#1) language isn't that easy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sidemari · 4 months ago

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• "Themed Phrases" - 18+ Scenarios Collection •

Important note: I had to repost this work because Tumblr's algorithm censored my previous post. Forgive me for any mistakes, English isn't my native language.

About the game: Both characters' names and themed phrases are in alphabetical/numerical order to facilitate your life as you read this work. Thanks for spending some time on here <3

Pairings: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Venti, Xiao and Zhongli [separately] x Fem!Reader

Word count: 7,5K+ words.

Childe's Scenario

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

42. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

TW: Alcohol consumption.

After some glasses of wine, kisses were not enough: both of you needed something more efficient than that to bring relief to your desires.

"I'm feeling... I'm feeling weird" You mumbled against his neck, breathing in his cologne.

"I know you're. It's easy to notice you're excited" His breath hit your ear. "Or should I admit you're horny?"

"Ajax... Stop with your teasing for once"

You felt a kiss against your collarbone that made you shiver, despite the warmth the candles in the bedroom provided.

"It was your idea to drink, in the first place. You know I get... Like this" You muttered.

“You don’t need to be shy, my love” He pulled you to a quick kiss, right before smiling devilishly. "You know I'm around to help you"

And then in the middle of confusion, the reason you both were commemorating.

"It's our anniversary..." You unbuttoned the first button of your coat. "I may have something else for you"

His gaze became piercing, almost cornering you when you showed him your lingerie.

"Lacy?" He grinned. "You're such a sly girl, uh?" If the fabric of your coat wasn't thick enough, it would have torn.

Your breasts were now fully exposed, as they looked perfectly sculpted in the cup of the bra you were using.

You finished undressing and that was when he guided you to your bed.

Your heart was racing inside your chest when he took off his gloves.

"Can I?" He asked for consent while his fingers caressed your hips.

"Yes... Yes, please"

His tongue felt warm.

Your body shivered under his ministrations.

Sucking your clit right before swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves was enough to have you whimpering.

"Ajax- F-Fuck..." Your hands pulled his ginger hair weakly, pressing his face against your intimacy even more, to the point that the words he tried to say were all muffled, because wet and slurping sounds fulfilled the bedroom as Tartaglia prepared you to receive him.

“Is this too fast for you?” He muttered when he broke the contact to breathe.

“Please… Fuck me already” The fatui only smiled, quickly taking off his clothes in order to get freedom to move properly.

“Lift your hips for me and put your legs on my shoulders”

“Ajax…?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

His thrusts were steady and initially slow.

"It's a shame you're now only wearing your bra. That set was pretty hot on you"

A fast pace was settled and you could barely move much or handle all the stimulation.

"You know how I feel when you're all obedient and devoted to me, right, darling?" A hard thrust of his almost reached your cervix, making you whimper and squirm.

"A-Ajax..."

"Shush… We're both almost there"

Your bodies reached the limit some minutes after that, having you both completely surrendered to each other during the rest of the night.

Diluc's Scenario

1. "I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to"

2. "Friends don’t do this kind of shit"

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

43. “I’m going to fucking wreck you”

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

The crystal glass containing an untouched wine was now a fidget on Diluc's hand.

"Tsk, who am I fooling? I despise this shit"

He sounded bitter, almost raged when he abandoned the glass above the table, getting up from his seat at the Winery Salon to walk towards you.

"I'm sorry I have to talk to her right now, Kaeya. Perhaps you can talk finishing your conversation after I'm done with her"

"Diluc...?" You asked confused, as he guided you upstairs with a tight grip on your wrist. "I'm not... I'm not done talking to him"

"Save it" The man hissed. "I'm losing my patience with you, and you're aware of that"

"Diluc... What have I even done this time?"

"You're mine, (Name). You're mine and mine alone. Still, you can't bring yourself to stop seeking attention from other guys, uh? Especially from Kaeya, that..." He didn't finish his line, he simply locked the door behind him, sighing in frustration.

"This is... This is stupid" You said quietly. "You were the one who was disinterested in me. You said it would only bring confusion to the both of us. I guess you were right, afterall"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Don't you remember? You were the one who said 'Friends don’t do this kind of shit', Diluc" You said firmly. "Our relationship doesn't mean much more than being friends with benefits for you, right?"

"You know I didn't mean that phrase in that way, (Name). You're everything I could ever ask for... That's why my blood was boiling with jealousy of seeing you so close to Kaeya"

"So it was all about jealousy...?"

"Is it so astonishing having me confessing something like that?" He took off his gloves slowly, guiding you to his bed with his steps.

"Diluc... He's probably still downstairs..."

"It's even better if he listens to anything" A soft chuckle left his lips. "Now strip of those clothes, because I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to"

The only thing you remembered the next morning was how that single time felt so special and different from any other nights you shared together.

"That's my good girl... Look how wet you're with so little stimulation... Perhaps you were close to Kaeya only to make me riled up, uh?"

You didn't answer him, you only squirmed when his slim fingers brushed against the most sensitive spot of yours.

"You wanted to get me jealous so I could fuck you hard enough to remember you that you're mine alone?" He chuckled softly. "And I must admit it worked pretty well, dear"

Diluc said before his tongue started exploring your sex, with his fingers still there. He had the habit of collecting some of your essence with the tips of his tongue before swallowing all of it.

"I can never understand why do you taste so freaking addictive on my tongue"

Your hands shakily pulled his red hair softly, not making him feel pain, but pleasure as he savored your heat.

"Diluc..." His name was nothing more than a mewl that left your lips.

"Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

He was right, were you needy for him.

But you didn't answer him.

"Say you want me to fuck you senselessly against this mattress, my lovely"

Still no answer, only moans leaving your lips as his fingers kept stimulating you.

"My lovely?" His movements stopped abruptly. "Answer me" Diluc slapped your thigh, gaining a louder moan from you.

"Fuck me, please... I need you filling me up completely... I need to feel you inside of me right now..." You obeyed him.

"I’m going to fucking wreck you”

And so he did.

It was the first time Diluc was rough with you during sex.

He was fucking you raw on that bed.

"You know what you signed up for, (Name)" He said between the hard thrusts of his hips. "You know how much I despise feeling jealousy. It's only fair that I'm the responsible one to teach my little girl a lesson, uh?"

You simply nodded continually, not being able to say much when your body was being pressed against the silk bed sheets while Diluc ravished your body.

The belly bulge his length formed every time he bottomed out inside you made him arrogant about it.

"Do you see how much our bodies match? You were hand-made just for me to fuck you this good, baby..." His hand gripped your chin, lifting it up for you to watch him closely.

"You're perfect... The most precious thing I have" His hips thrusted against yours roughly enough to leave you sore the next day.

"Diluc..." Fuck, he knew you so well that he could almost read your mind thinking about how close you were.

"Cum with me, doll... Let me feel you squeezing me as I fill you up with my seed"

Your nails sank against the skin of his back while your legs kept him inside of you even after your high.

"Look at you... All marked up as mine, uh?"

Sleepiness followed your orgasm, but you could feel Diluc getting ready once again inside your heat.

"D-Diluc...?" You asked quietly, almost shy about what would happen next.

"You don’t need to be shy, my love” That only made your cheeks glow red even more. “Even if you’re worn out, I'm not done with you yet”

Kaeya's Scenarios

Scenario 1

5. “I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-”

9. “Bite me”

15. “Now take a deep breath…”

17. “Don't pull out”

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive here”

30. “That feels good, baby?”

31. “You want me to claim you, don’t you?”

32. “Make love to me, please”

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

50. “I’ve been thinking about you all day”

54. “I just want to make you feel good”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

TW: Omegaverse, heats, creampie.

"This feels... Uncomfortable" You mumbled, changing your position for the hundredth time that minute.

Sweat covered your warm skin but that didn't make you feel better.

It was only getting worse. You'd reach a point that ignoring your urges and instincts would only lead you to your own destruction.

"Kaeya... Please, come home" You whimpered, pressing your legs together so you could try to release some tension.

But things started getting blurry.

And the sounds seemed so stuffy.

You had fainted.

And your boyfriend found you weak, sweating coldly as your body kept trembling despite how warm your skin felt.

"I'm here... Hey, I'm home"

"Kaeya...?" You blinked torturously slow.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here to help you"

"What's happening...? But your thoughts were foggy, since you were way too confused to think straight.

“You’re burning up with fever”

“My meds… I’m irresponsible”

“It’s something normal, (Name). It’s not like any of us can control our cycles”

“I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-” You got up from the bed so quickly that your sight became black and your knees faltered.

“How many times do I need to say to you that you don’t need to suppress anything from your omega nature?”

“Kaeya… This is a burden. I’m a burden…” Gelid and strong hands pressed your body against his own, trying to help you come to your senses.

His lips pressed a kiss against your damp neck, gaining a whimper from you.

“K-Kaeya…?”

“I just want to make you feel good” Another kiss met your skin. “Allow me to take care of you, my love”

Carefully your clothes were taken off by his skilled hands right before he helped you to lay down on the bed.

The silk bed sheets seemed cold the first seconds you laid on them, but they were less cold than Kaeya’s fingertips that traveled against your arm, then hips and finally thighs.

Shivering, you suppressed another whimper when he sucked on your collarbone, marking you as his once again.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive here” Kaeya jokes, kissing the bond mark you received long months ago, during your first cycle together.

“Kaeya… I’ve been thinking about you all day”

“I know, love. I know. And I couldn’t take my thoughts out of you”

His lips touched yours, asking for the permission you gave him instantly.

Your tongues explored each other slowly, while little wet sounds were made and propagated through the bedroom.

The kiss finished when you both needed to breathe properly.

“Open your legs for me, omega” As if you were enchanted, you obeyed him without thinking twice.

Your intimacy was fully exposed to the one who claimed you.

His fingers eagerly collected some of your essence just so he could taste you on his tongue.

A smile formed on his lips when the captain saw your expression.

“You want me to claim you, don’t you?”

“Kaeya… I need you… Myself was never enough for me”

“Shush… I’m here now, remember? Just trust me”

“Please… Please!”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Just…” You whined when his finger stimulated your clit. “Just make love to me, please”

The man pulled your body towards his, slowly penetrating your sex.

Some tears of reflex formed on the corner of your eyes just to be kissed away by your partner.

“Good girl…” You felt a thrust. “Now take a deep breath…”

A steady pace was settled as Kaeya made sure to mark every inch of flesh his eye could admire.

His hips now collapsed against yours creating lewd sounds that anyone could hear if they were close enough.

Your hands went from the bed sheets to his back, scratching him slightly in pleasure while you struggled to take him properly inside you.

“Is this too fast for you?” He asked concerned, afraid that your weakness would take the best of you.

“No… This feels… This feels s-so good” You gasped between his thrusts.

“Ah…” His voice carried a provocative tonality. “So that feels good, baby?”

You didn’t answer him.

It was not like you needed to for him to know you were close to your limit.

One of your hands went to his head, caressing his navy blue locks, guiding him towards your neck.

“Bite me” And so he did. Alberich’s sharp teeth sank into the healed bonding mark on your neck, bruising it once again and sealing your love one more time.

“Shush… You’ll be fine. It’s only some blood”

Some more seconds and you came undone under his body.

The soft squeezes against his shaft made him melt and get closer to his own orgasm. You were able to feel him twitching inside your walls and with that you enlaced your legs around his waist, preventing him from leaving your sex.

“Don't pull out” You whispered. “I wanna feel it. Fill me up to the brim, please”

• Time break •

His embrace was warm, despite the coldness from the room.

“Thank you” You whispered when he hid his face against the crook of your neck.

“We’re bonded, right? We should take care of each other all the time”

You smiled, caressing his hair.

“I’m quite sore”

“You must be… It took many rounds to control your dark necessities”

“K-Kaeya!”

“It’s not like I’m complaining though. Work was tough and at least you helped me to unwind” He kissed your neck once again. “Also… I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

Scenario 2

4. "I don’t care if they watch"

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?”

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

“When will you make me your priority?” You complained with tears in the corner of your eyes, but his attention didn’t leave the paperwork in front of him. “You’re always so careless… Don’t you ever think about what your own partner will think about your attitudes?”

“Enough” The captain got up from his seat, coming towards your direction.

You thought he would stop in front of you, but his steps didn’t falter one single time, until your body was fully pressed against the wall of his office.

“K-Kaeya…?” His hand squeezed your wrist, without the intention of hurting you, but only signaling that if you went a bit too far you’d regret it.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger.

“If you’ll only argue with me once again, I’ll leave”

“My, my. Perhaps I don’t have any other choice. besides claiming you in this exact office, right, my doll?”

“It’s not like this will solve our problems”

“But we can forget about them during some minutes and that’s enough for me”

“Kaeya… We are at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. This is the last thing we should be-” A kiss was stolen from you.

Dominantly, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, exploring your own tongue with curiosity.

One of his hands was still holding your wrist tightly while the other held your waist strongly, pressing your body against the door frame.

“Take off your clothes, quickly” He whispered in your ear after he broke the kiss.

Shivering with his voice tone, you only had the strength to obey his words.

The woodend table felt cold when your naked body laid down.

“What if… What if someone needs to talk to you? What if someone sees us?”

"I don’t care if they watch" His gelid hands opened your legs wide apart, just to see how wet and ready you were for him. “Perhaps you get turned on by arguing?” His finger brushed your clit vigorously, making you squirm.

“Mhmm… It’s s-so sensitive”

“Look how prepared you are, dollface. I could start pounding you right now and you’d have no trouble with it, right?” His finger scooped some of your slick, bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself”

You sucked on his finger, only to grow addicted to your own taste.

“See? You’re addictive” The captain unbuckled his belt, hitting your right thigh with the accessory. “I'm not done with you yet”

Standing still and without trousers, he finally penetrated you, already building up a fast pace within seconds.

“F-Fuck… This feels so freaking good” You whimpered, forgetting about any topic that you were arguing about. “Kaeya… Kaeya!” His tip brushed against your g-spot continually, making you melt with the stimuli.

“Keep moaning my name like that. It’s pleasant” His hand scratched your hip hard enough to leave a little mark.

“I’m… I’m so c-close”

“Don’t cum without my permission”

“It’s too m-much…”

“Only some more thrusts and you can come with me. Don’t you dare cumming before I say so. Or else, you’ll be in trouble and I won’t give a fuck we’re at work”

Your answer was a small whimper and a nod from your head.

Your body jerked up with his movements while his hips didn’t stop collapsing against yours for once. No thrust failed.

“Kaeya…?” You asked for permission when your legs started trembling around his waist. “Please?”

“Deliver it to me, my darling”

And once again your body obeyed him without questioning anything.

Your fiancé emptied himself inside you, marking you as his in another way before pulling out of you.

Your body was way too sticky to put your clothes back on properly when a knock was heard against the door.

“Fuck” You whispered, finishing dressing up.

“We will finish this later in our bedroom”

“Can we at least cuddle afterwards?”

“I’ll take care of you all night long, don’t worry”

Kazuha's Scenario

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

41. “Just let your body take control”

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

54. “I just want to make you feel good”

The night breeze carried something sweet to his senses but he knew that such delicate scent he felt wasn't from the small tree that was part of his room's landscape.

"I know you're here" Kazuha said calmly.

"I missed you" It was your time to say something after not being able to see him for months straight. "And I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier than you expected-"

His lips shut your mouth with a delicate kiss.

"I understand that being an adeptus is draining, love. You have nothing to apologize for... But if we finally met today, I shall admit I just want to make you feel good"

He was perfect.

He was everything you could ever ask for.

You've never been with a man who could make you feel so human, so safe and so loved whenever you were together.

After his whisper, you could feel his hands on your shoulders, his fingers trailing down your neck, as his thumbs stroked your breasts above the fabric of your shirt.

His hand hoovered along your body, feeling your curves and the softness of your skin.

"Your scent drives me crazy" Your breathing strained with his tone and you shivered. Despite the warmth of the room, something about the words and the way he said them into your ears made you weak for him.

"Kazuha..." You whimpered when he finally guided you to his bed.

"Is there something wrong?"

"It's just... I'm not that good when it comes to receiving attention like this"

"Is this too fast for you?" Worry was all over his face. Forcing you to do something was never on his plans.

"No... I need you now, Kazuha"

• Time break •

He reached your soaked panties, pulling them down so he could fuck you with his skilled fingers.

You moaned soundly with your back arched, eyes closed tightly as you simply enjoyed that warm night by his side.

You haven't felt like this in so long.

You needed this feeling.

You needed his love.

And you needed him.

Your hips buck as you try to get away, but his grip is tight while his tongue savors all you had to offer him.

"Kazuha..." His name was nothing more than a whisper that left your agape lips.

It was hard for you to let your guard down like that, even if you trusted him enough to do such. Almost as the man above you could read your mind, he reassured you:

"Just let your body take control” He was growing impatient, just wanting nothing more than to be inside of you.

"I'll make you mine once again"

When he slides inside you, filling you up to the brim, you cry out with a mixture of overstimulation and euphoria.

He makes your love deeper every time he thrusts into your sensitive core over and over again with his body pressed against yours, his face oh so close to you that he had to steal some kisses from you.

Kisses that were hot and hungry.

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

Kazuha teases your mouth with his tongue, flicking it this way and that until you can no longer stand it, so you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore further.

Your whole body tingles from head to toe.

Everything else disappeared from your mind except the feeling of his body on yours, his hands caressing your body, his kisses and the way he ravished you in the most sinful way he could.

Your body would remember him after that.

Your body would show you belonged to him and him alone.

His cock twitched inside you when he was finally close, just when your orgasm ripped through your body.

Kazuha's voice sounded raspy against your ears after he marked your insides with his seed, which easily found its way towards your womb due the constant contractions of your tight walls.

"I'm not done with you yet”

Scaramouche's Scenario

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-"* Edited to: "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…"

9. "Bite me"

17. “Don't pull out”

18.“Why do you smell so good?”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

32. “Make love to me, please”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?”* Edited to: “Can I cuddle you?”

TW: Omegaverse things

Finishing reporting your last mission to the Tsaritsa was incredibly hard when all you wanted to do was laying in bed and having someone to take care of your stupid heat.

"I consider your mission a success. Now leave." The archon said with contempt before you left the gelid room swiftly.

Your vision was blurred and your legs were weak enough to make the walking to your room difficult.

"It stings..." You gasped, trying to breathe properly since the oxygen felt heavy and inefficient. "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…" You were so lost in thought - talking to yourself - that you didn't notice there was someone passing by the corridor.

The collision was strong enough to bother your sensitive body.

"Can't you see I'm trying to pass this freaking corridor?" The harbinger said harshly before he knew it was you that had bumped against him. "Oh, (Name)... It's you… My bad"

"Scaramouche... Forgive me... I just- I just need to get to my bedroom" You runned through the last few meters of the corridor just so you could enter your place and lock the door.

"Fuck... This feels so overwhelming" You whimpered, with your body glued on the door frame.

Having the wooden door behind you being knocked on so harshly made your body shake a little.

"Open the door, please"

"Scaramouche… I'm fine, you can leave"

"I can smell your scent from miles away, omega. If there's something you need right now it's someone to take care of your heat, right?"

'How can him be so accurate?' You thought to yourself.

"Come on, we've done this before-"

Before he could finish his line, you opened the door slowly, blushing while you watched a grin form on his lips.

Pulling your body against his, the harbinger whispered in your ear, close enough to make your body shiver.

"I know exactly what you need, my love" The door behind you both was closed abruptly.

"So… Can I finally help you?" His fingers gripped your chin weakly, only applying enough pressure so he could make your lips touch.

His cold nose brushed against your neck, breathing in your sweet scent, before so soon, a kiss being stolen from you.

It started softly, almost showing his affection towards you but soon he deepened the kiss until your lips were sore.

"Why do you smell so good?" Scaramouche whispered, pressing kisses down your neck.

"Make love to me, please" You whimpered, gripping his clothes with weak and shaken hands.

"You seem to not be able to focus on anything else besides my hands. Tell me, my love. Do you want me to do something with them?"

"Touch me, please" You whimpered.

"Ah, I see. You're so obediently waiting for me to start playing around with you, yet I'm here, all words, no actions" His fingers left your chin to hold your face delicately, with his thumb brushing against your lower lip before he could steal a peck from you. "Let's get started with this" He whispered while laying you down on the comfortable bed before getting above you.

A soft squeeze on the flesh of your breasts was enough to make you whimper.

And the thin fabric of your shirt made you feel every stimulation of his fingers against your nipples. They always had been a sensitive spot of yours and Scaramouche seemed to understand that rather quickly with the help of your reactions.

Soon the soft touches were lowered to the level of your hips and thighs. The skilled fingers gained goosebumps from your body as the harbinger carefully explored your weaknesses.

At some point, you unconsciously opened your legs, giving him enough room so he could finally touch your sex. Pulling your panties to the side, he teased your clit with his middle finger until it was soaked with your slick.

"It seems you're nice and ready for me, even though I barely touched you" You felt his fingers brushing against your aching walls as he thrusted them into your sex. “Fuck, you’re perfect"

You swallowed dryly with his statement, trying to not sound that needy.

His fingers' pace suddenly became faster and the constant stimulation made you reach your high so easily it was almost comic.

"Your little sounds are so cute yet so sinful" The harbinger whispered, taking his fingers off your walls right before he licked them clean. "And your taste is so freaking addictive I could eat you up all night long”

“Scara… I need you now” You gasped, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“You made a mess of me, doll" You could see through his pants how hard you had gotten him. “Wanna feel it inside of you, my love?” You nodded.

Watching him taking off his shorts and underwear made you not pay attention to his next actions.

Your heart skipped a beat when he pulled your body close to his.

Your faces were really close once again that night as you felt the urge to pull him for a kiss before anything else could happen.

"Can I?" He asked for permission after corresponding to your kiss.

"I’m yours"

Even though you were ready for him, it was difficult for you to take him properly inside your walls.

The soft squeezes your insides made every now and then made him almost lose concentration while he built his pace up.

"You feel so freaking good~" He was strong enough to pin you down with only one hand, as the other stimulated your bundle of nerves. "I absolutely adore how vulnerable you look while I ravish you like this"

"Scara..." You squirmed under him as your orgasm got closer. "Deeper, please"

A smile formed on his lips before he took your legs from his waist to put them above his shoulders, allowing him to reach deeper within you.

You saw his frame through your blurry eyes: his hair looked so beautiful even when the indigo locks were messy because of his movements. His hand wasn't holding your own against the mattress anymore so you took the chance to caress his hair with love before pleading;

“Bite me” And your wish was finally fulfilled before the harbinger laughed quietly at how lovely you looked: red cheeks, plumpy lips, sweaty and marked skin with some of the hickeys he had given you. “Fuck… I’m close…”

“Don’t cum without my permission” He ordered, before thrusting against your sex even faster, making your hips sore. Holding back your orgasm made you feel weak, but obeying his orders to make him proud was worth it.

“Please…” You whimpered, marking his back with soft scratches. “Please, let me cum, master… I c-can’t hold it any longer…”

A smile formed on his lips.

“Deliver it to me, my darling” Was what he said before both of your bodies got soft due your climax. "I'm glad I finally made you mine again after craving you for so damn long" Pulling him to a kiss, you both exchanged glances of affection before you asked him for another detail.

"Don't pull out" You whimpered, bringing his body ever closer to yours.

"I won’t pull out for now…" You felt a kiss against the skin of your neck.

“Could you cuddle me?” You whispered shyly.

“So pure and so passionate…” His thumb brushed against your lips. “I’ll cuddle you all night long, my doll. And in the morning, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about the Tsaritsa rules”

• Time break •

The next morning, you still felt his body against yours, cuddling you with love.

“Scara…?”

“I’m here”

"Could you make me yours once again?"

Venti's Scenario

16. “I think we were a little too loud last night”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

26. “I think ropes would look lovely on you”

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

53. “Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"Being so vulnerable and devoted to your God is something beautiful, my muse" The bard's voice was nothing but a murmur against your lips. "I could almost write a song about our love, so the winds would tell the entire Teyvat the story of a mere bard and his loved one" With that, the kiss finally started, making you melt under his body. His tongue explored your mouth with delicacy, slowly sucking your own tongue every now and then before he broke the contact to breathe properly.

You felt something brushing against your arms' skin before you gasped his name.

"Venti..." A smile formed on his lips.

"I think ropes would look lovely on you"

"Ropes...? Are you planning-" A cute giggle left his lips before the god started bondaging your body to his taste.

"Your innocence is so sweet, my muse"

The first spot that got his attention were your breasts and a silly but meaningful idea crossed his mind.

His slim fingers traced patterns above your flesh, making you focus on what was he writing against your skin.

"M... I... N... E..." You whispered. "Mine..."

"You're a quick learner, my muse" His face got closer to yours so he could murmur something against your ear. "You belong to me" Lowering his head, his tongue now swirling around your nipples, making you squirm under him while his slim fingers traveled to your core, stimulating you to the point that tears of pleasure formed in the corner of your eyes.

"Venti... Just like that..." His fingers stretched you out for him for long minutes until your body couldn't take it anymore.

Your whimpers told him you were close, but letting you cum without having him inside you so he could feel the soft squeezes of your walls while he marked you with his seed was a waste.

“Don’t cum without my permission” He told you with a demanding tone, before letting his fingers go off you. "You should do as I say, right, my muse? You want to make your master proud, don't you?"

