#and it's NOT going to be difficult. it's almost entirely in shadow. most of the forms are indicated in the line art
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Angel above the tree.
platonic yan!batfamily x neglect!tifa!reader
sipnosis â in the hands of the time, she finally grow up and decides for the first time, to get away from that solitary environment and become an independent spy for a secret organization, that is until the family realizes the absence of her adorable sister and daughter, you, but thats really care? Or maybe... Obssesion.
english is not my first lenguage!

The life of a kid like you was difficult, very difficult indeed. The moment you stepped foot in that mansion, your fate was decided. You would be a ghost in the shadows because your siblings were too brilliant and strong in every way, even in strength, power, and intelligence.
And so was your father, Bruce Wayne, a billionaire who had gotten involved with a simple, but charming, dancer. That was real, and because of that, you had emerged, somehow created with love and being full of it by your mother. Who worked in something that even you, being her daughter, knew nothing about, and in some of those encounters, had died unexpectedly. So you had no choice but to go with that man and live with the rest of his family, who, at first, wasn't pleasant, and you ended up on terrible terms with some of them.
But that didn't matter now, and it didn't really cross your mind that it might matter, since you had only greeted the man who was your father twice in your entire life, not to mention your sibilings, who had almost the same job as vigilants and spent their time outside the mansion. Your only company was Batman's butler and most loyal companion, Alfred. He had taken care of your room, your food, and your education, both academically.
Nothing was wrong with that new life. You could wear the most expensive clothes in the world, have the most limited toys, and go to a very privileged private school, except that you lost your mother, the most beautiful and brave woman in the world, who filled you with endless love and had taught your current morals, your values, and everything you needed to know in that world full of dangers.
Your heart felt empty, very empty and never received any affection or love from your family, but you didn't need it. [Name] could grow up with the love of her own friends and Alfred. Yes, that was better than chasing after people who weren't truly worth it.
That was your life. You grew and grew for a long time, your appearance changing. During that time, you had seen the almost unbelievable resemblance to Bruce. That was your punishment for being greedy, at least a little, but it didn't matter. And so it continued until you became the young lady you was now. [Name] was only known in privileged schools because of the tournaments she had participated in, but that was okay. She didn't need or want the recognition her father or brothers had, vigilantes and heroes being hunted by villains.

Everything remained the same until your time had come. You had to continue your mother's legacy, and what better option was there than to participate in the secret organization in which she had once been a worthy and upright leader.
The letter had arrived in your hands the day before your 16th birthday. Alfred had seen it among all the mail and bills in the mailbox.
"Huh?" You let out a long sigh, your gaze returning to the man in front of you, and you smiled slightly. "I see. Thanks, Alfred. I'll take care of finding out what it is and tell you!"
You said with a cheerful facade and headed down the mansion's hallways, carefully examining the letter and perhaps guessing who sent it.
And in the midst of your thoughts, you bumped into Timâyes, Tim himself. He was very tired and leaving his room after days of isolating himself in his investigation. But you hadn't really made much effort to improve internal relations in the mansion, so you simply walked past him, still focused on the letter and eager to know what was inside.
Tim had noticed your presence. In fact, he expected a greeting or at least a glance from you, but it didn't come. It didn't surprise him since he had started the rumors at your old school that you were a thief and a bad friend (and consequently, you changed schools, stopped talking to him, and never looked at him again). The boy just sighed and headed to the other side, in search of food and coffee to survive in his world of technology and investigations.
You, on the other hand, locked yourself back in your room, which you treasured your entire life because it has all your history and achievements written on it, even furniture with trophies and medals, posters, portraits of your mother and your old pet. It was your cave, your home, everything you dreamed of having back in the days when you lived in an apartment far from everything and everyone with your mother.
You tried to push away all those feelings of sadness and looked at the letter again. It was time to read it, so you wasted no time and broke the pretty seal it had (perhaps you'll save it for your journal). You put the piece of paper aside to read the real thing. It was like a document, a contract for something suspicious.
"Hello, [name] Wayne Jones.
We are Fantasy, a secret organization of spies and agents, specialized in punishing all injustice in Gotham and around the world. We have learned of the passing of your mother, Avigail Jones, which we still mourn deeply. We also know that she never told you her biggest secret, which was this: Mrs. Jones was the leader of the group, a very worthy and incredible woman. Her work and achievements are still being mentioned.
Therefore, we would like to say that we want to recruit you, train you, and, if you wish, continue the legacy your mother left behind.
Surely this is a lot to process, and as such, you'll be able to think it over and analyze it all. When you're ready, you can send us a letter whenever you want. We'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival."
The letter had left you in complete shock.
"What the fuck?!" You muttered, poker-faced. You didn't know if it was a joke in bad taste from your old enemies at school or the real deal. You were at least able to confirm that it was true. They'd left a card of introduction inside the envelope, with a phone number and email address.
You still couldn't believe it. Could you really leave this place?!
It was definitely the best early birthday present ever; it had surpassed the limited-edition handbag Bruce had given you.

So, I think this fic would be a one-shot very quick and WIP.
inspo by @cosmosluckycharms @acid-ixx and @nikovraskol, their stories are incredible ....(â äžȘâ _â äžȘâ )
have a nice day!!!
#yandere#platonic yanbatfamily#platonic yandere#yandere batfam#yandere batboys#yandere batfamily#dc fanfic#batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere batman#dc fanfiction#neglected reader#ff7 tifa#yandere dc
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Hereâs the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but Iâm so ready to be done with it that Iâve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!
Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasnât been easy on his old heart.
Theyâve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threatâbut a fiendishly smart, young woman.
One whoâd kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.
The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.
So it stands to reason howâŠrelieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.
Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brotherâs manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than heâd witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.
Amnesia.
So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that womanâs grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinterâs boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendraâs name and sobbing to be returned to her care.
He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it allâŠ
Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like âbrain damageâ and âtumorâ were thrown into the mix.
An entire day of testing yieldedâŠvarying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his sonâs beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.
Everything was normal, physically.
That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatristâseriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.
Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand onâŠeverything. She seemed prepared for Purpleâs special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.
A tentative diagnosis of âdissociative amnesiaâ had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatelloâs situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.
They would just have to take things one day at a time. And theyâd been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.
Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Redâs shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.
But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinterâs dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.
Even after theyâd managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.
The familyâs usual process for dealing with Purpleâs angerâletting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughtsâwas unfeasible this time around.
Splinter didnât think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.
No; leaving him alone was not an option.
Which led back to Splinterâs previously mentioned frayed nerves.
Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.
Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to âput an end to the loopâ that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.
While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.
Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they mustâve owned.
âIf you donât get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!â
âAnd I swear to Ryan Renolds, that Iâll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!â
âThat Barbenheimer joke doesnât even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!â
âWho mentioned Barbie? Iâm talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!â
âWhat does that movie have to do with anything?!â
âFuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!â
âThen get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!â
âBOYS!â
Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.
âLeonardo, go help your brothers.â Splinter demands. âI will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.â Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.
âNo offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?â
âBecause I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.â Splinter canât stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. Itâs just convincing Blue of that.
Donatelloâs gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardoâs head while his second oldest son matches Splinterâs scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blueâs desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.
âYou need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,â Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, âsometimes you can get a littleâŠdistracted.â
The new projector, playing Splinterâs same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesnât blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.
Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and heâs suddenly nervous about catching something in time.
âPurple, how about you come sit with me.â Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smileâ so his son canât refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, âI will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.â
His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.
It isnât as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.
Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those daysâŠperhaps Donatello thinks heâs far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. Heâs forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.
Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. Itâs nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.
Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, âHuh?â
Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but itâs hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.
Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatelloâs expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.
âTrying to endear yourself to me wonât sway me into falling for your tricks.â
The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasnât stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.
âYes, yes.â He says, untroubled. âCome sit and I can finally lean my chair back.â
Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his sonâs long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried heâs overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. Itâs the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.
Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinterâs chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).
Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novelaâs with Splinterâhe would curl up, head in his fatherâs lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.
Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadnât sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cryâor just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasnât long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own sonâs knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.
In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his fatherâs lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.
Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.
But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasnât overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.
Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his sonâs long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purpleâs face, he knows heâs pushed too far too quickly.
Itâs a risky move, but heâs already pushed, and itâs something that never fails, not once since heâs discovered it.
Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.
Splinter grips the meat of Donatelloâs right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his sonâs overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatelloâs face. It isnât a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.
His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.
After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like heâs not being constantly surveilledânot providing more overstimulation.
They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. Heâs learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.
Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.
He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesnât understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.
Finally Purple speaks, âDadâŠ?â Itâs so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he mightâve missed it.
He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.
âCan I tell you something?â The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. Itâs clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.
At some point he mustâve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.
The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but heâs not sure how well that would be received. It doesnât look painful just yet.
âI don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.â Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. âTrying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?â
Itâs the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendraâs lies as heâd been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.
âYou canât tell the othersâŠâ Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and itâs unclear if his son still doubts who heâs speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.
âI swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.â
Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his sonâs faceâfear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.
With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. âI lied.â Heâs crying now, real tears that he doesnât even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatelloâs hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his sonâs hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatelloâs palm.
âI told everyone that I could tell. That I wasnât being fooled, but thatâs not exactly true. The last few loops haveâŠitâs been getting harder, and harder to remember thingsâ how they really happened. Too much isâŠplausible.â
Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.
âThere was one loopâŠMikey brokeâŠhe broke the remoteâŠWhen I said I didnât have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, thoughâŠright?â
âNo, of course not,â Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his sonâs mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.
âIt felt so realâŠit all feels so real. ButâŠI could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.â
Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound mustâve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.
âI thoughtâŠI thought I was handling thisâmaybe not wellâŠBut Iâd hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for meâŠAnd now Raph is saying itâs already over.â
Itâs a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesnât sit well with him. âIf it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough toâŠ?â
Heâs clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.
Splinter decides heâs waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.
Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment heâs close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.
âI donât want to be there anymore,â Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.
Splinter cups the back of Donatelloâs head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where itâs been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.
âGo to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.â Heâs sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.
âOkayâŠ,â Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, ââŠDad?âŠDo you love me?â
Splinter doesnât even think. âOf course, my son.â
Donatelloâs breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.
Heâs not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it wonât be undoneâŠbut regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.
#kendratello au#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise donnie#rise splinter#rise leo#tw brainwashing#slushie writes
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Aurora; 7 (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:Â alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader
genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut
warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.
rating:Â 18+
word count:Â 5k
A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! This one is coming a little earlier than usual because I am more anxious to update than y'all are anxious to read lmao Past chapter had so many comments!!! I'm glad you guys liked it so much. It was such a fun chapter to write! Hope y'all will like this one as much! ALSO checks page HOW MANY KUDOS??? WHAT THE HELL??? đđ Thank you so much!!! It truly means so much to me đđ Anyway let me shut up lol enjoy!! <3
† Masterlist  †Also on AO3 †Playlist

Guilt was a feeling Alucard avoided vehemently.
After you reach a certain age, you realize that there are some feelings and situations that you should avoid for your own sanity. One of them â perhaps the most important â is to avoid thinking too much about the past. One thing is to cherish the people youâve met and loved, to keep some moments close to your heart; another thing is refuse that they will never come back and to avoid facing the present. Alucard knew quite well that this can sink you. Thatâs why he was constantly busying himself â traveling the world, meeting new cultures, learning new things.
Another thing he avoided â this one took him a long time to learn, a whole lot of grief to understand â was to⊠get too attached. And yes, this made him lonelier than ever. Yes, this wasnât entirely healthy. He knew about all that. But his mortal heart wasnât strong like his immortal body, and there was a moment in his life when he decided that he couldnât take much more pain anymore. Stepping away from the Belmonts was⊠difficult, but was what the needed at the moment. He needed to let his heart heal, and the only thing that heals is time. Perhaps much more time than he first assumed.
And then there was guilt. Alucard didnât like to feel guilt because it meant that he failed. Unfortunately, he wasnât someone that could fail. His ways of life, his fights, the things he stood for usually involved countless innocent lives, so he couldnât give himself the luxury of failing. Alucard was methodical, precise, insistent â not to say stubborn. Because yes, he could he stubborn â; he only accepted perfection of himself. Him succeeding meant no one suffered. Therefore, no guilt.
Thatâs why Alucard was partially hating himself at that moment. Heâd felt more guilt in the span of 48 hours than in the last few years.
He almost couldnât look at Ruby in the eye.
Luckily, she was sitting behind him as he guided the horse on the streets of Paris, so he wouldnât have too see her for some moments â but her arms around his waist and the warmth of her body were a reminder that she was there.
His feelings were a bit⊠chaotic at the moment, to be honest. On one hand, he was glad â relieved â that Ruby had healed. On the other hand, he knew that the reason why she got so hurt in the first place was because of him. He told her she wouldnât get hurt and he werenât there to protect her, even if she claimed to have jumped in front of a night creature to save Annette. And then there was the other part of him (the methodical, precise and stubborn part of him) hissing that he shouldnât be wasting time going to the Louvre because there was an army of vampires coming and he had to act.
But Alucard couldnât tell her no. Not really. Not when she looked at him with that glow in her eyes â a glow of hope he hadnât seen in her yet. Alucard couldnât bring himself to be so cruel. Especially not after what sheâd been through mere hours ago.
He owed her that.
Ruby was becoming a bigger mystery to him in more complicated ways than he first assumed. It didnât involve only her unknown past, but also her behavior. It was difficult for him to understand how she was acting so normal after what she had just suffered. Sure, the methodical part of him was thankful to that â he had to act fast; quite frankly, he wouldnât have time to wait until she recovered. If her healing took longer than it did, he would have a real problem at hands, and if she was frozen in shock, it would also be a problem.
But then there was his mortal heart speaking into his mind, too. It never shut up, unfortunately.
There was something so deeply wrong with Ruby.
