he’s done so far to show how committed he is to righting his wrongs.

“That’s not up for me to decide. It’s your heart that has to deal with the consequences.” She stops her folding to put her attention on you when it grows silent besides the goofy laughs from your kids about whatever happened in the show they’re watching. She places her hand on yours for comfort.

“Look, your dad and I saw what everything did to you. We saw how depressed you became, how hard it got for you to function. He crushed that heart of yours and it took us all a long time to put a semblance of that spark back in you. I refuse to let him be the reason it’s gone again.”

If it weren’t for your parents and your kids, you’re convinced that you would’ve lost yourself. You stayed with them for a few months after the papers were signed because you couldn’t deal with being in the home that really felt like a hollow house with Caleb gone entirely. On days where you couldn’t get out of bed, they helped with the babies. When you couldn’t eat, they’d feed you. When you were weak, they were your strength.

You understood their hesitation. It was valid for what you went through—an experience that trickled into them and has poisoned their view of Caleb.

“I understand,” you sigh. “Just give him a chance? That’s all I ask.”

“I have no choice if he plans on marrying you again like you say,” she smirks knowingly. “We’ll see about your father, though. And don’t you need to start getting dressed?”

She pats your knee and you raise a brow. “It’s only 10 o’clock.”

“But I know you. You’re going to want to look and be your absolute best. You’ll need as much time as possible so that you aren’t stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing a moment ago, but maybe I should be?” You chuckle at how she nudges your arm playfully.

But rather than feeling that way, you’re nothing but excited about what today will bring—even if you have no clue what Caleb has planned. All he told you to do was come comfortable and prepared for walking, so that’s what you intended to do.

As the day went on, it wasn’t until about one in the afternoon when you started to get ready. You boosted yourself up with some music, singing along to lyrics that fueled your spirit. You decided to wear a simple maroon mermaid skirt, a cream colored blouse with puffy sleeves, and your favorite simple white pair of sneakers.

Your mother was right about you taking your time, but it was only because you’ve been so indecisive. You’d been fiddling with your hair in the mirror for an hour now. It took some effort, but once you figured it out—albeit still not entirely satisfied—you kept your makeup simple, covering a few blemishes, adding some eyeliner, and dabbing your lips with a thin layer of gloss.

You were thankful she put the kids down for a nap so you didn’t have to worry about them trying to bombard you and Caleb with questions about where you two were going and why they couldn’t join. Checking the time on your phone, you knew you were bound to get a—

The music playing lowly from the speaker ceased as a call came through. It was 2:56 when Caleb’s contract flashed across the screen, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. You took a deep breath before answering, now feeling those nerves you didn’t have before begin to bloom.

“Hey,” you answered softly.

“Hey, pretty. I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You grinned obnoxiously hard to yourself. “Coming out now.”

You cleaned up quickly and found your mom sitting in the kitchen, reading a book quietly.

“I’m heading out,” you call as you make your way to the front door to grab your purse. “Dad’s still outside?”

Cassandra smiles at you, looking you over. “You look gorgeous. And yes,” she huffs. “He’s still in the back. You want me to get him?”

You shake your head, knowing he’ll come around when he’s ready. Whenever that is.

“It’s okay. Thank you for watching the kids for me, mom.” You run up to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, okay?”

“I love you, too. Say hi to Caleb for me.”

You nod, happy that despite the things she rightfully feels, she’s willing to try.

Once you step outside, you see Caleb climb out of the car and make his way to you. He’s wearing navy blue slacks with a black turtle neck top tucked into them and a deep blue leather jacket. You can’t take your eyes off of him and he must notice your lingering gaze since he throws you that know-it-all boyish grin the closer he gets.

“I guess I did good?” he teases, holding his arms out as if he were showing himself off.

“Really good,” you emphasize. You’ve decide that there’s no need to play coy anymore. Both of you knew what you’re here for and what your intentions are. Caleb has noticed how you lean into the reality of that a lot easier now, and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” His tone deepens and his eyes make a pit stop on all his favorite parts of you—which is admittedly everywhere. “You look really good yourself.”

“Just good?”

“I could say more, but then we’d miss our plans.”

“Would that be so bad?” You flutter your eyelashes with faux innocence, playing along with the flirtatious banter.

He gently bites his lip, feeling the buzz in his body from how you tease him. It doesn’t help when he thinks about what he did only a few hours ago.

“That mouth always was dangerous, wasn’t she?” He holds his hand out for you.

“You’d know,” you slide yours into his. “Wouldn’t you?”

The moment you and Caleb got into the car, he began to ask you about your parents and the kids. You told him the truth—that his children still missed him like crazy despite his increase in presence and your parents aren’t too elated about the whole “trying again” dynamic between you two.

“I figured,” he answers honestly, but the distress in his heart evokes a dull ache. He knows what kind of person he’d be if his daughter experienced what he did to her mother. He knows how disappointed he’d be in his son if he were to treat a woman the way he had you.

Your parent’s initial disapproval was fair and while he couldn’t change the past, he sure as hell could make a better future.

“I hope to get back into their good graces. I’m honored they’re even allowing me to be in your presence.”

“One thing at a time, yeah?” you assure him, hesitating for a brief second before you place your hand on his thigh. It makes him tense, but it’s not in a way that’s uncomfortable or even sexual. It’s the fact that you’re getting comfortable with him again, that you’re doing the things that made him so glad you were the one he put a ring on in the first place before he lost sight of what was really important—who was really important.

Being the over thinker you are though, you notice his body jolt. You’re ready to pull away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he speaks up.

“Don’t move,” he says with all the gentleness in the world, turning to you as he drives. “Please.”

You smile, keeping your hand relaxed. He’s mesmerized by the glimmer in your eyes, and the shine that enhances your irises tells him that the love you said you had was a gift that was truly there.

“And I hear you,” he continues. “One thing at a time.”

During the almost hour long car ride, you’ve tried your best to figure out where Caleb was taking you. You essentially began to sound like a rendition of a nagging child who kept asking their parents if they were there yet.

“Is it a movie?”

“No.”

“Is it…a new restaurant?”

“No.”

“Hm. Is ittt..a play?”

“Nope.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“You wish.”

When you saw what it really was, you nearly fell out the damn car if it were possible. As the tires rolled along the gravel road and the signs became clear, the excitement that erupted inside your little heart made Caleb’s feel like it could burst.

| Flea Market & Air Show - Limited Time! |

“Caleb you’re fucking joking!” you yelped happily, unable to sit still as he looked for a parking spot and laughed in the way that made your belly warm. You used to adore flea markets and the last one you ever went to was with him.

Don’t even get you started on air shows.

All of these interests that became high on your list of your most favorite things to do is all thanks to the man next to you.

“We’ve got about an hour to walk around before the show starts and then we can roam some more later,” he tells you as he pulls the key out of the ignition after parallel parking like it’s nothing.

There’s so much adoration across your features, so much of everything bubbling up and overflowing.

“I’m so happy,” you express freely.

“We haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.” Caleb is an absolute failure at doing anything nonchalant, so he oozing out just as much love as you are without needing to say it.

“Let’s change that.”

Caleb is by your side the entire time, buying any and everything that you may look at or pick up. You’ve made two trips back to the car because he’s pulled cash out of his pocket—that you didn’t even know he had—to buy everything that made you smile or fascinated you in the slightest.

Neither of you have been the fine dining type of people, so you pig out on the concession stands that made your mouth water the most. You’ve walked up and down the rows of all the people selling personal goods, hand crated items, and even small groups that played unique music.

The ambiance of all the people, the comfort, the excitement, the way your conversations with Caleb become a part of the mixing bowl of all the others happening around you. You haven’t felt this close to who you used to be in a long time.

If you could read Caleb’s mind, you’d know that he feels like all the emotions you’re sharing with him is enough to give the man a sugar crash. And all he wants is for you to keep aiming it at him so that he can share that beautiful energy with you until it consumes you both.

He poses for all the photos you take, helps you in all the little mini games that some people set up like you’re at a carnival, and you clap and cheer for him every time he succeeds.

“The air show will begin promptly in twenty minutes. Please make sure you have your tickets ready in line to be scanned for entry!”

You grin widely at Caleb who’s already standing up from the bench you two sat at to give yourselves a break. There’s comfortable conversation exchanged between you both as you mingle into the crowd, walking toward the huge open field to sit on the large bleachers on the side.

It’s a little darker now, so street like lamps illuminate the walkway and huge football fields style lights are lined up around the perimeter of where the planes will land.

“I’ve never been to an air show that wasn’t during the day before,” you squeeze Caleb’s hand.

“You’re gonna love it. Promise.”

As you approach the person at the stand, you expect Caleb to pull out two tickets. Instead, he simply shakes the man’s hand.

“Colonel,” the younger man salutes. “I’m glad you made it. This must be your wife?” He looks to you with a nod. “Nice to meet you ma’am.”

You don’t bother correcting him. Being Caleb’s wife again honestly has a nice ring to it. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“No need for you to be scanned. Again, we sincerely appreciate your generous donation! Enjoy the show, you two.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Caleb pats his shoulder as you walk past.

“Care to share?” you ask with your arm hooked in his.

Caleb chuckles. “Just had to pull a few strings. Tickets were sold out when I found this, but I made sure I got us in.”

“Mr. Romantic with connections, huh?” you jest. “And I didn’t know we were married already?”

“You better get used to it. All of it’s gonna be your everyday real soon.”

After you two find seats and the show begins, you’re absolutely mesmerized the entire time. And while Caleb should’ve been focusing on the planes gliding through the golden evening sky, all he could do was watch you. All he could do was appreciate the way the sun captured your face, how your eyes glided across the sky, how your beautiful brain digested all the information being shared.

His nerves were at an all time high, the need to impress you more than he has being one of the reasons why you’re his focal point. While it’s a sentiment left unspoken, one look at his face from any stranger could tell you how in love he is with you.

All the while, even with your eyes to the sky, your mind began to juggle the thoughts of Caleb and the impressive aircrafts that made the crowd ooh and ahh.

You never thought you’d be by his side like this ever again. The day you witnessed him walk out that front door was equivalent to feeling what death must be like. Imagine half of your being just gets taken away from you, but you’re forced to keep going as if its connection to you wasn’t important enough to stop your existence. The mere thought is torture, but actually experiencing it is infinitely worse.

But now he’s here, doing everything in his power to bring you back to him. In truth, he already had you that night when he first uttered “I miss you”.

All you continue to do is fall harder and deeper, becoming a woman with no intention to want nothing but him to cushion you when you land.

Every brush of his fingers against your skin makes you shiver, every comment he delivers makes you want to hear everything else he has to say. This is exactly how it felt the first time you fell in love with him, and it could be seen as a blessing or a curse that you’re being given the chance to do it again.

“You watching?” he leans down to whisper in your ear, halting your thoughts.

“Duhhh. Are you?”

“Of course I am.” There’s something deeper to that, you’re certain, but you don’t mention it.

The loud roaring jet engines spark a burst of adrenaline when they get close to make their landings. In awe, you gape at how the large crafts settle onto the flat surface of whirring dirt and think of how a few of them are exactly like the ones Caleb knows how to handle. The thought of him effortlessly controlling something of that magnitude makes you want to sit on his face.

He becomes your personal teacher as he tells you all the details about the jets he’s familiar with after everyone was given the okay to come down and get a closer look.

“The F-22 Raptor,” you gush, running your hand across the warm metal. You’ve always loved the idea of being able to go fast and if you ever had the chance to sit in one of these bad boys, you’d want it to be this one. The way it’s agile in the sky like a snake yet swift and efficient like a cheetah is always an exciting sight.

“You’re still in love with this model, huh?” The first time Caleb took you to an air show, the F-22 Raptor became an obsession for months. “They’re talking about retiring this poor old thing.”

“I heard.”

Caleb quirks a brow. “I didn’t know you were still looking into stuff like this.”

“Maybe you have a lot to learn, colonel.”

He nearly fucked you right there, if he was being completely honest with himself.

But with the discipline he’s enforced in every encounter he’s had with you, he simply licks his lips and huffs out a laugh. “So long as you’re willing to teach me.”

You were exhausted in the best way as Caleb pulled up in front of your parent’s house. It was nearly twelve in the morning when he looked over at your sleepy form in his passenger seat.

“Well,” he looks you up and down. “How’d I do?”

“You kidding me?” you snort. “It was awesome, Caleb. Everything was so, so awesome.”