"Yes, Venti... I wanna make you proud of me"

"Ne, my muse... You provoked me all day long... Touching me, stealing kisses and whispering lewd thoughts against my ear... You really thought you're the one in charge in this relationship?" A soft chuckle left his lips before he entered your sex without much warning.

"F-Fuck... Mhm~" Your back arched a little in the perfect angle to show how deep he was into you with the bulge on your belly. "So... S-So deep..." Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you felt his hips collapsing against yours at a hard pace.

"Look at you... You can barely talk properly, my muse..." He kissed your forehead. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The ropes created enough friction against your skin to provide some pain that mixed with pleasure made you feel alive for once.

His length brushed against the certain spot that made you melt under him while he marked your body as his and his only.

"Barbatos-" His true name left your mouth when you felt overstimulated for the first time that night. "Too much..."

"Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it”

"All I need is you, now" You said softly in answer, even though you were feeling so many sensations that your mind was foggy.

You didn’t remember much of what happened after you finally reached your climax.

You could say you whimpered when you felt his warm essence entering your womb, instinctively pulling his body against yours as you both came down from your high.

Your body was feeling too heavy and sleepiness made you fall into a slumber.

The next morning, the sunlight woke you up.

"Windblume..." Venti, who was cuddling you, whispered in your ear. "Good morning, my muse" You squeezed his hand as an answer, still way too sleepy to start a conversation.

"I think we were a little too loud last night" Was the only thing you said within long minutes of cuddling.

"Oh... You think so, my muse? But... I must admit that being a bit loud is part of my personality" He kissed your neck delicately to not hurt the sore skin from his hickeys. "Mhm... Windblume?"

"Yes?"

“I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"V-Venti, come on... I still work at the tavern, you know?" You complained.

"Ne, it's okay, princess. People will simply know that you belong to me forever" His voice became mischievous. "And you can't say you weren't in the mood for some marks"

Xiao's Scenario

8. "You’re so turned on already? That was fast"

11. "I want you now"

14. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good”

32. “Make love to me, please”

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”* Changed to: "I may or may not leave some marks on you"

Having the one woman that messed up with the adeptus' feelings right in front of him made him aware of what could happen next.

"Xiao...?" You asked quietly, getting up from your bed at Wangshu Inn rapidly.

"My apologies. Appearing out of nowhere like I do may scare humans like you. I just felt I should check on you, is all" His eyes glowed intensely inside the barely illuminated room.

"To... Check on me?" You asked confused, since he almost never showed up to you, even though he was always in the same area.

He didn't answer you, but a scoff of irritation left his lips, making you shiver.

"Is there something wrong? Are you hurt...?"

"I need to be honest, is all, (Name)" His voice carried some frustration.

You nodded, giving him space to start talking whenever he felt comfortable to do so. The worst thing you could do with Xiao was pressuring him in any way.

"I hate feeling like this. But you changed me. You managed to destroy the walls I passed centuries building up just so I could isolate myself from anyone or anything. You with your way of being... You showed me a side of myself I didn't even know was alive anymore. You showed me that perhaps giving myself a chance to start over isn't as dreadful as I thought..." He approached you with careful steps, checking your reactions to see if he could go any further.

Your heart skipped a beat with his words.

So after all this time you both had met... Xiao was finally able to comprehend what he was truly feeling?

"I'm stretching on this speech... What I need to say is... I love you, and I need you, (Name)"

The distance between you two disappeared when you pulled him to a kiss.

• Time break •

"Your scent drives me crazy" The adeptus almost whimpered against the crook of your neck. "I've been trying to deny my feelings towards you but it's useless... I think we just need to get carried away with our urges"

His hands moved swiftly across your body, your breasts, arms and thighs.

"I want you now" He moans as he pulls your panties to the level of your knees just so he could rub your clit against his thumb.

"Xiao..." Your voice was shaky. "S-So sensitive..."

"You’re so turned on already? That was fast" The adeptus teases as he feels you squeeze the finger he now pumped inside your heat.

Your little sounds made the most sinful thoughts cross his mind while he explored possibilities with your body.

"Good, good..." He murmurs as he continues to work your clit with his thumb while two other fingers stimulate your sweet spots. "Such a good girl you're, (Name)..."

"Please... I need more" You gasped.

"Make love to me, please” You moan as you feel his hands on your breasts just so his fingers could pinch your nipples.

He then slams into you, filling you so perfectly well that every muscle of your body goes into spasm. Your eyes water as you try to blink them back shut, but you can't stop the hot tears from streaming down your cheeks as your body continues to tremble every single time Xiao thrusts into your insides.

“Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good” His voice was raw, showing the side of him he always tried to hide

"Oh gods" You mutter as you clutch his shoulders and kiss him, your tongue exploring his mouth as he kisses you back.

You feel his hands on your hips, then his fingers trailing down your inner thighs he holds you tightly during your lovemaking.

You can feel the tip of his length almost pressing against your cervix, and you can feel as your walls tightened around him as your orgasm hits you.

"Xiao..." You sounded like an angel to him. Pressing his body against your even more with your legs as his hips rock back and forth against yours non-stop, you soon felt he had finally reached his high.

A warm liquid marked every of your walls' crevices in jolts, as his breathing became uneasy right before Xiao stole a kiss from your lips.

An almost aggressive kiss that showed you his desires were not satisfied just yet.

"I'm not done with you yet” A weak smile formed on his lips as he brushed a lock from your hair out of your forehead. "May this night make up for the time we've lost"

"Still..." He continues. "I may or may not leave some marks on you"

"It's not like I'll mind them" You answered before changing positions.

Zhongli's Scenario

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-"

11. “I want you now”

14. "Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good"

31. "You want me to claim you, don't you?"

47. "Come for me, you've done so well"

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

TW: Omegaverse things

"Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-" You whimpered, thinking you were alone inside that place.

You could only hope your scent wasn't too strong or tempting at that moment. Afterall, with your status as an omega and having an alpha being your manager was specifically hard due your instincts.

Your nature could take the best of you at any moment and that thought by itself was almost terrifying.

"Hey" Zhongli's voice made you jolt in place. "Hey, it's okay..."

"Zhongli... You were supposed to come to work only t-tomorrow-" Before you could finish your line your knees faltered due to the weakness from your heat.

To your surprise, strong hands prevent you from falling, leading to both of your bodies pressing against each other.

"Didn’t expect to see me here?" His voice sounded confused. "Or it's only a deception I came here during such a delicate moment, my omega?"

“So you noticed that detail…”

"So warm, sweet and inviting" You felt a kiss against your nape. It was so delicate and desperate it made his mind sink into lewd thoughts. "You're aware of the truth, right?"

“Zhongli…?” He inhaled your aroma slowly, letting every note of your scent trigger the right sensations from his being.

“Sooner or later our natures will take the lead. It’s better to get to know each other while our minds aren’t so hazy”

“Please, m-make this stop-” You whimpered when his fingers pressed against the place a bond mark should be.

“Your scent drives me crazy” The man whispered, before carefully leaning you on the table of the office. “I’ll make you mine, and I’ll be yours”

Zhongli started kissing your stomach as his hands gripped your hips tightly right before opening your legs with strong hands, massaging your entrance right above the fabric of your panties.

Your back arched a little with the friction and you moaned.

"You're so vulnerable like this it hurts"

“Zhongli… I want you now… I need you now”

"You want me to claim you, don't you?"

"Mhm…"

He was already hard, ready to just penetrate you. Stroking his member and brushing himself against your folds almost drove him insane.

The one who was your boss penetrated you slowly, enjoying every inch of his cock being involved by your wet and warm walls. With his length now entirely inside you, his tip almost reached your cervix.

"Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good"

Morax started his thrusts and your slick only made it easier for him to do what he craved and needed.

His lips captured yours in a warm and slow kiss and his tongue explored your mouth as he stimulated your clit with the fingers of one of his hands.

Everything quickly became too much to you, with your orgasm being so close it almost hurted.

"Alpha!" You whined, your nails scratching his back in pleasure.

"Come for me, you've done so well"

And your body obeyed him that time, and many other times later.

#childe x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #diluc x reader #scaramouche x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader #childe smut #kaeya smut #kazuha smut #diluc smut #scaramouche smut #zhongli smut #xiao smut #venti smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut

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rottenfyre · 8 months ago

Text

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 1

Summary: You never thought Aegon be like this. You though that he's probably like all the other rich kids who are only upset because daddy didn't given them money. But you couldn't have been more wrong...

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

He hadn't said a word since entering the room, only slouched low in his chair, his bloodshot eyes tracing patterns in the ceiling like he was watching something she couldn’t see. His bleach-blonde hair was messy, like he hadn't bothered to run a comb through it in days, and the bags under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept in even longer.

The silence was unnerving, and she hated it. The ticking clock in the corner of the room sounded like gunfire in the stillness. She cleared her throat and tried to start professionally. "Aegon," she began, her voice soft but steady, "how are you feeling today?"

He chuckled—a low, grating sound that didn’t reach his eyes. "How am I feeling?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't that a bit cliché? Isn’t that what all therapists ask? I’m not here for small talk, sweetheart."

The way he said sweetheart made her skin crawl. It wasn’t the word itself but the way it slithered off his tongue, sharp and mocking. She shifted in her seat, trying to maintain her calm. "I’m just trying to understand where you’re at. You don't have to say anything you don’t want to."

He smirked, a twisted, unsettling expression that seemed more like a grimace. "Oh, I bet you want to understand me. You think you're gonna fix me? Is that it? Make me better, turn me into a functioning little cog in this shitty world?"

There was an edge to his voice, something dangerous beneath the surface. His eyes were unfocused, distant, as though she wasn’t even there. Y/N felt a chill settle in her chest, but she pushed forward, reminding herself that this was just another patient. A deeply troubled one, yes, but still just a man. She was trained for this.

"I’m not here to fix you, Aegon," she replied carefully. "I’m here to listen and help if I can."

His head snapped toward her so quickly she flinched. He caught it, of course, and his grin widened, predatory now. "You’re scared of me, aren’t you?" he said softly, like he was sharing a secret. "Good. You should be."

Aegon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at her with intensity that made her skin prickle. "You ever felt like nothing matters, doc? Like every fucking thing is just… pointless? No matter how much you drink, snort, or fuck, it never fills that hole inside you. It just… eats at you, every second of every day, until you can't take it anymore."

His voice was a low growl now, rough around the edges, filled with bitterness. "That's what it’s like in here." He tapped the side of his head, his gaze boring into her, daring her to look away. "Rotten. Empty. Dead. I tried to end it once, you know. Got close, too. But they wouldn’t even let me do that right. My family sent me to you instead. So now here I am, playing the part. But let’s be real—you can't fix this."

There was a rawness to his words that cut through her usual defenses. Y/N felt herself teetering on the edge of something she didn’t want to fall into. His pain was palpable, but it wasn’t the pain of someone who wanted to be saved.

"You don't have to believe in this process," she finally said, her voice tight. "But it’s important that you give it a chance."

Aegon tilted his head, studying her like she was some puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes were glassy, unfocused again, and his smile faltered, giving way to something deeper, more sinister. "You’re not like the others," he muttered, almost to himself. "Most of them are easy to read. But you… I can't quite tell if you’re really here to help or if you just like playing the part."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something unnervingly perceptive about him. He wasn’t just a lost soul spiraling into self-destruction—he was calculating, watching her reactions, testing her boundaries. And it was working. She didn’t like how vulnerable she felt under his gaze.

Y/N straightened in her chair, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I’m here to help, Aegon. That’s my job."

He scoffed, leaning back again, dismissive. "Help," he repeated bitterly. "You wanna help? You can't even help yourself."

His words hit harder than she expected, striking at something deep inside her, and for a moment, she faltered. She wasn’t prepared for how sharp he was, how quickly he cut through her professional veneer. There was something primal in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, that felt less like therapy and more like a predator playing with his prey.

"You look tired," he continued, eyes narrowing. "Overworked. You got that hollow look in your eyes, too. Like me. How long before you break, huh? How long before you’re the one on the other side of this desk?"

Her breath hitched slightly, and Aegon’s smile grew wider, more triumphant. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper that sent chills down her spine. "Maybe we’re not so different after all, doc. Maybe you’re just as fucked up as I am."

Y/N’s hand trembled, and she clenched it into a fist, trying to steady herself. She needed to end this session—now. But she couldn’t show weakness. Not to him. "Our time is almost up," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "We’ll continue this next week."

She checked the clock. He was due in ten minutes.

Her hand brushed the edge of her desk, fingers drumming a quiet, nervous rhythm. She told herself it would be fine. She had control. This was her space, her field. But the knot in her stomach tightened with every second that passed.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"Come in" she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

The door swung open, and there he was, leaning casually against the frame, eyes half-lidded like he couldn't be bothered to care about anything. Aegon strolled into the room with an easy arrogance, tossing himself into the chair like he owned the place. He wore the same leather jacket from last week, cigarette burns dotting its sleeve, his jeans ripped and filthy. His disheveled blonde hair caught the afternoon light, giving him an almost angelic glow, which was disturbingly ironic.

"Doc" he greeted, his voice slick and lazy. "Miss me?"

Y/N forced herself to meet his gaze. "Aegon," she said calmly, ignoring his provocations. "How are you feeling today?"

He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled through the room. "Oh, I'm fantastic. Just spent the last few hours getting plastered. Wanna guess how much vodka it takes before you stop feeling like your head is caving in?"

She hesitated. "Did you... did you drink before coming here?"

Aegon gave her a crooked smile, his eyes gleaming with something dark. "Nah, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sober enough to remember your name. For now."

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving hers. "But seriously, let's cut the bullshit. You're not here to ask me how I'm doing. You're here to dissect me, right? Get inside my head. See what makes the fucked-up bitch tick."

Y/N's throat tightened at the way he said bitch-dripping with disdain, self-hatred. His family, the Targaryens, were a wealthy, powerful lineage, tied up politics and scandal. She'd heard the rumors: how Aegon was the black sheep, a public embarrassment, the one they all whispered about behind closed doors. It wasn't hard to see why.

"I'm here to help," she said, trying to regain control of the session. "But that only works if you're willing to engage with the process."

His smirk widened. "You think l'm not engaging? l'm sitting right here, aren't I?" He paused, his gaze growing more intense. "Unless what you really want is for me to spill my guts to you. You want to know what makes me tick, doc? Fine. Let me tell you."

There was something unsettling about the way he shifted in his chair, like a predator getting comfortable before striking. His smile faded, replaced with a cold, hollow expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I hate everything," he began, his voice flat, detached. "I hate waking up. I hate breathing. I hate the sound of my own fucking voice. I hate this-" He gestured around the room, his fingers trembling slightly."一all this therapy bullshit. I hate my family. I hate the way they look at me like l'm some broken toy they can't fix."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you know what I really hate? The fact that no matter what I do, nothing makes me feel alive. Drugs? Alcohol? Sex? It's just noise. All of it. And I'm so fucking tired of feeling empty."

His words hung in the air like smoke, choking the room. Y/N felt the urge to recoil, to put some distance between them, but she couldn't. There was something magnetic about him, a dark pull that made it hard to look away.

"You think I want to be here?" he continued, his eyes burning with intensity. "My family dragged me to this fucking place because I tried to put a bullet in my brain last month. They thought therapy would 'fix' me. But they don't get it. They never did."

He leaned back, letting out a bitter laugh. "But you know what's funny? Sitting here, looking at you, I almost want to believe it. l almost want to see if you can figure me out, doc. Maybe you'll crack the code."

His eyes bored into hers, and for a split second, Y/N swore she saw something vulnerable flicker behind the mask- something raw and desperate. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual cold sneer.

"You think you can handle that?" he asked softly. "Think you can fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed?"

Y/N's grip on her pen tightened. Her throat felt dry, her palms clammy. There was no easy answer to his question, no textbook response to the way he twisted everything around him into chaos. But she knew one thing-Aegon wasn't just here to be saved. He was here to test her, to see how far he could push before she cracked.

"l'm not here to fix you, Aegon,' she said, repeating her earlier sentiment. "But I am here to listen. To understand."

He snorted, shaking his head. "Listen to what? My sob story? Poor little rich boy, drinking and fucking his way through life, all because he's sad? You really think there's anything left to understand?"

Y/N met his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. "I think there's more to you than what you're showing me."

Aegon went still, his smirk vanishing as his eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, it felt like the room shrank, the walls closing in, leaving just the two of them in an uncomfortable silence. He stared at her, unblinking, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny, like he was peeling back layers she didn't even know existed.

"You really believe that?" he asked quietly, his voice soft for the first time since he walked in. "That there's something worth saving?"

Her chest tightened, but she nodded. "I do."

Aegon let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into fists. His eyes darted to the floor, and for a split second, he looked vulnerable, lost, like a boy drowning in a sea of emotions he couldn't control.

But then the mask was back. The smirk. The mocking tone. "Well, doc" he said, standing up suddenly, towering over her. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements confident and careless, as though he hadn't just let her glimpse the broken pieces hidden beneath the surface.

Just before he stepped out, he paused, glancing back at her. "I'll be seeing you again, doc. And maybe next time, we'll get to the fun stuff."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone in the room with the heavy silence that always followed him. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was something deeply unsettling about Aegon一something that made her feel like she was in way over her head.

The third session was different. The air in Y/N’s office felt heavier, thicker. She could sense it the moment Aegon walked in. His eyes, normally sharp with that mocking edge, were duller today. His movements more erratic. The usual arrogant saunter was replaced by something twitchy, unstable. He slouched into his chair, tapping his leg rapidly, the rhythm almost frantic.

His fingers moved to his mouth, picking at his nails, tearing at the skin until she saw faint streaks of red. He didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

“Good morning, Aegon,” Y/N began cautiously, watching him closely. “How are you today?”

He snorted but didn’t look at her, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for something he’d never find. “How do you think I’m feeling?” he muttered, biting down hard on the side of his nail until it cracked and blood welled up.

Y/N felt her stomach twist, but she kept her voice steady. “It seems like you’re on edge today. Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His leg tapped faster, his jaw tight. “Does it even fucking matter?” he muttered under his breath. His hands trembled slightly as he dug his nails into his palms, leaving angry red marks. "None of this shit matters. Not you, not me. It’s all just... noise."

She stayed silent, giving him space to speak, watching his body language as the tension in the room escalated. He was unraveling, fraying at the edges, and it was becoming harder to predict where he might break.

“I keep thinking about that night,” he said suddenly, his voice hollow. “That night I almost did it.”

He didn’t need to explain further; she knew what he meant. The night he tried to take his own life.

“I was this close, you know?” he continued, holding his fingers up to show just how narrow the gap was between life and death. “But then my fucking family showed up and ruined it. Dragged me out of my misery and threw me into this shitshow. Therapy, rehab, whatever else they think will fix me. But nothing’s going to fix me. I’m not broken. I’m just done.”

Y/N swallowed, choosing her words carefully. “Aegon, I know you’re in pain. But there are other ways to cope. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He snapped his gaze to hers, a sudden wildness flashing in his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? None of this is about pain. It’s about being fucking empty. Do you know what that feels like? To be so hollow inside that no amount of drugs, booze, or people can fill it?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “I don’t,” she admitted, her voice softer than she intended. “But I’m here to understand. If you’ll let me.”

Aegon’s laughter was bitter, almost manic. “Understand? You think you can understand me? No one understands. Everyone thinks I’m some tragic fucking mess just because I have money and a pretty face, but that’s why they keep coming back, isn’t it? They don’t care if I’m broken. They care because I’m rich, because I’m still good-looking enough for them to pretend for a night that I’m something more.”

He paused, his leg still bouncing, eyes narrowed and locked on hers with unsettling intensity. “Even you. You sit there, all composed and professional, pretending to care. But deep down, I know you don’t. You’re just waiting for your paycheck like the rest of them.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not true, Aegon. I’m here because I want to help.”

He leaned forward abruptly, his eyes wild and feverish. “You don’t get it, do you? None of this matters! You can’t help me, no one can, and I’m so fucking tired of everyone pretending that you can!”

The energy in the room shifted abruptly. His voice rose, turning sharp and angry, his breathing quickening. She could see him unraveling, could feel the way his entire demeanor was changing—darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not some fucking experiment!” he screamed, his voice cracking as he stood up from his chair so suddenly that it toppled over. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Sitting there with your calm face, acting like you’re not fucking scared of me. But I can see it, I can feel it—”

“Aegon, calm down,” Y/N said, her heart racing, hands instinctively tightening around the arms of her chair. “I’m not trying to control you.”

But her words seemed to push him further over the edge. His face twisted with rage, and before she could react, he lunged toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders, his grip almost painful.

“You think you know me?” he shouted, his face inches from hers, tears welling in his eyes. “You think you can fix me? You think you can save me from this hell?”

His grip tightened, shaking her, but before Y/N could register her own fear, something inside her snapped—an instinct she hadn’t known she had. Instead of pulling away, instead of screaming or trying to push him off, she reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

Aegon froze.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly despite the tremor in her own hands, despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “Aegon,” she whispered, her voice steady even though she felt anything but. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

For a moment, he stood there, tense and unresponsive. His body was rigid, his breathing erratic, and she could feel the anger vibrating through him, threatening to explode again. But then, slowly, something shifted. His hands, which had been gripping her shoulders so tightly, loosened. His body sagged against hers, like all the fight had drained out of him in one overwhelming rush.

“I’m not okay,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so fucked up, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Y/N tightened her arms around him, feeling his hot, uneven breath against her neck. “You don’t have to stop it alone.”

He let out a choked sob, his body trembling against hers as he broke down, the tears he had been holding back spilling over. He clung to her like a lifeline, his face buried in her shoulder, his breath hitching with each quiet, painful sob.

“I don’t want to be like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Y/N held him, her own emotions swirling inside her, a mixture of fear, pity, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She stroked his back gently, trying to soothe the storm inside him. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you don’t.”

Aegon’s sobs quieted after a while, his grip on her softening but never letting go completely. He pressed his face into her shoulder, his breathing still uneven, but calmer now. The anger and violence had passed, leaving only the raw, vulnerable boy beneath.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours—Aegon clinging to her, and Y/N holding him as if her arms were the only thing tethering him to the world.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. His eyes were red and swollen, his face streaked with tears, and for the first time since they met, she saw him without the mask.

Aegon was broken, but not in the way he pretended to be. Not just a reckless addict or a wealthy, self-destructive mess. He was something else, something much more fragile than she had imagined.

And that scared her more than anything.

He swallowed hard, his voice a quiet rasp. “W-why did you do that?”

Y/N met his gaze, unsure how to answer. She didn’t know why. It was instinct, something she hadn’t planned, something that felt both right and terribly dangerous at the same time.

“Because I wanted to,” she said softly.

Aegon stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers like he was trying to find something—some kind of answer, some kind of reassurance that she wouldn’t leave him like everyone else had.

Finally, he nodded, and without another word, he leaned back into her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder, his breathing evening out as they sat there, together in the quiet, broken pieces of their shared moment.

And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if she was the one trying to save him—or if he was dragging her into the darkness with him.

The room was eerily silent when Aegon walked in this time. The familiar twitch in his leg was absent, the nervous energy that usually radiated off him replaced with something else—something that made Y/N’s skin prickle. His eyes were still as sharp as ever, but now they were focused. Too focused. He looked at her with an intensity that felt almost suffocating.

He sat down slowly, his movements no longer erratic but deliberate. He didn’t fidget, didn’t bite at his nails. Instead, he folded his hands neatly in his lap and leaned back in the chair, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Good morning, Aegon,” she greeted him cautiously, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice smoother than she was used to. Calm, almost unnervingly so. He looked... composed. For the first time since they started these sessions, he didn’t seem like a bomb waiting to go off. But something about that felt even more dangerous.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze still locked on hers. “Better,” he said softly. “Much better, actually.”

Y/N hesitated. “That’s good to hear. Do you want to talk about what’s been helping?”

Aegon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve found a new hobby,” he said, his voice almost too casual, like he was talking about something mundane. “Something to keep me... occupied.”

A ripple of unease washed over her. “What kind of hobby?”

Aegon nodded, his eyes gleaming with an odd sort of excitement. “I found this beautiful dove. Just… sitting there, all alone. She's perfect. White feathers, soft. You ever touch a dove before?”

“No,” Y/N said slowly, her stomach beginning to churn.

Aegon’s smile widened. “You should. They’re so fragile, you know? So delicate. It’s like… like holding something that could break if you squeeze too hard.” His fingers twitched, as if mimicking the act of squeezing. “I’ve been taking care of her. Watching her.”

Y/N nodded slowly, unsure where this was going but feeling an icy tendril of dread curl around her spine. “That sounds nice. Taking care of something can be a good way to—”

“I want to rip her wings off.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the casual cruelty in his tone sending a chill down her spine. Aegon’s expression hadn’t changed; he still wore that same unsettling smile.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

His eyes were bright now, shining with an eerie intensity. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About how beautiful she is, but how much better it would be if she couldn’t fly away. If I could keep her with me, forever. If she couldn’t go anywhere else, just… mine.”

Y/N felt the bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, keeping her voice steady. “Aegon, that’s—”

“Isn’t that what love is?” he interrupted, his eyes wide, his expression so sincere, so disturbingly genuine. “You love something so much that you can’t stand the thought of it leaving. So you do whatever you have to, to make sure it stays. Even if that means taking something away. Like wings.”