The more time he spent with her, the more he watched her, the more he heard her heart race and her fingers shake at the most casual situations â like walking into a crowd or mustering courage to speak â, the more he realized that Ruby didnât have any care for herself, the angrier he got.
Alucard also avoided getting too angry. Anger was a form of attachment as well; it tied the ones he despised to him. Anger could take a person like him â eternal and powerful â down a very dangerous path. Anger led to wrath, which let to hatred.
But again⊠it was getting hard for Alucard to keep his feelings in place. Not when he could still feel the now faint smell of Rubyâs blood.
In fact, he thought she was going to die.
Her blood was everything Alucard could feel the moment he stepped out of the Seine. He knew it was Rubyâs; he got quite familiar with it due to that scratch on her heel as they walked to Justeâs cottage. It was so strong that he almost could see the air turning red. It mustâve drawn the attention of every vampire in the area.
And then he rushed to the palace and saw her in that state.
She can heal, Alucard tried to convince himself, but could she, really? Heâd seen her heal from cuts, not multiple fractures and mass bleeding. Those wounds meant death to any human and vampire, unless they could drink blood to strengthen their healing process.
Alucard barely knew her. He was still a tiny bit suspicious of her â of her cloudy past, at least. And yet, the thought of Ruby dying scared him.
Not many things scared him.
Death was one of those things. Not the fear of facing death himself, but having to watch someone close to him die. Alucard was far too familiar with the feeling and he never got used to it.
If Ruby had died at that moment, heâd carry that scar with him for a long time. She didnât even had a chance to live. She didnât even remember if she had lived before her imprisonment. If Ruby had died, it wouldnât only be painful; it would be unfair.
So yes, he got scared. Yes, he held her close and tried to ease her pain â Hell, she looked in so much pain, even if she didnât scream â because it was the only thing he could do. The Universe couldnât be so cruel to that woman to just let her die like that. It⊠it couldnât.
To his utter relief, Ruby healed. Her skin closed the wounds, the bleeding stopped, she finally passed out and slept for a bit.
Mixed with his relief was also confusion.
Her healing was far more powerful than Alucard first assumed. Alucard didnât know many vampires that could heal from injuries so serious.
What was Ruby?
Why did she have this strange condition? How did she achieve it? For what end?
Alucard wanted to know. He needed to know. Erzsebet mustâve had a reason not only to keep her, but also to want to retrieve her.
The white-haired vampire instinctively held the reins a bit tighter as he remembered Drolta.
Rubyâs face of pure panic. Fuck, he couldnât take her expression off his mind. The way Drolta was twirling that necklace around her finger. A ruby necklace. Everything made sense at that moment.
Her nonchalance after getting injured, the little care she had for herself, her fear and hesitanceâŠ
These things were growing on him in an ugly way.
A week ago, Erzsebet and Drolta were just two maniacal cult leaders that needed to be stopped. It wasnât exactly personal. Alucard had dealt with vampires like them many times in his life.
Now, however, he not only needed to stop them â he wanted to kill them.
And this time, he would make sure that they were gone. He would personally make sure that Drolta was actually dead. He would make sure to slash her head off her neck and burn her body to ashes.
He would make sure to shatter that necklace to pieces.
Alucard couldnât heal Rubyâs soul, but he hoped that their death, at least, would bring her some peace.
Alucard pulled the reins and made the horse gallop significantly slower until it stopped.
âWhatâs the problem?â Ruby asked close to his ear as she tried to peek ahead over his shoulder.
âThe streets around the palace are blocked.â Alucard tightened his eyes a bit. Soldiers barricaded the entrance to the front square of the Louvre, trying to keep a crowd of curious people away. The man let a tired sigh. âWell, I guess I shouldâve expected it.â He looked at her over his shoulder. âWeâll have to sneak in by foot.â Ruby nodded. She dismounted from the horse first, being shortly followed by him.
Alucard wandered his eyes around the crowd. They chatted suspiciously among themselves. âI heard an attack happened,â someone said, while another person murmured that âmy cousinâs a guard, he told me it were the royalists that wanted to avenge the King,â or someone else said âThis is all fake! Itâs just to keep our attention here. Another faction is planning to take the country overnight as we speak!â
But then, some young voices caught his attention the most. Three boys discussed excitedly among themselves.
âHeâs obviously lying,â the boy in the middle said, crossing his arms and frowning. âDonât believe him.â
âIâm tellinâ ya!â The shortest of the three insisted, gesticulating excitedly. âI saw a dragon flyinâ inside the palace. Then, some minutes later, I saw another winged thing flying away!â
âIt couldâve been a bird.â
âIt wasnât a bird! Never seen a bird so big in my life!â
âYour eyesight isnât even that good anyway. He said he saw a crocodile in the Seine last week, remember?â
âHeyâ you said you saw it, too!â
Alucard couldnât help but feel a bit of his tension dissipate. The sight was... a bit familiar.
He made a sharp whistle, immediately calling the three boysâ attention.
âDo you lads mind watching my horse for a while?â Alucard said, still holding the reins with one hand. He shook the small coin pouch in his palm.
Their eyes immediately gleamed excitedly. They clumsily made their way to approach him, bumping into each other and grinning.
âOf course, sir!â The shortest one saluted Alucard as if he were a soldier.
The tallest one, noticing Ruby standing near, bowed awkwardly, pinching the tip of his worn out beret. âMademoiselle,â he said in a high pitched voice. Then, his eyes rapidly traveled from her to Alucard, and he coughed. âI meanâ madame.â The two other boys imitated his action like tiny echoes, all equally clumsy.
They earned an endeared smile from her. She held her skirt and bobbed a small curtsy graciously in return.
The three blushed.
Alucard inhaled a small chuckle.
âWe wonât take long, so stay in the area.â The white-haired vampire said, catching the boysâ attention again. The shortest one seemed to be some sort of leader of the group, as he was the one to approach and hold the reins. Alucard swiftly placed a coin on each of their open palms. âRest of the payment when I get back.â
âThank you, sir!â They said in unison, eyes glued in their shiny coins.
The one that looked the oldest tightened his eyes. âHm, may I ask, sir, what exactly is your business here? The palace is blocked, as you can see.â
Alucard tightened his eyes at him, too. âI certainly see that itâs blocked, and I certainly wouldnât advise you boys to get any closer to it.â Then, he dropped his voice, his tone picking their attention once again. âI wonder, however, if you were to get closer to it, which street would you pick?â
They eyed each other. The tallest boy coughed again.
âWell, if I were to get closer to it, I would pick an alley behind the Perrault street⊠most people donât gather around there, soâŠâ
â...Less guards,â the oldest completed.
Alucard nodded. He placed one more coin on each of their hands. They giggled.
He pointed ahead with his head to Ruby. However, as he was turning around to leave, he stopped and looked at them.
âBy the way, what you saw is correct,â Alucard said in a quiet, serious voice. They all froze. âBut that wasnât a dragon; it was a demon. The city is in danger. When we get back, you boys should get your families and hide.â
He didnât wait to see the boysâ reaction. Ruby, however, lingered her gaze a little longer on them before following him.
A quiet sadness clouded her eyes, made her shoulders drop a bit. She interlocked her hands on her lower stomach as she walked. It seemed to be a standard quirk of hers, besides the one of gripping her skirt when she was nervous. This specific movement as she walked, however, was very⊠polite.
Alucard didnât exactly like it.
Not because he didnât appreciate good manners. Ruby was, in fact, very gracious in anything she did â from her impeccable posture at all times to the way she sat or the way she ate, the way she held cutlery, the way she never raised her voice too much, or even how she insisted in calling him sir when they first met. She had the good manners of a high society lady.
But Alucard knew that all of this was a product of what she had endured. Making herself smaller, quieter, imperceptible. Ruby didnât do any of that to impress anyone or to fit into some sort of societal standard. She did it because she was afraid of bringing any attention upon her.
The more he observed her, the more he caught himself silently wishing Ruby would⊠slouch. Raise her voice, show anger or tiredness or boredom. Make it clear when she didnât like something or voice her opinions without becoming a puddle of anxiety.
Thatâs one of the reasons why Alucard couldnât bring himself to say no when she asked to go to the Louvre. Most of the time, she wasnât brave enough to speak her mind and make requests. She felt comfortable enough at that moment to ask him. And⊠Alucard actually hated it, but he had also noticed that, sometimes, Ruby flinched away from him and seemed scared when he showed annoyance or moved too abruptly. Unfortunately, he still had similar physical traits of the ones who hurt her so much. The fact that she was growing comfortable around him made him feel⊠content.
Ruby looked down. âPoor kids. Their clothes are so worn outâŠâ
âThis is the situation for most children in this country. That is mainly why the revolution started.â
â...I guess Richter was right. How can a king have a palace this big while his people die of hunger?â She took some moments to speak again. âAnd if Erzsebet succeeds⊠she will make things worse.â
Alucard nodded. âYes. But she wonât, because weâll stop her.â He pointed with his finger to a nearby street. âLetâs go.â
They quickened their pace, keeping silent for most of the way. Most streets were crowded by a mass of curious people; the news traveled fast, and it seemed that everyone forgot about the execution earlier and decided to gather at this part of the city. Paris was drowned in chaos. Most soldiers were too worried trying to quiet down the population. How could they even prepare for the incoming battle?
Finally, they arrived at the alley the boy had mentioned â and the little bastard was right. It was a dirty small alley where most people avoided, only being guarded by two soldiers that werenât paying much attention to their job.
At last, Alucard stopped walking in a spot out of their sight. The back view of the palace was just ahead. He turned around and looked down at Ruby, sending her a hesitant look.
âMy apologies, but I will need to do that again.â
She widened her eyes slightly. âOh. Okay.â
â...Do you think you can handle it this time?â
âYes. Yes, Iâll be fine.â She was clearly lying. Well, there was nothing he could do about that.
Alucard wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly to a point her feet werenât touching the ground anymore. He narrowed his eyes, visualizing the path he would have to make.
A familiar red glow enveloped his bodyâ
He sprinted through the alley, passing in between both guards so fast that they didnât even understand what was happening; to them it was just a sudden, violent gush of wind that made their hats fly away and their eyes widen in confusion.
And just like that, they were within the palaceâs gardens.
Alucard put Ruby on the floor again. She was visibly dizzy, so he still held her arm for support. She blinked several times, as if trying to fade the vertigo away.
âIt⊠wasnât that bad this time,â she lied again. It didnât look like she wanted to vomit this time, though. Alucard smiled slightly and let go of her arm.
âDo you remember in which room you found the artifact?â He asked quietly, worrying that anyone would hear them. He didnât want to have to confront any human.
âThe same where I was trying to hide in,â Ruby looked around the tall building. âThe night creature came crashing through the window. We can use it to get in.â
Alucard nodded, trying to remember in what section of the palace that wasâŠ
Then he realized that he didnât need to remember anything, because the scent of her blood was still very much in the air. They didnât even have time to clean it. Alucard turned his head in the direction where the scent was stronger.
âThere. Letâs go.â
They walked fast, Alucard always placing his body in front of her, walking near the wall under the windows to not get caught. They crossed paths with some guards, but luckily were not seen. He wondered why the hell did that place need to be so horizontally big.
Finally, the sight of a destroyed window appeared ahead. As the building had a double height ceiling, itâd be necessary to climb to get through the window. Alucard gesticulated for Ruby to wait. His sword unsheathed itself and floated up; through the reflection on the shiny iron, he saw that although the doors were opened, the gallery was empty.
Alucard once again wrapped his arm around her waist and floated, graciously passing through the window. As soon as their feet landed on the floor, he nodded his head softly; the double doors closed and locked.
He let go of her and she stepped aside.
The gallery was absolutely destroyed; debris and glass everywhere, broken pieces of the wooden crates, rags of once was a curtain around the floor, statues and paintings destroyed⊠and blood. A lot of blood.
Ruby widened her eyes at the sight of her own dried blood over the floor. It seems she hadnât realized how much she bled. She gulped and averted her gaze somewhere else.
âIt seems they didnât start to clean things up yet,â she stated the obvious in a nervous tone.
âTheyâre probably measuring the damage first. Itâll take them a few days,â Alucard crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the room. He, in fact, felt bad about all that. So many artifacts were destroyed during the fight⊠thousands of years of art and history went to waste. It was especially outrageous how Drolta didnât care about the damage at the Egyptian gallery, given that she came from those same ancient times. She had no respect for her own culture anymore.
âIs it here?â he asked, paying attention to her again.
Ruby hummed quietly.
She walked towards the doors, looking for something on the floor. She tip toed around a pool of blood, trying to avoid stepping on it at all costs. Alucard followed her, albeit keeping a good distance so she could scoop the area without his interference.
Finally, she gasped and rushed to grab something at the corner of the room, near the wall. It was hidden behind a destroyed crate.
Ruby turned around, holding a golden scepter with both hands. Her eyes glowed with afraid amazement.
âThis is it,â she confirmed.
They approached each other, meeting at the center of the gallery. Alucard analyzed the artifact she held. It was almost as tall as her with a symbol of the sun at its tip. Throughout the entire staff, there were tiny writings engraved. Although it was golden, it wasnât much adorned; other than the symbol of the sun and the intricate sun rays in the form of curvy spikes, it was very plain. It appeared to be something used in religious ceremonies.
âWhat happened exactly when you held it for the first time?â He asked.
Ruby looked down at the scepter. âIt was covered in rust. I didnât even know what I was looking at. Then, when I held it, it got⊠hot. And it shone.â
âIt shone?â Alucard quirked one eyebrow up.
âYes. So bright that I had to close my eyes. And then⊠all the rust was gone.â
âAnd after that?â
Ruby pressed her lips together. â...Nothing. The night creature came in and I dropped it.â
Alucard nodded. âDo you feel anything strange right now?â
She shook her head slightly. âNo.â She lifted the object closer to his eyes. âBut, see? The writings? Itâs that same language. Do you recognize what this is?â
Alucard narrowed his eyes. âCan I?â
Ruby handed him the scepter, which he held with both hands. It was quite heavy â actual pure gold. It was a miracle that the royal French family didnât melt it, or whoever was in possession of the artifact it previously. He brought it close to his face, analyzing the scriptures.