“I want to do more of this with you.” He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Maybe bring the kids along one of these times and we make it a family thing, you know?”

“I’d love that.”

Both of you go to speak at the same time, an awkward titter passed to see who would try to go first. Caleb, being the lovesick man he is, encourages you to be the one to talk.

“I was just going to ask if…you’d like to come in?” You find it hard to look at him, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought of your request. “You can sleep on the couch so you don’t have to drive home so late.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to upset your parents.”

“You won’t,” you say swiftly. “I promise.”

While you can’t really promise that, you do know that you’ll defend him should it be a problem in the morning. Besides you actually not wanting him to drive another 30 minutes home this late, you’re not quite ready for him to leave you right now.

You’re relieved when he answers you by turning the car off.

You stay silent as you make your way inside, taking care to not wake anyone. The urge to see your babies before you get settled in is strong, so Caleb quietly follows you to get a peak at their small bodies beneath the covers, fast asleep in the two beds their grandparents got specifically for them.

“I have a pair of your sweatpants and a shirt if you want something more comfortable to sleep in,” you whisper on your way back to the living room.

“You do? I’ve never left any clothes here.”

“I know. But I still have some of your things and I packed some since I knew I’d be spending the night.”

You catch that smirk on his face when you turn around after cutting a lamp on. “You still wear my clothes, baby?”

You press your lips together. “Clothes or no clothes?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you roll your eyes, turning around and walking to the guest room you’re staying in to get them. It’s all to stop him from seeing the stupid grin on your face.

But of course, he’s right behind you. “You promise? Can’t be too soft…or too rough.”

You try not to laugh, but it’s one of those moments where for some reason, things that aren’t that funny is making you want to do nothing but cackle.

“I’ll wash upstairs so you can use the bathroom connected to the guest room.” He catches the clothes, noticing the sweatpants have the college he went to stitched into the fabric when you toss it to him.

In the middle of your shower, it crossed your mind to touch yourself when you felt your nipples tighten the more you thought about the day you had and the way you only wished it would end. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be right now, your gut was telling you soon.

There was a throbbing sensation between your legs, but for your sanity, you had to ignore it. But oh, was it difficult.

The feeling of his hands on you brought back all the memories of how he used to make love to you, how he used to talk to you so sweetly while he defiled your body in ways only you’d allow him to do. The way he took care of you, worshipped you, protected, guided, and educated you—it was enough for you to press your thighs together.

You didn’t know if you could handle coming on your fingers and facing him in the next few minutes without that need still being there. Perhaps if you didn’t acknowledge it at all, especially with the help of your tiredness, it was bound to fade.

You were partially right.

That almost went out the window when your towel glided against your clit as you were drying your body. You desperately craved putting a pillow between your legs and burying your face into the sheets as you make yourself come in record time.

The thought was so tempting—the feeling of the rough material grazing back and forth between your pussy lips while you thought about Caleb and his cock inside of you. But you wanted to be loud, and right now you couldn’t be. It would have to happen another time.

Soon after calming yourself, you made your way back to the living room to find that you were finished before Caleb. Seeing the empty room with the barren couch except for the one blanket and pillow you left for him, you decided that you’ll sleep with him on the couch instead of leaving him out here alone.

“Sleepover?” he teased as he fixed his clothes over his body when he stepped out of the room. The peek of his abs nearly unraveled you.

“Don’t ruin it.” You patted the spot next to you.

He smelled like your honey body wash that you left in there when he sat down.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“We do, don’t we?”

You don’t know if you’ve stopped smiling once today. Handing him the remote, you don’t pull your gaze from his. “Find us a movie?”

“Ah, my specialty.”

He settled on one you’ve seen together dozens of times, but you’d never complain because it’s one of your favorites. You began to get comfortable as he threw the blanket over your laps, inching closer and closer until your head rested on him.

“Caleb?” you whisper, the thoughts in your mind making your mouth move to speak before you can try to tuck them away.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, placing your chin on top to stare at him. The glow of the TV is all you have to see his features. “And thank you in advance for everything else to come.”

“Don’t thank me yet, pretty.” He glances at you. “We’ve got a lot more to get to, and you’ll have the rest of our lives together for that.”

“I like the confidence.”

You think he’s about to kiss you with the way his eyes can’t decide if they want to keep staring at your own or your lips. To your disappointment, he ends up just smiling before returning his attention back to the screen. Suddenly, all that wanting to take it slow mumbo-jumbo is cock blocking you.

Despite what you want, this is good—at least in this scenario. You can’t fuck him on the couch of your parent’s house.

You don’t know when you ended up passing out, but sleep has never come to you so easily. Even if he said not to thank him yet, all the credit would be given to him.

In the transition of you succumbing to your exhaustion, you knew that soon enough, words wouldn’t be able to encapsulate your feelings anymore. Today has shown that you’re more than ready to give him back every single part of you.

You’re just hoping that when the time comes, you don’t end up regretting anything else anymore.

A/N: If you thought this was the happy ending, IT’S NOT. Not yet 😏. AND NO SMUT JUST YET, I’M TORTURING YOU ALL, AREN’T I LOLLL!!! NOT EVEN A KISS THIS TIME!! Honestly though, let me know what you think! I really tried to make this part like a glimpse into what they were before it all went to shit, you know? Caleb doing something like this for you is just the tip of the iceberg.

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @inutrasha94 @honeycrispangels

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hc for adrian having a girlfriend or s/o prior to his mother's death. they're human and maybe her apprentince or something. and the church takes her too, but before they can burn her at the stake, dracula shows up and rescues her because he knows lisa was fond of her. during adrians and draculas fight maybe she interbenes at a critical moments so drac doesnt kill him and alucard gets away but she's now a prisoner of dracula w/n his castle. and maybe she befriends the generals?

A/N: Aw, man. Sometimes I wonder if Lisa did have an apprentice, that maybe Dracula wouldn’t be as anti-human as he ended up being, or if she could start to turn him to see the error of his ways sometime before Alucard and Dracula end up in Adrian’s childhood bedroom. 

Apologies for the delays in updates. But my brain went WILD with this request so it’s a long one, I hope that makes up for the less frequent posting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these somewhat bittersweet (then depressing then bittersweet again) headcanons! (Also this is unbeta-ed and prob grammatically messy as hell, so read at your own expense lol.) 

Word Count: 6.2k 

TW: Canon Typical Descriptions of Graphic Violence; Brief Mentions of Sexual Violence; Canon Death; Descriptions of Torture (the church is high-key fucked up here)  

Adrian W/ A Human S/O Reader (Who’s Also Lisa’s Apprentice, Prior to Her Death):   

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

The Beginning:   

Okay, so let’s get one thing straight… FIRST OF ALL, Lisa would adore you!!! Like, you make her baby boy happy and you’re smart??? What else is there to it? And then to top it all off, you’re super sweet and kind and interested in learning about medicine and the world around you!   

Lisa meets you once over dinner and she’s already planning the wedding in her head.   

Adrian is smitten, because of course he is, but in an adorable, somewhat restrained way. He doesn't have a lot (ahem, ANY) experience in this department, so he’s hesitant to take things forward with you, mainly because he doesn’t want to scare you off or make you suspicious about what he is. (It’s hard to make out with someone when you have two big vampire fangs in the front.)   

Adrian is young, like you. So, on top of all the complications, he feels no need to rush things. Sure, he’s heard a few whispers here and there about Dracula having a son, a son who according to rumors and gossiping villagers is to rise as the antithesis of Dracula. It’s all silly superstition, but it does stay fixed in the back of his mind. What would this future legacy mean for his relationship with you? And, should it ever come to pass, would you even be a part of it?   

That’s neither here nor there though, and in the meantime, the two of you simply enjoy the talking phase. You get to learn more about each other's interests, and beliefs, but mostly, you spend time in proximity to one another— you remain busy attending to his mother, learning all you can about healing while he, just a table over, spends his time rereading one of his many favorite tomes.   

I honestly don’t see you meeting Dracula until you and Adrian are like a fully committed couple. I’m pretty sure you would have to have been Lisa’s apprentice for a while and/or lived with the Tepes in their Lupu cottage for months before Lisa finally breaks through Dracula’s protests and makes him officially meet you.   

I don’t think that meeting would happen in Lupu either. No, I imagine it would have to take place at Dracula’s castle, just in case you were to freak out, you’d have no way of escaping and telling any others.   

I can almost see your reaction being similar to Lisa’s upon first entering the castle, especially if Adrian is already at your side. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Dracula is terrifying, but there’s also a giant telescope in the next room calling your name so….   

Much to Adrian’s relief, this newfound information doesn’t make you frightened of him at all, if anything, it simply reignites your fascination with him. You throw rapid-fire questions at him: If he's part vampire, how come you’ve seen him eating human food? Does he need both food and blood to satisfy each of his halves? If he needs blood, he could take some of yours you know…   

Your penchant for learning softens Dracula a little. For a brief time, he wonders if, perhaps, it was as Lisa said, that the humans could change, that humanity was changing for the better.   

He sits across from you at their grand dinner table, watching you intensely as you and Adrian talk about the recent literature you’ve read. You’d no doubt feel Dracula’s all-powerful gaze on you, making you turn to him and… Wait, did you just smile?!   

You’ve got guts, Dracula will give you that.   

Knowing the family secret, you can’t exactly break up with Adrian, nor do you have any desire to. I wonder if Dracula would have rings made for the two of you, maybe commission a new family portrait or two.   

You stay with Lisa in Lupu during Dracula's travels. Adrian is around, although he's always off between the castle and their cottage, so you never feel entirely alone or vulnerable. Your life is perfect! It’s better than you could have ever imagined!   

That is, until…   

━━━━━ ● ━━━━━   

The During:   

When the Church comes to take Lisa, you beg them to see reason. You cry and scream, hell, you even try to fight your way out at one point, only for both you and Dr. Tepes to be overpowered by the Church’s henchman.   

The two of you are taken, violently, to Targoviste, where you’re thrown into dark, damp cells with little to no light. Freezing, you huddle together for warmth, each trying your best to reassure the other, that all will turn out well. Adrian was still around, right? He’ll have to come home to find you missing, he’ll come and rescue you. And Dracula was due to return soon, correct? Surely, they’ll come. Surely, they’ll stop this madness.   

It’s a few days later, after hours of interrogation and brutal torture that you realize with a heavy heart, that no one is coming to rescue you. And what’s worse, that these so-called men of the cloth cannot and will not listen to reason. You’re starved and beaten, your hair is sliced off so close to your skin, that they take bits of your scalp with it in some places. And despite initially being imprisoned with Lisa, you find yourself being separated from her for longer periods.   

The men try everything to get you to turn on her. They tell you if you recant her wicked ways now, say she used her evil magic to trick you, your sentencing will be easier. You could still live— they dangle betrayal in front of you as a last lifeline. You don’t take it of course. You love Mrs. Tepes, and you know she’s no witch. You muster what little might you have left, spitting at the men as you tell them to go to hell. You swear she’s innocent, that she knows nothing. Hell, at one point, you find yourself confessing to having manipulated her! You don’t think they buy it though, if the poor doctor’s screams from down the hall are anything to go by.   

The night they light the pyre, the night of Lisa’s murder, you’re sick on more than one occasion. You scream your throat raw, begging them to burn you first! That she was innocent! That you corrupted her! That it was all your doing! But to no avail.   

In a scene that could only rival the Crucifixion of Christ himself, you look up through tear-soaked eyes to see Lisa, enshrouded in flames, begging Dracula to show mercy on her killers, to forgive them, that they know not what they do. “I know it's not your fault,” she cries out, “But, if you can hear me, they don't know what they're doing! Be better than them. Please!”   

You sob and wail, watching as your would-be mother-in-law is burned alive. You scream out for someone, anyone! To please help you, save you! With Lisa’s last words echoing in your mind, you can’t help but fear Adrian’s and his Father’s reactions, should they find you both killed.

Oh, gods…   

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker… The barbaric display you’re witnessing now or the hypothetical one that threatens to wipe out all living people in Wallachia once Dracula learns of what’s happened. You need not wait long for an answer.   

In a fury of fire and grandeur, Dracula’s head appears, molded in flame, demanding to know what has happened to his wife. You cry out to him, apologizing profusely, saying you begged them to burn you first! You scream out how they refused to see reason, they killed her for helping! Injudiciously, in your indignant anger, you plead with Dracula to release his fury on the priests who did this, to send them to hell to be tortured for eternity for this unforgivable transgression!   