“Aegon, that’s not—”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” he continued, his voice rising slightly with excitement, as if he had stumbled upon some great revelation. “Why should something so beautiful get to leave? Why should she get to fly away and leave me behind? She doesn’t need wings. She just needs me.”

Y/N felt the room closing in around her, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She had dealt with disturbed patients before, but this… this was different. Aegon wasn’t just unstable. He was dangerous. She could feel it in the air, in the way his gaze bore into her, in the way his words seemed to twist around her, suffocating her.

It had been two weeks since that conversation in her office, and Aegon had come to every session since. Something had shifted after that day—something subtle but unnerving.

The way he looked at her now, the way he lingered on her every movement, made Y/N feel more vulnerable than ever before.

“Morning, Aegon,” Y/N said, her voice steady but her pulse quickening slightly. She had grown used to reading him in subtle ways—the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would twitch against his leg, and that obsessive stare. But today, it felt heavier.

“Morning sweetheart,” he replied smoothly, his voice quiet but deliberate.

Y/N tried to proceed with the session as usual, asking him questions, probing his thoughts, but his answers were vague, almost detached, as if he wasn’t really interested in discussing himself anymore. He wasn’t playing the part of the tragic, self-destructive mess. He was... different.

“You seem a little more composed today,” Y/N commented, keeping her tone neutral. “How are you feeling about everything? Still feeling as empty as before?”

Aegon’s lips twitched into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Empty? No, not so much anymore.” His gaze was fixed on her in a way that made the room feel smaller. “I’ve been... paying attention to other things lately. Other people.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Other people? What do you mean?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still glued to hers, but his body language more relaxed than usual. “You know, the people around me. The ones who matter. The ones who actually care.”

There was an implication in his words that sent a shiver down her spine. “And who do you think cares, Aegon?”

His smile widened, but it was the kind of smile that felt wrong, too intimate. “You do.”

Y/N blinked, trying to maintain her composure. She had to remind herself that she was the professional here, that this was her job, and she couldn’t let him get under her skin. But the way he was looking at her made it hard to breathe.

“I’m here to help you, yes,” she replied calmly. “That’s what therapy is about.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying her. “That’s not what I mean.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken again. “You care about me... in a different way.”

Y/N felt her skin prickle with unease. She forced herself to remain professional, to push through the growing discomfort. “Aegon, we’ve talked about this before. My role is to help you as your therapist. Nothing more.”

His smile didn’t falter. “You keep saying that, but we both know there’s more to it. I can see the way you look at me now. You’re not scared anymore. What you said. How you held me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. You care.”

“I’m here to help,” she repeated firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Aegon didn’t say anything for a moment. He just watched her, his eyes tracking every movement, every flicker of emotion on her face. It was like he was dissecting her with his gaze, trying to pick her apart piece by piece.

Finally, he leaned forward slightly, his smile fading into something more serious. “You looked really good last night, by the way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “What?”

“In your pajamas,” he added, his voice casual, as if he were commenting on the weather. “The ones you wore when you made tea. Light blue, with the little lace trim. You really should wear those more often.”

For a moment, the world around her went silent. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. Aegon was staring at her, unblinking, his expression disturbingly calm, like he had just complimented her on her shoes or her hair.

Her mind raced. How did he know? There was no way he could have seen her last night. Her apartment was on the third floor, and she lived alone. She had made tea before bed, just like every night, but how could he possibly know that?

“Aegon,” she began, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “What... what do you mean?”

He just smiled, that same disturbing smile that never quite reached his eyes. “I just think you looked nice, that’s all.”

The room felt like it was closing in on her, her skin crawling with the weight of his words. Her mind reeled, her heart hammering in her chest. How did he know what I was wearing last night?

Her breath came in shallow gasps, the panic rising in her throat as she tried to process the implications. Had he been watching her? Was he following her outside of their sessions? The thought sent a wave of nausea through her.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

But before he could answer, the soft chime of the clock signaled the end of their session. Aegon stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He stretched, glancing at her with that same unsettling smile, and then made his way to the door.

“I guess we’ll have to pick this up next time,” he said casually, as if they had been discussing nothing more than the weather.

He paused at the door, turning back to look at her one last time, his eyes lingering on her with that same unnerving intensity. “See you soon, Y/N.”

And then he was gone, leaving Y/N alone in the room, her heart racing, her mind spinning with fear and uncertainty.

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating, as the weight of his words sank in.

He was watching me.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 years ago

Text

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

#yandere #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #pet human #cw dubcon #mind break #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cw mind control #part three

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kumasakka · 5 months ago

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Can I request a fic for the gen 1 kings with a baby. Where they do the challenge where the parent lays their head on their babies lap to see their reaction, and their baby is really affectionate, cuddling, or babbling to them.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. gen1 x reader ( jaegyeon na, seongji yuk, taesoo ma, jichang kwak ) .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. imagine the kings of the first generation had babies and laying their head on the lap of their super duper wuper cute kid ?

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.2k , ~0.5k words each .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, fluff, fluff. f!readers. you all are adults! gen1 (seperately). self - made au! safe for minors! crappy writing. they may seem ooc. Itriedmybest.

　“HEY, little fella.”

JAEGYEON NA was... a little special as father, always calling him other names and instead of treating your son like his own, he treated him like he was some podcast listener. But yeah, your son wasn't anything better.

He was after all, an exact copy of his father, babbling many incoherent words and then running all over the place to search for his mama. Yes, this little fella was exactly like his father. You don't have any doubts.

"Hah... I'm so tired!" Jaegyeon sighed out, acting tired as he fell to his knees.

"Aren't you cute?" he grinned, laying his head on top of his son's lap, "of course you are. You're my creation."

[son's name] puffed his cheeks, wrapping his tiny arms around the head of his father before beginning to babble. It sounded like he was complaining about something — anything.

Well, and then — [son's name] giggled, wiping his drool and snot away with his hands, using those same hands to hug his beloved father once again. "Erm... So, we need to work on that attitude. How could you?" Jaegyeon huffed, ready to sit up again.

That was until [son's name] was holding onto him, hugging his head with all his might, but it was still easy to get out of his grip. And yet Jaegyeon acted as if it was the hardest, falling softly back on to the lap of his son.

"Damn you..." he sighed, his grin turned into a smile as he heard the cute giggling.

　“YOU should try that, you know?”

SEONGJI YUK turned to you with a curious gleam in his eyes. Wow he was so innocent that you wanted to squeeze him tightly and baby him. He looked like a baby! "Try what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Lay your head on [daughter's name] and watch what will happen!" you chuckled.

What? How can he lay his head on your daughter's lap? She'll break. Or her legs will grow tired quickly. Isn't his head like, real heavy for her? Should he just shut up in his mind and try it?

Carefully and slowly, Seongji sat down on the floor beside his child and listened to her giggling. After hearing her laugh of excitement, Seongji's worries faded quickly, no hint of doubt was visible. Why did he even doubt himself?

He laid his head on the tiny legs of your daughter, his eyes watched how she began giggling louder and how she babbled something in her own language. Oh how much he wanted to understand her incoherent words. It was a mini you!

A grin appeared his pink lips as [daughter's name] placed sloppy kisses on his face, painting his clean skin with her drool. He could get used to it. Really. "I'm glad you're a mini [name]." he said.

If it were for a mini him, would his mini him also kiss him so affectionately? Should he... test it out?

　WHENEVER he enters the room, TAESOO MA can only watch how you wrap your arms around your son and lay your head on his lap. And then — your son gets ten times more happier. Why?

Good question, next one. Today he'll find out for himself, stealing your son from you while you were sleeping. Fortunately [son's name] didn't fall asleep yet, not as quick as his mother.

"Don't tell your mother, but I think i'm your favorite." he said, sitting next to his son as he observed how he played with his absolute favorite toy. "We have the connection, you know?"

"You wouldn't... mind right?" Taesoo mumbled, laying down on his back and then placing his head on the lap of your son.

For a moment of silence, Taesoo really considered if he should stand up right now and hide in your shared bedroom forever after your son only blinked at him, not moving an inch.

Well, what do we say? The doubts disappeared as soon it came as [son's name] latched himself onto Taesoo's head, his giggles and cute sounds of incoherent words filled the room.

"I knew it." he could NOT hide his growing smile.

How could he when his soon placed small kisses on his ugly scar? How could he not let the tear glide down when Taesoo was filled with absolute joy?

　“YOU can take care of her, right? I'll believe in you, busy husband.”

Those were your last words as you disappeared from his sight, dropping your little daughter — little him on his office table filled with stacks papers. Why did you leave her in his hands again?

Yes well. After spending the last days with the cutest babygirl in the entire world, you couldn't help but think that she and her father should also spend some quality time together.

And then you dropped her off in his office to throw yourself into bed. To be honest it was a bit tiring to watch after her, even though you love your daughter with all your heart — watching her alone made it a lot harder.

So yeah. That's how you kill two birds with one stone. Getting some rest and making the two of them spend some time together. It wasn't hard to figure out for JICHANG KWAK that you were tired, considering the growing eye bags.

That's also why he say anything as soon as you entered his office. He was a smart man at the end. And he loved you. And your daughter. So of course he wouldn't mind watching over his own daughter.

But things have their limits as you daughter began to throw some important papers around the room, making Jichang sigh out before picking her up and walking over to the couch.

"You little troublemaker. I wasn't like that when I was in your age..." he sat her up on the couch, "I hope..."

No doubt that it was his daughter. With similar looks and also sometimes matching his tired old man personality. But that was sometimes! As soon as he stood up to return to his table, he got stopped.

His eyes wandered down to see a little hand gripping onto his sleeve of his suit, an innocent and wondering expression vivid on her babyface. God was she cute. He understood why you pinched her cheeks whenever you saw her.

"Yes?" he asks as if she could answer. But she actually did reply with babbling and a bewitching sweet smile, "you want me to stay here for a moment?"

It's not like she actually said that. He just guessed what she said, now sitting down beside her. Yet she didn't let go which was strange. Is there something else she wants besides her father sitting beside her?

She huffed and pulled onto his sleeve, "strong" enough to make him fall down onto the couch — Jichang just let her pull and leaned down slowly. At the end, he found his head on her lap.

"That's what you wanted?" he chuckled amused, raising an eyebrow, "should've said so."

"Dada!" she giggled, letting her tiny arms fall on top of his face, covering his sight and mouth while beginning to ramble incoherently about something.

And he listened. Sighing out with a smile. Maybe it wasn't that bad to let his daughter drag him away from work.

a/n's — so erm, sorry for the delay ! I have an exam tmw and I'm lowkey dying cuz it's winter, meaning exam phase... but I should think positively, because after this week and next week I finally have christmas holidays ! ><

#❨🎐❩ 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 :: shitpost.#lookism x reader #jaegyeon na #jaegyeon na x reader #seongji yuk #seongji yuk x reader #taesoo ma #taesoo ma x reader #jichang kwak #jichang kwak x reader #lookism #seongji #jaegyeon #taesoo #jichang

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sweetflanfiction · 5 months ago

Text

Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 4

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of death.

A.N.: Enjoy the 1st meeting.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

• ··········· • ············ •

Death was a definite thing. No matter where you were. Undercity, topside, mid-city. Death didn’t choose. It wasn’t picky. It plucked children from mothers and fathers from children. And it was cruel. As if losing a loved one wasn’t enough, it took the memories. Their voice is the first to go, then their face becomes blurry, and then you only remember what they were when a particular tune comes up or a smell drifts from the window. And then it hits you. Slowly and all at once. A person that had been filling that hole in your heart, and now they're gone.

“Mother?”

The woman’s gaze turned to you and softened, eyes starting to wet just as yours were. Her voice. You remembered her voice.

“Madame Rainemour.” Caitlyn stood even straighter, almost backbreaking. “I don’t think interrogating a suspect is a contact sport, Miss Kiramman.” Her eyes steeled as she looked at the younger woman. “Where’s their lawyer? If I remember correctly, every prisoner has the right to have a representative to defend them. Where is it?”

Caitlyn's mouth opened and closed, eyes shifting around for an answer.

“Very well.” The older woman, your mother said. “They shall use the Rainemour's attorney as their defender, and until you have summoned a judge, they will be coming home.”

“Home? Judge?” Caitlyn suddenly snapped out of her stupor. “Madame Rainemour, this person is suspected to be entangled with Jin—the author of the attack. They have also assaulted several enforcers and attempted to escape the hospital we had placed them in. I don’t know who this is to you, but to us, they are a person of interest.”

“This is my child, Miss Kiramman. And I will not have you abuse your grief and your power chasing a shadow in hopes of getting to the light bulb.”

“Can we discuss this outside?” Caitlyn hid the surprise well, but her eyebrows shot up, and you had half a mind to not mumble, I told you so. Mostly because you didn’t think your brain was functioning correctly and any thought you would try to convey would come out a jumbled mess. “Uncuff them and will.” “I can’t uncuff them; they are a suspect. They have tried escaping once!” “Caitlyn, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. I can have the family's attorney here in minutes. He will spin whatever case you have into the tightest knot he can. You’ll be untangling it for months. Or you can uncuff my child and talk to me, and we can find a better solution for all of us.”

You could sense Caitlyn’s frustration as she turned to the table, grabbed the key ring from her belt, and unlocked the cuffs.

“Thank you, shall we?”

They both left the room silently, and you crossed your arms on the table, resting your head in them.

You realized how tired you were. Not just physically, with all the aching bones and bruises starting to make themselves noticed as the stress levels diminish a little, but also your mind is chaotic and exhausted. And you haven’t even stopped to properly think about this. This shift, the runes, the magic, your mother? This world…

“Hello.”

You jumped from your curved position, placing a hand on your heart while turning your body in the chair to look at the owner of the voice.

A serious-faced Viktor stood against the wall, near the door. Leaning on his cane with two hands.

“Blue balls of Hextech Vik.” You exhale quickly. “You want to kill me; just boink me in the head with the cane.”

“Blue balls of Hextech?” His square eyebrows raised in confusion, and you realized the slip-up.

“It’s…huh… It’s…complicated… It’s a joke.”

It was easy how quickly you had forgotten this wasn’t your Viktor. This was their Viktor. And this Viktor didn’t have the memories of your Viktor. All the jokes, the quips, the way you three could have whole conversations in silence.

“It is funny because Hextech does exist in a blue ball form.” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

“How come they allowed you to be inside the room with a very dangerous criminal such as myself?” You pointed to your pitiful figure.

They didn’t get you a change of clothes, but they gave you some pants. So now you were sitting there, wearing a crimped hospital gown, gray pants that didn’t fit you, feet clad in dirty socks, bandages around your arms, and recently open wounds and bruises. You looked as menacing as a wet dog.

“They did not.” he simply said, shrugging and rolling his eyes.

You shook your head; of course they didn’t. Viktor did what Viktor wanted.

“Alright. I’ll remake the question.” You placed your arm on top of the wooden chair’s back and laid your chin on top of your upper arm. “Why are you in the room with a very dangerous criminal such as myself inside?”

“I have a conundrum.” He said fishing something from the inside of his white vest. A folded piece of paper that he handed to you. “Excuse the scratchiness of the lines. I did it on the trolley rides.”

You raised an eyebrow and unfolded the paper. It was definitely a Viktor sketch. You touched the lines on the paper gently, not even paying attention to what you were looking at. His neat cursive handwritten notes were scattered around a less neat sketch of a broken cog. It was made in pencil, and you assumed there were no erasers around since some of the sketch lines had been drawn thicker to hide previous mistakes. There were fingerprints, smudges, crossed-out words, and the little, neat hatching lines on the corner of the sheet he did when he was deep in thought. This was Viktor, your Viktor. You sigh deeply, doing your best to not think about the past right now.

You blinked the moistness out of your eyes and looked at the sketch. It was a broken cog, cracked in some places. There was a thin arrow pointing to one of the cracks.

‘Councilor Hosket, deceased.’

In the lower right corner, two dotted, parallel lines are drawn with a note pointing to it.

‘No major damage.’

A little V drawn right next to the lines, near one of the cracks, had two arrows coming out of it. One arrow, thicker, went from outside the dotted lines to the inside, where another V was noted down, next to an interrogation point. The letters M J were also scribbled between the ‘no major damage lines.’

The other arrow was thinner and had another V next to a cross.

‘Councilor Bolbok: deceased’ a line read next to the cross.

This wasn’t a cog. It was the table at the councilor chamber and the damage after the attack. You narrowed your eyes first, confused, but grinned a second after. Of course Viktor would have investigated the attack. Especially because you did tackle him out of what he figured out was the line of fire.

“I do not believe in luck. I believe in chance, but not luck.” He explained, leaning back into the wall, his golden gaze on you. “But I do believe the facts. Especially ones I can prove. You see, in all of the calculations I made, and I’ve been making them since I woke in a hospital bed.” He spat the last part with a palpable distaste. “Of the people who were in the path of most destruction, myself and Jayce were saved with mostly bruises and scratches. Jayce, I hypothesized, in an attempt to save Councilor Medarda, saved himself, pushing both out of the way.”

Sighing, you realized how much you missed his ramblings. He could have just said ‘I should have died, but I didn’t and I don’t know why.’ But here he was going on and on about the waves of destruction and the building infrastructure and how having a glass dome was just vanity and very unsafe. Excitedly talking with hands, always having one on the cane while the other moved through the air. His expression became animated, eyebrows raised and falling, his head bobbing around. And you couldn't help but smile softly at him.

Until he looked at you straight in the eyes.

“You're staring.” He stated, and you quickly moved your gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him. “Sorry, old habit.” “It’s quite alright. I’m used to it. The cripple with the big words.” He stopped the sentence abruptly. “I don’t know why I said that to you. Anyway. My question is. Why did you push me out of the way?”

You searched your tired brain for a reason that didn’t involve time-jumping to save him from himself. Although if there was someone who would believe you, it would be him.

“Well, I knew about the attack… and I was trying to warn the councilors before it was too late.”

He frowned and shook his head, his eyes narrowing and widening as he thought about something.

“The quickest way to evacuate the Academy and the Council Chamber would have been to pull the fire alarm. You must have passed at least... He looked up mapping your hypothetical path to the chamber. “Four.”

“There was a rocket going straight to the Academy. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You answered, reverting to defending yourself.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, pushing himself off the wall with his shoulders and taking a step towards you. His cane and another familiar metal thump made you shift your gaze to his leg. He had already enhanced it.

“But you were focused.” He said as he got close to you, so close you could smell the minty hard candy he kept in his pocket. He grabbed the paper from your hands, leaned down, hooked the handle of his cane on the table, and placed the paper on the table, the broken table schematic turned over. A small map was drawn surrounded by math equations.

You took the opportunity to look at his face up close. He looked less tired; the bags under his eyes were less dark but still present, his hair was still shaggy and long, but he looked…healthier, livelier. You dropped your eyes to his leg. Was it already eating him inside and pretending it wasn’t? Was this the calm before the storm?

“You are staring again.” You heard him, but this time you looked up at him. “You remind me of someone.” He searched your eyes for deception but found none.

He was about to speak again when the doors to the room burst open, and you both looked up and back.

Fuming was a mild way to describe Caitlyn’s mood as she strode to the table and slammed a pen and a paper down. You turned your body, watching Viktor grab his cane from the back of the chair.

“Sign this.” She barked. You looked back to watch your mother looking at you, her nose held high and a slight grin on her face. She nodded.

You read the paper in front of you. Father always said never to sign anything without reading it first.

In sum, it was a bond contract. The council would let you go free, but aside from a hefty sum of money paid, you could not leave Piltover and had to be present whenever the Enforcers notified you for questioning. You must always be accompanied by a counsellor of your choosing, and you could reschedule it to your liking. If you were caught doing something illegal, you would be apprehended and shoved off to jail until further notice.

You almost didn’t finish signing your last name as Caitlyn pulled the paper under your hands.

“You’re free to go.” She hisses through gritted teeth. • ············ •

The sky was still specked with the colors of morning when you stepped outside, closely followed by Viktor and your mother.

“I think this belongs to you, dear.” She grabbed your hand and placed the locket on your palm.

The metal was warm with her own heat, and your palm was cold and scarred, the soft gold contrasting with the rune that had appeared there. You stared at the familiar locket, silently.

Standing in the middle of a whole new Piltover, it looked the same; it smelled the same. You confirmed with your mother’s presence that it wasn't just a time jump. You were in a completely new universe.

And in the middle of it all, whoever the bigger deity was who had decided to do this had given you a very illegal and very cool new power. Magic. You weren’t dumb; you spent enough evenings in the Talis lab hearing both of the boys yapping about runes and magic. And you had spent enough time with Heimerdinger to know the use of magic was not allowed in Piltover.

You were drowning in your heartbeat, but your lungs were working overtime.

Are you supposed to stay here? Are you going to go back? Do you want to go back? To the end of the line? To the place where everything ends? With Jayce on his knees and the Herald destroying everything you knew and loved. What if you stayed here and did something that could make it all worse?

“Child?” The touch on your face sent a shock through your body, and you jumped back, eyes wide with fear.

The expression on your mother’s face softened, and she took a step towards you.

“Let’s go home now. We’ll sort this out after you take a bath and eat something.”

Her voice, her voice was like a song loved and forgotten. Every word she said was a stroke of a piano key flooding your senses with warmth and love.

Her eyes matched your own, but you guessed that. You used to roll them whenever someone told you you had your mother's exact eye color. You got a little angry that they remembered her that well and you didn’t. But they were right.

Her face hadn’t shown many signs of aging. Some crow's feet and laugh lines, but she looked beautiful. Graceful. Bright.

And you felt dishonest when you mentioned her as your mother, or when she mentioned you as her child. You weren’t. Not really.

“I don’t think I am your child.” You whispered, sadly, after a second.

“I know, sweetheart.”

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @angelsukiipls @casey8522 @moons-lighttrail @buttermilktea11 @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @hazzawillian

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTIKTOK TRENDS¹ * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

Just like Matt worked with YouTube making videos with his brothers, Y/N worked with TikTok. She created her account on the app in 2019, and from 2020, she lost her camera shyness slowly and started posting her own videos, creating content for her favorite niche: makeup and skincare.

When Matt moved to Los Angeles, the two met in an unexpected and cliché encounter in line at a bakery on a rainy morning. Their friendship grew as quickly as it began, and feelings were gradually cultivated. With both of them working on the Internet and being public figures, it was easy to understand each other and fit in their crazy schedules.

It didn't take much. The two quickly found themselves in a tangle of reciprocal feelings. Matt felt proud that he was brave enough to make the first move, and soon, the two were in a beautiful relationship that blossomed very quickly and lightly.

Because they both work with social networks, they decided not to keep their love a secret, and what surprised them most was how the fans supported them together, it was rare that they encountered comments from haters.

With that, in all of the Sturniolo Triplets' YouTube videos and Y/N's TikToks, there were thousands of people begging them to make more content together, being called "the power couple" by both fandoms.

That's why Y/N always found a way to convince Matt to do some couple trends on TikTok with her, and despite pretending he didn't like it, she knew how much he adored making mini videos with her, showing to the world how much he loved her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N fitted her phone on the phone holder attached to the right side of the front windowscreen of Matt's car - which was there precisely because she loved recording herself doing makeup there, being the passenger princess she was -, lowering the brightness of the screen so that the boy couldn't see the TikTok camera open.

She adjusted the position of the device so that it covered the two front seats, pressing the red button to start recording, smiling slightly to the camera before looking away.

Matt didn't notice her movements, too focused on the sight in front of him, driving slowly through the McDonald's drive thru line, waiting for their turn. His left hand held the steering wheel, while his right hand rested on Y/N's thigh, caressing her covered skin gently.

Y/N's calm playlist played softly through the speakers, creating a comfortable atmosphere for both of them.

The girl knew that she was going to make the order that day, knowing that Matt was feeling too anxious to talk to a stranger, so her plan would work.

"Do you already know what you will want, baby?" The girl asked. Her tone was low as she turned her upper body to the left, focusing her eyes on the brunette.

"Just some nuggets, baby. And Coke, please." He asked, looking at her quickly before returning his eyes to the cars in front of them, receiving a nod from the girl.

It didn't take long and soon it was their turn. Matt rolled down the window on the driver's side door, smiling kindly at the attendant before turning to his girlfriend, waiting for her to start the order.

Y/N leaned to her left, getting closer to Matt so the attendant could hear her clearly.

"Hi, good evening! Can I have a cheeseburger with fries and a Diet Coke, please?" She spoke her order, waiting for the attendant to select it before starting Matt's. "And my husband will just have a big portion of nuggets and a Coke, please."

Y/N tried to capture Matt's reaction without letting on that she was expecting something, watching him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, pressing her lips into a thin line when she saw him smile big, lowering his face to hide the red color that took over his cheeks.

His hand - which was still on the girl's thigh - squeezed the flesh lightly, and Y/N could swear his fingers were shaking.

After receiving confirmation from the attendant and paying for them, Matt rolled up the window and gently accelerated to get back in line.

When the car in front stopped again, he finally turned to Y/N, a huge smile on his face as his eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm your husband?" He asked, his voice coming out weak from the emotions he felt, his cheeks burning with redness while he felt his heart accelerating.