The characters appeared to be organized vertically instead of horizontally, very similar to Mandarin or Japanese structures of writing. These characters, however, meant nothing to him. They werenât rounded like Sanskrit, werenât allusive of animals or nature like Egyptian hieroglyphs or ancient Mandarin, and they didnât resemble the common Latin alphabet. At most, it reminded him a bit of Sumerian writing, given how simplistic the characters seemed to be â but if it really was Sumerian, Alucard wouldâve known.
âYou know how to read it, but donât understand the meaning of the words?â Alucard asked without taking his eyes off the scepter.
âYes.â
âSo, each character means a sound.â Ruby nodded. Phonetic, as he suspected, since the characters repeated themselves over and over again.
âDo you have any idea of what it is?â she repeated, sounding hopeful.
Alucard pressed his lips together.
He really missed Sypha in moments like this.
She wouldâve immediately known what it was â or at least, had an idea of how to start investigating the origins of this strange language. Alucard became quite good at learning new languages over the years, but not as good as her. Never.
It felt like there was an invisible cold hand pressing around his heart â like it did anytime he thought of her.
âUnfortunately no.â Alucard shook his head. Rubyâs shoulders dropped. âLetâs not be discouraged. This artifact definitely has magic in it; I can feel it.â Yes, it vibrated under his palm in a high frequency â a metaphysical frequency, like all magic things did. It didnât reek of demonic magic or negative alchemy either. It felt quite neutral; Alucard couldnât tell what type of magic it stored.
The white-haired vampire frowned.
âAnd it certainly doesnât like me.â
Ruby tilted her head to the side, visibly confused. âWhat?â
There was a strange sensation in his gut. A certain aggressiveness. Alucard didnât feel like the scepter could actually hurt him, but the bad feeling was there anyway. He handed the artifact back to Ruby; the moment it left his hands, the sensation was gone.
âSome magical items donât accept being touched by anyone. Some can only be touched by their masters.â
âLike your sword?â She asked, eyeing the weapon that was still protectively floating near Alucardâs body.
âPrecisely.â Alucard shrugged. âOr it just doesnât like me because I am part vampire.â At her utter confusion, he decided to elaborate. âIn magic terms, my existence is an aberration. A half-human, half-vampire being goes against the natural order.â
She pressed her lips and looked down. â...But itâs not your fault.â
Alucard chuckled softly. It sounded like she felt bad for him, which he found quite endearing. âThe scepter doesnât know it.â
They were interrupted when someone tried to open the doors. Both turned around immediately, Ruby visibly startled at the sudden sound.
âWhoâs in there?â a male voice was heard from the other side. âOpen the doors!â
âLetâs go,â Alucard hurried towards the window again. Yet, she froze in place.
âDo we take it with us?â
âOf course.â
âIsnât it stealing?â
He couldnât even bring himself to be annoyed at her. Alucard stepped closer again. âEverything here was stolen from some other country, Ruby. They wonât miss it.â
And then, he was holding her close to his body again, floating out of the palace through the window. The sword obediently sheathed itself again. However, when he stepped foot on the grass, he didnât let go of her.
âIâll have toâŠâ
âYes. I understand,â she nodded before he could finish, tightening the scepter close to her chest.
Alucard felt a tiny bit bad for a moment before sprinting out of the palaceâs gardens in a red blur. She seemed to handle the post-dizziness a bit better this time, though.
They hurried around the streets. Ruby held the artifact with nervousness.
âThis thing isnât exactly subtle,â she said between gritted teeth. Indeed. An object made of gold wasnât something you could hold around and act nonchalant about.
âI can hide it under my cape if you want,â he offered, to which she shook her head.
âNo. If it makes you feel bad, Iâd rather not.â It seemed she really didnât think before saying that, because she froze for a moment and immediately avoided his gaze.
Alucard knew that if he chuckled itâd make her feel bad, so he swallowed it.
They didnât take long to reach their destination with their fast pace. The street appeared a bit less crowded now. And there they were â the three boys sitting on the sidewalk, the horse obediently beside them. They got up in a jump.
âHere it is, sir!â The tallest presented.
âWe took care of it. See?â The oldest boasted.
âSome men even wanted to take it away, but we fought valiantly!â It was the youngestâ turn to lie with a grin.
Alucard opened a small smile and took the reins again. âYou did a good job, indeed. As promised, the rest of the payment.â
Their grins got even bigger when the white-haired vampire deposited two more coins each over their open palms.
The shortest of the group then cleaned his throat and stepped further towards Ruby. He had both hands behind his back and an already apparent blush over his cheeks.
âHm, sir! Respectfully!â
âRespectfully!â The tallest one reinforced. He fiddled with his beret nervously.
âWe got madame a gift!â
âOut of respect!â The oldest one reinforced again.
The three eyed Alucard with much apparent nervousness, waiting for his⊠permission. Ruby looked down at the boys with quiet confusion.
Oh, this was getting funny.
Alucard shrugged and nodded. The three boys smiled again and turned to Ruby. Once again, the shortest cleaned his throat.
âMadame! We were attentively taking care of the horse when we saw something that could suit you!â
âI saw it,â the oldest one elbowed him.
âBut it was my idea,â the short one hissed back before turning to her again. âAnyway, hm, here it is!â
Finally, he unveiled what he was hiding behind his back in an extravagant gesture: a lily flower.
Alucard looked behind them. On the other side of the street, under a windowsill, there was a vase full of lilies. He had to cross his arms and lower his head, trying to muffle a laugh.
âIt matches your ribbon, madame,â the oldest remarked.
âI was the one to pick it. None of them could reach it but me,â the tallest said with pride.
Ruby watched the three boys with a bit of shock for some seconds.
Then, she smiled.
Not one of her small, timid smiles. For the first time, that smile reached her eyes, too. For the first time, it seemed that she wasnât embarrassed for smiling; for the first time, her giggle wasnât dry. Wasnât clouded by sadness.
Alucard knew that it was the first time he was seeing the real Ruby â the person she was underneath the trauma, the fear, the anxiety; the person she didnât even know she was yet. And at that moment, the glow of the golden scepter got pale in comparison to her.
Ruby lowered herself to get to their eye level. She took the flower and placed it inside the small pocket of her vest, right above her heart.
âWhat are your names?â she asked.
âVictor,â the tallest said.
âPierre,â the oldest one.
âOliver,â the shortest.
Ruby repeated their names, then patted their heads, rubbing their hair softly.
âThis is very sweet, boys. Thank you so much. I promise Iâll take care of your gift.â
It looked like the three boys forgot how to close their mouths. They stared at her in awe, their faces completely red, their three little hearts beating at a rapid pace.
Alucard couldnât blame them. Not when his own heart missed a beat.
Three hundred years didnât make him much better than a little boy, after all.
âRuby.â He called quietly. âWe should go.â She nodded and straightened her posture. Alucard turned to the boys, and they all seemed utterly embarrassed when his gaze fell over them. âI wasnât joking about what I said earlier. Tell your parents about it. After the sun goes down, do not leave your homes.â
The three tensed up at his words, but nodded accordingly. The short one â Oliver â seemed to be the smartest, too; he was the only one that paid attention to Alucardâs mouth and had a fast glimpse of his fangs, which made him get pale. Well⊠if that helped send the message across, he was fine with it. They finally started walking away.
Ruby waved them goodbye and they waved back, clumsily bumping into each other and elbowing one another. At last, they ran into the crowd again.
A ghost of that smile still lingered on her lips as she turned to him, touching the flower with care. Alucard mimicked her small smile.
âYou just made their day.â
She looked shy again, and it made Alucard regret saying that a bit; he didnât want her to feel embarrassed of herself, not after what he had witnessed. âNo, you made their day by paying them.â
Alucard shook his head softly and closed his eyes for a moment.
âIt doesnât even compare.â
He looked down at her again.
This time, instead of the skirt, she gripped the scepter nervously.
Still, Alucard sustained her gaze for a few more seconds. He⊠enjoyed this. He liked how her attention was frozen on him, even for these brief moments. He liked the sensation of having the world around him blur as if he entered a parallel universe until sheâd finally look away.
Alucard knew himself all too well. He didnât bring himself the trouble of being in denial about anything. It was also one of the things he learned over the years, for the sake of his own sanity.
He understood why the entire mission was becoming personal to him very fast. He understood that, behind his growing anger towards Drolta and Erzsebet, there was something else growing, too â though he wasnât sure if heâd act on it. No; it was way too early to assume anything. There were still many mysteries to solve, too much at stake, too much trust to be gained on both ends⊠and way too many traumas to get through, too.
For now, Alucard was satisfied with these small moments of sweetness.
Finally, he took the reins again, and then they were in a crowded street of a city in chaos, and not in a quiet parallel universe.
âLetâs go⊠madame,â he said jokingly, imitating the honorific the boys repeated over and over again. Ruby chuckled, at least.
Alucard was under the impression that, if Ruby knew what the implications of being called a madame meant, she wouldnât be so calm about it.
Heâd like to keep it as his little secret for now.
#alucard x reader#castlevania#alucard#castlevania nocturne#alucard castlevania#adrian fahrenheit tepes#adrian tepes x reader#alucard tepes#adrian alucard tepes#alucard x you#castlevania x you#castlevania x reader#alucard adrian tepes
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ICE PLAY đŒàœŒ ft. itsohi sae.

cw: nsfw. like borderline smut but not really, at all actually? licking. nipple sucking. dacryphilia if you squint. wc: 1.1k.
the cold nips at your skin, running shivers over you as sae drags a melting cube of ice along your stomach. your toes curl, hands grasping at the sheets beneath you. the liquid glistens under the dim light, tracing ephemeral patterns across your skin, a fleeting, frozen touch that lingers far beyond its presence.
he does it again, dragging the ice over the same spot, over and over, until the cold becomes agonizing. your face twists, brows knitting together as you try to endure, but itâs unbearable, the sensation sinking deep into your bones, chilling you from the inside out.
sae, on the other hand, looks entirely unbothered. detached, almost, as if your trembling doesnât phase him. as if the little whimpers you let slip each time the ice makes contact donât burrow their way under his skin(they do). he watches the water trickle down, sliding over your stomach, pooling at the band of your panties, dampening the fabric to something nearly translucent.
his gaze flickers between your face and your body, his movements slow, deliberate. there is something in the way his fingers sway, like a silent command, something calculated in every brush of his touch.
when the ice drags up, slipping between the valley of your chest, over an already hardened nipple, your body jerks. the cold stretches far, wrapping around you, seeping into your very marrow. your hand instinctively shoots up, weak fingers encircling his wrist in an attempt to stop him, to catch your breath, to let warmth flood back into you. but your grip is pitifulâtoo frail, too frozen. sae barely spares it a glance, offering nothing but a quiet, firm look, and just like that, your hand drops.
he was going to be your demise.
what feels like the millionth ice cube melts away against your overheated skin, and just as you think heâs had his fill, sae reaches for another. but this time, instead of gliding it over your stomach, he presses it against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
your breath hitches.
your thighs squeeze together on instinct, seeking warmth, but the ice seeps through, bleeding into the already damp fabric of your underwear. salted tears sting at the corners of your eyes. sae doesnât stop. one of his hands grips your thigh, prying it apart, forcing you to stay open for him. you try to press them back together, desperate for relief, but his hold is firm, leaving no room for escape.
âdonât be difficult,â his voice is calm, even, but thereâs an edge to it, something dark curling beneath the surface.
you tremble as the ice trails higher, closer to where you burn the most, where the heat you so desperately crave pools. the cold is unbearable, but the ache is worse, a dull, throbbing pulse that demands to be soothed.
âsaeâŠâ your voice breaks, breathy and sweet, his name spilling from your lips in a soft, pleading whimper. itâs almost a sob, though not entirely from the cold. âno more.â
he doesnât listen.
the ice glides over your clothed core, and a fractured moan escapes you. your fingers tighten in the sheets, knuckles white as you cling to somethingâanythingâto ground yourself. the more he drags the ice, the more you writhe, frustration bleeding into every shift of your body. sae watches you, expression unreadable, but thereâs something in his eyes, something that sharpens at the sight of you unraveling beneath him.
when the ice is little more than a sliver, sae leans in, his face hovering just above your belly. his lashes are thick, casting shadows against his cheeks as he tilts his head, mouth parting slightly. you know what heâs about to do. you watch him carefully, hold your breath as his tongue finally presses against your skin, licking away the remnants of cold in slow, deliberate strokes.
your breath stutters.
heâs watching you the entire time. he always does. and you know if you were to look away, heâd stop, would waitâpatiently, cruellyâuntil your eyes were locked with his once more. thereâs no winning with him.
his tongue travels higher, dragging over your chest, his lips closing around your nipple. the warmth of his mouth is a stark contrast to the ice that came before it, the heat burning through you, sending another shiver down your spine. he bites, pulls, sucks until your sensitive skin is dark with blooming color, until your body trembles beneath him. one hand remains on your hip, squeezing, grounding, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
tears threaten to spill again, the overwhelming sensations too much, not enough, all at once.
âyou cry too easy.â sae murmurs, pulling away just enough to speak, his voice low, almost amused. his fingers trace over your damp skin, his touch featherlight, teasing.
and just like that, heâs reaching for another ice cube.
©opt1mistic
#dacryphilia.cw#smh#i need him to lick every inch of my body#to be honest#queued.#opt1mistic.com#saefie<3#sae.#nsfw.#blue lock.#sae itoshi x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x reader#sae itoshi#blue lock x reader
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The Herta's Voicelines about her S/O
Requested by: @queeremogurl
A/N: I hope you like this!!