With the silent fury of a gathering storm, Dracula’s fiery visage speaks calmly as his anger grows concertedly less. "I give you one year Wallachians,” he finally decides. “You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and I'll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year."   

No sooner than he spits out the words, a coil of fire bursts from his image, winding itself around your body. The guards surrounding you gasp and flee, avoiding the coil’s tail as it whips back and forth, hoisting you into the air.   

The fiery coil burns your skin, and the smell of even more burnt flesh makes you gag. If you had any bile left over at all, you’re certain it’d come up yet again. The pain is like a thousand stinging nettles and boiling water constricting your arms and midriff all at once. Your vision grows blurry as you feel your body move through the air, your nostrils taking in one last wretched breath of sulfur and smoke.   

━━━━━ ◉ ━━━━━   

The After — Part One:   

When you awake you find yourself laid, practically bare, a heap on the floor within Dracula’s castle— the evil Lord himself only feet away, raging over his magic well— as shards of his magic mirror whip around him at incredible speeds. Your head is pounding, it feels as if it might explode, and your arms… Fuck.   

Where the supernatural coil grabbed you, your skin was red and raw, small pockets of blisters already beginning to form. Your arms tremble uncontrollably as you try to move them, the pain that’s consuming your nerves is far too intense to hold them steady as you sit up into an upright position.   

It doesn’t feel real; nothing feels real. It feels like a nightmare. It had all been perfect, everything was perfect— you all were happy! How did it turn into such horror so fast?   

Shakily, you rise to your feet and clutch the remains of your clothes to your chest in an attempt to preserve your modesty, although it’s more of a subconscious act on your part. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, yourself included. It’s like the air is heavier here somehow, its weight filling your lungs and weighing you down.   

A loud noise shocks you back to the present, nearly making you stumble over in fright. At least you would have, had Adrian not used his superspeed to catch you before you fell. One of his gloved hands grasps your left arm directly over the burn, causing you to let out a hiss. His rectangular eyes look wider than you’ve ever seen as he releases his grip, looking over your battered form.   

“(Y/N) ...” Adrian says, his voice serious and quiet, barely a whisper.   

You shake your head furiously, unable to trust your ability to speak without breaking. Upon Adrian’s gentle insistence, you feel your mouth opening, and the words slipping out, scraping against the back of your reddened throat as they exit your frail body.   

“They killed her, Adrian…” you whisper, your voice quivering. “I, we tried to stop them, they just wouldn’t listen!” Somehow, your eyes begin to water again, despite your earlier certainty that your body had no water nor tears left in it at all.   

“Once she realized they wouldn't listen to reason, she lied and told them I was innocent. She told them she had manipulated me, that I was just a child, that I didn’t know what I was doing, that she never got the chance to teach me!” A feeling of guilt consumes you as you speak the words aloud, and soon enough, your body is once again plagued by uncontrollable sobs.   

Adrian listens intently to your words, his brows furrowed. You watch through teary eyes as a range of emotions flash across his face: anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, and finally… acceptance. Your beloved hardens his gaze, choking down whatever grief he may be feeling. At the present, Adrian knows, there are more pressing matters at hand.   

You follow Adrian’s steely gaze back, seeing his Father where he is bent over his summoning circle, cursing in a language that is foreign to you before he switches back to Romanian.   

“One year! It will take me one year to summon an army from the guts of Hell itself!” Dracula proclaims, promising to enact vengeance for the death of his love.   

“No.” Adrian counters, slipping out of your grasp.   

“Adrian,” you whisper, warningly. “Don’t—”   

“What do you mean, ‘no’? That woman was the only reason on Earth for me to tolerate human life!”  Dracula retaliates, enraged his son could even conceive of such lenience.   

“Then find the one who did the deed,” Alucard proposes. “If you set loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die.”   

“There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said, ‘No, we won't behave like animals anymore.’"   

“(Y/N) did.” Adrian points out. “She tried to take all the blame, in an attempt to save Mother’s life.”   

Dracula looks over at you with blood-red eyes, contempt clear on his face. “And yet,” he snarls, “Here she stands, and my Wife, your Mother does not!” He hisses the last word, livid that out of the two of you, you were the one who survived.   

With large, fearful eyes, you watch as Adrian closes the gap between him and his Father.   

“I won't let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.”   

“Adrian,” you warn again.   

The next bit happened all so quickly.   

Faster than you could blink, you watch, helpless, frozen in horror as Adrian charges his father, his longsword drawn. Despite their vampiric speed being unrecognizable to the untrained human eye, you swear you watch the scene unfold in slow motion. Adrian charges first, but Dracula, roaring in a fit of rage, counters faster— his Father’s elongated claws slash diagonally across Adrian’s chest, before his fist pauses, still embedded deep within your lover’s gut.   

You don’t have time to think before you act. To you, Adrian has the abilities of a god, but to his Father… It was clear there’d be no match. You have no clue how you got your hands on it, no idea as to how you even managed a successful hit, but the next thing you know, a triangular shard of magic mirror is impaled in Great Lord Dracula’s back, put there by your very hand.   

Too terrified to even breathe, the only sound you can hear beyond your racing pulse is a wet, gory squelch as Dracula retracts his claws from Adrian’s body. You hear the spray of blood before you see it, a rush of bright red blood gushes onto the marble floor between Dracula and his son.   

Standing at his impressive full height, Dracula turns ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, to face you. His pupils are that of a blood moon, his sclera so bloodshot they practically look as black as night. In that second, you know you’ve fucked up.   

You cower as Dracula raises one hand to you, instinctively shielding your neck from his nasty bloodied talons. With surprisingly repressed strength, Dracula backhands you, the force sending you flying backward, smashing into the base of one of the curved bookshelves lining the walls of his summoning room.   

With his focus still on you, Dracula stalks toward you. Knowing it’s now or never, you scream at Adrian to flee. “Run!” The words rip out of your raw throat, sounding like an eleventh commandment.   

You see Adrian, previously stunned by his Father’s disregard for his life, holding together the gaping wound across his chest. He has no time to even spare you, his beloved, a last look before evaporating into clouds, his cloud of bloodied mist bolting for the door, fleeing as fast as his injured state would allow him.   

Dracula only turns to watch as his son, his very possibly fatally wounded son, flees the confines of his castle. For a moment it is silent— only the sound of both yours and Dracula’s heaving breaths echo across the chamber.   

Clenching his clawed fingers into a fist, Dracula says nothing as he too makes his way to the castle doors, leaving your bruised and broken body alone in the dark.   

━━━━━ ❍ ━━━━━   

The After — Part Two:   

Somehow, Christ only knows, you find your way to one of Lisa’s old labs and do a half-assed job of patching yourself up. You find your burns and dislocated shoulder to be the most painful of injuries.    

Thankfully, Lisa had taught you enough about setting a patient’s shoulder that you managed to smash it into an adjacent wall, popping your joint back in yourself. The burns you wrap in honey and milk-soaked linen gauze, wincing every time the bandages brush against your skin. It’s awful work, slow work too, but you must have managed it alright because you find yourself patched up and passed out in one of the castle’s kitchens a few hours (or days? had it been days?) after that.   

You eat raw vegetables and berries— nothing that requires cooking. Lord knows you couldn't prepare anything successfully now even if you were to try. Eating your foraged meal in silence you debate your next steps. Do you go back home? Would your family even welcome you home after your long and unexplained absence? And if they, along with all the humans in Wallachia were ultimately to be driven from the land, did it matter anyway?   

‘Oh god,’ you think. You have to warn them, have to make them flee before a year is up. But where would you go? Where could you go? Greater Styria was a possibility, although it was not by any means an easy journey, and the climate there was much colder than your folks were used to here. You shakily rise to your feet and set out to find a map within one of the Castle’s many libraries.   

After a good night’s rest, you find your mindset with a newfound determination: you will go home. You were going to get your family on the move and then… Then, you’d come back here.   

You knew, in all likelihood, that returning to Dracula’s castle after the fact entailed certain death. But you also knew, things would get worse if he were to be left alone.   

Dracula may not have ever loved you for a daughter-in-law. Hell, he may not have ever loved anyone aside from Mrs. Tepes, but you promised her while huddling together that first night in those dingy cells that no matter what happened, should either of you get out alive, you would not leave Adrian and Vlad. “They need humans, (Y/N),” Lisa coughed into your ear. “And most importantly, humanity needs them.”   

Dracula would resent your company, he would want to be rid of you. But you could not be rid of him, not after what Lisa had asked of you.   

‘Besides,’ you thought, ‘Nobody should have to grieve alone.’   

The journey back home to your parents is majorly uneventful. Sure, it was touch and go for a while, your body was exhausted after the ordeal you endured, and your wounds had gotten infected once or twice. Thankfully, you had the mind to pack with you any potential treatments you might need.   

It felt good to be home, to be amongst family again. You couldn’t stop crying and hugging everyone when you first arrived. You kept the details to a minimum but made it clear they needed to be the hell out of Wallachia before a year. You told them you had found an apprenticeship, that the woman was kind to you, but while in Targoviste, you saw the burning of a witch, and soon after the face of Satan himself appeared in flames, threatening the crowd. It caused a panic, you see, and you had gotten trampled in the process.   

You didn’t bother to explain that the woman you were learning under was this so-called witch and that this Satanic figure was her husband. Nor did you tell them of your half-inhuman partner. You knew had you told the family the whole truth, they might have cast you out as a devil worshiper and a liar and choose not to heed your words.   

Your warnings spread through your extended family like how ivy creeps up a stone wall. A fair part of your relatives in the country believed you enough to agree to uproot their lives and settle outside of Wallachia: some settled on Syria, others had decided on Greece, Egypt, or Rome. The more skeptical ones who hemmed and hawed over the validity of your claims agreed to move into the countryside, a decent distance from any major Wallachian city or village.   

When you were certain they’d heed your words, you told them you could not stay with them, your Mother wept for three straight days and your Father could do little to console her. As much as it broke your family’s heart, you knew that your need to return to Castlevania was larger than yours. You weren't just doing it for your family, you were doing it for every family across the land. You couldn't be selfish. Mrs. Tepes was the most selfless woman you had met, and she taught you well. If you meant what you said to her when you first met, that you wanted to help people, you would need to buck up and accept the consequences of that.   

Your journey back to the castle was much more melancholy than your journey home. You could almost feel the whispers of the tortured souls Dracula had slain before blowing cold air into your ears, begging you to turn back. Nevertheless, you continued. You entered Castlevania to find you were alone, however, that would not be the case for long.   

Months later you had fallen into somewhat of a predictable routine within the castle and its new occupants. Dracula had recruited two humans to serve as his war planners— men by the names of Hector and Isaac, respectively. You appreciate the levity Hector, and his undead pets bring, and you admire the intelligence and loyalty Isaac has. You just wish they weren’t going along with Dracula’s plan.   

You tread carefully as you find the time to express to each of his Generals that you wish they wouldn’t go through with this plan. You explain humans are not the kind of species to give in to subjugation, they will revolt eventually. You suggest the vampires come up with some sort of tit-for-tat system with the humans instead like, for example, promised blood servants would equal vampiric protection for that territory.  

It’s safe to say no one is impressed with your centrist ideals, so eventually stop taking part in the conversation. You silently hang around Hector, and just listen with a sorrowful expression, satisfied with knowing that if you can’t change the Generals' minds, you can, at the very least, make them somewhat uncomfortable.  

When Carmilla arrives, you’re immediately put off by her little display of insolence. Unlike yours, her dissent doesn’t seem to come from a place of concern. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her.  

It’s during the General's next argument that you receive a ray of hope: “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit.”  

You feel your body grow lighter.  

“So, that means,” you speak aloud to yourself more so to anyone else, “Adrian is alive?”  

You’re met with a handful of annoyed glares from the other vampires as Isaac continues: “And that there was recently a Belmont there.”  

Upon hearing Carmilla berate the others for not sending night creatures to the ancestral Belmont home, your smile falls and your improved mood falters. These Belmonts were famous monster hunters, famous enough to frighten your current vampire company. That means, if there was a Belmont in Gresit, at the same time as Adrian, as Alucard, whatever the hell he’s going by these days, it could prove disastrous for your love. For all you know, he’s still recovering from the wounds dealt to him by his Father. And if this Belmont, this monster hunter strikes first and asks questions later, he may accidentally kill the only living vampire in existence who stands against the very nature of this war.  