"Not yet, but one day you will be." Y/N said in a low voice, smiling equally big. She brought her left hand to Matt's right, caressing the soft skin, holding herself back from pulling him into a hug and peppering him with kisses.

"I love you so much. So, so much." He muttered, moving closer and sealing his lips over Y/N's, closing his eyes and letting a happy sigh scape through his nose, a smile still on his mouth.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N placed her phone on the kitchen counter next to the stove so that the front camera was facing her and taking in as much information from the room as possible.

The girl was cutting some vegetables while preparing lunch for herself and the boys, wiping her hands on the dishrag before clicking on the screen, starting the recording.

"Baby!" She called from where she was, smiling quickly to the camera before lifting her chin slightly so that her voice echoed better. "Come here, I need a favor."

The sound of her and Matt's shared bedroom door opening sounded before light footsteps approached. Soon, the boy's image appeared behind Y/N as he walked closer to her.

"Hi honey. What do you need?" He spoke back, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend's waist and resting his chin on Y/N's right shoulder, sealing the area with his lips softly before noticing the phone recording them. "What are you doing?" Matt asked, his brow furrowed as his eyes focused on the image of the two hugging each other that stared back at him.

"I'm just recording a recipe." She lied quickly, lightly biting her bottom lip to hold back her laughter. She really didn't know how to lie to him. "Baby, can you go to the market for me? I need tomatoes to make sauce." Y/N asked, releasing the knife she was holding in her right hand and bringing it to Matt's head still on her shoulder, stroking his hair lightly, receiving a happy sigh in response.

The boy let out a sound of agreement, nodding his head before lifting it up, kissing Y/N's shoulder and her cheek, squeezing her waist one last time before taking some steps back.

"That's it, baby?" He asked as he felt his pants pocket with his right hand, checking if he had his wallet and car keys.

Y/N agreed, picking up the knife again and going back to cutting the vegetables.

"Alright, if you remember anything else, just text me. I love you, bye." Matt asked, turning around and starting to walk towards the stairs.

"Okay, thanks!" Y/N thanked him, smiling small when she heard Matt's footsteps stop abruptly. She looked up at her phone slightly, seeing her boyfriend turn around with a confused expression.

"I love you, bye." He repeated, watching her closely.

"Bye, honey. Drive safe." She added, trying to hide her smile as she turned her attention back to the vegetables.

Matt approached her again, positioning himself behind her body and tilting his head to the side so he could see her profile, his blue eyes running over her features.

"I love you." He repeated it a third time, this time slowly, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Okay." Y/N persisted, keeping her eyes on the vegetables, taking deep breaths to keep from laughing.

"Did I do something?" Matt asked, his right hand lightly grabbing Y/N's right arm and making her release the knife, turning her body so that she was facing him. "I'm sorry." He asked, his eyes scanning his girlfriend's face as a weight took over his gaze; he felt guilty despite not knowing what he had done.

"What? No, you didn't do anything." The girl shook her head, intertwining their fingers and looking at him in false confusion.

"But... that's not how it works, baby. I say, "I love you", and you have to say "I love you" back." Matt insisted, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening. "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

A sound of laughter escaped Y/N's throat, she couldn't keep pretending when seeing the confusion in her boyfriend's eyes, her heart warmed with the way he was trying to apologize and fix something he didn't do and that, in fact, didn't even exist. Matt remained watching her, feeling even more lost than before.

"I'm sorry, It's just a prank, baby. It's for a TikTok." The girl explained, pointing to her phone that was still recording them.

Matt rolled his eyes, sighing in relief before a smile took over his face.

"You're still going to give me a heart attack." He muttered, shaking his head. "Let's do it again then. I love you, bye." Matt repeated, still holding his girlfriend, who laughed lightly at his reactions.

"I love you more, my love." She finally responded, reaching forward and quickly sealing their lips. "Now go buy my tomatoes."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N held her phone with her right hand, the screen showing the TikTok camera open, with the audio already selected, just waiting to be started.

She was standing in front of the closet doors in her shared room with Matt. The lights were low, forming a comfortable atmosphere.

Her left hand held her favorite red lipstick from Kylie Cosmetics, with the lid off and the contents showing.

Her right thumb clicked the red button to start recording, the audio echoing through the four walls.

"Stay with me"

She applied one more layer of lipstick to her bottom lip, smudging it a little on purpose.

A masculine hand - Matt's - appeared in the camera view, cupping Y/N's chin firmly and wiping away the smudged lipstick with his thumb gently, pulling her face up so she was looking at him.

"I don't want you to leave..."

Y/N turned her phone slightly so the camera caught the two of them, Matt appearing at her side with his face and neck smeared with lipstick marks.

His face was facing hers, his blue eyes traveling from her eyes to her painted lips, a smirk appearing on his cheeks.

Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling her face take on a red color due to the intensity of his gaze, smiling shyly.

Matt pulling her face for a kiss was the last image captured on camera, before the TikTok ended.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Baby?" Y/N called out loud, her eyes briefly flicking to her phone, which had the TikTok camera open, already recording herself.

She was sitting on the couch in the living room, the television on in the background as her favorite series played.

"Yes, baby?" Matt responded from their bedroom, leaving the room seconds later and approaching the living room, stopping near the couch as he looked at his girlfriend, waiting.

"Do we have orange?" She asked, turning her face towards him, smiling small when she saw a confused expression appear in his eyes.

"The fruit? Hm, I guess so. We bought it last time we went to the market." Matt replied, resting his hand on the back of the couch, leaning his hips on the armrest.

"I really feel like eating an orange right now." Y/N continued, closely watching her boyfriend's reaction.

"Oh, I'll get you one, hold on." Matt responded quickly, turning around and walking over to the fridge, opening the door and reaching for the fruit from the fruit and vegetable drawer.

Y/N looked at her phone camera wide-eyed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiled big, a reddish hue taking over her cheeks.

Just under two minutes later, Matt returned with a small bowl in hand, and Y/N quickly recognized it as her favorite bowl that had bee designs on it.

"Here, my love." He handed her the ceramic. Y/N took it and looked inside, seeing her orange not only peeled but cut so that she could eat it slowly and without getting her hands dirty.

Y/N pouted as her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you." Her voice was broken due to the amount of love she felt at that moment, looking up at her boyfriend.

"What is it?" Matt asked worriedly, sitting down next to her and pulling her close, laying her head on his right shoulder as he brought his head closer to hers, sealing his lips on her hair and exhaling lightly, smelling the soft smell of shampoo. "Why are you crying, baby?"

"I just love you so much."

"I love you more, silly."

2K notes · View notes

zorostitties · 2 months ago

Text

Aurora; 8 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HAPPY ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO AURORA!!! I can't even believe I got this far with this fic. Fucking 50k+ words in a month??? Hyperfixation REALLY go boom! It also happens to be my birthday today 🫠 my age is definitely starting to sound WAY TOO SERIOUS now. welp. ANYWAYS - an anon motivated me to create a playlist for aurora, so here it is!!! These are some of the songs that I listen on repeat when I'm writing. Not all of the lyrics have anything to do with the story tho, some just match the vibe of the fic. Though, if I had to choose a "theme song" for Aurora, it'd definitely be Darkness At The Heart of My Love - Ghost. I know metal isn't everybody's cup of tea but in my brain, vampires = metal. And specifically Castlevania = Rammstein for some reason lmao. Anyway!! I hope you guys give it at least (1) listen, as I really think the playlist encapsules the vibes I'm trying to portray in my writing very well. ANYWAYS!!! LET ME SHUT UP!! ENJOY THIS BEAST OF A CHAPTER <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

? Years Ago

Jerash, Ottoman Empire

The moon was hidden behind heavy storm clouds that night.

The rain whipped against the walls and ceiling of the humble house. It consisted of only two rooms – the kitchen and a tiny bedroom with simple wooden furniture. One would consider it the house of a common peasant, but the hundreds of books piled over one another indicated otherwise. They were everywhere: over the table, stored on shelves, precarious bookcases and boxes… some looked ancient, some looked new. Some had intricate leather covers, beautiful handwriting and illustrations, while others were nothing but a bunch of pages with incomprehensible scribbles. It was even difficult to walk into the house without stepping over one.

The place smelled of spices. Many types of dried herbs were hanging around the kitchen. Different types of stones of all colors and sizes rested over the closed windowsill: quartz, crystals, amethysts, obsidian, malachites… colorful bird feathers were tied by threads in intricate designs, also hanging from the ceiling. All of that was supposed to provide “protection” against the “evil”, apparently.

Drolta hated that place.

No… hate was too strong of a word. To hate someone or something, you must care about it enough, and Drolta didn’t. She was… disgusted. All the dirt, the simplicity, the cheap magic that wouldn’t even hurt a fly… it was boring.

And the owner of that house was especially disgusting.

That short, bald creature finally appeared from inside the bedroom, carrying a heavy book in hands and an annoying large smile. When all this ended – and hopefully it would end very soon –, Drolta would make sure to kill this little man and take a long, really long bath to take his smell off her skin. She didn’t even plan on feeding off him. He didn’t deserve it. Drolta refused to drink from a neck that wasn’t soft, young and feminine.

“Here it is. The product of all of my researches over the years,” he claimed proudly. What was even his name? Was it Khalil? She didn’t remember. Before looking at her face, his eyes stopped for two seconds on her cleavage. He did it every time and hadn’t been trying to hide it ever since Drolta stepped foot into this thing he called home.

Men… oh, how easy men are. Drolta witnessed multiple changes in the world during her long lifetime. She saw empires rise and fall, cultures cease to exist, philosophies and religions sweep the Earth. But one thing that had never changed over all this time was the simplicity of men. All she needed to do was put on a tighter corset, a deeper cleavage… and she had him on the palm of her hand. Drolta didn’t even need to try much much harder. This little Khalil man was the type she despised the most: the needy type. Never got married. Judged too strange by his fellow villagers. Probably never felt the touch of a woman. He was desperate.

But he had something that Drolta valued after all: knowledge. There was a time when the world was full of magicians. Speakers, priestesses, witches, oracles, shamans, alchemists… actual scholars of the ways of magic. But that was before the fucking Church. Now, apparently, all humans knew how to do was kneel and pray for a God that could not grant them any power.

Drolta was aware that she was partially at fault in all this. However, she would redeem herself soon.

When she finally succeeded in bringing Sekhmet back to life, this Earth would know what a real Goddess is. A Goddess with real power, real impact, who could bring real fear and obedience and adoration.

Soon, she thought to herself. I can feel it. She will come back soon. I will bring her back soon.

So many centuries of preparation. So many sun cycles searching for the right candidate. She had finally, finally encountered someone whose body managed to withstand Sekhmet’s power. Erszebet Bathory grew more powerful every day; the holy blood she drank was slowly but surely changing her body, her soul, empowering her. Drolta could feel Sekhmet’s presence in this world getting stronger. She could feel her goddess through Erszebet, talking through her, striving to resurface through that vessel. Everything was going so well.

And yet – all of her effort was still not enough, because half of Sekhmet’s soul was still missing.

Aside from taking care of the vessel, Drolta and her sisters roamed Earth after the Ba – Sekhmet’s mummy. For some reason, it was always out of reach: stolen from someone, bought by someone, then stolen again, then auctioned… Drolta was always too late. She prayed, prayed, prayed ardently that her beloved Goddess would help her from the other side, give her a sign, maybe twist things a bit so she could have a chance… but oh, she knew her Goddess was too weak to help. Drolta knew she would have to find a way.

And although all odds seemed to be working against her, Drolta found another way. Drolta thought of another chance.

As far as her associates scattered around the world knew, the mummy was lost forever. She completely lost track of it somewhere in the Horn of Africa; the last news she heard about it was years ago. As much as Drolta despised the idea – as much as she’d like to personally torture whoever committed such blasphemy towards the body of Sekhmet –, she had to be realistic and assume that the mummy was, perhaps, definitely gone.

But Drolta wouldn’t let herself be drowned by despair. No. Despair was the enemy of reason. She had to be strong – for Sekhmet, for her sisters, for her goal.

So another idea grew into her mind.

Drolta was under possession of Sekhmet’s blood, the Ka; the Goddess’ Ba, the mummy, was out of reach.

And then there was the third piece of her soul which was also out of reach.

Except… maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe there was a way to reach into it.

Yes, she knew no one had ever managed to do it. Yes, she knew the possibility of failure was high. Yes, she knew that, perhaps, it was all but a delusion. However, Drolta couldn’t be sure without trying first. If there was even the smallest possibility of it working, she would go on with it.

She had to do it – and do it fast. Drolta had never met anyone that could take so much of Sekhmet’s blood, but even her couldn’t take much more; the Goddess needed her other half.She could not lose Erszebet; she would do anything in her power to keep that woman safe.

Which led Drolta to this annoying mortal man.

He was disgusting. He smelled bad. He had the audacity of assuming he was going to fuck her. And still, he was an alchemist – and there weren’t many alchemists in the world anymore. Not good ones, at least. Drolta wasted her time going after a famous alchemist in China months ago, but she turned out to be a charlatan. As far as Drolta knew, this one was real. Maybe not powerful like mortal alchemists used to be, but he could do the job.

“From the information I have gathered, it hasn’t been tried in centuries,” Khalil spoke with amazement and reverence. It truly was the work of his life, apparently. “Not many scholars even believe it happened, in fact… it is under deep discussion. However, the ones that believe it, report that the occurrence happened in Wallachia, when a certain alchemist tried to… well…”

Khalil averted his eyes, seeming embarrassed and hesitant. Oh, the traits of a man that has been laughed at and ridiculed his entire life. Drolta felt grateful that he was this way. Much easier to deal with.

She rested her hand on his forearm and looked at him with round, curious eyes – even though she already knew what he was trying to say.

“Tried to what? Please, tell me,” she asked in a honeyed voice.

Khalil probably had an erection at that moment. His face flushed and he smiled.

“Tried to bring D-Dracula back to life,” he finally let out. “Yeah, I know it sounds absurd. I-I mean, Dracula? The folk tale to scare kids? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t find it absurd at all,” Drolta said, shaking her head softly. “Please, continue.”

The man averted his gaze from hers sheepishly, holding the book just a tiny bit stronger.

“Y-You are the first person to ever take me seriously, Miss Danubia,” Danubia? Oh… it’s the name she made up for herself. She had almost forgotten. “I… I really appreciate it.”

What, are you going to cry? Spare me.

Drolta caressed his arm softly.

“I admire your intelligence. I’d sit with you and talk for hours about all of your discoveries,” the idea sickened her, in fact. But Drolta couldn’t just force him to do anything. As far as she knew, the entire process had to be done willingly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

For fuck’s sake, it really looked like he wanted to cry. Khalil blinked rapidly and looked down at the book again.

“Apparently, the portal was opened directly into Hell in order to retrieve Dracula’s soul. But it’s entirely possible that, through this same ritual, I could try to reach into other realms, too…” For the first time, Khalil looked hesitant. He gulped. “Though, if I’m to be completely honest, Miss Danubia, I do not believe I have the expertise needed to lead such a powerful ritual.”

Drolta stepped back, letting go of his forearm.

Khalil looked up at her, slightly startled at her sudden lack of touch.

But then, Drolta looked down, putting her hands over her chest and…

Tears welled up her eyes.

“I-I wish you could understand my pain and my despair, Khalil,” she started, voice trembling. “My mother… my dear mother. I could never tell her goodbye before her death. She had such a painful, slow death…” Drolta looked at him again, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “I do not wish to retrieve her soul, Khalil; I understand this goes against the laws of nature. I just want to… talk to her. In my culture, we believe that the souls of our deceased goes to the duat. If I can just get a peek of it… just look at her face once more… you will have my eternal gratitude. I-I can’t let this chance go by…”

Drolta covered her mouth and sobbed. With the corner of her eyes, she saw Khalil rush to put the heavy book over the table and bring her a handkerchief. She didn’t want to put that stinky thing near her face, but took it anyway and wiped her tears delicately.

Khalil pressed his lips together. All the hesitance was gone, being replaced by determination.

“I believe I can do it, Miss Danubia.” He inhaled before speaking. “The g-good feelings I have for you will be my guide and shield.”

Drolta offered him a sweet smile and a fragile thank you.

Khalil took off his coat and pushed the small table to the farthest corner of the room. He then took a piece of white chalk and started to draw something on the floor.

“This is the symbol of Osiris, Egyptian god of the Underworld… or the duat,” he explained while he drew. As if Drolta didn’t already know it. Yet, she acted shocked, trying to engage him in conversation as he lit a circle of candles around the hieroglyph. She needed him content and willing. Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings; they tend to put much more of their force into what they are doing, and this, in magic terms, was extremely meaningful.

Drolta loathed the fact that she needed this man happy to achieve her goal, but it was necessary. Well, if not happy, then hard. Sexual energy can also be extremely powerful.

After Khalil finished his preparations for the ritual, Drolta approached him and held his hand.

The man visibly held his breath.

It was so easy for her to send him that sweet gaze. So easy to trap his entire attention on her, as if Drolta became the very air in his lungs. She leaned down slightly and pressed her soft lips on his cheek, making sure to stay there a second longer than necessary, before leaning away a delivering a smile that showed quiet sadness and care.

“If you succeed, Khalil, you will have my heart eternally,” she purred in an almost whisper.

He was shocked.

It really looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he managed to crack a smile. He puffed his chest like a pathetic male bird and nodded as Drolta stepped away.

“I will, my lady. For you.”

She held back laughter.

Finally, Khalil took his heavy book again and stood near the candle ring. The flames projected eerie shadows around the walls; the outside storm was everything they could hear. He placed the book in front of his feet and took a small knife from his pocket.

“Blood is required to initiate the ritual,” he explained. “You can look away if it makes you uncomfortable, my lady.”

Khalil didn’t see when she rolled her eyes this time.

He swiped the knife on his palm, wincing in pain as he did. Weak little human, can’t even stand a cut without crying. He let blood drip over the symbol on the floor before walking back to the candle ring and taking the book in his hands once more.

He took a deep breath before finally initiating the spell.

His pronunciation of Akkadian was bad. Laughable, even. Drolta could barely understand half of the words. And yet, it was enough.

The candles trembled. The air within the house got colder. Drolta felt the floor beneath her feet shake slightly, the air vibrate in a high frequency – the frequency of high magic.

It was working.

A grin slowly grew on her lips. She… underestimated this little man after all. He was an actual alchemist – but the ritual was only working because of her efforts, she realized. Khalil was putting all of his love into the spell. Yes, actual love. How such a naive creature fell in love with her so quickly after a few days of knowing each other was beyond her.

Love is also extremely powerful in magical terms.

The storm grew angrier out there. A thunder so loud and so close shook the entire house, made Khalil lost his focus for a second before continuing to read the spell.

Followed by another thunder – even closer this time.

And another thunder.

The ground shook. Some books fell from the shelves. Khalil lifted his head and looked towards the window.

There was another sound mixed within the cacophony of the heavy storm.

Screams.

What was that out there? Was the house of his neighbor burning?

“W-What is–?” Khalil stuttered.

He hadn’t noticed that Drolta was towering right behind him. How did she get so close so fast?

She held his head with both hands from behind, guiding it down towards the book again.

“Keep reading,” she instructed in a quiet whisper, her mouth close to his ear.

A violent shiver ran down Khalil’s spine.

For the first time, Drolta’s presence made him feel uneasy. Her voice changed drastically; it wasn’t welcoming anymore, or warm, or caring. It was just freezing cold. It… it didn’t even sound much human.

All these talismans he hung around his house for protection – and yet the worst evil he could possibly imagine was standing right behind him, welcomed by him with open arms.

Another thunder. Another fire. Another house burning down. A few more souls to fuel the spell.

Khalil could be a real alchemist, but he was far from being a good one, Drolta remarked to herself. All of those books taught him nothing – again, she had to do most of the job. In the few days she worked on gaining his trust, she also made sure to mark every house in the village of Jerash with the symbol or Osiris. Marked it with virgin blood to make it even more effective.

Every respectable alchemist knew that in order to open a door into the Infinite Corridor, multiple mortal lives were required. That is why most alchemists weren’t brave enough to do it.

Khalil wouldn’t be brave enough to do it too if he knew what it’d cost. That is why Drolta lured him into it and made the preparations behind his back.

Drolta chuckled. How he must had been feeling at that moment, knowing he sacrificed hundreds of lives of his fellow villagers in the hopes of sticking his tiny penis inside of her?

“I told you to keep reading,” she repeated, and this time her voice sounded like a dangerous hiss.

Khalil’s hands trembled. He gulped. His voice wasn’t as confident anymore, but he had already initiated the ritual; there was no coming back from there.

The floor shook as more souls were reaped into the spell. Suddenly, the windows opened all at once; the ceiling cracked and was swiped away by a violent gush of wind. Drolta looked up in time to see a funnel of souls converging into a single streak of red light, being attracted by the symbol of Osiris on the floor; they made a twister within the circle of candles that were somehow still lit despite everything.

Wind and rain whipped Drolta and Khalil, made his books fly in all directions. None of that bothered Drolta. She had a maniacal grin on her lips, eyes locked in the chaos unveiling in front of her eyes.

Finally, finally, finally, a white crack slashed the air inside the candle ring. A crack in reality itself.

Freezing cold wind came out of it. The crack was slowly but surely getting wider. It made Drolta’s eyes widen, shivers run her body; few times in her life did she witness magic so powerful, so strong, so chilling.

It was working. It was finally working.

She stepped aside from a shell-shocked Khalil and extended her arms in a wide movement, the smile never vanishing from her lips.

A door to the Infinite Corridor, opened right in front of her eyes.

And yet – her work wasn’t done. This door needed to be redirected; it needed to be aimed at the right place.

“Oh Sekhmet, Eye or Ra, Lady of Terror, Mistress of Dread, She Who Mauls; hear mine calling, let thou be guided by the voice of thy loyal servant!” Drolta chanted with all her might, raising her voice as to be heard beyond the storm and the magic and the weeping souls.

The crack got a bit wider. Insurmountable amount of energy escaped from inside. Drolta didn’t even know if Khalil could stand in front of it much longer, given how weak he was, so she needed to rush.

“Hear mine call, Your Magnificence!” Drolta continued, gesticulating in wide movements. “Let mine voice guide thee through the waters of the primordial abyss; let thy Akh resurface in the land of the living. Oh Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, She of Ten Thousand Names; walk back into thy rightful realm, retake the throne unfairly taken from thee, wear thy rightful crown once more!”

The crack got wider, wider, wider. It was difficult to understand what could be seen inside of it; it looked like a confusing kaleidoscope. Different images jumped in the blink of an eye, landscapes not even Drolta could understand. And yet, she kept chanting, hoping her energy would be the necessary guide. The mark of Osiris burned in bright red.

Finally – the image within the crack seemed to stabilize itself.

Drolta’s eyes widened.

She saw a… calm river. A temple made of gold in the distance, sitting atop of an island. A pyramid. Purple trees adorned it; the tip of the pyramid shone with a blinding light. The most beautiful sky she had ever seen.

That was it. It was the duat.

Drolta got even more passionate in her speech; her throat ached from screaming.

“Hear mine voice, Lady Sekhmet! Hear mine voice! Come to me!” She begged. Finally, finally, finally, her goddess was right there; after years and years of searching and fighting for her and protecting her legacy and trying to find ways to revive her, after so many frustrated attempts of retrieving her mummy... Finally, Sekhmet’s Akh was right there in front of her eyes.

Finally, Drolta had succeeded.

All she needed to do was cross the door. Drolta couldn’t enter the duat, but Sekhmet could cross it towards the land of the living. Drolta held a small shabti made of pure gold in her hand, the holy object in which she could safely store the third part of Sekhmet’s soul. From there, Erzsebet would only need to incorporate it.

Come to me, Sekhmet; come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me–

Something happened.

The image twisted.

“What?” Drolta gasped.

The sight of the duat blurred.

Suddenly, the winds that whipped the house got stronger, more violent. The soul twister got more chaotic. Now, everything that could be seen within the door was the kaleidoscope of colors again, passing rapidly.

It… started to get black.

“No! No! What are you doing?!” Drolta turned to Khalil, her wrath so big that made him tremble. But the man was frozen in place, tears falling down his cheeks mixed with the rain.

“I-I-I’m not doing anything!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t me!”

Drolta turned to the door again.

The air was getting even colder. Colder, colder, colder… freezing. The Osiris symbol suddenly started to burn in black – and then everything else was black. The souls, the flames of the candles, the energy rays that poured from the door.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Drolta yelled at whatever was interfering with the ritual. “I don’t want you here. I didn’t call you!”

But it was too late.

A second before the explosion, Drolta saw a dark figure walk out of the door.

She had time to protect her face with her arms. She did not care about Khalil.

Boom.

The shockwave destroyed what remained of Khalil’s house; he was sent back flying meters away. The reaped souls let their final, painful yell before dissipating in the air. The candles were extinguished in a gush of wind.

Drolta was the only thing to remain standing in place.

She lowered her arms slowly. It seemed that even the heavy storm got timid after such an unnatural occurrence. The neighbor houses still burned; the fires spread down the hill. As it wasn’t magical fire anymore, the rain started to quiet them down. No voices were heard. No more screams. No live witnesses anymore. The village of Jerash became nothing but a burning cemetery.

Drolta fell to her knees.