Aventurine's ver | Ratio's ver | Sunday's ver | Luka's ver | Kaveh's ver | Shadow's (OC) ver

The Enigma of Them
Ah, them. Quite an intriguing specimen, aren't they? I never expected someone with so much... unquantifiable charm. It makes me question my own understanding of connection. But itâs precisely because of their unpredictability that I find them fascinating.
First Meeting: Unexpected Encounter
The first time I met them, I was... intrigued. They certainly didnât seem like the type to fit neatly into my carefully constructed theories. There was somethingâdare I say itâentirely human about them. But I must admit, I wasnât expecting their brilliance. It took me a moment to accept that, perhaps, I was not the only genius in the room.
First Date: Surprising Delight
Our first date, if you can even call it that, was a rather... unexpected delight. I thought it would be a mere formalityâan exchange of information, a brief distraction. But they surprised me, as they always do. Their ability to blend warmth and wit with intellectual discourse? Itâs an art form. I didnât realize how pleasant that could be.
Thinking About Them: Uncontrollable Fascination
I often find myself lost in thought about them. Theyâre a strange paradoxâa perfect blend of intellect and emotion, something I never thought Iâd find so... distracting. They possess a curiosity I canât help but admire, even if it does sometimes challenge my own. Itâs almost as though theyâve made a science of capturing my attention.
Favorite Times Spent With Them: Cherished Moments
There are few moments I treasure as much as when weâre alone together, lost in a shared puzzle or debate. The way they thinkâso differently from anyone Iâve encounteredâhas a peculiar allure. But itâs not just that. Itâs the way they make the ordinary feel extraordinary. I suppose, in a way, I treasure every second spent with them. Even if I never quite admit that to their face.
Plans for the Future: Endless Possibilities
Future plans? Hm. Itâs difficult to say. Iâm certain that theyâll accompany me in whatever mind-bending venture I embark on, though. After all, Iâm certain theyâll find the same joy I do in unraveling the very fabric of existence. Whether itâs exploring the deepest corners of the cosmos or simply enjoying a quiet moment, I imagine theyâll be there... possibly making it more interesting than it has any right to be.
Unshakable Trust
I trust them more than I trust most. That in itself is a strange admission, considering my penchant for total intellectual independence. But there's something about themâa sincerity, an understanding. When they look at me, itâs not through the lens of expectation or judgment. Itâs... refreshing. Almost as though they see me, not just the image Iâve constructed for the universe.
Irreplaceable
Perhaps Iâve made an error in judgment, allowing them so close. But when the brilliance of their mind and the warmth of their spirit intersect... well, Iâm not inclined to let go. Iâll be watching closelyâof course. But I trust them more than anyone else.

#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x gender neutral reader#the herta#the herta x reader#the herta x you#the herta x y/n#x you#x y/n#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#voice lines#not proofread#established rp#established relationship
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đđš | ᎠáŽáŽáŽÉȘÊáŽ!áŽáŽáŽ x ê°!ÊáŽáŽáŽ
áŽÊ
Moonlight Cravings.



Short summary: Vampire!Tom has known heâd make you his ever since he first met you. When his need for your blood grows unbearably strong, he knows itâs time to finally make a move.
A/N: As I plan on writing more than just one full-length fic for my Vampire AU anyway and havenât had the time to work on it yet, I thought Iâd get started with a how-vampire!Tom-would-slowly-declare-his-presence-in-your-life drabble/fic.
wordcount: 1,0k
Tomâs presence looms over your life like a shadow. He seems to be wherever you go, and though he never pays you much attention, he still is there. Either casually leaning against the wall near the class you are attending next or accompanying his friends to the Three Broomsticks when you are there as well. Which is quite ironic, considering most people know Tom doesnât even like butterbeer.
In fact, you are not quite sure if he likes anything really. Each time you share a class, Tom is mostly quiet, except for his witty remarks whenever professors ask questions. Even outside the classroom he doesnât talk much, mostly found in the library with his head buried in books. Well, as long as you are in the library as well, that is.
You donât think too much of it. Itâs Tom Riddle, after allânaturally one of the most handsome men you have ever laid eyes on, but oh so unreachable. You vividly remember a girl back in your third year asking him to attend the Yule Ball with her. It was a decision she made against the advice of practically everyone she asked, and it ended exactly the same way you had told her it would. Things like these never end well with him, so you donât even attempt questioning his behaviourâinstead, you think you are utterly delusional for even assuming there could be anything between the two of you.
Tom, on the other hand, is entirely consumed by you. From the moment he first caught your unmistakably sweet scent, he knew he had to have you, his mind going blank every time you simply passed him in the corridors. Itâs as if there is a force pulling him towards you, one that he canât control, one that clouds his mind and strips him of any sane thoughts he had left. Taming his needs as a vampire has never been difficult. Not until he met you, that is.
And as soon as bouquets of your favourite flowers show up in your dorm every other week, accompanied with small gifts like your pralines of choice, you canât help but wonder whether there was a chance Tomâs strange behaviour did have something to do with this. Itâs these thoughts that keep you up at night and make you zone out in class. There is not much you can do except wonder who it is that admires you, but you sure have a guess.
During yet another restless night, you decide to get up and take a walk through the castle to calm your mind. The hallways are faintly illuminated by the moonâs glow, shining brightly as it completes yet another full circle around the earth. Although your steps are as quiet as they can possibly be, you soon feel the air shift around you, as though someone is watching you. But when you turn around, no one is there.
âYou shouldnât be wandering around the castle this late at night.â A voice coming from your right remarks, and you almost drop your wand, heart hammering wildly in your chest in response to the unexpected interruption. A tall figure emerges from behind a pillar then, and it takes you less than one second to figure out who it is. You had forgotten that Tom Riddle also happened to be a prefect.
Itâs too dark to make out much of his face, but there is an undeniable red glow that flickers in his otherwise dark brown eyes. Before you can even process the thought, he blinks, and itâs gone. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly as he takes in your startled expression, raising his eyebrow expectantly.
 âI suppose I- I couldnât sleep. You must know, walking helps to clear my mind.â You manage to get out, and although it isnât a lie, your hesitation sure made it sound like one.
Tom huffs. âA selfish action that just cost your house ten points. Now, you surely wouldnât mind me escorting you to your respective dormitories?â
You donât try to argueâit is still Tom Riddle youâre dealing with after all. Instead, you respond with a small nod and retrace your steps with him by your side.
âWhat might your mind be troubled with?â he asks then, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. The question makes you tense slightly, your fingers curling tighter around your wand. Itâs the first time he actively looks for a conversation, the first time his presence feels intended and real.
You take a breath, not exactly knowing what to respond. âYour seemingly seventh sense for my whereaboutsâ doesnât seem like an appropriate answer after all.
The upcoming exam season saves you from the awkwardness. Although he doesnât seem to fully believe you, he lets it go, not speaking another word until you disappear behind your dormitory door.
But even then, you canât seem to sleep, the image of the red glow in his eyes lingering in your mind. You know there is something you can connect it to, and soon, a memory of a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in your second year resurfaces.
Full moon. Pale skin. Red eyes. They all match, and yet you find it hard to believe. Vampires have been extinct for nearly 400 years in Great Britain, there was no real reason for you to think he could be one.
Right?
#im so excited to write more for this au!!!#im gonna try to be quick#just veeeery busy atm :((#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle fic#tom riddle fanfiction#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle vampire au#slytherin boys#slytherin#harry potter#vampire au#divider by strangergraphics#đŠąââË.âmy works#vampire!tom
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Gluttony - Leona
Author Notes: It was actually really difficult to choose what I was going to post this week. But I've been a little busy lately, so I finally just chose this one rather than working on polishing some of my other fics. I wrote this one to the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier and that most certainly showed in the writing. With that said though, I'm pretty pleased with how this fic turned out. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Type: Gender neutral reader/ fluff/ some angst with comfort/ romance implied/ some pining/ sfw
Word count: 1528
Leona opened his eyes groggily, a frown on his face, as soon as the sun shone down through the leaves of the tree that hung over him, briefly blinding him before he sat up.
A hum from his left had his ears twitching before he twisted to see you lying right by his side. A slight smile on your face as the shadows of the leaves swayed across your form, and he felt his eyebrows raise.
He wasnât particularly surprised to see you, though he knew the same couldnât be said for anyone who might have seen you here.
Leona was no fool. He knew that you and him were pretty much perfect opposites. Thatâs why everyone always looked so confused when you were walking along beside him. Chattering away with a happy expression or teasing him about something that had recently gone in a way he hadnât planned for it to.
Leona was the hated second prince. It was his burden, and it was one heâd carried his entire life. It was nothing new.
He was bitter, unpleasant, and something that people preferred to avoid either out of fear or powerful levels of distaste.
And then there was you. Sweet and far more optimistic than he thought he could ever be. And perhaps more interestingly, you were no fool. You knew everything wasnât flowers and dreams. How could you not when you lived in a place like Ramshackle dorm and didnât even have a way to get home?Â
You were seemingly trapped in a world that wasnât your own, but you didnât let that stop you. Instead, you just keep going with your head held high, a smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips as you shrugged it off. It was admirable.
But it also simply wasnât him. And that was something he knew perfectly well.
That simple fact was also the exact reason your classmates would find it so odd to see you slumbering here by his side and not somewhere else with someone who was a better match for your sweet disposition.
Leona leaned forward, propping his head on his chin as he looked down at where you slept by his side. Youâd come here to study in the botanical garden while heâd slumbered next to you. It was something you often did, though he couldnât fathom why.
It was almost like you either wanted the company or didnât want him to be lonely. Either of which was ridiculous, since he could think of plenty of people whoâd want to be your study buddy, and he certainly didn't want company for his naps.
But then, Leona also didnât mind your presence, though he had his own reasons for not running you off.
Leona tilted his head slightly, sighing at the sight of you, before pulling the book whose corner was jabbing into your side out of your hands and setting it off to the side where youâd quickly find it after waking up.
He idly scanned the area, half rolling his eyes as he confirmed that your feline companion was nowhere to be seen.
Grim had no doubt long since abandoned you in favor of avoiding anything even close to work.
As for you, Leona didnât know if you were foolish or bold to have fallen asleep right next to him with no one around to protect you. But here you were curled up at his side, as if he werenât someone who could easily harm you and were instead someone who would take care of you should you need it.
Which wasnât something he could really deny to himself, but you didnât need to know that.
After all, youâd seen him when heâd overblotted and you knew he wasnât a good person. That should have been enough to send you scrambling to get away from him. But instead, here you were.Â
And it was ridiculous.
It was true that it might have taken Jack a little while to realize that Leona wasnât someone he needed to look up to, but Leonaâs actions at the Spelldrive competition had cleared up Jackâs misunderstandings about him.Â
Ruggie had always known what sort of person Leona was. It was one of the reasons he hung around. After all, there was safety in sticking close to people like Leona, so long as you remembered what they were truly like.
Both realized, for better or worse, that Leona was not a misunderstood individual who was secretly good. He was jaded, always beaten by others, and essentially worthless.
But then there was you, who was seemingly unbothered by any of this.Â
And it wasnât even like you didnât believe Leonaâs flaws existed; he could work with that. Instead, it was almost like you didnât care. Like you didnât really expect him to change outside of your occasional prodding for him to take better care of himself.
You saw his flawsâthat much he knew from the times you had bickered with him over somethingâbut you just seemed to accept them. The same way you just seemed to accept other peopleâs flaws as something that was just a part of them. Only ever really scolding others, or even Leona himself, when their actions either harmed themselves or others.
And that's how Leona knew you were simply too sweet for him. Too sweet for him to endure being near, but simultaneously too sweet for him to turn away.
It was just another show of how worthless he was at anything he tried to do and how little his own efforts mattered. He could try to push you away, but he couldnât ever stop himself from clinging to you.Â
As if you were one of the last sweet bits of his otherwise bitter life. A potent method of making everything else seem to fall away and be ignored so long as he just gets a fleeting taste of that kindness.
And Leona had tried to ignore you, but it was somehow impossible, even when he knew that being close to him could easily taint that sweetness of yours and turn it into a bitterness more like his.
But Leona also knew that you and him were all but opposites, and that was probably where the attraction of being near you lay.
Though that realization did nothing to lessen that attraction, no matter how frustrating it might be.
You shifted, letting out some sort of groggy sound and causing him to snort in amusement at your lethargic movements that had you shifting closer to him as if you craved his warmth. Coming closer to him instead of distancing yourself like you should.
It was ridiculous, watching you now, to think that youâd somehow bested him in the past. But you had. Youâd beaten him as well as numerous others at their own game. Making them look like fools, as you seemed to change things simply by existing.
And maybe you did. After all, you werenât of this world. And perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to detach himself from you.
Your eyes fluttered open, and you twisted to look up at the lion beastman, who didnât even bother hiding his amusement as you blinked up at him before groggily sitting up, âWhat time is it?â
Leona glanced around, his ears twitching slightly as he listened to the distant sounds of students chattering as they left their club areas before he looked back your way, âTime to be getting back to the dorms. Club practice has already let out.â
You nodded, not looking terribly surprised and seemingly resigned to having lost the rest of your study period.
âHave you seen Grim?â You frowned lightly as you glanced around, and Leona snorted, leaning back and relaxing once more against the ground, lazily watching you as you collected your books.
âNope,â At the single word you glanced over at him with raised eyebrows that almost made him want to take back all the previous thoughts heâd had about you being sweet.
But then that tiny bit of bite you had to you only ever seemed to emphasize your sweetness. It was what kept you interesting and at odds with the fools at RSA.
Because, unlike them, you managed to have a certain degree of cunning even with your sweetness. After all, he hadnât been lying that day when heâd told Azul that you were far more dastardly than the scheming cephalo-punk was.
That was probably another reason why Leona had given up on pushing you away and had even come to expect your presence. He was a glutton for punishment, and with you being a villain that was sweet enough to even catch him unawares, you were certainly enough to keep him on his toes.Â
His gaze held yours even as he felt yet another chip in the wall of his defenses fall away, despite the fact that heâd always maintained these walls around himself.