‘How ironic,’ you think solemnly. Just as fast as the universe gives you hope, it rips it away once more.  

You excuse yourself, and make your way towards Hector’s forge, aiming to distract your distraught mind with some cute reanimated pets.  

Shortly thereafter, Hector joins you. He asks if you truly did not know Dracula’s son was still alive. You shake your head ‘no’, telling him how you had prayed every past night to any God who would listen, that they would send their holy armies and angels to guard him, but no, you had mostly just feared he was dead.  

You spend the rest of the night talking to Hector about Alucard, Adrian as you knew him. How smart he was, how much the two of you used to laugh, and how much he looked just like his Mother.  

“Perhaps that’s why,” Hector supposes, “Dracula could no longer bear to see him.”  

You say perchance he’s right, conveniently leaving out the part where the Father and Son duo almost fought to the death right in front of you.  

The conversation with Hector reignites something within you. You feel as if you had been praying all this time for an answer, and this was it. Alucard was alive, and so was Belmont. You understand now what needs to be done.  

Your lover must once again fight his Father, and this time, he must win.  

Your silent observations allow you to learn of Carmilla’s scheme fairly early on, as well as Godbrand’s demise at the hands of Isaac, yet all that time, you say nothing. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. If Carmilla divides Dracula’s army and court, she will inevitably make it easier for Alucard and Belmont to destroy him.  

The Generals, and even Dracula himself, believe you are mourning the loss of your love for the second time, as his demise will be inevitable the moment he meets his Father and his armies— or at least, that’s what they assume.  

When Carmilla has Hector send special night creatures to the remains of the Belmont home, you attach a letter around one of the creature's necks, hoping your love will notice it, and if he doesn’t, you pray he instinctively outwits the traps that await for him within his Father’s castle.  

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

Beginning Again:   

The night Dracula chooses to move the Castle to Braila, you manage to speak with him one last time.  

You bring him some tea, even though you know he won’t drink it, and you tell him, for what must be the hundredth time, how sorry you are about all that’s happened. You apologize for not being able to do more to save his wife. You tell him that if you could do it all over again if you were given a choice between who they should burn first, you’d demand it be you.  

Dracula turns away from the fire to look at you upon hearing those words.  

“She was fond of you, you know.” He says, sounding far away as if lost in a distant memory. “She was overjoyed at the thought of gaining a daughter”  

You nodded along a hurt smile on your face. “It was my honor.” Gathering your courage you continued: “Even though it didn’t work out, I want you to know I loved your wife very much… And,” you kept going. “I love your son very much.”  

Dracula said nothing. He simply turned his attention back to the flames within his study’s fireplace.  

“It’s not too late, you know,” you prod gently. “If Adrian is alive, he could still come back, we could still be a family-”  

“No!” Dracula’s low growl sent shivers down your spine.  

For a moment you feared he would rise to attack you or perhaps berate you further, but no such action came. Instead, the former Great Lord Dracula’s shoulders deflated back to their hunched position, as he fell silent once again.  

Quietly, you made your way back to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. If you had any tears left at all, you would have shed them throughout the night. Instead, you merely lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there would even be a tomorrow to awaken to.  

Pleased to still be alive at this point, but feeling increasingly suffocated by this overwhelming sense of doom, you spend the next day cooped up in your room, on your knees, the rosary in your hand, whispering prayers of safety for your loved one. You couldn't explain it, but at the time, you felt compelled to recite prayer after prayer and reveal all the fears and worries in your heart.  

You speak out to Death, to God, to all the angels and saints, and beg them to grant Adrian safe passage as he completes his task of saving humanity— it’s something his Mother would have wanted after all.  

Amidst your fervent prayers, you feel the Castle shake and creak, but you soon realize something is off: it keeps jerking from side to side, several times, way too many to be a case of a single relocation. Your heart races, and in the pit of your gut, you know this is it:

The Alucard has come.  

Your love has come back for you.  

You scramble behind the door, poised with a wooden stake in hand (just in case, you never know), and wait.  

And wait.  

And wait.  

Following a crescendo of metallic crashes and screaming, you hear more crashes, this time lesser in intensity and they’re accompanied by the distinct scent of fire, sulfur, and burnt flesh.  

It terrifies you, bringing such horrible memories of your almost demise to the surface. You look down at the burn scars on your arms and feel physically ill. Every time you shut your eyes to blink, you see the corpse of Ms. Tepes, burning alive right before you as if no time has passed at all, as if you’re trapped in the permanent hell of that memory.  

The overwhelming ornery atmosphere in the castle only grows, seeming to suddenly flood your nostrils and every pore.  

You watch in shock and horror as thousands of soot-colored transparent ghouls burst through your doorway, the shock of the impact sending you reeling into the bed. Tortured faces of all shapes and sizes circle you menacingly, before bursting through your room’s glass window, vanishing just as fast as they came.  

Within an instant you feel… lighter, freer almost. It’s as if something major has changed, but you don’t know what.  

Timidly, stake still in hand, you make your way down the castle corridors. Unfortunately, you have to take several detours, your regular route being cut off by giant holes in the architecture. A good portion of the castle looks like it had been hit with cannon fire.  

You sincerely hope that whatever caused that damage is no longer rampaging around these halls, lest you stumble upon them yourself.  

By the time you reach the throne room, the sun is just peeking out from behind the horizon. The sight of it flowing freely into the castle interior lifts your spirits with hope. Sunlight means no vampires. No vampires means…

You follow the originating path of the sun’s beams, finding three figures illustrated against the sunrise. One of them is a burly-looking man, with a large frame and broad shoulders. Another is a woman, at least, you’re fairly certain they’re a woman, with curly hair, dressed in flowing blue robes. And the third is….  

You don’t even need a second glance to know who the third person is.  

Crying out his name, you run towards your long-lost lover, almost losing your footing over all the debris covering the floor. But just as he would before, and just as he always would, your lover, Adrian, catches you before you can fall.  

The two of you cling to each other for dear life, just silently sobbing, feeling grateful to be in one another’s embrace. You’re not sure how long the two of you stay intertwined like that, you just know however long it was, it could never be enough to make up for how much you missed him this past year.  

“Adrian,” you clutch his coat, “I thought you were dead! I thought he had killed you! I was so worried.”  

“He almost did,” the strange broad-shoulder man reveals in a teasing fashion. You watch as the robed woman elbows him in the gut.  

“Alucard,” Adrian says, regaining your attention as he grasps your hands in his. “I am Alucard now.”  

You look into his golden eyes, sensing while this is still very much the body of the man you loved, this Alucard before you, is not the same person that your Adrian was. After all this time, it feels like quite the loss, and yet, you cannot fault him for it. You are unaware of the journey he’s been on, of the sacrifices he’s had to make. God knows your character must have changed as well, living amongst a vampire court and necromancers for just under a year.  

You back away from your love, temporarily ignoring his concerned expression.  

“Hello Alucard,” you say, extending a hand, “My name is (Y/N). And I’d very much like to share a drink with you if you’d let me.”  

“Don’ know about Alucard,” the broad man mumbles, gripping his side in pain, “But I’d very much like a drink. Or five.”  

“Trevor!” The robed woman scolds.  

“What?”  

You smile at the three of them, feeling beyond blessed that your love has found such wonderful new friends.  

When you had first fallen for Adrian, you assumed your family would consist solely of him, his mother, and his father, that you’d spend the rest of your days learning medicine in a little cottage nestled in Lupu. That simple life was to be yours. But now, it’s all changed. And Alucard is all that remains of that family you once loved.  

You gaze out into the forest beyond the castle grounds, closing your eyes and sighing as you feel the morning’s sun on your face.  

Yes, it was true Mrs. and Mr. Tepes were gone.

It was true that the old Adrian could never come back.

But if you had to choose a new life, a life here amongst a gorgeous castle, with your former lover and his two new friends, well… you doubted you could pick a better one than that.  

A/N 2.0: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LOOOONG? Who knows? Anyway, it’s here now. And hey— did you pay close attention to the symbols in the dividers? Go ahead and look back if you didn’t, just a silly little fun symbolism storytelling. Oh, also, I will finally be updating The Queue List to reflect all the asks I’ve since answered and posted to not confuse people checking on the status of their ask/new readers.

If you liked reading this, please REBLOG! Likes are great but reblogs spread my work much further. 

If you really, really liked reading this, Consider Buying Me a Coffee <3. 

[ninthprime]

finished my short power fantasy reread a couple days ago and came out very impressed by it- it’s starting to scratch the itch wicdiv did years ago, though they’re very different books. i read die and a bit of once and future too, but i think this deep character drama/high worldbuilding mode is my favorite gillen. i have a bunch of things i want to post about eventually but one that immediately came to mind, especially seeing the solicits for the next two issues, was that i’m really intrigued by whatever is going on with jacky and eliza’s dynamic.

jacky in general is a character i’ve ended up really loving (er, as a character, not a person), partly because he feels like gillen working against archetype in some ways? i feel like a considerable part of the readers are going to go in with preconceived notions of what a right-wing guy with a mask is going to be like, and particularly they’re going to compare him to woden, which is of course where my brain instantly went after the first issue. if you asked me what i thought was up with jacky and eliza after #2 i would probably have the valkyries and woden’s dynamic with cassandra enter my brain. in reality jacky isn’t a lot like woden for the obvious reasons- woden’s an old white dude whose character is fundamentally linked to those things, and jacky’s a brown guy who used to be an anarchist- but also because woden’s character motivation turns out to be grimly simple and selfish, whereas jacky’s right-wing shift is clearly influenced by massive trauma and fuckups but also not justified by those things.

jacky and eliza’s dynamic appears to be pretty much(?) platonic- at least in the sense that jacky tells the pyramid that they should just kill him if he ever goes evil cult leader and has sex with any of them*- but is still incredibly loaded! jacky let her into the total arseholes in the 70s but later notes that he never trusted her enough to promote her higher, and he didn’t even back then:

(by the by, eliza being rendered in complete white in flashbacks before her decension is one of my favorite wijngaard artistic touches for the book so far. really emphasizing the good girl gone bad.)

eliza spends this entire scene questioning him, and it seems to me like she had her own ideas and agenda even back then. (what exactly is christianity in this world when valentina came down from heaven?) presumably then there was another decade-plus of history between them before the second summer of love, at which point things imploded in a way we’ll presumably find out about this week as i write this.

what’s really juicy to me though is what we get in the post-SSOL scene in #5 and after. from what i can tell, eliza’s decension was probably both a consequence of whatever she had to do in the SSOL and her own desires and beliefs…but jacky pretty clearly blames himself.

which i’d argue is a bit rude to eliza’s agency- she comes off as pretty confident in her choice here, although we haven’t been deep in her head- but that’s sure not how jacky is internalizing it. later in this scene he refers to her as “an occasional really good person who wants to be a martyr” (she seems to acknowledge this as referring to herself) and a “beautiful, sweet-hearted, doomed, dumb fuck.” it’s probably quite good for humanity that eliza came around when she did, but i don’t think jacky likes that it happened to her specifically. more importantly, it makes her the only surviving member of the original pyramid; in jacky’s eyes, she’s a living embodiment of his failure walking around, and also she could end the world right now if she wanted to on an even greater scale than he could, judging by the estimates in #6.

by the time we get to 1999 this all seems to have metastasized for jacky as…some sort of belief that eliza is aligned to him? she has to correct him on it in #2:

“eliza arrived to join me” is interesting wording- pretty sure she arrived for her own reasons, buddy. but eliza has been so offscreen up until this point that i don’t think we really have any full idea of her politics, and i’m inclined to think she might keep a lot of them to herself. it’s never even in question whether she’ll come to masumi’s art show; she was never going to. i don’t get the impression that she and jacky talk often, even if their history makes them important to each other. so jacky’s just spent years molding an idea in his head of what he would like things to be like, an idea that’s all tied up in what he thinks he needs/wants to do for the world, as it is with every relationship between the superpowers.

jacky, i know you’re saying this because she’s the only one whose powers can interfere with your plans, but it feels like you’re really saying it because you’ll burn down your relationships with the other superpowers if you have to, but you feel like you have to retain your relationship with eliza because she’s the last vestige of your past life and you hold immense guilt for her actions and you feel like retaining a stable relationship with her is important for your own stability and self-perception? is that it? i’m just saying man.

and of course none of this explains what eliza thinks about him, which is much more ambiguous, like everything else about her. well, that’s for the next few issues to discuss.