A shrilling scream of pure anger crossed the air.

She had failed. She got so fucking close and failed yet again. The duat was right there in front of her and she failed.

She turned around to see Khalil’s body on the floor.

Drolta got up, red anger clouding her gaze. He was still alive – hurt, bleeding and crying, but still alive.

“You stupid piece of shit!” She kicked his stomach so hard that the men rolled a few more meters away. “Useless little man. I submitted myself to your disgusting presence for days and you still didn’t serve me anything!”

Khalil coughed blood. He refused to look at her, shrinking into his own body, crying like a child.

She should skin him alive. This, at least, would serve as a way to calm down.

And yet – she stopped in her tracks.

Rain still fell over her head. She was entirely drenched. Drolta stopped and inhaled, letting her anger quiet down.

There was someone talking to her.

Something.

The air still smelled of coal and sulfur. It had nothing to do with the burning houses.

Slowly, she turned back to the circle of candles.

Her eyes widened.

There was someone laying on the floor inside the circle. She rushed towards it.

It was… it was a woman.

For a moment, overwhelming joy and excitement rushed through her veins. Could it be who she thought it was? What if she had actually succeeded, but in a different way than she first expected?

What if that was Sekhmet incarnate?!

Drolta knelt down beside the woman. She was unconscious, laid on her side, completely naked. With care – even hesitancy – Drolta turned her body around, making the woman lay on her back. She took some strands of drenched hair away from her face.

It was a young woman. Her chest moved slowly, as if she was simply asleep.

Drolta frowned.

She pressed two fingers over her neck. A regular pulse. The scent of… regular mortal blood.

Her frown deepened.

“This is no Sekhmet,” Drolta said through gritted teeth. “This is just human woman.”

Then, she lifted her gaze – and finally noticed what was talking to her.

It was nothing but a strange, tall shadow; Drolta could barely make sense of what she was looking at. But yet, that grin was very much recognizable. The entity seemed weak, vibrating in a low frequency, making the entire area around it even colder.

“Did you bring her with you?” She asked. The entity answered. It didn’t use… words. It spoke into her mind with intentions instead. Perhaps, it was way too weak to vocalize.

Drolta huffed with disdain. “And what use would this mortal have?”

The entity moved slowly, circling around them.

Drolta froze in place.

“How do you know this?” She asked in a cautious hiss.

The entity’s grin seemed to get even wider, now knowing that it had Drolta’s full attention.

It continued sliding around Drolta. The vampire lowered her head, looking at the human woman once again.

She looked and looked and looked and looked and…

She remembered.

Slowly, Drolta’s eyes widened as realization hit her.

This… wouldn’t solve all of her problems. She still needed to find the other half of Sekhmet’s soul. And yet… it could also serve her plans, in a way.

Drolta once again lifted her gaze towards the grinning shadow.

“I know you wouldn’t be offering me this out of the goodness of your heart,” she started with suspicion. “What do you want of me in return?”

The entity trembled. Drolta leaned her head slightly.

“An easy task. And if I fail?”

The entity grinned at her quietly. Drolta chuckled.

“You won’t have it, for I won’t fail.” She got up to her feet again. “But this sounds like a fair deal.”

A fair pact, in fact.

Drolta extended her arm towards the entity. It approached her; the shadow extended too in what resembled an arm. It revolved around her hand with a chilling touch.

When the shadow retreated, there was an icy object over Drolta’s palm.

A ruby necklace.

Drolta nodded at the entity; it sent her a last eerie grin before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

It was done.

Drolta looked down.

She took the cloak off her shoulders and covered the woman’s naked body with it. She leaned down, taking her into her arms, before straightening her posture again.

It… wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

Her Goddess never left her without a way out. She was always kind to send Drolta another option, another strategy, and that’s why Drolta managed to survive and move on after every problem.

“For every suffering, a wisdom is gained,” she said quietly. The mantra that had been keeping her sane for centuries.

Khalil was still weeping some meters away from her. Drolta paid him no mind. He wasn’t totally useless in the end, which meant he gained the right to keep living.

Drolta walked away from the burning cemetery of Jerash with the unconscious woman in her arms, the ruby necklace safely tangled around her palm.

The heavy storm clouds opened a small breach for the first time; the moon peeked through, being the only witness of the horrors that had unveiled that night.

Present time

Paris, France

The sun had hidden behind the horizon at least three hours ago.

You looked out the window at the full moon reigning sovereign in the sky from the tiny inn bedroom. There were barely any clouds to hinder its view. Stars adorned the space around her, creating a breathtaking view.

And yet, the air was… eerie.

Maybe because you knew what was about to come, and the fact that the rest of the city didn’t know yet made the situation horrifying. So many people were probably having dinner with their families, resting their heads over their pillows, having no idea of the hell that was about to burst upon them.

What made the situation even more difficult was that you were, well, useless in the middle of it all.

Richter and Annette were hunting nests of vampires. Alucard was about to leave to talk to the leaderships of Paris in order to organize the defensive lines. The three of them, much obviously, were ready to fight.

And you? All you had was a useless golden scepter.

Maybe you had your hopes way too high after what happened at the Louvre. You remembered what Annette told you when you first met – you might be a witch, Ruby; you just don’t remember it. You thought that, the moment you put your hands over the artifact again, you’d have some sort of epiphany. Your past would unveil itself in your head, you’d finally understand Erzsebet and Drolta’s interest in you, you’d know why you were needed to summon eclipses…

But nothing happened.

The scepter was just heavy and very impractical to carry around.

Alucard had no idea what language the inscriptions were. He advised you to not read them out loud, as it wasn’t clear the effect it could cause. You also didn’t magically understand what these words meant. So… just another frustration to add onto the pile.

“Ruby, I’m talking to you.”

You jumped and turned your head around. Alucard was standing in front of the door, searching for something in the inside pocket of his coat and eyeing you with curiosity. You adjusted your posture where you were sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I… wasn’t paying attention.” You said sheepishly.

The white-haired vampire paused for a moment.

“Are you scared of being on your own?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No! Not at all. I’ll be fine.” You reassured.

To be honest, being alone wasn’t exactly an idea you liked. The last three days were the safest you’d ever felt in your life, and that was because you were around them. You tried to avoid picturing the horrifying image of Drolta in her new night creature form breaking through that window and dragging you back to the chateau. There’s no way this is going to happen, not now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… I’m not needed anymore.

But the idea you liked even less was of being a burden, and you knew you’d be a burden if you kept hanging around uselessly while they fought. Annette almost died due to your mere presence. You were sure everyone would’ve handled the fight much better if you simply weren’t there. So… it’d be better if you just stayed hidden at the inn for the time being.

Alucard shrugged slightly and approached, finally revealing what he was searching for in his coat: a… red string?

He sat by your side on the bed, eyes glued on it. The only source of light came from the moon outside and a single candle holder over the desk. The light of the timid flame created a golden silhouette on his delicate features.

“The Revolutionary Commune is reunited some blocks away from here at this moment,” Alucard explained while his fingers worked on measuring the string. You watched him in silent confusion. His voice always dropped even quieter when he was close to you like that. It was… comforting. He was so close that his arm brushed on yours. “I must go warn them about the incoming fight. There will most definitely be vampires roaming the streets right now, hence why you must stay hidden for the time being.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

You watched as Alucard tied the red string around his own left wrist skillfully. How did he even manage to tie something with a single hand? That was quite impressive. “I won’t take more than two hours, however. After I assure your safety within the Revolutionary Commune, I will come to pick you up.”

Then, he brought his wrist close to his mouth; he put the remaining length of the string between his teeth and cut it using his sharp fangs.

Oh.

You couldn’t help but feel shivers run your spine whenever you remembered that Alucard had vampire fangs. He was half vampire, in fact. It was a bit strange how, as you grew comfortable around him, this “detail” became less and less relevant; you always associated vampires with the worst things possible, while Alucard was much the opposite. Perhaps that’s why it was a bit surprising to remember part of him was one.

You also had noticed that Alucard didn’t open much of his mouth when he talked… and it seemed to be a very conscious act when he was in public. You payed attention to how he talked to those boys earlier. Was it an attempt to make his fangs less obvious?

“Give me your left wrist.” He asked. You promptly obeyed. Alucard tied the remaining string around yours this time. “If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.”

You nodded, a bit surprised. “This is impressive.”

Alucard chuckled and tilted his head slightly. “You were effortlessly summoning eclipses and this is what surprises you about magic?”

The words got caught in your throat.

“Well– it is impressive.” He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, which did not help you organize your thoughts better. “A-And I wasn’t summoning them, not exactly.”

“You’re not sure about that, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

Your shoulders dropped. Alucard chuckled again.

He finally let go of your wrist and a tiny part of you immediately missed his touch.

“Remember. Two hours. No more, no less.” He got up from the bed again and walked towards the door. “I might be asking too much from you, but I’d advise you against sleeping, too.”

“As if I’d be able to close my eyes at all,” you whined quietly to yourself.

Alucard opened the door and looked at you.

Once again, it seemed that he was about to say something. He looked… hesitant. His expression wasn’t as nonchalant as usual, but you couldn’t tell exactly why. You looked at him expectantly.

Then – this small glimpse dissolved in seconds.

“Lock the door,” he said, pointing at it with his head.

Oh.

You got up in a jump. At last, he left. You safely locked it and kept the key in the pocket of your vest.

Then, you were alone.

For the first time in your life, being alone didn’t bring you relief. You’d usually look forward to the moments you’d be locked inside your quarters again, recovering from your wounds; despite the pain, it were the only times when you had some peace. Now, however, you’d wish someone was here. You hoped Annette and Richter were safe, wherever they were…

You laid on the bed and faced the ceiling. The scepter was also over the bed, right beside you.

And you just… stayed there.

Your fingers fiddled with the red string on your left wrist mindlessly. Alucard didn’t make a complicated tie as to keep it easy to undo, so you took care to not untie it by accident. This little piece of braided wool had magic in it… but you didn’t feel anything strange while touching it.

You remembered how Alucard felt that the scepter was magic just by touching it, while for you it was just a normal object. You remembered how Richter could summon elements with his bare hands and Annette could see spirits as easily as people…. Perhaps you had no aptitude for magic at all. Perhaps they made you read that book because they needed a human to complete the summoning of an eclipse, not because you had some sort of hidden power.

You touched the scepter again without bothering to look at it. Cold and lifeless as usual.

Maybe it had that reaction – shining, the rust disappearing – because it needed someone to… awaken it. Anyone. Not you specifically.

But it must had been touched by someone before, isn’t it? Of course it was. It didn’t walk into that crate. Someone put it there.

You groaned and turned to your right side.

Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. You were on high alert, so your eyelids didn’t feel heavy with sleep.

You laid on your stomach and brought the scepter close to your face.

These characters… you recognized them.

Alucard told you to not read them out loud, but he didn’t say anything about writing them.

You got up and rushed to the desk. There was a small drawer there with a piece of paper and some charcoal. You laid on your stomach again and started to translate the characters into the common Latin alphabet. Alucard might not recognize the characters, but what if he saw the syllables in a language he could read and the words made sense to him?

As the scepter had a lot of text and you didn’t have much paper, you tried to keep the letters as tiny as possible. You broke the charcoal a bit to make a sharper point. Your hands and the sheets got dirty with the black of the charcoal, but you couldn’t care less.

You didn’t pay attention to the time now that you had something to busy yourself with. Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. An hour. Half an hour.

You had little free paper left and a lot to translate still when a sound out there immediately brought you back to your senses.

You froze and looked towards the window.

The street was very quiet up until that point – you even wondered if nights in Paris were always so peaceful. That sound, however, was impossible to ignore; was impossible to not make your heart immediately race.

A scream.

You got up in a jump and approached the window slowly, peeking at it with caution.

The scream came from a nearby street, followed by fast steps. Another scream. It sounded female.

No… it sounded childish.

Maybe it’s nothing. Just a kid spooked by a dog or a rat. Nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t get on your nerves every time you hear a scream.

You stood by the window for some more minutes, your heart thundering nonstop… and nothing appeared. You sighed, tried to calm your already irregular breathing. Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to muffle everything else–

Someone running down there on the street.

You eyes widened. Your breath got completely caught in your throat.

It was a kid. A small kid, desperately running away from something. A boy. You recognized the worn out clothes and the curly black hair.

The lily in the pocket of your vest seemed to get hot.

It was Oliver.

When he disappeared from your sight, you saw what he was running from: three men. They laughed as they pursued him.

Three vampires.

You grabbed the scepter, the piece of paper and without taking a single second to think, you were already running out of the room.

The only things you could hear were your deep breathing, your thundering heartbeat and your boots rushing on the wooden pavement, then on the stone street as you rushed out of the inn. You almost fell when taking a sudden turn in the direction you saw Oliver running to. The street was completely empty and cold, but your body already felt hot from adrenaline.

You ran as fast as your legs could take. Please let me not be too late please please please please please please please please please–

Another strangled scream followed by more voices coming from an alley nearby.

You didn’t take a second to consider what you were going to do, how you were going to save him from this situation.

You just rushed into it.

“Oliver!” You screamed, stopping on your tracks.

The scene unfolding in front of you made your blood boil in a mix of anger and fright.

Oliver, the little boy, had fallen; his back was pressed against the wall. It was a dead end. His knee bled – he had probably fallen –, tears streamed down his cheeks, his pants were wet. He was shaking; his eyes, the most widened you’d ever seen.

The three vampires cornered him. They wore simple clothes, but all of them shared a similar trait: the symbol of an eclipse burned into the skin of their foreheads.

They immediately turned around at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, everyone was shocked – you, Oliver, the vampires. They were the first ones to recover.

“M-Madame!” Oliver stuttered in a strangled, horrified voice.

The vampire in the middle smirked.

“What do we have here?”

“This is even better than that bastard,” the one on the right laughed. “No one told you to not walk around at night by yourself, sweetie?”

“Leave him alone,” you blurted out. You didn’t sound that frightened, at least, because your body hadn’t properly processed what the hell you had gotten yourself into yet.

“Oh, we might now that you’re here.” One of them said with a disgusting smirk. “And what is it that you’re carrying with you? Looks interesting.”

They started to approach at slow steps.

You knew how vampires acted. They didn’t see you as a threat, so they would not use their inhuman speed. No; they wanted to savor your panic, to make you think you’d have a way out the way they did with Oliver. Vampires acted as cruel hunters, not as animal predators that acted purely on instinct and hunger.

That’s why they didn’t notice when you put your left wrist behind your back and swiftly untied the string.

I’m sorry, Alucard, you thought as the reality of that moment finally hit you. You… you did it again. You put yourself in danger again, exactly the opposite of what Alucard told you to do. But if you had waited for him, if you had untied the string at the inn and then explained what happened and then hoped that Alucard caught the vampires in time, would Oliver still be alive? Would he have an extra minute of luck?

Whatever these vampires were about to do with you – it didn’t matter. You could take it. Oliver couldn’t. The same way Annette wouldn’t have taken the night creature’s bite.

“M-Madame, run!”

His voice caught your attention again.

That little boy had wet himself in fear. He could barely stand. And yet, he was telling you to run. He was worried about your safety.

That little boy.

So small and so fragile and wearing those worn out clothes and shaking and hurt.

It brought forward an instinct within you. Perhaps that same instinct you felt when you looked at Richter’s sad expression. A will to take care. To protect. Something that run deep into your soul, something very familiar in ways you couldn’t explain, as if you had been in a similar situation in the past, as if you had felt this desperate need to protect someone small and fragile and dear to you.

These men were going to kill that little boy and he wouldn’t even be able to fight back.

This strange instinct to protect and the anger towards these men and the revolt because you had been in similar situations too, countless times, and you couldn’t do anything to fight back against a force tenfold stronger than you made your mind go blank.

Blank, blank, blank, devoid of any thought. Any fear. Any hesitance. At that moment, there wasn’t anxiety anymore. Your fingers didn’t shake. You didn’t think of any consequence.

All that existed was the need to protect that little boy.

One of the vampires approached and grabbed the scepter roughly. Instinctively, you held it with both hands, trying to pull it back.

And then – the vampire screamed.

A sizzling noise filled the alley.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He screamed.

The scepter was burning his hands. He couldn’t take them off.

Your mind didn’t register well everything that happened in the following seconds.

The moment you held it with both hands, it started to glow again – but in a different way than before.

The inscriptions started to glow. That same glow traveled from one end to the other – to the tip of the scepter; the image of the sun.

It started to shine.

The light was blinding. You had to tighten your eyes. It was hot hot hot hot, you almost dropped it on the floor, but something told you to keep holding it. So you held it with all your might. You felt a strange wave of energy flow from your body towards the scepter.

The little sun of the scepter shone, brightening the entire alley as if day turned to night–

And the three vampires yelled in agony.

They tried to cover their faces, tried to run away – but it was already too late. Their skin began to burn as if they were set on fire. Their muscle, their clothes, their scalp, their bones, everything was burning. The vampire that tried to grab it was the first to fall on the floor, agonizing, until he finally stopped moving. The other two screamed, yelled with nowhere to run. Their limbs were way too damaged to move.

You felt that your heart was burning, too.

Finally, the burning was too much for you to take. With a scream of effort, you dropped the scepter with a loud metallic noise and fell back on the floor.

The light extinguished.

You panted. You supported your body on your arms. Finally, the screaming stopped.

There were three dead vampires on your feet.

Their carcasses completely burned, unrecognizable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Smoke clouded the alley.

You started shaking again.

What– What just happened?!

But then, you heard another tiny voice besides yours and you remembered that there was someone you still needed to take care of. You got up from the floor, not daring to touch the scepter again, tip toeing to avoid stepping over the bodies.

You knelt in front of Oliver and held him by both arms.

“What are you doing here at this hour?!” You lashed out. “Alucard told you to not get out at night!”

The boy sobbed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, m-madame,” he stuttered between his cries. “I-I-I was t-trying to help. I-I was t-telling people to g-get into their houses. I was already g-going back home…”

You wiped his tears with the sleeve of your blouse before hugging him. Tight. Oliver cried on your shoulder, his little body shaking against yours.

A hand touched your shoulder from behind – which caused you to gasp loudly.

Alucard had the most shocked, confused expression you’d ever seen. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t being subtle.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, but it sounded like a demand.

No no no that’s not what you should ask right now. Oliver is the priority.

The boy leaned away from you and you held his shoulders again. “Where do you live?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. His little face was all puffy and wet. “T-Two streets away from here.”

You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Ruby–“

“Let’s go,” you interrupted Alucard. “I need to take him home.”

Take him home take him home take him home. Yes, this is what I need to do. This is all that matters.

You walked on a beeline with a rushed pace towards the exit of the alley – both the scepter and the piece of paper with your translations completely forgotten on the floor. Alucard followed you closely, but in silence. Oliver’s little hand was still shaking. You held it tightly.

After no more than five minutes of walking, he pointed towards his house. You leaned down and hugged him again.

“Don’t leave your house. Did you understand? Do not walk out under any circumstance. Tell your parents about it.” You repeated in a serious authoritarian tone you didn’t recognize yourself. Have you ever spoken that way before?

Oliver nodded and apologized again. Finally, he waved a last goodbye and entered the house.

It seems that you just started to breathe again when you heard the sound of the door locking.

A few seconds of silence went by.

“Ruby.”

You shivered and turned around.

Alucard looked down at you with frowned eyebrows. Was he angry? Oh fuck, of course he was angry. You put yourself in danger again. You did what you shouldn’t. You got out of the inn without his permission.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your mission. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you started while avoiding his gaze vehemently. Your fingers were trembling again; you hid them behind your back.

“Can you tell me what–“

“Oliver was being chased by vampires. I saw them running through the window and I couldn’t hold myself back. I’m sorry, I know you told me to not put myself in danger. B-But I couldn’t just stay still, you see?” You couldn’t shut up. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why was your voice shaking? “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“And then– the scepter– it did that thing again. I don’t know how that happened. It– it got so hot out of sudden, and then the vampires were burning too. I d-don’t know if I was the one to do it. I just didn’t want Oliver to die. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t, Ruby.”

“Oh– I left if on the floor, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I put you through all the trouble of going back to the Louvre only to drop it at the alley. I s-should take it back. Oh! And I was translating the writings too. I think I dropped the paper… well, I wasn’t translating anything, I was just writing the words in our alphabet, and I don’t know it’ll be useful at all but I wanted to help somehow–“

“Ruby.”

The words got stuck in your throat.

Alucard cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him and nothing else.

He frowned. “You’re burning.”

You blinked rapidly. “What? N-No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it through the gloves.” Alucard used his teeth to take the glove off his right hand; he pressed it over your forehead. He was probably trying to help, but that action made you feel even hotter on the inside. “We need to do something about it.”

“No!” You blurted out. “No, there’s no need. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. I always do.”

“Ruby.” He called again.

Alucard shoved the glove inside his coat and held your face with both hands again; he lowered himself slightly to get closer to your eye level.

“I am not angry at you.” He started in a slow and quiet voice. “You didn’t interrupt me. You did nothing wrong. But I need you to understand that you are spiraling, and I need you to calm down first.”

S… Spiraling? You were spiraling?

You gulped and nodded.

“Breathe with me.” He instructed patiently.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. You followed his slow pace.

Adrenaline dissipated in your bloodstream; your head got quieter again. Your heart stopped running and went back to walking. Your hands, however, were still shaking.

You lowered your head, desperately trying to avoid his gaze, when you felt tears well up your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a weak tone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Alucard’s voice was even quieter than usual… even gentler. He didn’t step away. His thumb caressed your cheek with care.

“I got so scared. I thought Oliver was going to die.”

Why did you even confess that? You weren’t sure; your brain wasn’t working properly anymore. But yes, that was true. You were scared of getting hurt – you were just used to pain, you didn’t like it – but you were even more scared of seeing that boy die in front of you. So small and so innocent and so familiar for some reason.

Why was that familiar? Why were you so confused? What the hell just happened?

You had no answer to any of these questions. All you wanted to do was cry at that moment – but not in front of him. Never in front of him; it’d be too humiliating. You wanted to step away, to have some space to recover. You wanted to hide from him.

Alucard had other plans.

When the first stubborn tear streamed down your cheek, Alucard pulled you closer to his body. His hands let go of your face; instead, he wrapped his arms around you. He was delicate. Hesitant, even.

Your face was then hidden in his chest.

Alucard didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was nothing he could’ve said at that moment, so he decided to act.

You froze at first. This… this was the closest you’ve ever been to him – at least while fully conscious, a proximity Alucard established willingly. You didn’t even know you had the right to stand that close to him.

When was the last time someone offered you comfort like that?

If it had happened before, you didn’t remember.

Slowly, your body melted under his. Your tense members softened. His sweet scent enveloped you. With much hesitance, you wrapped your arms around his body too, under his cape – and in the moment Alucard realized you accepted his embrace, he held you just a little tighter, a little more comfortable. One of his hands caressed your hair, while the other wrapped around your back.

You did your best to swallow any incoming sobs, forcing yourself to cry in silence. If Alucard even noticed you were crying, he didn’t show it. He just kept his arms around you protectively… affectionately. It made your insides feel warm in a way not even that strange scepter could.

None of you said a word, though there was much to be said. Both of you understood the gravity of what just happened. The three burnt carcasses were there at the alley, waiting to be inspected.

But that could wait for now. Nothing had the right to pierce through the small bubble of peace you shared.

You just stayed there in each other’s embrace for longer than your confused brain could register.

The bright full moon, reining sovereign in the sky, was your only witness.

#alucard x reader #alucard castlevania #castlevania #alucard #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #alucard tepes #castlevania nocturne #alucard x you #castlevania x reader #castlevania alucard

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transmutationisms · 2 months ago

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hello !! do u have any recommendations for books that demystify intelligence ? and/or historical analyses that pertain to its scientific construction ? I'm actually not picky at all, an extended reading list if you already have one available would be perfectly fine. I hope I'm being clear in my request bc English isn't my 1st language... if not, sorry

<3 bisou

for sure -- there's lots of writing about the historical context of IQ in particular, as well as other measures of 'intelligence' (binet-simon, galton, etc); there's also a lot of writing that's on specific national and regional contexts. so i'm not pulling anything close to an exhaustive list here lol but these are some i found at least somewhat helpful. im presuming you're a french speaker but if not just disregard the ones in french lol

The Mismeasure of Man by Stephen Jay Gould -- this is probably the no. 1 recommendation you will receive in english on this topic. it's not necessarily crucial if you've read other historical literature critiquing psychometry, but if not, it's a very solid text and is intended to be an easy entry point into the topic, so it can be a convenient place to start if you just need a leading-off point

‘The Intelligent and the Rest’: British Mensa and the Contested Status of High Intelligence (2020). Schregel, Susanne. History of the Human Sciences 33.5, 12-36. DOI: 10.1177/0952695120970029

Child prodigies in Paris in the belle époque: Between child stars and psychological subjects (2021). Graus, Andrea. History of Psychology 24.3, 255-274. DOI: 10.1037/hop0000192

Searching for South Asian Intelligence: Psychometry in British India, 1919--1940 (2014). Setlur, Shivrang. Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 50.4, 359-375. DOI: 10.1002/jhbs.21692

La mesure de l'intelligence: Jeux des forces vitales et réductionnisme cérébral selon les anthropologues français (1860-1880) (1994). Blanckaert, Claude. Ludus Vitalis: Revista de Filosofía de las Ciencias de la Vida 2.3, 35-68

The Measure of Merit: Talents, Intelligence, and Inequality in the French and American Republics, 1750--1940 (2007). Carson, John S. Princeton University Press, ISBN: 0691017158

Ambiguities of Racial Science in Colonial Africa: The African Research Survey and the Fields of Eugenics, Social Anthropology, and Biomedicine, 1920--1940 (2005). Tilley, Helen. In Science across the European Empires, 1800--1950 (ed. Stuchtey, Benedikt. Oxford University Press, ISBN: 0199276292), pp. 245–287

Ribot, Binet, and the Emergence from the Anthropological Shadow (2007). Staum, Martin S. Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 43, 1-18

La mesure en psychologie de Binet à Thurstone (1997). Martin, Olivier. Revue de Synthèse 118, 457-493

W. E. B. DuBois, Anthropometric Science, and the Limits of Racial Uplift (2006). Farland, Maria. American Quarterly 58, 1017-1044

The Mismeasure of Minds: Debating Race and Intelligence between Brown and The Bell Curve (2018). Staub, Michael E. University of North Carolina Press, ISBN: 9781469643595

After Binet: French intelligence testing, 1900-1950 (1992). Schneider, William H. Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 28, 111-132

Woman's Brain, Man's Brain: Feminism and Anthropology in Late Nineteenth-Century France (2003). Sowerwinea, Charles. Women's History Review 12, 289-308

#book recs #there may also be a list of a few articles (like journalism not academic articles) tagged as either 'academia' or 'lit and literacy'

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adambja · 11 months ago

Text

✴️THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND✴️

The Guide - the only post you will ever need to understand how your subconscious mind works!