He may not want to let you in, but you really were too sweet for him, and it was reaching the point that Leona was becoming more and more willing to let himself give into his gluttony.
#Twisted wonderland imagines#Leona x reader#Leona kingscholar#Twisted wonderland x reader#gender neutral reader#fluff#angst with comfort#pining#romance implied#twst#mywritings#it-happened-one-fic#too sweet#too sweet hozier#Leona x you#Leona x y/n#Leona kingscholar x reader#twisted wonderland x you#twisted wonderland x y/n#twst x reader#twst x you#twst x y/n#savannaclaw#fanfiction#fanfic#Disney TW#Disney twst#Disney
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Alpha Simon "Ghost" Riley x Alpha Reader
Word count: 1.7k
WARNINGS: NSFW near the end, 18+, MDNI, Omegaverse AU
AN: I don't know what confidence boost prompted me to publish it, but by now the damage is done. I am quite shy and self-conscious about my writing, so bear with me on this one.
There was something extremely wrong with him; Ghost was sure of it â something that went against general opinion, against the organisation of their whole society, and unfortunately also against his own nature.
Simon Riley despised Omegas.
No, that was not the right verb to use.
He was scared to death of having to deal with one of them in the future, as one would expect from an Alpha worthy of the name.
The Omegas were too... soft for the likes of him.
Generalise was wrong, he knew. In his military career, he had met many who could give the most unhinged alphas a run for their money.
One thing, however, seemed to bloody well remain constant in each of them: that something sweet and gentle that sent him into complete turmoil, and not in a good way. He felt like an elephant in a glassware shop, as if his breath alone, if not calibrated well enough, could have completely shattered them.
Simon's entire life, for as long as he could remember, had been marked by violence. A mixture of blood, pain, and gunpowder that would have horrified any other ordinary man.
Truth be told, that was fine with him. Maybe even more than just fine. It was absolutely perfect. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, his skin torn by scars, the weight of a rifle in his hand was what made him feel alive, what defined him. Ghost, agile and silent on his feet, able to hide in the shadows as if he were one of them, deadlier than an army of men.
This was him, and what Simon Riley needed was not tenderness and care. It was fight, teeth, bites, a constant challenge that no Omega could bring him; something he could only find in someone like him. Another alpha.
Admitting it to himself had been harder than he had imagined. Perhaps that was why, for a very long time, he refused to consider it.
Soap often joked good-naturedly about how he was the only one who still had not found a mate. The reason, according to the Scot, was how little effort he had put into not looking like what was essentially inseparable from him.
"Ye just need tae catch up wi' someone who can stand up tae ye, Lt," Johnny had commented in that big, positive tone of his, landing a friendly punch on his arm (which earned him a not-so-subtle look of warning). "'N' when ye dae, och how ye'll regret nae givin' it a chance sooner."
Yeah, that was not going to happen, by any means.
He had tried, albeit half-heartedly, prompted by his Captain's suggestions. He had proposed an Omega made especially for him, one that would suit his way of being. Price knew them personally and could vouch for them. They were a great soldier, with a clear head and not afraid to confront him should he be an idiot, and yet...
... it was not what he needed. It was a copy, well done, but nevertheless only a pale imitation of what it should have been.
That was probably the moment when he realised no Omega would ever be good for him. The discovery came as a bit of a shock, a whiplash on the back of his neck, though deep down he had felt it for far too long.
Omegas were not made for him, just as he was not made for them.
That being said, coming across an Alpha he was interested in had proved to be equally difficult. The military base was full of them, but none had managed to catch his attention.
It almost seemed as though no one on the bloody planet was destined for him, that Ghost was doomed to be alone for the rest of his existence. He had pretended to be comfortable with that for a while, carrying on as if nothing had happened.
Until you had barged into his life out of nowhere, turning everything upside down without even noticing.
It was not unusual for new recruits to be accepted. What definitely felt out of the ordinary, however, was to put them into a Special Ops team like his when they looked like they had barely gotten out of prep school. You were an Alpha like him; that much was certain. Your strong, citrusy scent filled the room as if you wanted to let everyone know of your presence, no matter how discreet it appeared to his eyes.
Simon had to be critical of such things. Theirs was a serious job; he could not allow a rookie to ruin everything and put his comrades-in-arms in danger.
Oh, how wrong he was. His sixth sense had never been so incorrect before.
You were lethal, a war machine made and finished, and that had attracted him more than he cared to admit.
Why, when he had chosen to put his soul at rest, did you have to show up and serve him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter?
It was frustrating having to share common spaces with you, working closely together during missions. Although he didn't want to (lies), he was learning new parts of you that made him even further infatuated.
The situation was getting out of hand. Not only did his gaze find itself constantly following you around during the day (it was inevitable, he told himself; he had to make sure you didn't screw up everything), but to make matters worse, your stupid image had started to haunt him at night as well. Heated dreams of embraces, scratches, slaps of skin against skin that made him wake up in a pool of sweat, more aroused than ever.
It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic, that a man like him, with his past, had regressed to the status of a lovestruck schoolboy. A friendly touch was enough to send all the blood in his body straight to his cock. He had solely his mask to thank for concealing the almost shameful grimace in which his expression twisted into when that happened.
He couldn't go on like this; he was going insane.
Maybe that was why, in the middle of the night, after waking up from yet another wet dream, frustrated and needy, he had left his room to go bang on your door. The two glasses of bourbon he had drunk earlier had clouded his mind just enough to put aside his doubts and possible second thoughts. He was going to do it: put those fantasies to rest once and for all and replace them with the real thing.
It had taken you quite a bit to answer. He couldn't really blame you considering he had woken you up at two in the fucking morning. Your hair was slightly ruffled, your eyes clouded with sleep when you graced him with your presence.
God, he couldn't contain himself any longer.
Before you could ask him what the hell he wanted at that ungodly hour, one of his hands had gripped your shoulder, pushing you back into the dimly lit room, while the other had pulled up his balaclava just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. After absent-mindedly closing the door with the heel of his foot, his lips were pressed to yours, silencing any possible resistance.
Ghost knew he was being an asshole. It wasn't right to force contact on you when, until a few hours earlier, all you'd shared was polite chitchat. Yet you were a tough one, a fighter. You wouldn't have hesitated to push him away and kick him where the sun don't shine if you wanted to.
Simon almost expected it, though the sensation of a slap on the cheek and the accompanying outburst of possible insults never came. Instead, he sensed your fingers run through the light strands of his hair to press his face closer to yours, your tongue duelling with his for control.
You were returning his kiss with as much passion, if not more, than he had put into it.
It was overwhelming, making his head spin and taking the air out of his lungs at how intense it felt.
You wanted it; you really wanted it. You were not rejecting him; you were not rejecting that taboo contact, that something against nature that was the attraction between two Alphas.
Every thread of restraint that might have remained in him snapped at that realisation. His grip on you tightened, and he somehow managed to manoeuvre you underneath him, your back resting against the undone sheets of your bed. It was short-lived since you did not take long to reverse positions, grinding your lap against his whilst your teeth nibbled at the flesh of his neck.
Ghost would not have left you in charge long, but for the moment he could still enjoy the weight of your body on top of his. Your nails had dug into his skin as you sought the pleasure you craved. You were adorable in his eyes. Your pupils dilated, your skin heated, and the growl that echoed in your throat with every movement. All utterly perfect.
Oh, how pleasant was the feeling of your hole contracting around his dick, how immensely arousing was your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to take it all in one go. "Look at you, so greedy... You love it that much, donât ya?" he grunted, amused, his chest pressing against yours as he forced your knees to rest against the sides of your face. Folding you in half.
You mumbled a "shut up" or something along those lines in return, but you were not denying his statement. He found it quite hilarious, actually, so much so that he cracked a laugh even as he was rearranging your insides.
No real words had been exchanged. They were superficial when the pent-up energy between the two of you had finally obtained an outlet. Thinking about the consequences of his actions did not seem right to Ghost, at least not at that time.
Would things get complicated once the fog of lust had cleared? Probably. Would he have regretted going on anyway? In no fuckin' way. You'd had the chance to push him away before. You hadn't, and now you had to deal with all that was him, Simon Riley.
Maybe, just maybe, there was really nothing wrong with him, just something misunderstood if you too, with those almost teary and yet fiery eyes, seemed to harbour the same feelings as him.
âź đđđđđđđđđđ
#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x you#cod#simon riley#cod x reader#cod x you#omegaverse#alpha x alpha#alpha simon ghost riley#alpha ghost#alpha reader#gn reader#ghost#call of duty#call of duty x you#ghost x you
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when you get me alone it's so simple
c/w: 1k wc, megumi is so head over heels in love with you he allows you to do his makeup for a halloween party, sappy and self indulgent and disgustingly sweet pls be nice i haven't written something in forever

âWhy are you being so difficult?â
âWhen am I not being difficult according to you?â
The playful quip makes the cornes of your lips curl into an amused smile.
âRight. But I really think you should comeâ
Megumi holds your gaze with a seemingly impassive stare, lets the small interval of silence stretch for a second too long.
Itâs not that he doesnât like hanging out with his friends, he actually enjoys the idea of getting to be nothing more than a young man with an exceptionally low tolerance level for Nobaraâs antics for once. However, a halloween party? Filled with obnoxious strangers who will get drunk and make a mess of Yuujiâs house? A mess that you have already promised will help to clean out?
Definitely not on his bingo card for an evening he could spend at the movies or in a quiet pub instead.
But then, thereâs your strenuous perseverence. The disappointment you didnât for a second attempt to hide still swarming in those big eyes, the pettish inflexion of your pitch when you had sputtered a what? What dâyou mean youâre not coming?
And now there you are, curled up on the other end of your couch, sulkiness oozing from every glance youâve spared him for the last half an hour.
âI want you thereâ you innocently cock your head and he feels something melt in his chest âit just wouldnât be fun without you. Please come?â
Sometimes Megumi wonders if you know about the exhausting effort it takes him to whisk away thoughts a friend shouldnât have, the way heâs almost lost his mind dwelling on the way you held on to his hand the entire way back to your apartment on the night he came to collect you from the bar, drunk and a giggling, clingy mess. He wonders if you understand just how deeply you can get under his skin and the way he hangs on to every word, every smile, each I want you there.
âGumi?â you inch forward, brows knit and cool fingers gently grazing his arm.
Jesus, fuck.
âFine. But Iâm not staying to clean upâ
You smile knowingly, a light shrug swallowing the of course you will almost spilling from your lips.
âDeal. And I get to do your makeupâ
The dim light of your awfully small bathroom has gentle shadows settling into the curves of your collarbones and accentuates your jaw, the apples of your cheeks. There are only so many glances he can steal as the pitter-patter of rain on the window makes the perspective of spending the night out even less appealing.
Regardless, the warmth radiating from your skin and the smell of your perfume cloud his pathetically heightened senses, a multisensory madness that has his heart thumping painfully in his chest and the pads of his fingers tingling with need.
âWill you stop flinching?â only one of his eyes is open and youâre out of focus but that exasperated smile rings loud in his ears.
âI donât know what the hell youâre doing, itâs an instinctive reactionâ
âIâm just using eyeshadowâ
You finally allow his left eye to peel open and Megumi almost laughs at your focused stare, creases on your forehead expressing a deep dissatisfaction.
âWhat? Doesnât suit me?â he quips âitâs probably because you keep smudging itââ
âIâm going for a dramatic look, you dolt!â
His eyebrows raise in mocking interest.
âOh, apologies. Whatâs the issue, then? Not dramatic enough?â
âYouâre being surprisingly chatty for someone who is usually very fucking quietâ
Megumiâs sarcastic comeback dies in his throat as you suddenly position yourself over him, not quite straddling his lap because youâre still standing but nevertheless exceptionally close to sitting on his thighs. Â
âWhat are youâ what is that?â his voice is thinner and he has to flex his hands to keep himself from positioning them on your hips.
Christ.
âChill, man. Itâs eyeliner. Donât move, this is the most important partâ and then youâre hovering above him once more, except this time you gently grab his chin to tilt his head upwards as you lean closer, so close he stops breathing.
You work quietly, in comfortable silence, although youâre at cotton swab number three and the result still doesnât seem to fully satisfy you.
âYou should wear makeupâ itâs a comment made absentmindedly, Megumi can tell by the way youâre not even truly looking at him as you speak, way too absorbed by the task at hand âeye makeup, I mean. It looks really good on youâ
âYeah?â
There must be something in his inflection, because your hand comes to a halt for a second, then resumes its gentle work over his eyelid. All he gets is an affirmative hum.
âSomeone would have to teach me how to do itâ
Heâs not sure where his boldness is stemming from, although he suspects the thumb gently brushing over the same spot close to the corner of his eye would make a reasonable source.
âIâm sure Nobara would be happy toâ you quietly chuckle to yourself but this time it feels as if youâre avoiding his gaze on purpose and that just wonât do.
âDoesnât your back hurt like this?â
âA little bit but Iâm almost done with this eye. Are you uncomfortable? I canââ Megumi interrupts you with a gentle but firm hold of your waist, hands far bigger than yours pulling you down to sit on his lap.
Youâre dumbfounded and he revels in your shocked expression, in the way youâre the one who doesnât know how to handle something unexpected for once. In how good it feels to be in control.
âDonât make it weirdâ the warning is playful but his hands are still on your waist and give it a light squeeze that has your stomach doing a weird flip.
âIâ what? You donât make it weird! Shut up, stand stillâ your entire face is on fire and the hoodie youâre wearing suddenly feels all too warm.
Megumi smiles innocently but complies, quiet and as immobile as a sorcerer's body can get.
You pretend not to notice the way he melts into your touch, how his body relaxes as he shuts both his eyes and finally lets you work in peace. No sarcastic remarks, no silly winces. Why does that do something to your chest?