(i feel like this sort of not-quite-romantic dynamic is permeating a bunch of this book’s relationships, particularly some of the early stuff with etienne and valentina- valentina refers to some of his compliments in the first scene of the comic as “flirting”, and they have the classic childhood friends backstory. but they also are pretty obviously not a thing. you wonder how many relationships among the superpowers have hovered around it and not gotten further because The World Is At Stake. heavy seems incredibly polyamorous and isabella and masumi’s dynamic is a fucked mess neither can completely acknowledge, but the other four superpowers seem very single. etienne almost certainly has an ethical discussion of such things in his head.)

* as a side note, this is a fun parallel with heavy and his cult’s “weird sex stuff”, though despite his occasionally almost world-ending behavior heavy is still way more likable than jacky. interesting counterpoint to any potential Sex Coded As Bad takes that a lot of fiction stumbles into.

[planet-dusk]

Hard thought about pervy bff Han. I was rereading raspberry sour and the concept is just so 😚🤌

So you're snuggled up with him in bed for movie night, but fall asleep & spend the night like many times before. You're wearing a cute halter & skirt because you hadn't planned come clothes ahead to sleep over. He turns the volume down on the movie, but he can still make out your cute form in the soft glow from the TV. You're splayed out comically, totally derpy but knowing you're in a safe place. He gets distracted by your open legs. He caresses your soft thighs and slides your skirt up to get a closer look at what panties you chose today. He's grown quite bold on your movie nights, taking the chance to squeeze your tits once he knows you're out. On nights when you wear his clothes to sleep he slides his hand underneath his own T-shirt to give your little nubs the attention they've been begging for, poking out and staring at him loose and free from your bra. He keeps it a little chilly when you're over, silently hoping you'll stay and he can touch you again. You wiggle and moan, but don't wake up then so why would you now? He settles down close enough to see your black thong and physically can't restrain himself from giving your pussy a kiss right through the little fabric. He goes to pull back, but the your expected wiggle and moan pushes your thighs right up against either side of his head. He's trapped for a second and moves forward so that his movements don't jostle you too much, but it forces his nose to press harder on your clit. Your thighs tense again, but then relax at the nice sensation. He nuzzles you again, and again. Once he starts to feel how sticky you are he pulls the tiny triangle of fabric out of the way and eagerly laps up the evidence. Your mouth falls open and your brow furrows in pleasure, but he doesn't let up. He slides his boxers down just enough to grab his dick and take the edge off, but alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your folds voraciously brings both of obvious pleasure. You quiver around his tongue with a sigh and flood his mouth for the final time. He cleans you as thoroughly as he can, squeezing himself and leaking on the sheets in ecstasy at your sweet taste and feeling like the best bff in the world for taking such good care of you in his bed. But his heart is racing, he looks up to that sleepy O face that started as just parted lips and suddenly he has to cum, and his strokes never falter because it's happening right now. He scoots up just in time to aim for your tongue. Not a single drop spilling down your pretty face. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, refusing to make a sound as his creamy spurts fill your mouth. His eyes snap open when he feels the tiniest bit of pressure thinking you've reflexively closed your lips at the sensation in your sleep, but no. You're staring up at him with your lips around his sensitive head. You squint in bleary-eyed awareness of what's happening before swallowing the salty surprise in your mouth. With eyes locked in with yours, he holds his breath for the fallout. You have absolutely no idea what to say in this situation, so instead you snake your tongue chasing the flavor and licking the still perfectly positioned head of his cock as you think of what you do next.

gahh i need desperate pervy bff sungie so so bad <33 you'd tease him for being so needy, sinking down on his overstimulated cock and forcing orgasm after orgasm out of his spent body as punishment for his impatience. spit and tears stain his face while you mock him for being such a dirty, pathetic boy. if he wanted your cunt so badly he'll get it; but you won't stop until you're satisfied.

[variousqueerthings]

[ @syrupmap said: variousqueerthings I thought "he's going to be SO surprised!" You have a gift. Please predict the ending. Ooh! How is everyone going to end up? That might be fun to reread after your first watch]

okokok i wanna try this, i think it'd be so fun!

im gonna repeat a bit some of the private messaging to you, with some new Stuff:

learning that this is the Halfway Point got everything together in my head in terms of season three/season three part 1 (is there an official way of talking about the structure?) so definitely this idea of halfway-through is informing how I'm coming at season four/season three part 2, but it's also making it harder to predict because should i think of this as the second half of one season or as two seasons? we won't know until we watch! but certainly that makes a difference in terms of structure

SO. ive watched episode one, which was a relatively light-hearted return to the story. im awaiting some slightly heavier episodes, which idk. finale will be i assume Plot Heavy (safe bets). which leaves 10 episodes in the middle. of those, i'll give PG at least two zanier more surreal plots perhaps. one (slightly spoiled) physical!whump for fraser plot. i'll guess that one may be in the latter half, but it's hard to say, because it depends on whether im looking this as 13 episodes (self-contained) or 26 episodes (in which case we're in the latter half already). it all comes down to how the show is broken up, which i can't predict. also at least two, maybe more like three more light-hearted episodes. and something heavier for ray kowalski as well. which leaves us with three open spots that could go in any direction. i WANT them to be heavier/more emotionally damaging for me, because im that sort of person, but this show goes in many directions, so we shall see 🤪

also... stella and meg coming back into play in some way. i wonder whether stella is going to be more of a background-ish character as she has been outside of her Big Episode or if there will be another focus on her before the pilot. meg, im assuming they're going to continue with the adoption plot, but it'd be cool to involve her more in the way they did in seeing is believing and mountie on the bounty

also, will these women continue to be love interests in some capacity? im assuming yes, but i think not in the most uncomplicated/obvious way (see my finale predictions below), because that's been the structure of the show thus far

things I know are: - fraser and rayk have made a commitment (as of mountie on the bounty) and i presume this will be more and more evidenced throughout these next 10 episodes -- the main focus will be following these two (although, i was surprised that episode 1 didn't do that so much, it was more about fraser and welsh, which, listen, definitely not complaining about!!!) - welsh being dad!vibes continues, but he's had his big focus episode now, so assuming he's mostly back to being police chief (commissioner? i never know what police roles are) - ray vecchio returns in the finale in some capacity

so early days prediction for the finale with the caveat that currently things are wide open:

meg will adopt a kid. idk if this will happen before the finale or during. my gut feeling is before, because then the kid is already there and the plot doesn't need to spend too much time on that part of it. will the kid be massively important to the finale, plotwise? mmmmmmmi don't think so, other than i wonder if it'll readjust meg's priorities

meg and fraser.......... will be ambiguous. i feel like it may veer towards fraser and her not getting together, but with an acknowledgement of feelings of some kind

fraser will hm. not stay in chicago. fraser has been offered the chance to leave chicago twice now and both times he's decided to stay after a great deal of deliberation for someone else's sake (either to protect, as with rayv, or to help grow, as with rayk). there's been elements of doing it for himself too, that he wants to help this community, that he has some roots now, and that he could grow himself if he commits, but ultimately i don't know if chicago is the place where he Belongs. to naysay myself, maybe it ultimately does become that place.... maybe he stays for himself at the end (wow, well done with predicting the two most opposite possibilities). it depends, i think, on how that settling into himself happens here in the tailend of the story. does he find a new place to live? does he get another community? does he feel connected? currently he's still very much fighting against real-boy-ification/domestication, and the question is whther the story leans more towards some of the warnings of s2 (like mask or the edge) or if something will change. so i lean the first, but the second if these stipulations are in place

diefenbaker. i Do Not Know. i hope that wherever fraser is, diefenbaker remains. but it depends on where the story goes vis a vis diefenbaker as a manifestation of fraser's soul + fraser's brother + manifestation of the wild being domesticated... (the wild bunch really lives rentfree with me forever)

ray vecchio and/or ray kowalski get love interests. i don't want'em to. but it's the 90s. i just realised with the current women on the show this would be rayv with stella and rayk with frannie. hm. i don't want it. but it wouldn't be the worst comphet in the world. but i don't want it generally

rayv and rayk will not like each other at first. but i hope they become friends. maybe, if fraser leaves, even partners. dunno. there's something about both of them and partners in their respective stories...

mmmmmmm i want rayv and rayk to work together to save fraser's life in some way. don't care what way. but i want it. work through your differences and help The Boy! and maybe have a good natter about how difficult it can be to keep him alive sometimes

oh sooome kind of full-circle with the pilot. possibly returning to canada for a bit? some kind of catharsis with his ghost!dad? some sense that this story began at that point and now it has ended in a similar place (emotionally, geographically, stakes-wise, narrative callbacks, etc) -- maybe ghost!bob finally finds peace and leaves... that would do it for sure.....

this is maybe not useful, but i doooo think it will be a very good finale that won't give me everything i would want to see. i think it'll probably have some frustrating 90s stuff (like love interests) but it'll have a lot of really good stuff, and it'll be open enough to imagine a "and what comes next is for you to decide, dear viewer..." post-narrative. i want it to not be too neatly wrapped up

things i don't predict but youknow. in my heart and soul:

fraser leaves the mounties (because man has he been screwed over by law-enforcement a lot, but it won't happen and also that would be a whole Other story of having to become a whole new person, his essence is wrapped up in Being A Mountie. it's everything he's got. but. youknow)

rayk and rayv leave the police department. im making everyone leave law enforcement. i want them to be private detectives!!!!!!

elaine returns (she won't, but she does to me) (she also becomes a private detective with them)

we get to explore what happened to rayv in las vegas (cue my brutal noir spinoff show)

stella gets a girlfriend

(lol the girlfriend is frannie, IVE SOLVED IT!!!!)

meg and fraser start a casual D/s thing, super chill, good for them both (im getting silly now) (technically they had that in s2) (but in my version meg also puts fraser in a corset) (ok done now)

I THINK that's about it, pieces-wise. we're at a crossroads about to embark on the final part of the story. both very exciting and ngl preemptively sad about that

[linkspooky]

Hi there, I was rereading your Maki Zenin fanfic (Tyler Durden and the Culling Game piece). I must say when I read it the first time reading it, the way you depict her mentality, emotion, and actions. It was so emotionally draining and at the same time cathartic as it reminded me of myself back then and now still (well minus mass murdering all lotta people). But also surprised me, cause I have never this depiction of her after Shibuya Incident. But over time as I look at your analysis on various characters and paid attention to her upbringing by rereading the manga chapters focused on her, I realized the way she behaves in the Culling Games after what happen to her throughout her life. She is kind of stable??? Regardless, even though she is already my all-time favorite character. Your depictions of her makes me love her character even more as I actually relate to her more and felt those similar feelings. But I'm glad she is alive and is doing ok near the end of the manga, so I wanna ask. What do you think about her character now since JJK is VERY close to its end? And how do you feel about where she is right now as of Chapter 269. Sorry for the long ramble, I might ask more lol.

Thank you so much for your ask! That reminds me I need to start updating my culling games fic again sometime soon. For anyone curious the ask is about THIS YUTAMAKI FIC HERE.

Maki's kind of a hard character to talk about because even though Maki is clearly one of my favorite characters to explore in fic, and I love to dive deep into her motivations and inner struggles in the fanfics I write every time I criticize her writing in canon a little bit her fans jump me.

So instead I'm going to share one recent Maki scene I really liked, and one little tweak I think would have made both Yuta and Maki's character endings perfect.

You're right, for a lifelong abuse victim who just murdered her family Maki seems oddly stable all throughout the culling games. I no longer think this is a Maki specific problem, but rather a Jujutsu Kaisen problem. Basically, post Shibuya most of the character conflicts in between characters are dropped so everyone can work seamlessly together as a part of one big team.

This is a storytelling choice on Gege's so he could eventually set up for the Shinjuku Showdown fight, it'd be impossible for everyone to keep jumping in and out of the fight if people kept stopping to argue and have interpersonal conflicts in the middle of it.

If your name wasn't Megumi or Yuji, then basically all your personal hangups, your self-reflection, all got dropped. Which now it kind of makes sense why the audience was yelling at Megumi for not being able to immediately get over his sister's death, like in comparison none of the other characters spend any time at all dwelling on personal issues because Gege needs them to move to the next fight.