1. Time isn't real

Let me break it to you! Time isn't real at all cuz think about it all these hours and numbers are made by humans!

But how?!

They just track how the earth moves around the sun and that's all

Yes without time there will be morning and night and still these hours aren't real

As in whole THE UNIVERSE!! TIME DOESN'T EXIST IF YOU AREN'T ON THE EARTH!

which GETS US TO THAT ONE POINT

SUBCONSCIOUS MIND REPROGRAMMING DOESN'T TAKE 21 DAYS OR ANY TIME

Subconscious mind reprogramming is instant

That's why I always add it to my tapes as benefits and that's why I made the benefits! cuz it bypasses the conscious mind and it makes it easier for your subconscious to make it reality!

So basically it all comes down to what you assume!!

2. Languages

I got that question a lot about what if I can't speak English, will the affirmations work?

Yes ofc they will

whatever it's affirmations only or my tapes

Even if you make your own tapes it will work!!

3. Thoughts

Is it really "it is what it is"?

Yes, it is what it is

For ex.

if you think you already got 50k US DOLLARS you already have it it's that simple (like that success story a girl experienced with one of my free tapes she manifested 50k US DOLLARS! - also this one success story - The tape is on YouTube btw)

Again it all comes down to what you assume!

4. Assuming

Assuming hmmm... Do you know that all your thoughts are assumptions?

But there are two things about these thoughts!

Did you assume that they are real and true?

Do you assume that whatever you want is already achieved?

Do you assume that you are always right?

Or did you assume that it can't happen cuz you think you are lying!

Just be honest with yourself

Get a piece of paper and write everything you think about down ABOUT A SPECIFIC MANIFESTATION YOU GOT ON YOUR MIND!

And if you think you are lying why? Ask yourself! Make all that noise go away and clear it for yourself! You deserve better

Now this gets us to another point which is your manifesting self-concept and your self-concept they are very important for ur existence like they are the core of your life! So a little advice work on them then do whatever you want!

Cuz it changes the way you think and what you assume

So like a person with a bad or mid self-concept they will always assume the worst for themselves

Another person with a good self-concept they will be aware of who they are and what they are capable of!

5. Thoughts, Feelings and beliefs!

Again and again

How you feel is created by thought

Subconscious programming → beliefs → feelings → thoughts

So if you keep saying "oh I am sad" multiple times you will be sad it's just that simple

Use it for your own good!

And imagine what... Right now

Your beliefs will reflect in your reality after one thought instantly after reading this post so be careful cuz i already manifested this while typing this!

And listen to in control tape by me on YouTube!

Basically you can always create beliefs instantly cuz you believe that time isn't real... Did you know what we are doing here? Just assuming the best for us but you still have to be constant to get used to it and make it a part of your programming like everyday

Someone like me I enter the void every time I nap and sleep I got used to it and I don't even feel tired anymore when I wake up there and I don't use it that much anymore!

I literally enjoy how easy it is in life to do whatever I want and experience whatever I want!

6. Simple assumptions to have a good relationship with your subconscious mind

I will give you 10 affirmations from my paid subconscious mind tape at the end (I know it won't be the same as the tape itself because of the benefits but still it might help you guys!)

Do you know that your subconscious mind is here for you like a parent it's like your personal assistant - it has everything about you, your memories and it controls ur whole life it accepts every single thought you think about unless you say it it's not something you accept so it gets in your subconscious mind like "oh I don't accept this"

Even the negative statements your subconscious mind knows it negative!! Same thing with the positive statements

Like for ex.

I am not a bad person - negative statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it!

Your subconscious mind won't take it in like "I am a bad person" without the "not"

Even the same thing with

I am a good person - positive statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it TOO

The subconscious mind ACCEPTS THE NEGATIVE STATEMENTS TOO!

IT IS simply WHAT IT IS!!

It's not the opposite at all as some weird bloggers said! Or even that book about the subconscious mind it's called "the power of the subconscious mind by Joseph Murphy" it's full of bs and limiting beliefs - I genuinely hate it

I literally saw a coach in Saudi Arabia on X (PREVIOUSLY Twitter) selling a whole course for almost 30k USD and sharing all the limiting beliefs in that book and that was months ago!

I mean at least IF YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE PAY FOR SOMETHING PROVIDE THEM WITH THE BEST THINGS AND INFORMATION

I hated how some people let some crazy stuff like that get to them without doing their own research or just creating their own rules!!

Be a little independent please for your own good

Your subconscious mind can be programmed instantly YOU DON'T NEED ANY TIME all you need to realize and understand is that yes "I always reprogram my subconscious mind instantly" and YOU JUST NEED comfort and just repeating the affs - this is a way

Another way to do it - make your own tapes and it's just repetition

Another way to do it - simply be it be whatever you want to be! Like it's already you!

One last way to do it - my free tapes + paid tapes they are very effective they work from the first listen because they have benefits again what actually made my tapes get that much success stories is the benefits

I am gonna upload 2 new free tapes they are small but very effective! Everyone here will like them!!

🎀10 Affirmations for your subconscious mind🎀

from my paid subconscious mind tape

Affirmations:

Me and my subconscious mind are one.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything I say as true.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything think about as true.

My subconscious mind is already my best friend forever.

My subconscious mind always helps me with everything.

My subconscious mind always loves me.

My subconscious mind always helps me reach my highest potential in this lifetime!

My subconscious mind already believes what I want it to believe easily effortlessly quickly and instantly.

My subconscious mind always manifests everything I want easily effortlessly and instantly.

I have a perfect relationship with my subconscious mind.

Thank you guys for all the support and love and I hope this post helped you!

If you have any questions you can always send an ask I will be happy to answer them whenever I am free! Also you can dm me if you want a paid tape or a custom tape!

One last thing these tapes are with benefits they aren't like any other tapes that are available everywhere these days! 🎀

Enjoy!💗

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aionishoh · 20 days ago

Text

shortly after this post,,

THE EUROPEAN TRIO PT2

micheal kaiser, itoshi sae x f!reader

—

Living with these two weren't easy. 1, you usually have three to two arguments with eachother, and 2, you all have to fight off a wave of relationship and poly allegations.

But that doesn't mean you all dont talk to eachother.

This evening, everyone was chilling. Kaiser was staring at the ceiling without a thought in his mind. Sae was scrolling on his phone, probably on twitter and you were laying on the floor, watching TikTok.

While doomscrolling, you found across a Kaiser edit with a german audio, and since you're with the real deal, you asked him how feels about it.

"Yo, nazi guy. Theres another trash in my for you."

"Damn, i look good. I wish they'd stop using fuhrer as the audio though."

Sae looked up from the German word and went back to scrolling while you were there staring him. "Using what?"

"Fuhrer." He said again, looking at your dumbfounded reaction. "Fire?" "Fuh-RER."

"Oh,"

"You're not gonna pronounce it?"

"...no."

"Its fuhrer," Sae spoke up out of nowhere, joining in the conversation while still glued to the screen.

"See? At least he gets how to pronounce it, you try."

You flipped both of them off before trying to actually pronounce it yourself.

Kaiser laughed at each failed attempts. "Du bist erbärmlich darin!"

(You're pathetic at this!)

"Oh tais-toi, au moins mon pays n'a pas provoqué de guerre mondiale." You spat back.

(Oh shut up, at least my country didn't start a world war.)

"How come your accent changes so much when you speak French?" Sae asked, finally putting down his phone and looking at you.

"What? You think all french people have those 'qui qui croissant' accent when they speak english?" You said, mimicking the way people think they sound like.

"No estoy diciendo eso." He sighed, rubbing his head.

(I didn't say that.)

"All i heard was Encanto," "Isn't that a puerto-rican/Portuguese animation-" "BLAHBLAH."

The rest of the hours spent with the three of you trying to learn some bits of eachother's language.

"Ah so, A diferencia del japonés, no hay palabras formales ni informales?" You said, slowly saying each syllable. Your accent mixing in with the Spanish.

(Ah so, unlike Japanese, theres no formal and casual words?)

Sae nodded, clearly enjoyed that you learned some of his lessons.

"Boo, when are yall gonna speak german." Kaiser said, slumping in his seat. "German is hard to learn, all we know is Scheiße and Schwächling." Sae bit back.

(Fuck and Weakling)

"Most english words are derived from French, so i'm clearly the best. je suis incroyable." You said, throwing your hair back dramatically.

(Im amazing)

"Tendrás que enseñarnos palabras reales, Kaiser." You said, getting used to a bit more words.

"Je suis d'accord." Sae added.

(You're gonna have to teach us some real words, Kaiser.)

(I agree.)

Micheal looked at the two of you in disbelief. "What, did you two exchange nationalität or something?"

(nationality)

– Bonus 😋

You passed out on the floor with a pillow and blanket and you woke up with two men talking.

"Creo que el Mundial 11 muss die mitglieder wechseln.“ Sae said, drinking black coffee.

(🇪🇸/🇩🇪: I think World 11 will have to change members.)

"Nein, ich glaube es nicht, afterall, estamos aquí."

(🇩🇪/🇪🇸: No, i dont think so. Afterall, we're here.)

You, still having morning foggy brain and completely confused by their words and unaware it was both German and Spanish, you could only say seven words:

"Are you two doing a fucking ritual-"

TGLT: — @mmondiz .

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sar x reader #sae x reader #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #idk what this is anymore #everything is google translated hehehshbxban #dies

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wchswift · 2 months ago

Text

─── LAP OF (DIS)COMFORT | PT.3

pairing: worst!wolverine x fem!reader

summary: to try and resolve the awkward tension between you and logan after everything, you decide to be friends with benefits. And of course, things don't go well. pt.1 | pt.2

contents! mdni 18+, pet names, implied and explicit sex, smut (so all the usual warnings), unprotected sex p in v, teasing, slightly angst, emotional tension, swearing, blood mention, idiots in love, a lot of feelings, fighting their feelings, casual sex, jealousy, happy ending and probably more.

word count: 8k (yeah...)

ℒogan masterlist !

── english isn't my first language/no proofread, so probably some mistakes.

The air in the apartment was different now.

Everything was different now.

It had been ever since that night.

Logan and you had always existed in this precarious balance—a push and pull, tension humming between you like an electric wire stretched too tight. But at the same time, it felt natural, a unique connection. An easy connection. And that night, you'd both finally snapped. Lips crashing, hands gripping, bodies pressing too close in a moment of reckless abandon. But when you pulled away instead of making things clearer, it only tangled the lines further.

Now, you avoided each other like strangers.

You only went to the apartment when you knew he wouldn't be there, or when Wade gathered everyone together you stayed as far away as possible from where Logan was. So he did the same, and whatever connection had once existed between you had been buried beneath silence and stolen glances.

Now, Logan and Wade were away for a few days on some mission the X-Men had called them to help with. So since the apartment was empty, Al being who knows where, you and Vanessa decided to have a girls' night. Just the two of you in the apartment to gossip and have some time without Wade or anyone else always surrounding you like vultures.

When you said you'd rather do it in yours, which was literally next door, she said she didn't want to leave the apartment so she wouldn't miss the moment Wade returned. Their relationship was still complicated, but they seemed happier than ever. You thought it was cute.

So when the front door swung open that night, dragging in the scent of blood and metal, your heart lurched at the sight of him.

Logan stood in the doorway, looking wrecked.

His suit was stained dark—some of it clearly his, most of it not. His shoulders were heavy, muscles tense beneath the weight of exhaustion. His hands flexed at his sides as if they were still expecting a fight. There were no wounds—his mutation saw to that—but something in his posture, in the tense muscles on his face, told you he was barely keeping himself upright.

You stayed rooted to the couch, watching him, fingers curling against your knees. Everything inside you screamed to move, to go to him, to touch, to check—

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She got up immediately, crossing the room to Wade, cupping his face in her hands before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Jesus, you two look like hell,” she muttered before pulling him into an embrace.

Wade grinned. “What, this isn’t my usual charming self?”

Vanessa snorted, running her hands down his arms, checking him over, making sure he was okay. You watched. Your heart tightened for a second with something tinged with envy, the almost deadly desire to be able to do the same with Logan.

And Logan? He didn’t say a word. He just stood there for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply and walked straight past you, disappearing into his room.

You swallowed hard.

The apartment felt too quiet once he was gone, the absence of him pressing down on your chest. You didn’t even realize you were gripping the couch cushions until Vanessa glanced at you, brow raised.

“Well?” she asked.

You blinked. “What?”

Vanessa nodded toward the hallway. “Go.”

Your throat tightened. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Oh, please.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it is, it’s eating him alive. And you, apparently.”

You hesitated, your body already betraying you by shifting toward the hall. You hated this. The distance, the uncertainty, the way he acted like that night hadn’t meant anything—like you hadn’t shaken his entire world the way he’d shaken yours. And you know it was your fault. You knew you had done it when you said what you said before you turned and walked away.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

With a quiet breath, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked toward his room.

His door wasn’t shut all the way.

You pushed it open cautiously, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the scent of whiskey and blood clinging to the air. Logan sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head down, his hands loosely clasped together.

He didn’t look at you when you entered. “Don’t need a babysitter.”

You ignored that. “Rough mission?”

A low scoff. “You could say that.”

You lingered by the door, shifting on your feet. “You okay?”

Logan finally looked up then, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. “Why do you care?”

The words stung, even though you knew they weren’t meant to. This was just how he operated—shutting people out, pushing them away before they could push him first. Well, especially since you did. You crossed your arms, steeling yourself. “Because you… you're my friend Logan, Wade's friend. Even after what happened, I still care about you.”

His jaw clenched, something flickering behind his eyes before he exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t.”

Your chest ached at that. “Too late.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, thick with words left unsaid, with everything you were both too damn stubborn to talk about.

The silence between you stretches, thick with everything unspoken. Logan's gaze is still locked on yours, unreadable, but there's something raw in the way he looks at you—something that makes your stomach twist.

You shouldn't be here. Not like this. Not after everything. You were the one who didn't want this to happen.

But you don’t move.

Because despite all of it—despite knowing this is a bad idea, despite every instinct screaming at you to walk away—you still want him. More than you should.

You've never met anyone like Logan. No one like Logan should want you, but he did, and God, how could you let this moment slip away?

Logan exhales sharply, his hand dragging through his hair. He looks exhausted, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him, and for a second, you think he might tell you to leave.

Finally, he exhaled, “We can’t do this.”

Your throat tightened. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you, frustration edging his voice. “Whatever the hell this is. The back and forth, the looks, the tension, the damn kiss.”

You swallowed hard. “So what do you want, Logan?”

He hesitated—just for a second, just long enough for you to see the war waging behind his eyes. Then, with a humorless chuckle, he shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced at you, jaw clenching. “I wanted that—you. But you were the one who ran the other night, remember? The one who said I'm too fucking broke for this to work.”

You flinched at the reminder. His words struck you like a slap. He wasn’t wrong; that night, when you let yourself have it for a moment and realization had crashed over you like a tidal wave, you had pulled away first. Not because you didn’t want it—because you did, too much. You wanted him with a fervor that was almost suffocating, but because the fear of heartbreak, the fear of entangling your lives further in the chaos of both your realities, was terrifying.

“I know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I just—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “With everything you’ve been through, everything you have to deal with, everything I have been through, and this whole… thing between us? It just—it won’t work, Logan. We’ll just make a mess of it.”

His gaze darkened. “Yeah. Probably.”

The room felt unbearably small, the weight of him, of his presence, pressing down on you. You should walk away. You should end this conversation before you got yourself into something you couldn’t handle. Something that would break you after it's over.

But instead, you met his eyes.

“But maybe we can make this work out?” you murmured, voice measured, “it can be casual. Just like you said before.”

Logan’s brows furrowed slightly.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you continued. “It doesn’t have to be anything.”

He exhaled sharply, gaze flicking to your mouth. “That what you really want?”

No.

Not at all.

But you nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

He let out a quiet scoff, like he already knew you were both lying to yourselves. But he still sat back slightly, hands resting on his thighs as he let the weight of your words settle between you.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Something casual. No strings. No expectations.”

The second he said it, you knew this would turn into something worse. A bigger mess. A deeper ache. But you still agreed, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. We keep it simple. No commitments. No feelings.”

You took a step forward, throat dry.

Your pulse thundered as you approached him, standing between his legs. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He was warm, solid, everything you wanted and everything you shouldn’t.

His fingers flexed at his sides before they finally moved, hesitantly finding your waist. His touch was deliberate, grounding. You rested your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in slightly as your breathing grew shallow.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, his voice rougher now.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It is.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightened slightly, and your fingers trailed up his neck, brushing through the coarse hairs at the base of his skull. His breath hitched.

You swallowed. “Are you gonna kiss me, or are we just gonna sit here making this worse?”

So instead of answering, he closed the distance.

The kiss is slow at first, testing—like you're both waiting for the other to pull away. But neither of you does. Instead, Logan’s hand lifts to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your skin, and then suddenly, it shifts. Deepens.

You gasped against his lips, and that was all it took.

Logan pulled you onto his lap, making you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders. You melt into the heat of him, fingers threading into his hair. The kiss turns desperate, feverish, all the tension between you snapping at once.

His hands slid up your back while you sighed against his lips, his hands pressing you impossibly closer. Heat curled in your stomach, spreading fast, your body already reacting to every shift, every touch, every desperate inhale between kisses. And right now you didn't care about the blood or the dirt on his uniform, all you needed was to feel him.

He moved his hands under your shirt, rough palms searing against your skin as he lifted the fabric higher, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat.

Before you could process it, he was shifting, standing up with you still wrapped around him. You let out a surprised laugh, only to yelp when he turned you around and tossed you onto the mattress.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide. “Logan, Wade and Vanessa are in the other room.”

He smirked, already crawling over you. “Don’t give a damn.”

Then he kissed you again, pulling your shirt over your head—and you let him. Because at this moment, nothing else matters—not the past, not the future, not the way this is going to complicate everything.

It’s just him. Just you. Just this.

it’s almost too much. The weight of him, the way his lips find yours again, the way his hands mold perfectly against your breast, the way your bodies fit together like they were always meant to—it feels like falling.

And you let yourself fall.

It wasn’t an official thing.

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to be a thing at all.

It was just sex.

That’s what you told yourself waking up tangled in Logan’s sheets, his scent clinging to your skin. What you told yourself walking out of his room that morning, glancing back just once. And definitely what you told yourself now, sitting across from him in Wade and Logan’s apartment, pretending nothing had changed.

Except… something had.

You weren’t supposed to feel different. But you did. Lighter. Like something had settled inside you.

And Logan?

Logan looked… good. Not just in the rugged, unfairly attractive way he always did, but good, lighter too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Wade, oblivious, was loudly chef’ing in the kitchen.

“This is how you host a dinner!” he announced, dramatically tossing something into a pan. “A little olive oil, a lot of butter, and enough seasoning to make Gordon Ramsay weep!”

Vanessa stole a sip from his drink. “You didn’t measure anything.”

“Did my sexy friend, Gambit, measure his charm? Did I measure the perfection of my ass? No! Some things are meant to be.”

Logan shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”

You caught the twitch of amusement in his expression and grinned. Wade clapped his hands, declaring dinner ready. You and Logan sat at the table as he slid plates in front of you.

“The masterpiece is served!”

You eyed the steak and roasted potatoes. Not bad. Logan raised a brow. “You actually made something edible?”

“Weird for me too,” Wade admitted, taking a bite. “Damn. Maybe I am husband material.”

Vanessa patted his cheek. “That’s cute, baby.”

Logan eyed his plate with deep suspicion. “What’d you do to it?”

“Wow. Wow.” Wade pressed a hand to his chest. “The lack of faith. Do I look like the kind of man who would tamper with a meal out of pure, petty spite?”

“Yes,” Logan and Vanessa said in unison.

Wade gasped. “Babe, et tu?”

Vanessa shrugged. “You once swapped out Logan’s beer with non-alcoholic just to see what would happen.”

You snorted, glancing at Logan. “Did he notice?”

Logan scoffed. “Of course I did.”

Wade grinned. “Not right away, though.”

Logan shot him a glare. “I did.”

“Sure, sure.” Wade smirked, cutting into his steak. “Denial is the first step.”

You bit back a grin. “To be fair, it is kinda funny.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, something warm behind it. “Yeah?”

“You’re fun to rile up,” you teased.

Something shifted in his expression, just enough for the corner of his mouth to twitch—and then:

“Least I don’t eat like a damn toddler.”

Silence.

Wade blinked, fork mid-air. “What.”

Vanessa stifled a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You burst out laughing. Because Wade did eat like a damn toddler. Cut-up bites, ketchup on everything, sometimes even a sippy cup.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was that Logan had made a joke.

"No! I can't believe you made a joke! Aww, I knew you had some humor in you." You exclaimed, your eyes wide with mock disbelief.

Logan just exhaled, shaking his head. “Took an easy shot.”

“Oh, spare me! That barely qualifies as a joke!”

“Shut it, Wade.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, turning to Logan, a playful smile lighting your face. “He doesn’t get your humor like I do.”

Logan’s gaze held yours a second too long. You saw him fight down a real smile.

That thing—that undercurrent—was back.

Wade shattered it, as always. “Okay, this is getting weird. Can we get back to admiring my culinary genius and not the undeniable sexual tension at the table?”

You rolled your eyes and took a bite of steak.

Dinner drifted into easy conversation, Wade leading with his usual running commentary. But through it all, you felt Logan. Every glance. Every flicker of a smirk. Every time your eyes met.

When Wade got up for drinks, Vanessa followed, leaving you and Logan alone.

You nudged a potato with your fork. “Didn’t think you’d stick around this long.”

Logan exhaled. “Yeah, well. Wade would’ve whined if I didn’t.”

You smirked. “So you do like him.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t not say it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him.

Neither of you spoke, but neither looked away, either.

His gaze dipped—just for a second.

Your breath caught before you stretched in your seat, arching slightly, just enough for your shirt to ride up an inch. You didn’t look at Logan when you did it, but you felt his eyes flicker downward.

Then, the tiniest smirk tugged at your lips.

You leaned in, breath brushing his ear. “You keep looking at me like that, Logan, someone’s gonna notice.”

His jaw tightened, a reaction that sent a thrill through you.

Just before the moment deepened, Vanessa returned, interrupting the charge in the air. You leaned away.

“We should do this more often,” she mused.

“Agreed,” Wade said through a mouthful of food. “Nothing brings people together like a good meal and unresolved sexual tension.”

You nearly choked.

Vanessa swatted Wade. “Babe.”

“What? It’s like watching two tigers circling each other. I half expect growling.”

You groaned, shoving another bite of steak into your mouth.

Logan, ever the gracious one, shot Wade a flat look. “You done?”

“Not even close.”

Dinner wrapped up soon after.

“I should probably get going,” you said, standing.

Logan stood too, casually. “I’ll walk you out.”

Wade squinted. “Ohhh, will you now?”

Logan didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Wade turned to Vanessa. “Babe. Look at them. They think they’re sneaky.”

“Leave them alone,” Vanessa sighed.

“No, this is gold—”

“Wade,” you cut in, deadpan. “Shut up.”

Wade gasped, clutching his chest. “She shut me up.” Then, he turned to Logan, smirking. “You better marry her.”

Logan grabbed the door handle and opened it. “We’re leaving now.”

Wade called after you, laughing. “Have fun!” and because he can keep his mouth shut, he added. “Also, stay safe! And by that, I mean use protection, I’m not dealing with a mini-Wolverine running around, okay?”

As the door slammed behind you, Logan muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

You snorted. “That was so bad. Real smooth.”

Logan huffed. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be.”

You turned to him, grinning. “Yeah, I noticed.”