Itâs so easy, carefully lining his bottom lash line with your favorite liquid eyeliner. Without thinking, you cradle his face as you gently swipe your thumb over the freshly traced lines to smudge them just right.
But then his eyes flutter open right as you hold his face in your hands and is it your imagination or does the grip on your waist grow more solid in turn?
âYâknowâ he murmurs in a way that is so unlike him, so intimate as his indigo gaze burns right into yours âactually, I wouldnât want Nobara to be the one to do itâ
#megumi x reader#megumi x you#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro x you#fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x you#jjk x reader
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thinking of Sonic and Shadow's first night together as romantic partners.
it's one of the few nights Sonic can sleep, even though he's the most nervous he's ever been in his entire life. he doesn't expect to go to sleep. the feeling hasn't hit him.
Shadow never needed to sleep, but he did enjoy it. it was a way to quiet the world around him when it was too big and too loud. almost like he was stepping into a different world for a visit.
they do small, mundane things. pressing their palms together, seeing hand sizes. talking about their day, complaining and laughing about the worst of it. cuddling, wiping away any tears. it's catharsis in a way neither had ever experienced before, and it's a little terrifying.
but they face terrifying things pretty often. nothing they couldn't handle, alone or together.
Sonic is in Shadow's arms, eyes closed and listening to his heartbeat. it's different. almost like a thrum, not quite an actual beat. like a soft, warm light slowly pulsing in darkness, however strange it sounds.
regardless... it was impossible for him to not like it.
then Shadow hears a sound he's not sure he's heard before.
gradual, quiet, breathing of one sound asleep. of Sonic sound asleep.
unable to help himself, a smile forms on his lips. though he's seen him sleep, it was always during the day, and it'd be a nap. nothing lasting, and very little that would take away the bags under his eyes. perhaps this wouldn't either, and it'd be just as difficult as it always was tomorrow, but Shadow was fine with that.
he knew what he signed up for when confessing his feelings.
#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonic#shadow#sonic x shadow#sonadow#shadonic#still don't have a name#still working on it#rip me
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đžđđŸđđđđ đđŸđ
đ, đđ¶đđđđč đđ¶đ
boothill x f!reader. 1.5k wc. sfw. fluff. wild west au. outlaw!boothill. saloon performer!reader. first encounters âĄ
a/n: self-indulgent :3 like, selfship fic disguised as an x reader fic self-indulgent :3 pls feel free to ignore lawlz
Outlaws have been a normal occurrence in town for as long as you could walk. That is to say, you arenât entirely surprised when you find that yet another poster has been pinned up all over town, large bolded letters spelling out âWANTEDâ along the top pleading for the capture of another criminalâdead or alive. Thereâs something distinctly different about this one though, and you can tell because instead of passing the wanted poster with a brief glimpse and the mental note to steer clear of the man illustrated on it, you linger at the notice board, eyes glued to the parchment.
Thereâs no name printed on it and the asking price is fairly heftyâbigger than any bounty youâve taken notice of in the pastâbut the one aspect of the poster that truly catches your eye is the drawing. Heâor the artistâs rendition of himâis⊠handsome, you find yourself silently admitting. Contrasting light and dark hair is cut off by the frameâit makes you wonder how long it really is. Some of the shorter pieces hang loosely in front of his right eye, though the left is visibleâenough so that you can see two moles right beneath the outer corner. A bullet stylized as jewelry dangles from his ear, metal cuffs hugging his helix.
What sticks with you the most is his sharp, crooked smile. Itâs smug and should be off-putting but, for some reason unbeknownst to you, it makes your heart skip a beat.
You canât put your finger on how long you stand staring at the poster but you donât make a move to tear your eyes away until you hear someone calling your name from afar.
And even then, you canât get that manâs face out of your head.
âą âą âą
Youâre getting ready in a room too small to accommodate the number of girls in it. Itâs typical to fight over a mirror, to bump shoulders every now and then. Curiously, the dressing room feels oddly spacious tonight. As you paint rouge on your lips, you glance around to take a headcountâif anyone is missing, youâll have more work on your plate this shift.
You count three including yourself sitting on the stools and the rest at the door, practically falling over each other to take a peek outside of the room. Theyâre whispering about something, their hushed voices only rising loud enough that you can pick out a few words. No way, my goodness, unreal. The gossip makes you frown and rise from your seat. Youâre missing out on something, you know it. This isnât you being nosey, just cautiousâif something is happening, itâs best to be informed, you tell yourself as you join the ladies at the door.
âWhatâs going on?â You donât bother trying to squeeze your way throughâyou think it might be even more difficult than trying to take a mirror for yourself.
Your voice, much louder than their faint whispers, is enough to catch their attention. Youâre met with wide eyes and even wider smiles looking back at you. Nothing bad, then, not if everyone is grinning like this. You raise your eyebrows in a silent question, waiting almost impatiently for an answer. A couple of them move aside. âTake a look for yourself.â
You accept the invitation, carefully navigating the tight path made for you. Your fingers grasp the frame of the door and you slowly poke your head out, gazing in the direction the girls had been just moments ago. You scan the crowd deliberately in search of anything out of the ordinary but nothing looks unusual. You spot a few regulars as your eyes carry over every face in the place. They stop at the bar where you catch sight of the bartender. Heâs pouring something for a patron, one whose head is down and whose face is shadowed by his hat.
You squint as if itâll help you see better. Itâs no use but, as if he could tell you were itching to get a look, he tips his head back, a glass halfway full of an amber-colored liquid touching his lips. You recognize that hair under the lights of the saloonâblack and white, two-toned just like in the poster. You suck in a tiny gasp, one thatâs inaudible given all the chatter, but you canât seem to pull your eyes away.
He drinks his liquor leisurely, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. The glass is empty quickly and youâre sure you would have heard it hit the counter if it werenât so loud. One of the manâs forearms rests beside the glass on the counter, his other hand busy wiping his mouth. His thumb swipes away the lingering moisture on his lower lip and as his finger moves, so does his head, slowly turning in your very direction.
Eyes grey like gravel lock onto yours. Your heart skips a beat, just like it had beforeâand, just like then, youâre frozen, unable to move. Despite having been caught staring, an inkling of happiness sprouts in your chest at the chance to see him head-on, in all his glory. Itâs all thereâthe two moles, the earrings, and soon enough, that sharp, crooked smile.
He winks at you and the quick movement is all the acknowledgement you need to finally draw back. You do so aggressively, like you had been holding your hand over a fire and the flame finally touched your palm. Itâs almost enough for you to knock into the pile of girls you had forgotten were stationed behind you.
They look at you expectantly, not bothering to hide their giddy satisfaction at your reaction. âCute, ainât he?â one of them asks.
And a ton of other thingsâdangerous, off-limits, utterly enticing, just to name a few. You donât say any of that, though. You just nod and hope your voice doesnât betray you. âI suppose.â
You seldom find yourself nervous for performances but knowing heâs out in the crowd has your heart racing for the rest of the night.
Time flows strangely during your shiftâfeeling like itâs crawling at a snailâs pace one moment and flying as quickly as a rocket the next. You feel like you can breathe easier when youâre dismissed for the night, even more so when you leave the suffocating building and are met with a cool breeze outside.
Your relief is short-lived. A voice speaks up from beside you.
âEveninâ, little lady.âÂ
âOh!â Your hands shoot up to cover your heart. You debate runningâthat seems like the best idea given your situationâan unknown man waiting to catch you alone. You take a step away, ready to bolt if necessary.
To your surprise, he doesnât reach for you.
âApologiesââ he raises his hands in mock surrender, âdidnât mean to scare ya.â
Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and a face you werenât expecting to see becomes visible. The townâs newest outlaw, here, speaking to you. Maybe you should have runâmaybe you still should. Though, for some reason, his raised hands feel like a show of good faith. Youâre sure if he had bad intentions, he wouldnât waste time trying to make you comfortable. âUm, thatâs alright.â
âIt felt rude not to thank ya for the performance.â He was watching, then. Youâve made a habit of limiting eye contact with your spectators and that much held up tonight. Something was telling you that if you caught a glimpse of him looking at you again, you would end up tripping over your feet and making a fool of yourself. âWould have watched ya all night if they gave ya the stage.â
That grin is back but, now that you think about it, of the very few times youâve seen him, heâs always wearing it. Almost like it never leaves. Despite that, being on the receiving end of it has an undeniable effect on you. Your heart wonât stop jumping for him. You canât let him know that. âYeah, well, everyoneâs gotta have their time to shine.â
âAinât that a shameâŠâ he drawls. And it sounds like he really means it. âGuess Iâll have to stay long enough to see ya up there again.â
You canât have heard that right. No singing or dancing could beâshould beâenough to make a man risk staying in a town where his wanted poster is plastered all over the place. Itâs a decision that toes the line between confidence and stupidity but it flatters you all the same. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you hold his gaze.Â
âYouâd really stay for that?â you ask, but the question in your head is more like; youâd really stay for me?
He takes a step forward toward you and you're surprised that you donât counter by taking a step back. His hand comes up to hover by your cheek, close enough that you can feel its warmth but far enough that his skin doesnât touch yours. As quickly as it came, itâs gone. âSee ya around, little lady.â
And with that, he leaves.
You lose track of how long you stand outside wondering if that was a yes.
#scribbles á°.á#huehuehue the (long awaited) suhill fic is here :3#yes yes. our first meeting in fic form!#it was actually really fun to write this?? and easy too#apparently the cure to writers block is writing a selfship fic! who woulda thought#iâm putting this in the tags for now but i might chicken out. itâs a bit embarrassing#and i canât imagine many want to read knowing itâs someone elseâs selfship lore lol#boothill x reader#hsr x reader#boothill fluff#hsr fluff#suhill âčđč
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https://parade.com/movies/bill-skarsgard-nosferatu-interview-exclusive
SkarsgÄrd's vampiric transformation does make him virtually unrecognizable. Combining full-body prosthetics and elaborate costumes, the actor built the character with Eggers over a 10-year period, even working with an operatic vocal coach on a completely new voice. If you're able to spot SkarsgÄrd in the film, hats off to you.
Of course crafting a new version of Dracula/Orlok was certainly a momentous task. SkarsgÄrd's been told there were already over "170 different adaptations" of the character prior to his own. He's humbly giving much of the credit for his own transformation to Eggers' screenplay, though.
full article at the link and under the cut
"I read Robert's Nosferatu script almost 10 years ago, and it hasn't changed all that much in those 10 years," he says. "So the version of Dracula was already different on the page."
Step one in the transformation was the voice. "I was really enamored by Orlok's language," SkarsgÄrd says of Eggers' script. "He's technically speaking German in the movie, but it's English. I think he's learned German just from reading all of these texts and old books. It's this awkwardly constructed English that came out of that."
Orlok's voice was especially important in this film as the character spends much of the film hiding in the shadows to keep his true form hidden from Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). "The movie monster tends to not have much dialogue, but in this case he has a lot," SkarsgÄrd reflects. "So the voice became my way of expressing the character."
The deep gravely voice in the film was the product of acclaimed Icelandic opera singer AÌsgerður JuÌniÌusdoÌttir. "We explored the voice together, but also the technicality of using your entire body when you speak and placing the voice as low as you can in your body," SkarsgĂ„rd says. "It's a new world for me, and I love voice work. I was just absorbing all of these tools that I'm going to use as my career progresses."
Layered on top of the vocal work were Linda Muir's costumes, what SkarsgÄrd describes as "historically accurate costumes that a 16th-century Hungarian nobleman would have worn. They're the clothes he would have worn when he was a man."
While Focus Features is keeping Orlok's appearance under wraps for as long as possible, you can see the massive fur coat SkarsgÄrd donned in the shadowy poster.
"I knew the shadow was going to be an ally for Orlok, especially in the scenes with Thomas, where he's hiding his appearance," he says. "So he lives in the shadow, and he uses his big fur cape and the hat to not give away what he is. The shadow became a friend."
Perhaps the most impressive element of SkarsgÄrd's transformation, however, was David White's prosthetic makeup, which took hours to apply each day, was difficult to act through and painful to wear. When I ask if he was able to cheat on days he was in the shadows, SkarsgÄrd says no with one exception: "Every single shadow in this movie is also me puppeteering behind camera. That was the only time where I didn't need to have the full regalia on.
"The full prosthetics would take six hours to apply. "It's just uncomfortable," SkarsgÄrd says of having to sit in the chair that long. "And any sense of privacy goes out the window. You become very close with the team that's applying this makeup. They're really getting up in there with a brush in your ass crack. They become your little safe space."
And the six-hour application process was just the beginning of what could be long, physical days on set. The film's final moments involve a sex scene between Orlok and Lily-Rose Depp's Ellen Hutter, which SkarsgÄrd performed in head-to-toe prosthetics.
"I don't know her perspective on, 'I'm going to kiss this monster,'" SkarsgÄrd says about his (fully clothed? skinned? suited?) sex scene, "But for me, when we shot, I was Orlok, and I really, really, really wanted to devour her."
If performing a sex scene in a hot latex bodysuit sounds miserable, that's because it was. "The actual final moment of Orlok was incredibly physically exhausting because there was a lot of technical camera work," SkarsgÄrd says. "What's in the movie, I had to do that 30 times." If you've seen the film, you'll know how truly arduous that experience must have been.
The most difficult day on set for SkarsgÄrd, however, involved a sequence filmed on a boat during Orlok's transfer from his castle in Transylvania to the German harbor he plans to terrorize next. In one scene that involved "pretty tricky advanced camera work," a seaman descends into the hull of the ship to "rid the boat of this demon." As the camera follows the sailor, SkarsgÄrd's Orlok is initially seen behind the man in the shadows.
"Then I have to exit frame, run around and enter my position for when the jump scare pans down to the rats and then pans up and I'm standing there," SkarsgÄrd remembers. "So it's very physical, but I was covered head to toe, except for my eyeballs and the soles of my feet. Even my palms and my hands are covered. That was a 12-hour day."