I'm not complaining, I'm just saying this is how Gege chose to write his characters post Shibuya, most personal conflicts got dropped for story reasons.

However, there was one moment that made me really get on board with Maki's writing again, and it was a... you guessed it moment of personal conflict.

This moment where Yuta is bringing up the idea of body swapping with Gojo before the group, and Maki despite being firmly against it is unable to do or say anything substantive to stop Yuta.

It's the first time I've seen that yeah, Maki is still in fact reeling from the loss of Mai. It doesn't really show most of the time on the surface, but Maki's always been like that - like an island able to stand strong without the support of anyone else. It is her strength, and also her greatest weakness.

Remember, the last time someone she loved walked away from her and decided to sacrifice their body and autonomy so they could become a weapon for the greater good Maki wasn't able to say or do anything to convince Mai to stay with her and stay by her side too.

There's the parallel with Maki and Sukuna, that Sukuna chose to devour his own twin in the womb in order to survive and therefore gained a body perfect for sorcerery. When Mai died, Maki gained a body just like Toji's.

Maki carved everything away in order to become a true void, but unlike Sukuna she didn't do it by choice.

We know she wouldn't willingly sacrifice Mai. She begged Mai to stay. Yet, she kind of did choose to sacrifice Mai with every choice she made before that. Maki chose being a Jujutsu Sorcerer over Mai every single time, to the point where when it counted she couldn't do anything to convince Mai to stay.

Maki consumed her twin and became a monster like Sukuna, a true void. She didn't choose to do it per se, but every choice she made leading up to that point indicated to Mai that Maki would rather be strong on her own then weak together with Mai. That Maki is someone like Gojo, and like Sukuna meant to stand strong all alone. Maki is an island and that is her greatest strength and her greatest flaw.

As when it happens again and someone she loves is about to become a monster, she can't find the words to convince Yuta to stay with her on the beach instead of walking into the ocean the same way she couldn't find the words to stop Mai. After all, Maki is someone who chose to become a monster like Toji after losing everything else, what right does she have to stop Yuta from becoming a monster too?

How could she possibly stop him from walking the path she walked? I think it's telling to thde depths of her love that Maki who values being a sorcerer above everything else, would have rather had both Mai and Yuta stay human and stay with her, but also telling of her complete inability to express that love.

It's "You're too important to us" because the words "You're too important to me," doesn't occur to Maki in both cases with Yuta and Mai, because Maki is an island. She can keep going on even after Mai and Yuta are gone even if she doesn't want to.

So here is the one change I would make the Maki's endgame to make her and Yuta's character arcs perfect. I would just have Yuta not be able to come back from Gojo's body. Otherwise, Yuta being magically fixed after the fact makes that whole plot twist kind of inconsequential and as much as I love Yuta in Gojo's body it kind of just seems to exist for shock-value now considering how easily it was resolved.

Yuta not coming back would provide a consequence for Yuta defiling Gojo's body, and also in general give the perfect bittersweet ending to both him and Maki's arcs. They both chose to become monsters in the end to defeat Sukuna, and as a result Maki is standing alone at the strongest. It would also provide the perfect parallel to this scene with Geto and Gojo. You could even have Maki musing on how she was left behind again. There's a pretty big parallel to Maki and Gojo both being people who seemingly don't need anyone because they're so strong and self-sufficient and yet they crumble at the idea of the one person they've always been relying on walking away from them.

It would also parallel Megumi and Itadori as well, because the reason that itadori is eventually able to reach Megumi is specifically because unlike everyone else he refused to give up his humanity to defeat Sukuna.

You could have a really heartbreaking parallel of three generations of friendships broken apart by the Jujutsu World. Satosugu, and YutaMaki aren't able to reach each other and stay together, but finally by never giving up on reaching out towards one another Megumi and Itadori are both able to find each other again after the world and Sukuna pulled them apart.

I do enjoy this scene a lot - especially the parts where Maki seems borderline arrogant by insisting she could have done things all on her own and if they went with her plan instead of Yuta's then they would have suffered far less losses. Especially since Maki's not genuinely trying to chew Yuta out here, she just knows no other way to express her worry over him besides being hyper aggressive and confrontational.

It still shows that Maki's personality problems are all still there, she loves people a lot but she loves people from afar and can't admit to needing them but like I'm just saying we could have had THE UTLIMATE DOOMED LOVERS ending for YutaMaki.

[13eyond13]

hi, not too long ago, i read death note one-shot 2020. i really enjoyed it, but i have a question. What would have happened if Minoru never died. Do you think Minoru and Near will have met each other. I hope you have a headcanons about them.

Hi! Thanks for the ask, it was fun to think about the 2020 one-shot again. I hadn't revisited it since it first came out, so I reread it again just now to have it fresh in my mind.

So I don't really think Minoru and Near likely would've met even if Minoru never died, because Minoru asked Ryuk to erase his memories and also made it really hard to trace everything back to him with how he planned the selling of the notebook. He didn't WANT to be tracked down by anybody, nor to remember what he had done, and Near said himself that it would be basically impossible for them to find him now after the transaction had taken place. The only clue L's team really had to go on after the auction finished was that A-Kira was probably one of the many hundreds of thousands of people under 60 years old who had a bank account with Yotsuba.

HOWEVER! I also do like the idea of Minoru and Near meeting each other, especially because Near expressed interest in meeting him due to his obvious intelligence and due to coming up with that kind of a plan with the notebook. And think it might have been fun to see how they got along.

("read more" cut because it's a bit long)

I also liked Minoru as a character quite a bit. He came off pretty chill and patient and peaceful and non-egotistical, but still pretty scheming and clever as a character as well. I also liked how he found a way to try to use it to benefit himself and his own country (I guess - it's up for interpretation, but that much money going to Japan would be "greasing the wheels" of the economy, as they said?). And to me he also seemed to be trying to entertain and placate Ryuk while also getting the notebook away from him and not actually using it himself to kill anybody. After all, Minoru really had no choice in the matter initially when Ryuk selected him for his next notebook owner, so he didn't ask to be put in that position, and he had all the history of what had happened before when Kira had the notebook to draw on. And Near points out that now that the world knows about Kira's power and its whereabouts that it will be a lot harder for it to be used sneakily by anybody, and perhaps that was something that Minoru had been anticipating too (I assume he had thought of many things like this before he chose this plan, seeing as he for some reason spends 2 entire years coming up with it).

Near in this one-shot is a bit of a question mark to me characterization-wise. He doesn't act a ton like Near did in the manga in my eyes, and comes off a bit more cynical and listless and self-centered than I thought he actually was back in the manga. He seems a bit less idealistic and less caring about the others around him to me in this one-shot, too; and I thought that the part where he says that he wants to meet A-Kira because he's smart sounds a lot more like something the original L would say than something Near would say. Much of the stuff that made his personality refreshing and unique to me in comparison to L just wasn't really that present in this one-shot for me. And I'm just not sure if that's because Ohba is intentionally writing him to have been changed by the Kira case and differently characterized now to how he wrote him in the manga, or what? Perhaps he is trying to show Near slowly becoming more like L over the years as he spends more time doing L's job? Or maybe I just interpreted Near's personality in the manga differently to how Ohba was actually conceptualizing him and writing him in the first place.

Anyway, whenever I imagine Near and Minoru meeting and interacting I tend to picture Minoru having a bit of a calming effect on Near for some reason, as Near comes off a bit depressed and cranky and lonely to me in the later one-shots. They're so far apart in age in canon and when Near first learns about A-Kira that I don't ship it, but I can imagine them getting along well as friends if they met (and if someone came up with an AU where they are closer together in age and/or both first met as adults that'd be fine for me shipping-wise as well). Maybe Near would do well to have a friend like Minoru who came off smart and relatable to him in an interesting way, and who also immediately understood that something like having the power of Kira handed to him wasn't automatic good news and didn't want to use it to kill anybody. Minoru could maybe be Near’s chill voice of reason when he gets a little too cynical and stubborn about things and get him out of the house a bit more, introduce him to some of the things the kids are into these days and see what he thinks about them. I feel like Near would maybe do well to not be so caught up in his role as L anymore as well, as it doesn't really seem to be agreeing with him that much later in life. I can picture them doing something fun and low stakes and nerdy together like hanging out at a board game cafe. Or maybe it'd even be nice to see them working together on L stuff, and maybe Near would be a happier person with an actual pal to hang out with.

[createandconstruct]

Writers ask -- 1, 6, 13, 14, 25, 32, 37, 40, 53, 60, and 71!!!

- dogwaterdish :D

But of course!!! (Skipped a few that already got answered)

6. Do you have your work beta’d? How important is this to your process?

I usually do… usually………@polandspringz 👀 but when my beta reader is too busy working a full time job (the audacity) I rely on myself or a close friend. I’d say betaing is pretty important to me but recently I haven’t had anyone who can do it so I’ve been doing the heavy lifting of reading my own work once I finish.

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Do NOT edit while writing the first draft. Don’t. Just DON’T DO IT. KEEP GOING DON’T REREAD DON’T LOOK BACK JUST WRITE.

Also…*sighs* proofread. When you’re all done. Even if you have a beta reader, doing a read through is so important. I’ve done so much tightening up on fics from rereading it fully through. One thing that’s helped me when I’m really struggling with focus is I’ll have my document read to me. I have such a hard time starting the task of proofreading and one thing that’s made it easier is a text to speech add on to my browser. Lifesaver. It can’t help with everything but it does so much heavy lifting. Also I think knowing how your work would read for someone who is using text to speech is SUCH a huge thing. I’ve been using it so much more because of that too.

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Definitely “to rise and return. again and again.” my post Heroes: Rising fic. I sometimes go back and forth on changing the summary thinking that maybe that’s why it didn’t get traction. But I think maybe it’s because part of the fic is writing a scene and dialogue from the movie? Not sure. I’m thankful for the love it has received! It was actually the very first mha wip I ever started so I’m proud that it’s finished. The response while smaller is still full of such love that I can’t be sad about it. I think there’s just always that part of you as a writer that wonders what went wrong with that one specific work that made it less appealing or liked than others.

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Oh man to pick three. These are the three that come immediately because literally no matter what they write I will read: 

achievingelysium @queenangst, @spiritusrex, and @aconstantstateofbladerunner

achievingelsium I’m just in awe of them. They write so much. They’re power is unmatched. How do they think of so many ideas. Like I want to capture that inspiration. SpiritusRex is quality every single time and I love them for that. I think they were put on this earth to have my exact tastes. aconstantstateofbladerunner. What can I even say I would kill and destroy to be as good a writer as them.

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

This is still a skill I’m working at. I’ll admit I enjoy a good little cliffhanger! But if there’s no cliff to hang from I suppose I go with what feels natural for the progression of the story. Ending it at a point that feels just right so that the next chapter begins strongly as well is important to me. There’s been many times where I’ve been just ripping my hair out over where to end a chapter and even the line to end it one. That’s always the hardest for me. So often I want it to feel perfect.

53. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

I’d say I read more than I write. During the work week I’m often so brain dead once I get home that I have no strength to sit and write so I just lie in bed and read. Now that I’ve gotten a better footing with work though (first two years were ROUGH) I actually have time to do writing. This past October was the most I’ve written consequently since like 2017! In my heart I want to be a perfect 50/50 split because I love reading as much as I love writing. And there’s so many things I want to finish. But... life keeps happening... I wanted to write something over the winter holiday...and then I got punched with norovirus on Christmas Eve (actually still recovering from it) so all I’ve been capable of doing is reading fanfiction. This ask game is honestly a really nice ease back into thinking about writing which helps me quite a bit : )

71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

A separate doc is my best friend. For long narratives I NEED an outline and breakdown of each event. Especially when time is involved in the story. All my multi chapter fics have their own separate document. “Satiate” has one and is like 11 pages long with lots of me yelling at myself, keeping track of the quirk effects, making sure events make sense, and ensuring I’ve accounted for the little details.  

(also I accidentally read 72 instead of 71 so here’s an extra answer)

72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

There’s been quite a few fics that I’ve done my favorite scenes (“thicker than blood” and “safe on all sides”) but I also tend to do front to back. I may write a scene just to get it out when it comes to me (especially when I think of specific phrasing) but oftentimes I try to write mostly front to back in reading order. It just makes more sense for my brain. I’m very visual as I plan and super detail-oriented. I need to see the order of how things play out or I’ll get super hung up on it. So going in reading order is the way to go.