His gaze dipped to your lips. Your stomach flipped.

The tension between you snapped tight.

Your fingers brushed his arm, teasing. “What now, Wolverine?”

His voice dropped. “Think you already know.”

Heat coiled in your stomach.

The second the lock clicked open, Logan pushed inside with you. The door barely shut before Logan had you pinned.

He shoved you against it, a hungry growl ripping from his throat as his mouth devoured yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was needy. Desperate. Fucking brutal.

His hands grabbed at you—hips, waist, thighs—picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and he slammed you against the door, muscles flexing as he held you up, rolling his hips hard against yours.

“You got no idea what you just started,” he muttered, voice low, hot against your ear.

You swallowed hard. “Oh, I think I do.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That right?”

His fingers dragged up your thighs—slow, teasing, making you shiver.

Then, his lips brushed your ear, voice dropping into something filthy.

“I’m gonna ruin you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’m gonna have you up against the door—spread out, begging, takin’ me so deep you feel me for days.”

Heat flooded your body.

He smirked. Fucking smirked, because he knew.

“You’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?” His voice was pure sin, rough and knowing. “Walked outta that dinner all sweet and teasing, thinkin’ you could provoke me.”

You whimpered, trying to move against him, but his grip tightened.

“I’m about to show you what teasing really gets you.”

And fuck, he really did.

The apartment was still thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Your skin was burning, muscles weak, body utterly wrecked—in the best fucking way possible.

You barely registered Logan lifting you off the door, carrying you with ease like you were dead weight. The bastard didn’t even sound winded. Just a small huff as he maneuvered you towards the couch.

“Christ,” you muttered, boneless against him. “How the fuck are you still standing?”

He huffed a laugh, voice still rough from the way he had been groaning your name not even five minutes ago. “Got stamina, sweetheart.”

Yeah. No shit.

Logan sat down with you on top of him, keeping you wrapped in his arms like he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon. He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the couch and pulled it over you, the warmth settling over your already overheated body.

His hands lazily traced your spine, his fingers dragging slow circles that made your skin tingle. Your head rested against his chest, his muscles still taut, his body as warm as a damn furnace.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly running through the coarse hair on his chest, tracing the dips and ridges of his body like he was some damn Greek statue sculpted out of pure, toned perfection. He let you, saying nothing, just watching you through hooded eyes, his breath deep and slow.

The silence stretched, comfortable—dangerously comfortable.

Which meant you had to ruin it. Obviously.

“So,” you started, tone casual, dragging out the word. “Rules.”

Logan snorted. “Rules?”

You hummed, still absentmindedly tracing your fingers over his abs. “You know, to keep things… simple.”

That got you an amused glance. “Simple?”

You ignored the skepticism in his voice and pushed on. “Yeah. You know, since we agreed this is just—” You gestured vaguely. “—whatever the fuck this is. Casual.”

Something unreadable flickered across Logan’s face. It was gone before you could name it. He hummed, considering. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You smirked. “Rule one. No catching feelings.”

That earned you a look.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Logan muttered, smirk tugging at his lips. “Just think it’s funny you’re sayin’ that while still layin’ all over me, playin’ with my chest like I’m a damn teddy bear.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

He chuckled, but said nothing. Didn’t push it. But the amusement didn’t leave his face, and that irritated you more than it should’ve.

You cleared your throat. “Rule two. No staying over.”

Logan arched a brow. “And yet I’m sittin’ here with you curled up in my lap.”

You groaned, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re impossible.”

Logan just smirked. You could feel the smugness radiating off him.

You huffed. “Rule three—”

“Lemme guess. No jealousy?”

You blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

Logan smirked. “That’s cute.”

You frowned. “Why is that cute?”

“‘Cause, sweetheart, I don’t share.”

The way he said it—the deep, husky rasp of his voice, the possessive edge in his tone—sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to ignore the way your thighs clenched. “That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He just looked amused. Smug. So utterly unbothered.

Asshole.

You huffed, pressing your palm against his chest and pushing yourself up a little so you could properly look at him. “Fine. But I’m still not calling you if I need a ride, or if I wanna crash at your place, or—”

“Uh-huh,” Logan murmured, his hands gripping your waist. “So you’re not gonna call me when you’re thinkin’ about me late at night? Not gonna want this again?”

His hands tightened.

Your breath hitched.

You glared at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

He gaved you that goddamn knowing, cocky grin. “Mmm.”

You hated him. You really did.

You huffed, laying back down, fingers idly brushing over his skin again. “Okay, fine. Maybe a few of these rules are meant to be broken.”

Logan snorted. “All of ‘em are gonna be broken.”

You gave him a playful glare.

Logan chuckled, tilting his head at you. “Alright, so what can we do, huh?”

You blinked. “What?”

He smirked. “C’mon, you’re layin’ down rules, so what’s allowed? What’s okay?”

Your lips parted, but before you could speak, Logan’s hands started moving—trailing over your thighs, your waist, teasing. “We can fuck. That’s obvious,” he murmured, voice all low and gravelly. “But what about you sneakin’ into my bed just to feel me? What about this—” he dragged his teeth along your jaw, making you shudder “—is that okay?”

Your brain had short-circuited. “I—I mean, yeah.”

Logan smirked. “Mmm. And what about me calling you when I need to wreck you?”

You clenched your jaw. “That’s… fine.”

Logan hummed, his breath warm against your skin. Then, just as quickly, the amusement faded, and he leaned back, watching you carefully. “And we can see other people, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

You swallowed. Forced a smirk. “Yeah. Of course.”

Logan held your gaze. “That what you want?”

You hesitated. But what else could you say?

“…Yeah.”

Liar.

The lightness was gone now, replaced with something heavier, something unspoken. Logan exhaled sharply, his hand resting on your thigh, but this time, he didn’t tease.

Neither of you spoke.

Because you both knew the rules wouldn’t matter. And they sure as hell wouldn’t last.

It’s late. Or early. You don’t even know.

The knock on your door wakes you up. Not loud, but firm.

You groggily shuffle to the door, still in your sleepwear—just one of Logan’s old shirts, oversized and worn, barely covering your thighs.

You open it, blinking against the dim light of the hallway.

Logan stands there. Disheveled. Dark circles under his eyes. His breathing uneven. His fists clenched like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Logan?” Your voice is thick with sleep. Confused. “Are you—”

“Can I come in?”

You pause. His voice is rough—not like usual. Not gruff with amusement or lust, but hoarse. Quiet.

You step aside. “Of course.”

He walks in, head down.

You close the door, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”

His jaw clenches. He hesitates—Logan never hesitates. Then, quietly, “I just... needed to see you.”

Your chest tightens.

“Logan,” you murmur, stepping closer. Your hands find his arms, warm and solid. “Talk to me.”

His throat bobs. Then, finally, his eyes meet yours—raw.

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

You exhale. That’s all you need to hear.

Wordlessly, you take his hand, guiding him to the bed.

You expect him to just lay down, curl into you, let you hold him.

But when you move to pull away, his hands tighten on your hips.

His gaze is heavy.

Needy.

And then, quietly—almost fragile—he asks:

“Can I have you?”

Your breath catches.

Not fuck. Not need to be inside you. Not a filthy demand.

Just Can I have you?

Like you’re something precious.

Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you.

You nod.

Slowly, carefully, you press your lips to his.

It starts soft. Gentle. Just a taste.

Then, Logan sighs against your mouth, and the kiss deepens—not rough, not rushed, just aching.

His hands slide up your sides, thumbs tracing your ribs, like he’s memorizing you.

You climb into his lap, straddling him.

He groans into the kiss, hands gripping your waist, but not hard—just enough to hold you.

Then, he pulls back, eyes dark, fingers brushing up your thighs, under your shirt.

“Lemme take care of you,” he murmurs.

And he does.

This time, there’s no tearing, no ripping—he peels your shirt away, slow and reverent, like he’s unwrapping something sacred.

He lays you down, his lips trace your collarbone, down to your chest, his breath hot, hands skimming every inch of skin like he can’t get enough.

His mouth closes around your nipple—soft, wet heat—and you whimper, back arching.

Logan hums against your skin, lapping, sucking just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Then, he keeps going.

Trailing kisses lower.

His hands part your legs, sliding up your inner thighs, teasing—lingering.

When his fingers finally touch you, you gasp.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, eyes dark, dazed. “You’re already so wet. Always so wet, baby.”

You let out a needy little sound, pushing into his hand.

He grins—small, tender—then slowly slides one finger inside you. Making you whimper.

He presses another inside, curling just right.

“Logan—”

“I got you,” he murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.”

And he does, God he really does.

His fingers work you open, patient, stretching you until you’re a mess against him.

His mouth follows—hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, up your thighs, teasing the spot right beside where you need him most.

Then, finally, his tongue replaces his fingers.

You shudder, hands fisting in his hair.

“Logan,” you cry.

He groans against you, lapping slow, deep strokes that have your legs shaking.

Then, right when you’re about to break, he pulls away.

You try to rise and your protest is cut off by his lips finding yours again, swallowing your whine as he guides you back against the pillows.

His cock drags against your entrance, hot and hard, teasing.

“You still okay?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

His lips brush your temple. Then—slowly—he pushes inside.

You gasp.

Logan groans—deep, wrecked, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he sinks into you.

You feel everything.

The stretch. The heat. The way his breath stutters as he fills you completely.

His hands find your hips, holding you there, like he needs a second.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel... fuck.”

He pulls back, thrusting in slow, deep rolls of his hips.

No pounding. No bruising grip.

Just this—a steady, aching rhythm, like he’s drowning in you.

You moan, nails dragging down his back.

His mouth finds yours again—kissing you through every slow, deep thrust.

Every movement is deliberate. Devotional.

His lips brush your jaw. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

A kiss against your throat. “So fuckin’ good to me.”

Another at your collarbone. “You got me, sweetheart. You have me so good… I'm all yours.”

Your chest tightens.

You pull him closer, wrapping around him, and Logan groans, pressing deeper, tilting his hips just right until you shudder beneath him.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Let me feel you. Let me have this, my sweet girl.”

And when you finally fall apart, he follows, burying himself deep, spilling inside you with a shuddering breath.

The only sound left is your ragged breathing.

His weight sinks into you, warm and solid.

His lips ghost your temple.

Then, his voice—small, barely above a whisper:

“Can— Can I stay?”

Your fingers tighten in his hair.

“I don’t want you going anywhere.”

It's all so comfortable that you didn't notice when you fell asleep. You just wake up slowly. Warm. Wrapped in something solid.

It takes a second for your sleep-heavy brain to register it.

Then, you feel it.

The heavy weight of an arm slung low over your waist. A hand resting at your ribs, fingers curled lightly against your skin. The warmth of another body, pressed flush against yours.

You inhale—and the scent of him fills your lungs.

Logan.

Your stomach tightens.

Last night.

The way he showed up at your door, quiet and not-quite-broken but close. The way he touched you—like he needed you. The way he kissed you, slow and deep, like he was memorizing you.

The way he—

Your breath shudders.

Logan stirs behind you.

His arm tightens for a split second, his body shifting, his nose brushing the back of your shoulder before he stills again.

You swallow.

Your pulse is too loud.

You should move. Say something. Anything.

But you don’t.

You just lay there, tangled up in him.

Minutes pass.

Then, he sighs—a deep, slow exhale against your skin.

“…You awake?” His voice is hoarse—thick with sleep.

You pause. “Yeah.”

His hand shifts slightly against your ribs, like he might pull away.

You should let him, but you don’t.

Instead, you reach down, fingers brushing over his knuckles, light.

Then—slowly—he relaxes again, keeping his arm where it is.

The shift is small—barely there.

But it’s everything.

A moment passes. Then, with a rough, gruff exhale, Logan stretches, pulling back just enough to roll onto his back.

The absence of his warmth is instant.

You turn, watching as he scrubs a hand over his face, eyes still half-lidded.

Then, he shifts, glancing at you. His expression is unreadable. His brows furrow slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

So you do what you always do—mask it.

You smirk. “So, uh… you always wake up this clingy?”

Logan snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Shut up.”

You grin. “You were wrapped around me like a damn koala.”

“Tch.” He shakes his head, rubbing at his face. “You’re full of shit.”

“You nuzzled me.”

“I didn’t nuzzle you.”

“You definitely nuzzled.”

Logan gives you a look, but there’s no real bite behind it. Just something softer. Something that wasn’t there before.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

The weight of last night lingers between you.

Then, Logan clears his throat.

“So,” he mutters, voice lower. “You, uh…” He glances away, fingers tapping once against his thigh. “You good?”

Your chest tightens.

He’s asking if you regret it.

You should make a joke. Should keep it light, keep things easy.

But you don’t.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “Good.”

The silent is not awkward, not really. Just… uncertain.

Neither of you know how to act.

You both know something’s different.

But saying it out loud?

That’s something else entirely.

So instead, Logan grunts, pushing himself up. “You got coffee?”

You blink at him.

That’s it? That’s how he’s handling this?

You should’ve expected that.

You sit up, the covers slipping down your chest. Logan’s eyes flicker lower for half a second before he pointedly looks away.

Oh.

That’s new.

The Logan from before wouldn’t have looked away. He would’ve stared, smirked, made some cocky comment.

But now?

Now, he’s acting like he's trying not to cross a line.

Like last night meant something.

Like he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

You feel like your heart is going to explode.

You should let him off the hook.

Make it easy.

So you stretch, deliberately slow, grinning. “Yeah, but you’re making it.”

Logan snorts, “Figures.”

He stands, stretching his arms over his head, muscles flexing, still gloriously shirtless. Then, with one last glance at you, he turns toward the door.

He doesn’t say anything else.

But as he passes, he strokes your hair—just barely.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

And you feel it.

More gentleness. More care. More of him letting you in.

And for now?

That’s enough.

For now.

After that night, everything changed. The change was subtle at first. A softer gaze held for a second too long, a touch lingering past its excuse. The air between you and Logan had shifted since that night. But despite the warmth settling between you, neither of you had spoken about it.

It’s in the way Logan lingers when he stays over at your apartment, the way his hand brushes over your back absentmindedly when you pass by him in the kitchen. How he steals bites of your food, even when he has his own plate, or how he drinks from your coffee mug like it belongs to him. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his fingers trace over your skin for a little too long when he helps you close up the coffee shop late at night.

There was also that morning when you woke up first, tangled in his arms, his face buried against your neck. You should have slipped out of bed, put some distance between you. Instead, you stayed. You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch light, like you were memorizing the feel of him. When he stirred, blinking up at you with sleepy confusion, you just murmured, "Go back to sleep."

And he did.

Sometimes, he stays longer than he should. Sometimes, he watches you move around your apartment, making coffee, hair still a mess from sleep, and his heart does something stupid and reckless—like want more.

Like when you were cooking in the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, and he came up behind you, hands on your hips, voice rough in your ear. "You’re making it real hard for me to behave right now."

You turned, arching a brow. "Since when do you behave?"

He kissed you then, slow and deep, backing you up against the counter, and you never did finish breakfast that morning.

Or the night you’d had a long shift and fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up in bed, blankets tucked around you, the faintest trace of cigar smoke lingering in the air. You hadn’t questioned it. Neither had he.

Logan would come by your coffee shop almost every morning, sitting at his usual corner table, nursing a black coffee while you worked. He didn’t say much, but his presence spoke louder than words. Sometimes, he stayed until closing, walking you home, a silent promise unspoken between you. In your apartment, things felt different too.

One night, you were sprawled on your couch after another heated round, both half-dressed, your legs draped over his lap. The TV played some old movie neither of you were watching. Logan’s fingers absently traced circles on your bare thigh, his touch lazy, almost distracted.

He exhaled through his nose, then muttered, "Uh… should we be doin’ this? This doesn’t seem very casual."

You tilted your head to look at him, amused. "Lo, we're friends, right? We sleep together, we're friends too, so it’s fine. Right?"

Logan's fingers hesitated for just a second before continuing their slow path over your skin. "Yeah, I guess." He shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. "I just don’t want us to get things mixed up and... get weird."

You grinned, unable to resist teasing him. "Weird? Are you getting too attached to me already, Logan?"

He scoffed, giving your thigh a light squeeze. "As if."

Your grin widened. "C'mon, you like me. Admit it. I bet if I disappeared, you’d miss me."

"I’d miss the sex," he shot back without hesitation, though the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You feigned offense, placing a hand over your heart. "Wow. And here I was thinking we had something special."

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something softer behind them. You nudged him playfully with your foot. "It’s fine, Logan. I consider you my friend, besides everything else. And we can hang out, you know... besides just hanging out so you can be inside me."

That made him snort, shaking his head. "You're a piece of work."

You gasped dramatically. "Was that a compliment? From the great Wolverine? I'm honored."

Before you could react, he grabbed you and pushed you against the couch, settling above you with an amused grunt as you laughed beneath him. "You’re real smug for someone who just got pinned, sweetheart."

"Oh, please, I let you do this," you shot back, breathless from laughter.

Logan just smirked down at you, but the warmth in his gaze lingered a second too long. And you felt it again—that thing neither of you were saying out loud. But instead of pulling away, he let himself stay close, just for a moment longer.

Then, the misunderstanding happened.

Logan was pulling his jacket on when Laura spoke up from the couch.

"Where you going?" she asked, flipping through some book.

"Coffee shop," Logan grunted, grabbing his keys.

Laura made a face. "You sure?"

His brow furrowed. "Yeah. Why?"

She shrugged. "I dunno… I think she’s not there."

Logan stilled. "The hell you mean?"

Laura hesitated, eyes flicking toward Wade, who was too busy making inappropriate balloon animals to notice their conversation. Then she looked back at Logan. "I maybe saw her going into her apartment a little while ago. With some guy."

The words hit him like a gut punch.

He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, to shrug like it didn’t matter. "You sure?" His voice came out gruff, unreadable.

Laura just gave him a look, like she could see right through him. "Pretty sure."

Logan clenched his jaw. He didn't say anything, just grabbed his keys and left.

He told himself it was nothing. That it wasn’t his business. That he wasn’t the kind of guy to get jealous.

Casual meant casual. No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions that left a man raw and aching.

But then he checked the coffee shop anyway.

And when he found it dark, closed earlier than usual, something in his chest twisted.

His feet carried him back to the apartment before his brain even caught up. He didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe for you to already be alone, for Laura to be wrong. But standing at your damn front door, he heard it.

A voice.

A man’s voice.

Muffled through the walls, deep, unfamiliar. Logan stood there, heart slamming against his ribs, pulse pounding in his ears. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.

He should walk away.

He should not fucking care.

But he did.

Goddamn it, he did.

He didn't sleep. The thought of you with someone else—another man's hands on you, another man's mouth on your skin—was a sickness in his veins. By the time morning came, he'd convinced himself that he was fine, that it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t like you owed him anything.

The next day, when he saw you, all cute and soft-eyed like nothing had happened, it took every ounce of restraint not to snap.

"Hey," you greeted, stepping close, smiling up at him. "You okay?"

His stomach twisted. "Yeah."

You frowned. "You sure? You seem—"

"You should’ve told me."

The words were out before he could stop them. Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering across your face. "Told you what?"

Logan scoffed, a bitter sound, and rubbed his jaw. "That you had someone over." His eyes flickered over your face, searching for something—guilt, confirmation, anything. "We agreed, didn't we? Casual means we can do what we want, see who we want. But you could’ve given me a fuckin’ heads-up. Could’ve saved me the trouble of showin’ up lookin’ like a damn fool."

Your stomach twisted. "Logan—"

"I ain't mad," he cut in quickly, lying through his fucking teeth. "You don't owe me shit. Just sayin', would’ve been nice to know before I walked into the coffee shop last night expectin’ to see you, only to find out you were already home—with him." His voice darkened, something sharp behind it. "Shoulda figured, huh?"

You blinked. "Wait— you think—Logan, it's not—"

"Don’t sugarcoat it," he muttered. "Laura told me and I heard him in your goddamn apartment."

"Yeah? And what exactly did Laura think she saw?" Your voice was firm now, pushing back against the storm in his eyes.

His jaw tensed. "A guy, in your fuckin’ apartment."

"Jesus, Logan," you breathed, pressing your fingers against your temples. "That guy—he’s not some random hookup, okay? He—" You let out an exasperated breath."He's my landlord. He was fixing my damn heater."

Logan froze.

You crossed your arms. "So, unless you think I’m screwing my fifty-year-old landlord with a beer belly and a receding hairline, maybe take a second to think before jumping to conclusions."

The weight in his chest lifted instantly, but the embarrassment settled in just as fast. Logan swallowed, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling stupid.

You sighed. "For God's sake. You really thought I’d do that?"

Logan was quiet for a long beat before he finally muttered, "Wouldn’t blame you if you did."

You frowned. "What?"

"You heard me," he gritted out, looking anywhere but at you. "Wasn’t like this was meant to be serious, right?" He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Ain't like I’m the kinda guy a girl settles down with."

Your chest tightened. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours.

"You really think I still see this as some casual, meaningless thing?" you demanded. "That I'm just out here screwing around with other people? That I'm not completely fucking yours?"

Logan felt like the air had been punched from his lungs.

"I don't want to be casual, Logan. I haven't been casual—not for a long time. In my head, I’m already with you." Your voice softened, filled with something deep, something unshakable. "And I thought you felt the same."

His throat worked around his next words. "You thought right."

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but his expression was still guarded. " But if you felt that way, then why the hell are we still pretending?" he asked, voice rough, edged with something raw. "Why are we still actin’ like this doesn’t mean anything?"

You hesitated, searching his face. "I was scared," you admitted softly. "Scared that if we said it out loud, it’d break whatever this is. That it’d make it real, and real means it can be lost. And I'm sorry for yesterday, for not saying anything."

Logan exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair before settling on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Darlin’, it’s already real," he murmured. "Has been since the damn start. I—hell, I tried to keep it casual, tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it does. You do."

Your heart pounded at his words. "Logan…"

The next second, he was kissing you.

Desperate, claiming, like he had to make up for every second he’d spent doubting this, doubting you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body telling you everything he hadn’t said in words.

You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him. "Idiot," you mumbled against his lips. "You should’ve just talked to me yearly."

He huffed out a breath, forehead pressing to yours. "Yeah, well... talkin’ ain’t my strong suit, and it looks like it isn't yours either."

You smiled, brushing your nose against his."Good thing we have everything resolved now. That this is real."

Logan let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening. "Damn right. It's always been real, princess."

But this time, he wasn’t letting you go.

He cupped your cheek, voice gruff but sure. "You’re mine, darlin’." His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gaze locked onto yours. "Always were."

Your heart clenched. "I am, Lo. And you’re mine."

Logan exhaled, leaning in, pressing one last kiss to your lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I am."

And then, he kissed you again—slow, deep, a promise written in the way he held you. A promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. It felt natural; like you belong to each other. Something profound and permanent. That this wasn’t just some arrangement anymore. No more lying and not saying what you really feel. No more faking about what you really mean to each other.

Finally, finally, no more pretending.

Just you and him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: yayy so we've finally reached the end!! First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for all the love for this series and all the repercussion it has achieved!! When I wrote that little drabble, I didn't expect you guys to like it so much and for it to turn into a series, so I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart <3 I loved writing this so much and I'm a little sad that it's over lol. I kind of enjoyed writing about the development of this relationship between Logan and neighbor!reader. Maybe in the future I'll write some more separate things for this series if you guys want… 🫣 (and feel free to send me requests for this series at some point, if you wish) 💜

taglist: @namikyento @cruel-as-sin @lilzilla1scool @weallhaveadestiny @killerwendigo @forksloree @fandomxo @matronmothercrone @unlikeable-female-character @blossomingorchids @eternalssunshine (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett oneshot #worst wolverine x you #worst wolverine x reader #worst wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine #the wolverine #wolverine #hugh jackman fanfic #logan howlett 🪽

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 4 months ago

Text

For Rome - Chapter 1

Summary: A weary Roman General, Marcus Acasius, sets out to find the so-called "Angel" his soldiers speak of—a woman with a gentle touch and an even softer voice. What he discovers is far more extraordinary than he ever imagined.

Pairing: General Marcus Acasius x F!Reader

Warnings: a description of injuries (I'm not a doctor or do not have any medical education so apologies), nothing here yet. English isn't my first language so all mistakes are mine for which I apologise.

Words: 6K

The life of a soldier was never an easy one, but the life of a Roman soldier? It was a crucible of steel and blood. General Marcus Acasius knew this better than most. War had carved its lessons into his flesh and seared them into his soul. He had lived through campaigns that churned the earth with rivers of blood, watched comrades fall like broken reeds, and seen hope flicker and die in the eyes of too many men. This was not a life he would have wished upon his worst enemies—let alone himself.

And yet, here he was. Bound by duty, chained to Rome’s legacy, and crushed beneath the weight of serving not one, but two emperors whose names would forever leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

Two boys drowning in power they neither earned nor understood. They were spoiled by their station and cruel in their ignorance, wielding authority like a child might a blade—clumsy, reckless, and devastating. Marcus had long since lost count of the orders he had executed on their behalf, justifying them under the banner of Rome. Yet he knew the truth. He had not fought for Rome in years. He fought for their whims, their games. And the cost? Endless bloodshed. Endless grief.