With that many prosthetics on, there's nowhere for all that sweat to go. "It doesn't breathe, and I don't think it's healthy," SkarsgÄrd confides. "Your body's probably absorbing all those f--king toxins and glue and sh--, plastic and latex and whatever."
During the 12 hours running around the hull of a ship, SkarsgÄrd remembers thinking, "I don't know what's happening, but my body is not doing well."
"You know the skin is your biggest organ right," he says. "So it needs to breathe. I got flashbacks from that urban legend about the woman in Goldfinger being covered in gold and actually dying. I'm like, 'Okay, this is how I go.'"
Obviously, SkarsgÄrd did not die of heat exhaustion in a latex Dracula suit like that one cameraman in the 2022 film Babylon.
"At that point I told themâbecause it was a long day and I was waiting aroundâ'We need to open it up so my body can breathe,' and then they found the pockets where I could open up and my body started to breathe."
SkarsgÄrd compares the agony of the shoot with what he thinks childbirth would feel like. "They're not on the same level, of course. I've seen childbirth, but it's as close as I can get to giving birth as a man, as these f--king monsters I'm portraying," he says.
When I ask him if there were any other iconic monsters on his bucket list, he says he's done for now. "To play Orlok in Robert Eggers' Nosferatu is the holy grail," he says. "It's kind of the peak and, in a way, the nail in the coffin."
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The Blackwood Knight prt.8
Disclaimer: I wrote this because Victoria is a Shakespeare girlie and loves Romeo and Juliet. She also loves Crimson Peak, which inspired the last two parts.
Description: Benjicot resorts to drastic measures to win back his lady's trust and love, having accidentally placed doubt in her mind as to his true intentions.
Part 7
Playlist:
Gold Rush~ Taylor Swift
The Way I Loved You~ Taylor Swift
How You Get The Girl~ Taylor Swift
Adore You ~ Harry Styles
Warnings: female reader. Nothing else I don't think. Robb being an iconic twink with access to the blueprints for Bracken Hall and too much sass for Westeros to handle.
"Let me get this absolutely crystal clear in my mind. You described your union as 'mutually beneficial'!" Robb cried incredulously, striking Benjicot on the shoulder from behind, as he sat slumped onto a desk in the library of his ancestral seat.Â
The glow cast by the lit lanterns, attached to the ancient stone walls, cast shadows over his face which bore signs of the deepest distress.Â
"It sounds beyond reprehensible when you repeat those words, words which I most bitterly regret. I did not mean them in the way that both yourself and my lady have interpreted them, but it makes them no less acrid when you repeat them." He responded dejectedly, slumping his head once again upon the desk.Â
Mumbling almost incomprehensibly so that Robb had to tilt his head down towards his friend to hear him.Â
"What can I do to make amends? She hates me. I fear she will never speak to me again."Â
Robb cast a contemptuous look at his friend before retorting.Â
"You bloody fool. Not only did you make her sound to even my indulgent ears like a prize to be bartered between Houses, but you also did so with the very fiend from whose taunts you once defended her. Can you not see that you have made a shy, sweet girl who loved and trusted you feel as if the one person who she believed cared for her and would protect her above all others was nothing more than a cipher of the bullies she has sought to shield herself from?!"Â
Seeing Benjicot's increasingly pained expression, as he roughly gripped his hair in both hands, Robb relented a little.Â
"The damage you have done in your carelessness will be very difficult to remedy. You must show her that you love her and value her above all else. Words are not enough."Â
Lifting his head, Benjicot's expression became resolved as he turned it to meet his friend.Â
"I will, even if she will never again allow me to be in her presence," He struggled to continue, the thought causing him physical pain, "I must at the very least convince her that my love for her was never a lie. I cannot bear the thought that I have only cemented her insecurities. That I have born my own part in making her feel as if I mocked her...just like her contemptuous cousin."Â
At this, he began to rise.
"I must see her."Â
Perking up at this and slapping his friend approvingly on the back, Robb moved to lift his sword from the table and responded.Â
"Glad to hear it. I'll get the Lads together and we can defend your flank whilst you hop over the border and get on your knees to beg your lady for forgiveness, you're favourite past time I know."Â
Looking at him with mild irritation, Benjicot rose, placing a firm hold on Rob's shoulder.Â
"Whilst I greatly appreciate the support, I must go myself. She's shy and frightened enough of me, after my misdemeanor, and I don't want you and your cronies scaring her off before I can even apologise."Â
Laughing at this, Robb retorted smugly.Â
"More likely you're afraid of her falling in love with me. Fear not, my interests lie in another direction entirely, but I'll hold off if you are determined. Of course Kermit will be devastated not to have a free shot at a Bracken, but I will assuage him."Â
With this, Benjicot nodded at his friend before rising quickly and striding from the room, through the halls of Raventree as he continued to ruminate with anguish on the distressed face of his lovely lady and the part he had played in causing her distress. He would explain that he loved her and valued her above all else. That he meant every word he had said to her. That he would protect, serve and adore her if she would only let him, only forgive him. He would beg for her forgiveness, even if she could never herself love him again. It would be enough if she would only permit him to continue in her presence as a loyal knight.
It had been a day since Y/N had fled from the man she had come to trust and love, the only one she believed had ever cared for her and seen her as more than a shadow in the background of life....mistakenly. After Aeron had carried her back to her quarters in Bracken Hall she had locked her doors and allowed no visitors, barring her handmaiden.Â
She spent the intervening hours between that of the previous days events and the advent of night on her balcony, her still pained ankle raised on a cushion on her chaise, as she read of Visenya. She was mentally and physically retreating to the shelter of her room and her books, determined never to open her heart to another person, as she had so foolishly done this time. She was silly to believe that Benjicot could love her for herself, rather than the political promise she could represent for him. She had trusted him where she had never invested anyone else with such trust. She had begun to gain in confidence in her dreams, her beliefs, and in his love, all for it to be shattered in a moment. Her embarrassment at having opened her heart to another person, to revealing herself so freely, where she was always so careful to be a shadowy presence in others' lives, was overwhelming, as she sunk further into her seat and further into herself.Â
Wrapped in these painful thoughts, it was a few seconds before she heard a muffled voice calling her name from the direction of the dark expanse underneath her window. Rising carefully from her seat, using the pillars lining the portico of the balcony to balance herself as she moved towards the edge of it, she looked down to see the hopeful and desperate expression of the man she both hated and loved. Seeing her come into view, his face lit up with irrepressible delight, before quickly falling when she began to quickly turn away, book pressed protectively to her chest as she made to retreat to her room. She did not want to speak with him.Â
Seeing her retreat, he quickly called out.Â
"Please my love, please, I entreat you to let me explain what you overheard in the woods."Â
Stopping where she was, she turned and moved once again back to the edge of the balcony.Â
Speaking quietly and timidly, but not so much so that he could not hear her, accustomed as he was to listening for her quiet voice, she responded.Â
"Please leave, I do not wish to speak with you now or henceforth. I can't understand why you are here now when you have made it abundantly clear that I myself am not what you seek. I would like you to leave."
Taking a deep, pained breath, Benjicot's expression underwent several changes before it became resolute and he stepped determinedly towards the pillar bolstering the balcony from the ground.Â
Confused at his movements, Y/N became panicked when she realised he was climbing the pillar, frozen in position. It wasn't until he had swung his leg over the top of the balcony and had landed gracefully that she turned to flee, forgetting her injured ankle in the attempt, causing herself to stumble and hold onto a nearby pillar for support. Feeling gentle hands enclose around her elbows, she heard Benjicot speak quietly near her cheek.Â
"Please don't run from me, my love. Your ankle is still injured. Please just allow me to help you."Â
Looking down with concern at the ankle in question, he slowly, with great caution lest his lady should be offended, raised her arm around his neck and held her waist, fully supporting her weight so that he could place her on her chaise. Â
Distressed to see his lady look away from him, her expression betraying embarrassment as well as displeasure, he knelt before her, bending his head low, before gently, reverently holding her hands in both of his own.Â
"I will not disturb you further if you do not wish it, but I must convince you of the truth of my feelings for you and beg for your forgiveness for making you believe otherwise."Â
Stopping him abruptly, Benjicot immediately desisted in deference to her speech, so important was anything she had to say to him, even if she meant only to order him away from her forever.Â
Speaking quietly, she interrupted him.Â
"I already heard what both you and my cousin said of me when you believed me not to be listening. I know that your protestations of love for me were all a ruse and that you were both in league together."Â
Benjicot's expression betrayed the deep pain he felt at her response, drooping his head to rest it on her knees.Â
"I can never apologise enough, nor beg for your forgiveness enough, for making you believe such a horrific notion. I had never spoken to your cousin of you before that dreadful moment, except when I first had the honour of meeting you. You were never just a bartering tool between us. I would break his legs if even tried to make such a suggestion. I had only meant to convey to him that I would repair the conflict between our houses so that in choosing me as your husband you would not also be choosing to abandon all that you knew. It is my mistake that I so brazenly worded my intent, my love." He added, casting his face down in desperation.Â
"I have loved you since I first saw you sitting with your nose tucked into your histories under the Brackentree and have persued your love ever since. I have meant every word I have said to you since, and will continue to prove it to you in any way thay you will allow me."
His lady slightly turning towards him, Benjicot grew at once desperate and hopeful that she would listen to his entreaties, gripping her hands tighter in his as he raised his face to hers, hoping to convey the truth of his feelings in his eyes.Â
"You speak very elegantly but I now know that you are so to all ladies and that this charade is not reserved for me alone."Â
Reaching out to touch her face before quickly retracting his hand once he saw Y/N move away from him in discomfort, he instead responded.Â
"Whilst I would consider myself to be a gentleman, there is only one lady I would traverse miles of enemy land and scale walls to get to." Saying this with a gentle smile, he continued to gaze upon her reverently.Â
When she did not respond, he removed a brown leather volume from its place, stashed underneath his cloak.Â
"I found this in my library and I thought it might be of interest to you."Â
Hesitantly reaching to take the volume from his hand, she examined it before opening it.Â
As she did so, he interposed "May I?" Pointing at the book.Â
He turned the pages to an earmarked section, coloured with a rich illustration of a knight kneeling in homage before a queen.Â
"This tells the story of a knight loyal to his queen above all else, swearing to protect, serve and..." He hesitated "love her for all of his life".
She gazed curiously down at the illustration in her hands as he spoke.Â
"I thought you would like to have it, even should you order me away from your presence now. But I should like it to serve as an illustration of the devotion I feel towards you and as a reminder that I will always protect and adore you, even if only as your knight. Without any conditions. Without any expectation for you to love me in return. Just....let me adore you." He faltered staring up at her penitently, anxiously awaiting her response.Â
It was a few agonising moments for Benjicot before Y/N raised her hand towards his shoulder, causing him to hold his breath lest he frighten her in his shock. Delicately placing her hand on his shoulder, she placed the other one on his other shoulder, causing him to subconsciously lean into her touch.Â
Looking timidly away from him, she began to speak.Â
"So you really did not mean that I was a...political tool."Â
Leaning further towards her face, he quickly refuted such a notion.Â
"I would thrash any man who suggested it. You are my lady, my love."Â
Gazing into his eyes searchingly, she seemed to find what she sought in them, and leant her head gently upon his shoulder.Â
Shocked, yet rejoicing at her affectionate gesture and in the comfort she seemed to look to from him, he lost no time in wrapping a protective arm around her waist, pulling her into his torso as he held her head gently in his other hand. Closing his eyes in relief, he held her like that for a few peaceful moments, scarcely believing that his love had forgiven him and that she had initiated their embrace. Taking it as a sign of the trust she had reinvested in him to protect her heart as well as her person, he solemnly swore in his own mind to guard it with more sucess than he had yet done as of late.
She pulled away too quickly for his liking, wishing as he did that she could always be so close to him.
"How did you even find your way here with impunity, let alone my balcony?"
Smirking at this, Benjicot threw his cloak dramatically over his shoulder to amuse her with his antics.
"I of course practiced great stealth, opting for a cloak and daggers approach."
Raising a disapproving eyebrow at him but with her mouth turned up at the corner, Benjicot rejoiced to have made her smile and to have amused her.
"In truth i just walked past the Red Ford and straight until i found Bracken Hall, i wasn't too worried about encountering any Bracken men. I'd just run them through if they tried to prevent me from reaching my Love. As far as finding your balcony goes, i was just blessed to see your pretty person upon it....and my good friend Robb also has an encyclopedic knowledge of Bracken Hall, having planned to storm it so many times." He added, slightly sheepishly.
Rolling her eyes at him, lightly swatting his chest.
"You're crazy."
Smirking again he rose to put his arm against the wall by her face, leaning his face towards hers.
"Crazy about you."
"And ridiculous," she added, laughing.
Reaching out to hold her chin gently in his other hand he leaned in further, before whispering in response "ridiculously in love with you", as his lips crashed onto hers, his arm moving to encircle her waist and support her weight as he did so.
Breaking the kiss, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, gazing up at her as if she were the sun.Â
"Can i come and see you tomorrow?" He asked tentatively, unable to fully conceal his fear that she would still order him hence.
"I'd rather you didn't risk your life in such a dangerous attempt. I can always come to meet you."
Frowning at this, he stroked the back of her cheekbone with his nuckle.Â
"You think i would allow my darling to cross that distance with an injured leg when i can cross it myself?"
Seeing her blush at his appellation, he smiled and reached forward to increase her blush by kissing the corner of her mouth.
"I think not. I have no fear of your Bracken bannermen. Although I do fear having to inform my disapproving lady love that i've despatched all of them because they tried to stop me from seeing her."
Benjicot walked away from his lady love's balcony that evening, not before blowing her a kiss, and silently rejoicing that she had forgiven him and permited him to remain in her presence and in her heart.