(Sorry that took forever!! Thank you so much for the ask!!!)

[Get to know your fic writer! ask game]

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist: Wrath

Over the course of my reread, I've spoken a fair deal about my thoughts on Wrath and I never got all my thoughts out on him.

When I began this series, I didn't think I'd become so invested in him. In fact, I had no opinions on Wrath until I started taking an analytical approach to this series.

My basic thesis is Wrath is nihilistic. He does not believe in ideals, beliefs, gods, emotions, or even his own purpose.

Back when he was a regular human, he was simply Presidential Candidate #12. He and the other candidates were trained in all matters related to physical prowess, military knowledge, etc. all to build the perfect leader.

Perhaps at the time, he thought the President would be whoever was deemed the most exemplar of them all. The crown would go to the hardest worker and the best suited for the role.

But when the next phase of the program began, it wasn't skill or knowledge that made him the chosen candidate; it was luck. He just so happened to be the first candidate to survive being injected with a Stone. If he hadn't, his body would have been thrown away like the 11 candidates before him. And if one of them had become Wrath, he would have lived the rest of his life as a mindless soldier serving the Doctor.

The process of becoming Wrath depleted his Stone to the point there is only a single soul within it. I would argue that soul is #12's original soul. Greed doesn't have any of Lin's memories but Wrath has memories from before he became Wrath. And the body and soul are bound by the spirit. When the link is severed, the body dies. We know the soul can be forcibly extracted and stored as a Stone even after the body is destroyed, but there's no evidence suggesting the body can exist in a living state without the soul.

So Wrath's body still working leads me to believe that his soul still exists. Maybe we could argue that some other soul is using #12's body, but they should ultimately reject each other. Barry's body was rotting because of the animal soul placed into it. Why wouldn't #12's body start to fall apart after decades with some other soul.

When Greed's Stone was put into Lin Yao, Lin accepted Greed and the two ultimately became symbiotic due to their shared avarice and insatiable desires.

What if #12 happened to have a similar relation to whatever essence made up Wrath? What if at the moment Wrath was inserted into him, #12 was filled with so much anger and hatred for what he's gone through that he and Wrath ultimately came to an agreement with each other? #12 got to keep his body and Wrath's powers, but Wrath's essence would influence him for the rest of his life.

Somewhere in his life, he concluded that nothing has any meaning and ideals are pointless. Maybe it's just an aspect of Father's wrath. Maybe he came to that conclusion after spending his life following Father's designs. Wrath gained power, fame, and success and it ultimately means nothing to him because he never earned it. It was all given to him as part of Father's plans. And it only went to him because he was lucky enough to become Wrath.

Wrath does not believe in god. He called god a human invention, a fantasy for the weak-minded, and an idol created by those too weak to take responsibility for their own fates. That last one is a bit hypocritical since Wrath has never taken responsibility for his own fate. He lives his life according to to the will and purpose handed to him, much like how a religious zealot might claim their actions are the will of god.

Father's goal is to seal god within himself, thus freeing himself from god's rule and becoming a perfect being. Father ultimately treats god as the cause to all his problems, meaning he treats god the same way Wrath described.

It would not surprise me if Wrath despises Father and has nothing but contempt for him. Wrath's fate is shackled to Father's purposes. He can never escape them, and he exists only to achieve some goal that he likely doesn't care about. He is not afraid of divine retribution for what they're doing. He only fears the retaliation of humans.

And Wrath is a perfect foil for Greed. Wrath has everything and values nothing. greed has nothing but values everything. Greed abandoned the other Homunculi because he found no satisfaction with them and refused to be bound by Father's will. I truly believe that Wrath feels the same way, but he's ultimately too jaded to even consider the idea of rebellion.

Father melted Greed in molten metal to extract his stone. He gave a toast to his loyal children and to the Promised Day. But that entire ritual has a second purpose. It warns the rest of the Homunculi the consequences of rebellion. If Wrath had any thoughts of rebellion and making a life for himself, Greed's death would have erased those thoughts. He would just be disposed of like the pawn he is.

After Greed's punishment, Wrath walked home with a furious look to his face, only for it to dispel when his wife and son greeted him. He understands he can never escape his fate to serve Father's purpose, so he would take comfort in times where he could just be with his human family. In particular, he enjoyed being with his wife whom he got to choose for himself.

He hates his purpose and feels he cannot escape it. Maybe he enjoyed seeing Roy and his allies disrupt Father's plans because it gave him some sense of comfort. Everything in his life had been planned out, so it was exciting to experience problems.

In particular, he took an interest in Roy Mustang. From the moment he saw Roy kill Lust, he realized Roy had the qualities to be an ideal sacrifice. And Wrath spent much effort to shackle Roy in place and keep him from further interfering with Father's plans. But no matter what he did, Roy refused to submit to their plans. Even to the very end, when Riza Hawkeye was bleeding to death, Roy refused to be Father's puppet.

Despite his words, Wrath smiled at seeing Roy's defiance. Maybe he admired Roy for having the determination to take control and responsibility for his fate. It's something Wrath never had.

In the end, the closest he ever came to taking control of his own life was when he chose to fight Scar to the death rather than pursue Hawkeye's team. He reveled in having a fight where no ideals, beliefs, or ego was involved; but when he lost, he remarked that the heavens had forsaken him. So at the last moment, he still never took responsibility for his fate.

[fallen-gravity]

What inspired you to make Safe Haven? Btw I really love the fanfic not just because I’m Mollie and Ollie fan but it’s also because you have shown how much they have grown in there friendship after everything that has happened to them. Keep up the great work!

And just wondering how would Scratch react when he realizes Ollie was sleeping over in the McGee’s guest room?

aaa, thank you so much for your kind words!!! it really means a lot to me to hear that people love my work 🥺🥺🥺🥺

A lot of the intial inspiration came from a headcanon I've been talking about with friends for months about Ollie sneaking off to the McGee house. Even before he told his parents that he thinks ghosts can be good and compassionate at NecroComicon, he's been struggling knowing that he has such contrasting morals with his parents (and even his own sister before he had a chance to talk to her too) and that really scares him, so I like to believe that sometimes he would sneak out to spend time with Molly and her family because he wants a space where he can autheitcally be himself. There's a queer metaphor in there somewhere about having a closest self and a true self around loved ones you trust the most, and little sprinkled bits and pieces of wherefore art thou Romeo. NecroComicon airing only added fuel to the fire of Ruben and Esther canonically not being accepting of Ollie's differentiating morals, so yeah, of course he's gonna feel extra scared and unsafe, because now they know he's not like them anymore.

Another part of it, the really initimate part of Molly and Ollie comforting each other through gentle touches and whispers, that part comes from personal experience. When I was about 16 or so years old, there was a time where my then-partner and I got talking about life stuff, and not even necessarily about us or our future or anything that was really about our relationship, and we started getting really emotional because yeah, sometimes talking about life is hard. And we were feeling really shy about it, cause we were around other friends too, so the way we went about it was we kind of...squeezed each other in a really tight hug, and we touched foreheads and got all real close and balled up together, and...we cried. We talked about heavy stuff together and wanted to cry together and it felt like a genuinely healing experience. Molly and Ollie are both going through a lot, and, you know, they're both incredibly touchy people in canon, that it just felt to me like that's something they'd benefit from. Have a heavy talk, and then just take a few moments to let the other help ground you. Gently take them by the hand, wind an arm around them, tell them that they're sitting right there and that they don't plan on leaving any time soon. The fact that The Grand Gesture and mollie becoming canon in the very next episode that aired after writing it was insane luck on my end; I genuinely had no idea what the episode was going to be about outside of June and Darryl's plot, so you can only imagine the look on my face rereading Safe Haven after it aired. Holy shit.

As for how Scratch would react knowing Ollie is right there in his house, well...I'm sure Sharon wasn't the only person that Molly woke up when she was running around trying to make sure Ollie was okay, right? 😉 The way I see it, he woke up when she woke up, and he was gonna give both of them an earful about it, but by the time he caught up with them, he'd probably just run into Ollie crying into Molly's shoulder, and even he's not that heartless to kick someone while they're down.

But he is petty enough to wait until morning, ask how Ollie's feeling, and if he responds with oh, thank you for asking, Scratch! I'm feeling a lot better, then he's gonna tear him a new one for waking him up in the middle of the night and worrying Molly sick like that. But of course Ollie's used to it by this point, and knows that probably means he was secretly worried too, so he just responds to all of his griping with a smile.

[zarvasace]

PROGRESS POST

(12/18/23)

If you're interested in what I've done recently, the state of my projects, and what I plan on doing in the new year, read on! :)

By Fandom

Linked Universe Projects

Shatterproof: I have more backstories cooking, and a half-finished fic or two, but that's about it. I plan on updating a story at least once before January

Council (1931 AU): backburner, haven't really had inspiration. Still on my radar though, and it spins through my head on occasion!

Marvelous Misadventures: been plucking away at this! I recently had an epiphany regarding the next part of the plot, so hopefully that gets me more excited to work on it

Considering expanding the coloring pages I made into a whole series, that could be cool

Misc stuff includes a couple half-abandoned oneshots, a few drawing ideas, and a major art project that probably won't happen because I'm trying not to burn myself out 😅

Four Swords Projects

Fairytale AU: recently gained fire for this again. Reread and organized all my existing material, edited the outline, and I desperately want to finish it soon. Hesitantly scheduling for before the new year. Draft currently maybe about 30% of the way, at 8k.

Isekai AU: I don't think I've mentioned this to anyone outside discord, but ta da I'm deep in this. I'm probably 90% done, about 30k. This will be a Christmas fic, I hope!!

Vampire lords AU: rambly vampire plot is going. Somewhat slowly. I've been trying to not overload myself with too much, so this has been demoted slightly. :) Bite fics happen spontaneously, though, and there might be another coming.

Rinthia AU: my original world, the one seen in Nothing New Under the Sun. This is kind of a passing thought, definitely in planning stages, but I would kind of like to expand this—see where the other characters are, give y'all some answers, because the answers are there

Non-fandom

I want to do more traditional art, graphite and watercolors mostly, and that usually means using photos or life instead of fandom stuff. Makes it a bit less exciting, but maybe I can find a way of doing that. I miss my lil oil paint studio area but I can work with what I have

I'm crafting a few Christmas presents instead of buying them because I do not have much money. That is something I need to spend like, this next week doing

Sanderson merch: I have a goal of getting a booth at Dragonsteel next December, and selling some small souvenir stuff. My plans involve making more pins (I ordered a couple already, and they're very nice), drawing some coloring pages, and maybe advertising here a little once I actually have some stuff I'm proud of up. This will ideally take a year to get together, though, so no rush.

By Month

November

I spent most of November working on The Worst Thing About Earth, kind of an impulse fic that spiraled out of control. I think I burned myself out a little on this, so I've been taking it slowly. Trying to, anyway.

December

So far, I've mostly worked on holiday gift exchanges and some backburner stuff. Like I said, I've been taking it kind of gently. I plan on finishing the FS isekai AU this month, and getting most of the way through the fairytale AU. Getting those off my plate will free me up to think about other things, I think. I also plan on maybe one more bite fic and one more LU disability AU thing before the new year.

January On

I'm not sure what the next month will bring! Ideally, I'll be wrapping up the fairytale AU and intermittently posting a few little things. I'm hoping to return to a couple of my older projects soon, mostly Marvelous Misadventures, because I've left that thing unfinished for LONG ENOUGH.

This next year, I want to try to devote more time to doing things for myself that aren't fandom things. I'd like to reread Stormlight Archive before #5 comes out in December, play more video games, and do more painting. I would like to establish a better habit of making and eating food. I want to play board games a little more often.

Still, the muse can be fickle, and as you probably know by now, I am very good at chasing my inspiration!!

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Re-Reviews- Ride or Die

Welcome to the first of Cadybear’s RE-Reviews! In Re-Reviews, I of course reassess my original opinion of a story I’ve recently replayed. Maybe my opinion has changed, or maybe it still holds up and I have further thoughts. 

Today I will be re-reviewing Ride or Die, the seventeenth review I’ve done. The last time I played this story was 3 years ago, in May 2021. I last reviewed it in March 2024, putting it on the Wood Tier with a 3 stars out of 10 rating. As of my most recent replay however, I can comfortably put it on the Gold Tier at 8 stars out of possible 10.