The screams haunted him most—the keening wails of mothers clutching lifeless sons, the choking sobs of widows, the silent, hollow-eyed children whose futures he had stolen with the sweep of a sword. He had grown sick of it all. Sick of blood-soaked glory, of starving masses, of men reduced to mere tools in the grotesque machinery of imperial ambition.

Perhaps that was why he found himself here now, in the shadowed underground of the subcity. The stench of rot and despair clung to the narrow alleys, and the skeletal frames of the impoverished haunted every corner. It was a place forgotten by the sun and abandoned by Rome, yet it thrummed with whispers.

Whispers of you.

An “angel,” his soldiers had called you. At first, he had dismissed their reverent tones as the drunken ramblings of battle-weary men. What could an angel possibly look like in a place like this? But the way they spoke of you lingered in his mind, drawing him down into this forsaken part of the city.

It was not the talk of your beauty that intrigued him. He had seen beauty before—false and true, fleeting and eternal. What struck him was the way his men, hardened and stoic, described your hands, your voice, your presence. They spoke of the way your touch could ease pain, how your smile softened the sharp edges of their suffering, and how your words, simple and kind, could light the darkest of days. They described you with an almost childlike awe, as though you were something beyond their comprehension, something Rome itself could not tarnish.

Marcus wanted to scoff at their adoration, but the weight in their voices told him otherwise. Could someone like you truly exist in this ruined city? A city bloated with greed, corroded by power, and built on the bones of the desperate? He needed to see for himself.

You were said to help those Rome had cast aside—the soldiers, the beggars, the orphans, and the broken. While the wealthy insulated themselves from the rot, you faced it head-on. Even Lady Lucilla, a shrewd and guarded aristocrat, spoke of you with an uncharacteristic fondness. “A stubborn creature,” she had called you with a rare smile. “She takes only what she needs, no more, even when I insist. She’s maddeningly selfless, like a fool chasing the wind.”

It was those words that lingered as he descended into the subcity. They painted an image of someone unyielding, someone who refused to be swallowed by the darkness around her. Someone who, perhaps, could remind him of what it meant to fight for something greater than power.

The streets grew narrower, the air thicker. His boots crunched against the broken cobblestones as he approached the small gathering place where you were said to tend to the sick and weary. His heart, hardened by years of war, beat faster, not with fear but with something he couldn’t quite name.

The room was not what he expected.

Makeshift beds lined both sides of the narrow space, occupied by men, women, and children in various states of weariness and healing. Yet, unlike the countless barracks and field hospitals Marcus Acasius had seen in his lifetime, this place radiated an unusual serenity. The faces of the sleeping bore no trace of the gnawing fear he had come to associate with suffering. It was as if some invisible spell had been cast here, lulling their troubled souls into a rare and precious peace.

He inhaled deeply, preparing for the sharp sting of blood and rot so common in places of injury and despair. Instead, the air was clean—remarkably so. It smelled faintly of herbs, maybe lavender, and something subtler, something soothing. It reminded him of the private quarters back at his villa, of the rare nights when he could sleep without the shadows of war pressing against his chest. A ridiculous thought, he chastised himself.

And then, he saw you.

You stood with your back to him, entirely focused on the child sitting on the small, battered chair in front of you. Marcus had made no attempt to move quietly—he was a soldier, not a thief—but you hadn’t turned at the sound of his boots on the stone floor. It wasn’t fearlessness; it was trust, an unshakable calm that marked every movement of your hands as you adjusted the sling cradling the boy’s injured arm.

The child couldn’t have been older than eight. His tear-streaked face glistened under the dim light, and yet his lips curved into a smile—soft, hesitant, but undeniably genuine. A smile on the face of an injured child. Marcus stared at the sight, unmoored. He had never seen such a thing before. In the chaos of war, even when children were treated, their screams and sobs were met with indifference, their pain an afterthought. But here, this boy laughed—a pure, light sound that bounced off the walls like a small rebellion against misery.

“General.”

Marcus turned to his right, startled from his reverie. One of his men lay in a bed nearby, his head wrapped in clean bandages, his arm in a sling not unlike the boy’s. He bore the marks of battle but looked far better than Marcus had expected. There was color in his cheeks, and his voice, though tired, carried a note of gratitude. “I didn’t expect to see you here, sir.”

With a quick wave of his hand, Marcus silenced the man’s attempt to rise and salute. Before he could reply, a burst of laughter drew his attention back to you.

The boy was laughing again, his small body shaking with mirth. From where Marcus stood, it seemed you were scolding him, your finger jabbing lightly into his tiny chest. But the smirk tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. Whatever you were saying, it was no reprimand. It was a game, a tease, an effort to pull the child out of his fear and into the safety of his own joy.

You lifted the boy off the chair with ease, steadying him as his bare feet touched the floor. His brows knit together as you handed him a small cloth bag, but his frown vanished the moment he peeked inside. His wide, shining eyes spoke volumes. To him, whatever lay within was a treasure.

“Food,” the soldier beside Marcus murmured, his voice low as if sharing a secret. “She always sends them off with something to eat and a few bandages, in case they need more later.”

Marcus turned to him, his expression unreadable.

“We soldiers don’t take the bags,” the man added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It’s our way of helping her, in a sense.”

Marcus’s gaze shifted back to you, just as the boy flung his arms around your waist. The child’s face pressed into the fabric of your tunic, and for a moment, Marcus expected you to flinch, to recoil from the dirt and grime clinging to him. But you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as though his small embrace was a gift you treasured.

The light in your eyes was unguarded, pure, as though you had managed to unearth something sacred in this forsaken world. And in that instant, Marcus understood. It wasn’t just the calm you brought to the room or the kindness in your actions. It was the way you saw them—not as burdens, not as broken things to be fixed, but as people.

His gaze landed on you then. You had paused in your work, looking at him with a flicker of curiosity. For a moment, your eyes studied him, piecing together who he might be. Then came the realization, settling over your face like a shadow. Marcus braced himself, expecting anger, distrust, or even fear. He was, after all, the embodiment of the Rome that so many here had suffered under—a man of war, destruction, and discipline.

But no such emotion crossed your features. What he saw instead was recognition and something that startled him even more: worry.

You moved toward him with a grace so natural it seemed deliberate, your steps soft and careful, as though you were wary of waking the injured souls around you. Not that the child’s laughter hadn’t already done so—it rang through the space like a bell, impossible to ignore. Yet your gentle tread felt like a habit born not of necessity but of respect.

“General Marcus Acasius,” you greeted him, your voice low but warm, your lips curling into a soft smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The worry lingered there, quiet but unmistakable. “Whatever brings you here? I hope you’re not injured?”

Your voice was something else entirely. It carried a tenderness he had not heard in years. It reminded him of a mother soothing her child after a nightmare. No wonder his men had spoken of you the way they had; he could see now how easily they must have fallen under your spell.

“Nothing to worry about,” he replied, surprised at the gravel in his voice. “Just a few bruises—annoying more than painful.” He didn’t know why he admitted it out loud. Perhaps it was the way your eyes held his, unwavering and full of quiet concern, or the way your tone invited truth without demanding it.

“I can take a look at them, if you’ll let me.”

You stepped closer then, as if reaching out to touch him, but your hand hesitated mid-air before falling back to your side. It was almost imperceptible, that moment of pause, but Marcus saw it. It wasn’t fear. It was something else—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of who he was and what he carried. You were cautious, yes, but not timid.

Your attention shifted to the soldier in the nearby bed, and the smile on your face broadened into something softer, brighter. “Emascus,” you murmured, moving to his side. Your hand brushed gently against his forehead as you checked his temperature, your touch featherlight. “You’re not running so hot anymore. That’s a relief.”

The soldier nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Marcus watched the exchange, a strange mixture of emotions stirring in his chest. Gratitude was chief among them—gratitude that someone cared for his men in a way he no longer could. Your hands, your voice, your presence—it was a balm for these battle-weary souls. But beneath that gratitude was a deep sadness. It pained him that such care could only be found here, in the forgotten corners of Rome, among those cast aside by the empire he had given his life to defend.

Your voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Would you be so kind as to wait for me in that room there?” you asked, gesturing toward a door at the end of the corridor.

For a moment, Marcus didn’t register that you were speaking to him. When he did, his brows lifted in surprise. There was an unexpected firmness in your tone—not commanding, exactly, but resolute. Though your words were phrased as a request, there was no mistaking that you fully expected him to comply.

“I like my patients to have an ounce of privacy while I take care of them,” you continued, your smile returning, this time with a hint of mischief. “If you allow it, my lord.”

Something in your tone almost made him laugh. He hadn’t been spoken to like this in years—not with such quiet authority, not by someone who seemed utterly unshaken by his presence. You didn’t seem to see the weight of his title, only the bruised man standing before you.

His lips twitched, amusement threatening to break his stern facade, but he merely nodded and turned toward the door. He left the soldier in your care and entered the room you had indicated.

The space was small but neat, with a wooden bench against one wall and a table holding an assortment of salves and bandages. It smelled faintly of herbs, the scent even stronger here than in the main room. As he sat, Marcus felt a strange sense of anticipation, as though crossing the threshold of this room had marked the beginning of something he couldn’t yet name.

He leaned back, his gaze drifting to the door as he waited. For the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking of battles or emperors. Instead, his mind was filled with you—your quiet confidence, your steady hands, and the unexpected strength in your voice.

He hadn’t even noticed when his eyes closed. The stillness of the room wrapped around him, lulling him into an unfamiliar calm. It was unlike him to let his guard down. Years of war had taught him to remain vigilant, always aware of his surroundings. Yet here he was, letting his defenses crumble in the quiet warmth of this strange place.

The great General Marcus Acasius, lulled into a fleeting peace by a mere slip of a woman. He almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. Somewhere in the heavens, the gods were surely laughing.

When he woke, the room was darker than he remembered. The soft glow of a single candle now lit the space, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He blinked, his eyes adjusting, and realized the other candles had been extinguished. The lone flame illuminated a desk cluttered with papers, small jars, and bundles of herbs.

You sat there, leaning over a parchment, your brow furrowed in concentration. The light caught the curve of your cheek and the faint smudge of ink on your fingers. There was an endearing focus to the way you worked, your nose scrunching slightly as if deep thought required such a gesture.

A strange thought crossed his mind—you looked almost...adorable.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

His voice was rougher than he intended, and he regretted it when you jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Your hand flew to your chest, but the alarm faded quickly, replaced by that familiar, calming smile.

“You seemed like you needed the rest, my lord,” you replied, standing to light the other candles. The room grew warmer, brighter, the flickering light chasing away the shadows and revealing more of the space. You moved with practiced ease, each motion deliberate yet unhurried.

Moments later, you handed him a cup of wine. “It may not be as fine as what you’re accustomed to, but my father always said it’s good manners to greet a guest of high rank with wine rather than water.”

There was a playful lilt to your voice, a teasing cheerfulness that felt out of place yet oddly welcome. It caught him off guard—not just the tone, but the fact that you spoke to him as if he were merely a man, not a general burdened by the weight of Rome’s empire. There was respect in your words, yes, but also a grounding quality that made him feel human, rather than the untouchable figure most people treated him as.

He took a cautious sip of the wine, raising a brow in surprise. It wasn’t the finest vintage he’d ever tasted, but it was far from the worst. Given your introduction, he’d expected something barely drinkable.

His surprise deepened when he noticed you pouring yourself a cup of water.

“I prefer to keep my wits about me,” you said, catching his expression. “A clear head is important, especially if someone comes in need.”

But when he didn’t respond, still staring at you with mild bewilderment, you reached for his cup and took a small sip of the wine yourself. The casualness of the gesture startled him. You drank as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then placed the cup back in his hands with a smirk.

“See? I’d make a terrible healer if I poisoned my patients.”

“And since when am I your patient?” he asked, his tone caught between amusement and disbelief. Few dared to address him so directly, let alone with such nonchalance.

“Since you admitted your bruises,” you replied, settling onto the edge of your desk with an easy grace. You leaned forward slightly, your gaze locking with his. “Speaking of which, will you let me see them? I might be able to make them less...annoying.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. The way you quoted his own words back at him carried a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

For a moment, he simply looked at you. In a world that demanded so much pretense, you were refreshingly unguarded, completely at ease in your skin. There was a peculiar strength in your openness, a quiet defiance of the world’s harshness that left him disarmed.

And against all odds, he found himself nodding.

“Let me help you with this,” you said softly, gesturing to his armor.

Your tone was steady but not commanding, leaving the choice entirely to him. Marcus hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small gesture that carried more weight than you realized. You hadn’t moved an inch until he gave his permission, a restraint he found rare and striking. You valued dignity, it seemed—not just your own but that of others—and in a world like his, where power often crushed such considerations, it felt like a delicacy.

Your hands, though small, moved with confidence. It wasn’t the first armor you had removed, that much was clear. Yet there was a care in the way you handled the clasps and buckles, as if you weren’t simply working with steel but touching him directly. That thought made Marcus uneasy, though not unpleasantly so. You were a mystery, a curious creature that didn’t fit into any category he knew.

When you finally peeled away the layers of armor and his tunic, leaving him in his undergarment, your sharp intake of breath didn’t escape him.

“Those look a bit more than just annoying bruises,” you chided, your voice carrying both concern and a quiet reprimand.

Marcus felt strangely exposed—not just physically but in some deeper, more vulnerable way. He had been treated by healers before, but those were men, soldiers like himself, who patched him up with brisk efficiency and little ceremony. This was different.

Your fingers brushed over his scars and bruises, light and careful, yet purposeful. Some of the older wounds bore the telltale signs of sloppy care: reddish bandages, poorly healed scars, and swelling around the stitches. Your grimace deepened as your gaze settled on two scars that had become infected.

He watched your face, noticing the way your lips pressed together in frustration, your brows knitting with disapproval. It wasn’t directed at him, though. That much was clear.

“You don’t look too happy,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor.

You sighed, your fingers continuing their examination. He winced when you pressed gently against one bruise, testing for deeper damage. But when your hand moved to the large bruise near his ribs, the pain was immediate and sharp. Marcus flinched, a curse slipping through his clenched teeth as his hand shot up to grab yours, stopping you from pressing further.

“Forgive me, General,” you said, your tone clipped, “but at least now I know you do feel pain. You’re just a complete moron for ignoring it.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus exclaimed, genuinely taken aback. For the first time in years, someone had spoken to him with such boldness, and he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or impressed. “Do you care who you’re speaking to?”

Your expression didn’t waver. In fact, you seemed entirely unbothered by his title or his irritation. “You can sentence me to death for my words if you wish, my lord,” you said, your voice firm but laced with a frustration he could only describe as maternal, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you have multiple broken ribs. And you’ve neglected them. Not to mention whoever last treated your wounds should be stripped of any right to practice medicine. Two of these scars are infected, and I’ll need to reopen, clean, and stitch them properly.”

You glanced up at him then, and his breath caught. The anger in your eyes wasn’t for him—it was for his neglect and whoever had failed to care for him properly. There was something about that look, fiery and determined, that melted something in him he hadn’t realized was frozen.

“So you can do whatever you wish with my head,” you continued, your tone softening slightly but still resolute, “but only after I’ve taken care of you, my lord.”

Marcus stared at you, speechless. No one had ever cared for him enough to risk their own well-being for his. You had to know the danger of speaking to him this way, yet here you stood, unwavering.

And, to his surprise, he didn’t mind. He found that when it came to you, he didn’t care about his status or authority.

“Where do you want me?” he asked at last, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

You blinked, caught off guard for the first time. Your reaction was subtle—just a few moments of hesitation—but it was enough to make him smirk. A small, childish triumph stirred in his chest, a victory that felt sweeter than any battle he’d won.

You were good. Really damn good. It didn’t take long for Marcus to understand why his men preferred you over the hardened healers in the camps. Your hands were smaller, gentler, moving with a precision that was both calming and mesmerizing. But it wasn’t just your touch—it was the way you talked him through each step, explaining what you were doing as though giving him a measure of control. It was a strange thing for him to find comfort in, but it steadied him in ways he didn’t expect.

When the time came to reopen his infected scars, you hesitated. Your expression faltered, guilt flashing across your features like a crack in the calm façade you wore. “Brace yourself,” you said softly, almost pleading. And when the scalpel touched his skin, you winced, as though the pain you inflicted was your own to bear.

It hurt, of course, but it was nothing Marcus hadn’t endured before. Yet the way you worked, with such care and purpose, made it impossible to look away. Your movements were swift but deliberate, your focus unwavering. You cleaned each wound with an attentiveness he had never experienced, as though the scars on his body were more than just marks of survival—they were something sacred.

“You’re better behaved than your men,” you teased as you began cleaning the second wound.

Marcus raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh?”

“I remember Euthris once proposing that a kiss would make him feel better,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound surprising even himself. He had known women who would have slapped a man for such a comment without hesitation. And yet here you were, laughing about it.

“I do apologize for my men,” he said, his tone warm, amusement lacing his words. Truthfully, he understood the poor soldier’s sentiment. He surprised himself by realizing he wouldn’t mind a kiss from you either. But he was no longer as bold as he once had been—age and experience had tempered him. “I assume he left thoroughly disappointed?”

You shook your head, a playful glint in your eye. “I kissed his cheek to thank him for donating his food bag to someone else.”

Marcus blinked, taken aback by your words. His expression softened as he processed them. Perhaps his men were flirtatious, even bold, but they were also honorable.

“They’re good men,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I’ve noticed the way they leave their bags behind, or how they slip coins into places they think I won’t see. They could spend those coins on something for themselves, but instead, they choose to help. You should be proud of them, my lord.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had much to do with their actions…” Marcus began, but his words faltered as you began stitching the reopened scar.

Your apologies came soft and quick, almost teary, as the needle pierced his skin. He wanted to tell you it was fine, to reach out and brush the concern from your face, but he remained still, letting you work.

“I didn’t know about your existence,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I came here because I overheard my men talking about you during one of their drunken nights.”

You flushed at that, your laughter turning awkward and small.

“They spoke of an ‘Angel,’” he continued, his eyes fixed on your face. “And I had to see for myself.”

“You must be disappointed then, my lord,” you whispered with a hint of humor, turning to the next wound. Again, you apologized softly when the needle broke through his skin.

“I never had an image in mind of what an angel might look like,” he said. His voice dipped, becoming almost reverent as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The movement was instinctive, unplanned, and when your body froze beneath his touch, he hesitated. Had he crossed a line?

“But if someone were to ask me now,” he continued, his hand retreating slowly, “I would give them your description.”

Your breath hitched, and your wide eyes lifted to meet his. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

You had heard of General Marcus Acasius. His name carried weight, whispered among soldiers and citizens alike. He was a formidable force, a man whose strength and cunning had turned the tide of many battles. But more than that, he was spoken of as a good man—merciless in war but fair, unwavering in his duty.

When he had walked into your space earlier that day, the first thing you noticed was how unfairly handsome he was. You had wondered, fleetingly, how a man like him could ever be sent to a battlefield. But now, as you stitched the last wound and felt the weight of his words sink in, you realized he was more than his reputation. He cared for his men, even as he neglected himself. He spoke without arrogance, treated you with respect, and carried a depth that made you want to know more.

“Forgive me, my lady. It seems I’m as ill-behaved as my men,” Marcus chuckled, the sound warm yet apologetic. His gaze dropped to your hands, which had frozen mid-motion after his words and touch. You swallowed hard, regaining your composure, and quickly returned to stitching the last wound.

When you finished, your voice was soft, almost hesitant as you asked him to remain lying down. If the room hadn’t been so quiet, he might have missed it entirely. Without waiting for a response, you turned to your table, busying yourself with a small bottle and herbs.

The smell that wafted from your work was unlike the harsh medicinal odors he’d grown accustomed to—sharp, biting scents that clung to battlefields and camps. This was different, a subtle and soothing aroma that seemed to fill the space with peace. He found himself breathing it in deeply, drawn to its unfamiliar comfort.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my lord,” you said after a moment, your voice steadier now. When you turned back to him with a medium-sized bottle and a piece of gauze, he noticed the faint flush on your cheeks. His lips curved into a small, unbidden smile, his ego growing slightly at the sight.

“Rather than ill-mannered,” you added, a shy smile tugging at your lips, “it was quite charming, I must admit.”

Marcus chuckled again, his gaze resting on you as though you were some kind of art—something rare and unexpected in his world of violence and chaos.

“But I am no lady,” you continued, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing away. “I’m just a girl from the lower classes, trying to carve out a place for herself in this cruel world.”

“You are the reason my soldiers are still standing,” he replied, his voice steady and sincere. “If anyone is worthy of the title, it’s you.”

His words took you off guard. There was a weight to them, a charm so effortless it almost felt unintentional. “Not to mention,” he added with a faint smirk, “you still haven’t told me your name.”

Your reaction was almost comical—your hands paused mid-action, and your mouth opened as if to reply, only for you to close it again, too embarrassed to speak. Marcus couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from him. It was deep, genuine, and so free of burden that it surprised even himself. He hadn’t laughed like that in years, and you, caught in the sound of it, found yourself smiling despite your flustered state.

Finally, you managed to stammer out your name. The way he repeated it, soft and deliberate, made your heart skip a beat.

“I…” You cleared your throat, willing the warmth in your cheeks to fade. “I’ll apply this oil to the bruises on your ribs, then wrap them with bandages. I assume you won’t accept the bandages from me.”

When he nodded, the smirk on his face grew, earning a roll of your eyes.

“Fine,” you said with mock exasperation. “But I insist you take the oil and use it before bed each night.”

He hesitated for only a moment before accepting the bottle. He knew well enough he couldn’t find anything like it elsewhere. But as you began to pull your hand away, his fingers closed gently over yours, stopping you.

From beneath the folds of his armor, Marcus retrieved a small leather bag. Without hesitation, he placed it in your hand. The weight of the coins surprised you, and you immediately began to shake your head.

“I cannot accept this,” you said firmly. “I won’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument, “and you will, my dear.” His smirk softened into something warmer, his voice quieter as he added, “You’re doing an incredible job—not just for my men but for everyone who comes to you. If not for yourself, then take it to help them.”

You looked down at the bag, then back at him, your throat tightening as the emotions you had kept at bay finally broke through. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over before you could stop them.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “From the bottom of my heart.”

Marcus, sensing your discomfort at showing such vulnerability, simply nodded and looked away, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

Steeling yourself, you poured some of the oil onto the gauze and began to gently apply it to his bruises. Your touch was soft but deliberate, your movements careful as you worked. The warmth of the oil seeped into his skin, its soothing scent filling the space between you.

As you finished and prepared the bandages, Marcus watched you with quiet fascination. He hadn’t expected to find someone like you in a place like this—someone who treated others with such care and dignity, no matter their station. He couldn’t help but admire you. There was a quiet strength in everything you did, a resilience that didn’t demand attention but couldn’t be ignored. Yet, alongside that strength, you carried a gentleness that was rare in a world like his—a softness that didn’t falter, even under the weight of the pain and chaos you confronted daily.

“I want this oil to be gone in three days,” you said at last, your voice steadier now, though the lingering care in your eyes hadn’t wavered since he first saw you. “Every night, it should be applied.”

You looked at him then, something sterner flickering behind your gaze, and for a moment, he saw the fierce determination that lay beneath your calm exterior. “And please,” you continued, the words firm but kind, “do not overwork yourself. Those ribs need time to heal, and they won’t get it if you keep pushing yourself.”

He smiled at that, a quiet acknowledgment of your concern, and nodded. His eyes never left you as you worked, wrapping his torso with bandages. Despite the size of your hands, your touch was confident, and your movements were precise. To his surprise, when you finished, he found himself able to breathe a little easier.

“The dressing of broken ribs is crucial for your health,” you explained, as though anticipating the thoughts running through his mind. “Even if it hurts a little, it needs to be done tightly enough to provide support.”

You glanced up at him, your smile gentle but teasing. “My biggest concern was that one of the ribs might puncture your lung. And, well, no one wants that.”

He chuckled at the light humor, his chest rising and falling more easily than it had in days.

“I won’t waste your hard work on me,” he said sincerely, his voice warm with gratitude. There was something in his gaze—a softness, an intensity—that made your breath catch for just a moment.

You nodded, stepping back and surveying your work with a satisfied expression.

“Do you need help dressing?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Marcus moved his arms tentatively, testing the bandages’ hold. To his relief, the sharp pain had dulled significantly. “No, I think I’ve got it,” he replied, shaking his head with a small smile.

“Good,” you said, turning back to tidy your workspace. “I want to see you again in three days for an inspection.”

He pulled his tunic over his head, watching you as you worked, your movements fluid and purposeful. He couldn’t help but notice the care in even the smallest gestures—the way you arranged the jars, the precise manner in which you cleaned your tools. His gaze lingered, and a soft smile touched his lips when he realized how intently he was observing you.

You continued speaking without looking at him. “Of course, if you decide not to take my head before then.”

At that, Marcus frowned. But when you turned to him with a playful smirk, his confusion gave way to quiet laughter.

“And who would take care of my soldiers the way you do?” he replied, his tone gentle but sincere.

Your expression softened at his words, and you rolled your eyes in mock exasperation. “Three days, General,” you murmured, turning to leave.

As you disappeared into the hallway to check on your other patients, Marcus remained where he was, his mind lingering on the sound of your voice and the way you had looked at him—not as a general, but as a man. He was already counting the hours until he’d have an excuse to see you again.

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