Sooooo… My opinion on this story has changed VERY drastically as per my second replay. 

The first time around, I did not care for this book. The plot felt poorly paced to me, with too much happening at once. To the point where I said it caused me actual mental distress trying to keep up with it. And I found the whole mood and writing far too melodramatic for what I felt was supposed to be a shallow relationship between MC and the Mercy Park Crew. It was far from being one of the worst to me, but I still found myself speaking very harshly about it. And it shows in my original review. 

This time around, I had much more ease in following the plot. I don’t know why. But rereading it, it is a pretty solid story, and I actually found myself quite invested in what was gonna happen next. There were definitely some parts where I found myself tuning out a bit and had a bit of trouble following, but for the most part, it was a decent and enjoyable story. And because I could follow the story better this time, I could follow some of the more emotional themes of it.

I actually had quite a bit of fun with this MC. Even though she is often pushed as this ingenue/innocent type character, it’s not too overbearing, and she isn’t made to be outright spineless or passive. And they do have some flexibility in their character too– we get quite a bit of variety in how we behave towards the other characters, how we act in certain situations… and that’s something I always appreciate. 

There are even some choices that seem to directly affect the story, most notably the ones where you choose if you focus more on studying or more on spending time with the Crew (with premium options to allow you to combine the two things)– and if I’m not mistaken, it affects whether your MC becomes valedictorian or salutatorian. Though they don’t make it clear how much of your story’s outcomes are changed by your choices. Guess I’ll find out when I replay. 

And I actually found a lot of these characters very endearing. Toby and Ximena were very vibrant and charming and easily my favorite members of the crew. Riya and Darius… I remember being a tad more annoyed with them in my first playthrough, but this time I found them to be very interesting and pleasant characters. 

And by far, my favorite character is certainly MC’s Dad. Oh my God. Even in my first playthrough, I think I did always have a bit of a soft spot for him. He’s just such a sweetheart, and a lot of the interactions and scenes between him and MC were quite emotional to me, I will admit. It was definitely in those moments where I could buy the bittersweet feelings that people rave about. Even though the dad is a bit overprotective, it feels backed by understandable well-meaning intentions rather than some over-the-top “if anything happens to my daughter I got a .45 and a shovel” stereotype. 

I’d say it definitely puts a fair amount of twist on the stereotypical “goody two shoes good girl x immoral tough bad boy” trope. While Logan’s route definitely upstaged those of Colt and Mona (and I’ll get to that later), the story doesn’t revolve entirely around MC’s relationship with him (or any of the other LIs really). The dad was a very sympathetic character, and like I said before, his protectiveness felt well-intentioned and not over-the-top. And rather than a stereotypical “MC runs away with the bad boy and rebels against her evul oppressive father” ending, she’s instead allowed to grow and change to independence through her experience while still sticking true to her academic and family values. 

Of course, there are still a fair amount of problems with it. 

For one, I do still think this book is pointlessly genderlocked. The storyline with MC wanting independence and Dad being overprotective could still work with a male MC, to be honest. And Logan’s character I think would have also still worked as a woman if he was GOC. 

For second, the handling of the LIs– which is probably my biggest problem with the story. I did find Logan a lot more interesting of a character in my replay, but my God, is he a screentime hog. Although the seemingly forced attraction between him and MC isn’t quite as pushed in the first couple of chapters, the story is still blatantly biased towards him and it’s clear they want us to see him and MC as inherently romantic. 

All of the options for MC to choose between her studies/school friends vs driving lessons/the crew involve Logan, and often are given romantic connotations (eg. “study date with Logan”, “double date between you/Logan and Riya/Darius”). And by the halfway point of the book, we’ve only gotten one premium scene option with Mona, two with Colt, but plenty with Logan. 

Now, in my first review, I said that I don’t understand why Logan is so god damned special and why he of all the LIs was the main LI. But here, I think I would phrase that a bit differently: I don’t get why Logan is far more special or important than the other two LIs. 

This time around, I was able to follow Logan’s special reason for taking interest in MC. Quite simply, he was employed to be a sort of “honey trap”. He and Teppei Kaneko knew that MC’s dad was a cop and had been assigned to track down the MPC, and so Kaneko had Logan charm MC and lure her into their group, in order to possibly manipulate the Dad and his case. He calls the cops on Brent’s party so that he can save MC and get on her good side. This is obviously all well and good narrative-wise, but it doesn’t justify him getting this many more scenes than Mona and Colt. 

Personally, I still found Colt the most compelling and developed of the LIs, due to the whole conflict between him and his dad. And Mona is an interesting character too, in that she was once a straight-A’s “good girl” like MC but had gone down a bad path and ended up being stuck as a criminal. These are genuinely interesting character types! Yet for some reason, the story acts like these are much less important and significant than Logan’s character, so much so that they have far fewer premium scenes. Seriously, Mona is given so few interactions with MC and premium scene options, that it’s honestly hard to feel for any relationship between the two of them. So it still feels 100% like she’s just the token f!LI (and the story’s subtitle still isn’t helping matters). 

I mean, I get it. I can understand to some extent why Logan might have a little more focus than the others– he’s the tool that’s meant to bring MC into the crew and keep her there, in order to disrupt her dad’s investigation. But it sort of cheapens the impact of any connection MC could have with Mona or Colt. 

As I mentioned before, Mona’s whole backstory is that she was once like MC– a straight-A goody-two-shoes student, who suddenly gets roped in by “a beautiful girl with a beautiful car” and now lives her life as a criminal away from her old identity and life. This is fine and all, but the “I was roped in by a beautiful girl with a beautiful car” thing ends up feeling rather Logan-centric due to how few romantic opportunities we get with Mona in the first half of the book. Logan’s the one who ropes MC in and gets all the interactions with MC that are meant to keep her interest in being in the crew, whereas Mona has very little presence in that regard. 

Logan may be the one manipulating MC into being part of the crew, but they should have allowed room for intrigue in any of the other LIs to be a bigger factor in what keeps her in. If that makes sense. 

And even all that aside, I do think the romance aspect is a bit melodramatic, kind of? Like, MC and these LIs have only known each other for, what, a month? Three months? Yet they try to push the LIs as having these deep feelings of love for the MC and make it seem tragic when they eventually have to go their separate ways. Like, they have the LI outright say “I love you” to MC at prom. 

I understand that MC and the crew did have a major impact in each others’ lives, but it was hard for me to buy it or feel it was earned or organic when Colt confessed his love for MC. I do like that they allow MC to not return the feelings and point out that they don’t know each other as well, and ultimately treat their romantic interactions as just a small thing. Frankly, I think the romance is better when played that way, as a brief fling that was never meant to last or become deeper. Not all relationships get to develop or have a happy ending. 

I’m fine with a story’s romance routes being more shallow and fling-y, but the story itself needs to treat them as such. ROD somewhat does that, but at times it does also try to frame it the same way of regular more developed Choices romance routes, and that does take me out of the story a bit. LI and MC saying “I love you” to each other in HSS:CA might not have quite been earned either, but at least in that, it is played out as a more cutesy thing. Whereas in ROD, it’s played out as 100% serious, so it doesn’t feel quite right. If they kept it at more of a “I like the idea of dating you” or “You’re important to me and I’ve come to deeply respect and value you” type of thing, I’d feel for it a bit better. 

I also think it’s weird that they have MC still care about the group even after learning that both Colt and Logan had essentially manipulated her. I mean, Mona, Ximena, and Toby, I can kind of get why MC would still care about them. But with Logan and Colt… I don’t fully buy MC still being that eager to help them. Logan manipulated MC, Colt lied to MC about stealing another human being, and Mona ended up betraying her whole group. MC can get angry at them, but still acts weirdly sentimental towards them near the end of the story. Speaking of which…

The story’s ending. I was okay with it before, but I can honestly appreciate it much better now. I’d said in my previous review that even if I did like the story, I probably would not have wanted a sequel for it. And… that still holds true. I like the story, but I don’t think it needs a sequel. MC not getting a happily ever after with her LI is certainly different from the usual Choices ending (again, why couldn’t books like TNA, FCL, Surrender, and TBB have this), but I like that outcome not just because it was “different”, but primarily because it felt appropriate to the storyline and MC’s experience with the crew. 

It makes much more sense for MC’s relationship with the crew to be more like a short-lived fling that was never meant to become deep, which is why I felt it was better to play the romances as such. In the end, it allowed MC to break free from her usual studious and family-focused routine and a taste of adrenaline-fueled independence, and now she gets to move on and start a new adventure as someone who is still studious and cares about her family but is also more independent. 

And unlike other books that got their sequels suddenly canceled like ATV or Hero, the note that this story ended on was fairly conclusive, and it doesn’t really need a continuation. I still wouldn’t have been against the sequel idea (MC being targeted and having to bring the group together again after graduating college) that was revealed in Storyloom, as I do think it’s an interesting idea to explore (as long as there would be a choice for the ending where we don’t get back with our LI)– but it does work just fine without. 

Of course, I still don’t quite get why people have praised this as one of the bests/most legendary of Choices. In my original review, I said that even if I did like this book, I wouldn’t consider it quite one of Choices’ bests. And I do think that opinion still holds true. As of now, I do like this story well enough. I find it fun, action-packed, with a solid coming-of-age narrative and even some strong emotional moments. It does do a fair amount of things differently, but… it wasn’t quite enough to really stand out and *wow* me. It goes with COP and ID in my category of “It’s good, but it’s not that good” stories. 

Overall, I’m glad I gave this story a second chance.

[cloudlessnightskyline]

pt 1

Okay i'm rereading the webtoon so. thoughts. (if you notice any spelling mistakes please ignore them im on an energy drink and time is weird)

"Several years in the future" (abt the apocalypse). the usage of "several years" makes me think its like. 4-5 years AT MOST. because i dont think we call anything more than 5 several?

"players". sjs says "about 2 years from now" except we have a 1 year timeskip. so that means in sometime around 12 months players are going to start getting chosen?? which is shorter than i thought tbh

"That's how Dawon Guild became one of the top guilds" okay. listen. we know this probably doesn't happen in a day or two, right? it should have taken at least months. and since sjs says he put time into learning all abt weapons, we can further speculate abt the exact time everything started going to shit.

so there was enough time since the guildleader was chosen for him to both raise their guild to the top and let sjs invest in weapon learning? that takes at least sometime from a couple months to maybe a year or two. (there were still people knowledgeable about weapons alive)

so this would put the apocalypse. i am thinking roughly around 2-4 years from current time? the players need time to get acquainted with their skills and have enough time to grow to face the apocalypse.

okay time to theorize more. went back to reread and sjs says the difference in weapon creation is the amount of mana.

Sjs also says he's creating the weapons with little mana? and he's already a D-ranker. what happens when a rank A or B creator gets that knowledge? they can put more mana into the weapons, so they could potentially be stronger than sjs' ones?

yth also makes a comment about the sword. "higher than b rank". why is this a surprise? how do creators work? when a rank B creator standard-generates a sword, is it rank B? Or is it the same as a rank C or D creator's sword??? god i love worldbuilding

Are creators a rarity? surely his old guildmaster could have found another creator? potentially C class, since his whole guild is C class except sjs, so why does he settle on D class sjs? i dont think its abt money since he could probably hire a class C creator and still spend less money than on all the daggers he'll need to keep buying

speaking of which

"do you know how much money we spend on weapons?"

weapons are important in this world!! weapons are very very important so its obvious they'll be expensive. this leads to my question: why are they expensive?

I think it's probably due to a lack of supply.

good weapons are hard to come by and even cheap weapons are expensive. there's so many different classes in rpgs, there's bound to be one that has less people in than others. there are so many we can see in this.

i think, at this point in time, there just hasn't been a way for creators to make indefinite weapons, which means people had to rely on blacksmiths, but there's only so many blacksmiths in the world.

lack of supply + high demand = high prices

obviously this gets solved in the future (either due to players getting weapons from the system or creators just figuring it out due to gaining knowledge)

but this makes me wonder!! why only in the future? surely, somewhere out there, there's gonna be at least one creator who got invested into weapon making, right? this is just swirling around in my brain i had more things to say but it vanished so

yth says "most creators", but he only lists sjs as the exception. "it was as if the limitations didn't apply to him at all". so pretty much this means no creator ever decided they wanted to know more about weapons and i think this is sad.

anyways!!!!

...this is getting too long im making a separate post abt the rest of my thoughts

next part ->