@lovebabe18-blog @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess @dancingbaek @aemondslove @cheendrella
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#benjicot blackwood#aeron bracken#davos blackwood#benjicot blackwood x reader#house blackwood#benjicot blackwood oneshot#benjicot blackwood imagine#benjicot x reader#bloody ben x reader#house of the dragon oneshot#house of the dragon imagine#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd oneshot#hotd imagine
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Taking a look at Mizi and Ivan as symbolic of Tillâs desire for escapism vs. having to acknowledge the cruel reality he lives in:
When people think about Ivan and the idea that Till ânever looked at him,â many people take this claim either in the literal sense or in the sense that Till was not appreciative of Ivanâs presence when he was still alive, both of which can be disproven with canon material. However, I want to take this idea and apply it in another way, of Ivan being the reality that Till does not want to acknowledge or face.
One of the most defining aspects of Ivanâs character is his rejection of idealism, to the point that you could honestly say that he leans towards nihilism. This is in great contrast to Mizi pre-Round 1, who was sheltered as a child and throughout most of her young adulthood, right up until the actual Alien Stage competition itself. The disconnect between these two and their worldviews can most readily be seen when comparing their intimacy levels with each other, with Ivan having a hard time relating to Mizi due to her innocence, whereas Mizi, although very fond of Ivan, seemingly only knows the version of him that he specifically curated and hid behind for the sake of survival.
(Text: "Intimacy: 75%. A cool friend with a prince-like smile! The object of every child's admiration! Whenever I don't know something, he's always kind and teaches me.")
(Text: "Intimacy: 30%. I like Mizi because she has a purity that is free of lies. As you get older, its natural to become pessimistic about your situation. But sometimes... its so bright it's difficult.")
(Text screeshot taken from a previous post)
Till was most definitely a witness to the different faces Ivan wore, being one of only two people that Ivan let his mask down around. But Till knew Ivan even before he started actively masking, before their first fight even, when he saw Ivan small and beaten from his holding cell.
Ivan is like Tillâs shadow, ever present. Shown to us to almost always try to be by Tillâs side even in his worst moments, especially in his worst moments. And while the two of them are friends, and Iâm sure Till is glad that he doesnât have to go through his ordeals completely alone, what comes with Ivan is an aching reminder of Tillâs cruel reality. With Ivan there to care for Till in the aftermath of his mistreatments, there is now a witness that also carries the knowledge of what happened to him, and that can be both comforting and horrifying. These are no longer contained occurrences between Till and his abusers that Till can try and use escapism (Mizi) to ignore. Ivan knows and will always be by Tillâs side, and so will the reality of Tillâs circumstances.
This isnât to say that Ivanâs presence is a detriment to Till but far from it! Reality cannot be fully ignored; you must come to acknowledge what is or has happened to you and then go forward with that to try and see what can be done about it.
Which leads us to the meteor show incident.
Till taking Ivanâs hand and leaving what he knows behind is NOT him ignoring reality but is him trying to escape from the constant abuse he suffers. Till should never have to âacceptâ the torture he is put through, and neither should anyone else who is in an abusive situation. The meteor shower escape attempt is simply a chance for something to be done about Till's circumstancesâto leave and hopefully be able to live a life more independent and free away from the creatures and system that torments him, similar to Hyunaâs own escape.
It must be reiterated that in this moment, however, Till is leaving everything he knows behind, his entire life up until this point, and that scares him...
Till letting go of Ivanâs hand isnât as simple as âTill running back to his crush." It's Till not wanting to leave behind the most prominent source that heâs used to cope with basically everything in his life.
And obviously Till cares for Mizi as a person, but he also sees her as much more than that. She is his light in the dark; she is his hopeâinnocent and yet to be scarred by the world.
Till going back is NOT a failure on his part or something that he can be blamed for. It's sad, but also incredibly human and understandable. A lot of people would have probably gone back, choosing familiarity over the unknown. I probably would have gone back.
Talking about Round 6 now, it makes perfect sense how devastated Till is over Miziâs disappearance. It's important to face reality, yes, but it's also important to have something to emotionally rely upon to get you through your darkest moments. Outside of Mizi, Till doesnât really have anything that he uses to comfort himself; sure, he writes and draws, but heâs made those things about Mizi with her being his muse.
Tillâs obsession with Mizi isnât healthy, but it's also all he believes he has. Ivan is still there, of course, but heâs not like Mizi. Till could never view him in the same light as he does Mizi, but at least heâs still here. Him being the only one left, a reminder of all he's lost, sure, but he's still here.
Then he pulls his stunt, and heâs gone.
And Till, who had decided to give up in the absence of Mizi, is forced to really look.
I don't have much to say about Round 7 because I'm not entirely sure how to feel about it yet, but I want to point out that Till didn't know that Mizi was trying to save him. When he was singing and fighting for his life on that stage, he was doing it for himself. He wanted to live! Despite everything he wanted to live, and the importance of that and that he was doing this for himself cannot be undersold.
#alien stage#alnst#alien stage analysis & official content#alnst till#alnst mizi#alnst ivan#I hope this is good. at all.#Till mains I hope I did your guy justice#also obviously don't blame Mizi for Till idealizing her or what happened in Round 7 I just want to make that clear#I love Mizi shes a good character
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Hi love!!
Could you maybe write something for Max like, he and reader had feelings for each other but couldnât be together and they would meet up secretly to spend time together and have angry, frustrated and sad sex đ„ș
Sorry if Iâm being vague with this suggested plot đ« love your write â€ïž
-in secret-
summary : you and max are not allowed to be together but you both do not care...
PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader
WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, dom!max, sub!reader, a bit toxish, bit angst, rough sex, p in v, curse words, dirty talk, aftercare, unprotected sex (be safe!).
note : i hope you like it, love! Send in more requests!
masterlistÂ
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Best Friends. That was what max and you had always been. Friends, since you were two years old. You met through your parents, who were friends themselves.
You spent days, weeks, months, and years together. The bond between the two of you was unbreakable. No one or nothing could ever tear you both from one another.
Except your parents. When you were 13 and max was 15, both your parents had a massive fight, which made your parents so mad that they decided to cut the friendship with max's parents.
They cut all the connections to one another. That meant that you and max had to be friends in secret to not upset or anger your parents. You had to meet up in secret to not be caught.
Lovers. Years later, the friendship between the two of you turned into more. You had started dating, when max had begun in Formula One, which made it even more difficult to meet up.
But you still tried to. When max was in the paddock in his drivers room, you snuck in and spent time with him until he needed to do media stuff or something else. It was great to spend time with your love, even if it was secret.
It was frustrating to not meet up at each other's houses, in the paddock or in a restaurant because you were too afraid that your parents would find out about your relationship.
Even now that you are 23 and 25, you were still in a secret relationship. You met up on weekends or when he was away, you flew there to support him in the shadows and met with him in the hotels in the evenings.
When you met there was talking, laughing and just having, but mostly there was sex. Sad, frustrated and angry sex. There was nothing better for your feeling than that.
Just as you were having now. You were frustrated and Max was angry because your parents told you that they found someone for you to have a relationship with.
He told you that he wanted to take his anger out on you, not that you minded one day. Max had always told you that you were destined to be with him and that would not change.
You laid naked on the hotel bed, max hovered over you and the anger clearly visible on his face. He gave you a kiss on your lips and then lined his cock up with your pussy.
Max looked at your face for consent, which you gladly gave him, and he stuck his cock into you. As max was halfway in he waited, so you could adjust to his size and then thrusted all of him into you.
You moaned his name out, and he groaned at the pleasure. He thrusted in and out of you, and you rolled your body to his rhythm to provide the most amount of pleasure.
He hissed above you, but you were too far gone to care. You had been for a while, too lost in the feeling of his hands against your hips, his cock dragging against you deliciously.
It was almost embarrassing how easily you let him have his way with you. Your body completely under his control, every gasp of his name only serving to feed his ego, encouraging him to go faster, harder, more, more, moreâ
âMaxâ!â
âThatâs right, say my fucking nameââ
If the squeaking of the old wooden bed he had taken you on wasnât already a sign of what was happening in the room, the shameless moans escaping your lips would be.
âLet the entire hotel know whose cock youâre begging for.â
You did, without any thought to how loud you may be.The force of his thrusts were brutal against your backside, your body ached, and yet you couldnât stop moving, desperately trying to meet his every thrust.
It was hopeless, but he seemed to enjoy your attempts at least, a wicked chuckle escaped him as he watched your body move on his own.
âIs this what you wanted, hm? To be used like a pleasure girl?â His body was pressed against your back now, the weight of him blanketed against you. Your breath caught in your throat, his lips whispering absolute filth into your ear.
âYour new 'boyfriend' which you will never get could never fuck you like I do. You will stay with me, like it is destined to be. I don't care what your parents, say, schatje.â
âI know, max. He could never fuck me like you could. But please stop or low don't I can't anymore.â
Max did not stop moving, how could he when you sounded absolutely debauched below him, a picture-perfect image of sin to be molded by his own hands.
He fucked you unrelenting, finding every single one of your weaknesses and taking advantage of them until you cry out that itâs too much, that you couldnât take it, and didn't give you a moment of reprieve.
âYou know? I'm not so sure about that.â
Max was taunting you, dangling your own shameful display in front of your very eyes. Even if you wanted to respond, you couldnât, the sound of your hips meeting, echoing through the room proved answer enough.
He lets you go, only for that hand to grab your face, fingers pressed against your cheeks. He forced your tear-rimmed eyes to gaze at him from below, a contrast to the sinister look in his own.
âCanât take it? Too much? I donât think thatâs trueââ Another hard thrust had you keening, back arching, a fog of lust clouding your brain. ââI think youâre going to take everything I give and more.â
He was right, of course, and you did, graciously. Your legs threatened to give out, shaking, barely holding on, and in an act of mercy, he grabbed your weakened limbs with a strong hand. Practically a rag doll, legs wrapped around his body to bring him as close as possible.Â
You could see him in this position, see the way his brows crease and furrow every time you clench onto his cock, the pleased grin that lingers when you grab onto his arms, seeking purchase.
Itâs filthy. Max didn't think heâs seen anything more beautiful.
Itâs addicting, sadistic in ways he never thought himself capable of. He canât get enough.
A painful dance of give and take. He gave pleasure and took your very sanity with it. He took and took until you had nothing left to give, until you were a writhing mess of slurred words and half-mumbled promises.
Max could barely understand you at this point, your mind far away, but he doesnât need to. He could understand your body well enough. But then both of you were finished, totally drained. You were in desperate need of sleep, and max was in need of cuddles. Max stood up and took a damp towel from the bathroom and cleaned you up.
He came in bed next to you, pulled you into him and cuddled you. Your head laid on his broad chest, while he stroked your hair and ran his hands up and down your arm.
âI want to tell our parents. I mean, we are adults, they can't do anything about it. It is draining, Max.â
âI know that it is draining, but we can do this together, my love. We can tell them that we are together and can start going out for real.â
âYes, I would love that.â
âIk hou van jouâ
âIk hou van jouâ
I love you
#f1#formula one#max verstappen x reader#formula 1#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen angst#max verstappen x you
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Hello! Iâd like to request a post-game or post-Cazador fic where the reader/Tav takes Astarion on his first real date (or first in 200 yrs anyways). It would be so cute to see Astarion all surprised/excited/flustered to experience something so ânormalâ. Thank you! :)
did it take me 8 months to answer your request? yes. am i sorry? absolutely. will it happen to someone else again? most definitely. either way, i hope you enjoy, this was very fun to write!
Title: You And Him and the Ocean
Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Reader
WC: 1,133
Warnings: none! all fluff!
Summary: You plan a surprise for Astarion
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âKeep them closed!â you commanded giddily as you led a bewildered Astarion through the lower city streets, âItâs a surprise!!â
âSo you keep reminding me, darling,â Astarion sighed behind you, exasperated by your secretive behavior. His grip on your hand tightened as he felt another slight tug, your excitement palpable. âBut you have yet to tell me what this âsurpriseâ of yours is for.â
âOf course, silly, that would ruin it,â you reasoned.
âWell we canât have that,â Astarion huffed. Despite his seemingly annoyed tone, he kept his eyes dutifully shut at your request, trusting you to guide him to your destination, wherever that may be. Although he may not understand your secrecy, heâll be damned if heâs the reason your excitement wavers.Â
A cool breeze washes over the both of you, ruffling his hair. He has to fight the urge to run his hands through it, to make sure he was still presentable, of course. Faintly, he can hear the distant lapping of waves upon a shore, and he wonders just how far youâve dragged him from home.
Since the fall of the Nether Brain the two of you had been living in a lovely little flat near the Society of Brilliance in the Lower City. He had insisted you find something more suitable in the Upper City, but you had laughed and said âSure, my love, as soon as they clear the rubble and rebuild it from the ground up.â He supposed you had a point there. Besides, the Lower City wasnât awful. The people there were much more familiar with your exploits, having spent most of your journey there, helping people where you could before ultimately saving the entire city. The people were also much more accepting of his vampirism, which was quite difficult to keep secret with the absence of a certain tadpole and the publicity of your groupsâ good deeds. People knew him here, or knew of him at least. They accepted him. And you were happy here, having grown up and lived in the Lower City before all of that illithid nonsense.
And he was grateful for your apparent familiarity with these streets as you led him around another corner, never faltering in your guidance. The sounds of (what he assumed to be) the ocean grew louder, and the breeze ever so slightly stronger. The night air is chilly of course, but nothing heâs not used to, not after his lamentable return to the shadows.Â
You slow in front of him, stopping for a moment before you speak, âOkay, now be careful, weâre about to go down a few stairs,â you warn.
Heâs about to make another quip about your foolishness before he feels you start walking again, slower this time as you descend. Heâs slower still, taking his time to find each step before trusting himself to shift his weight.
âAlmost there,â you reassure him, âLast one!â and his shoes sink slightly into sand. Right, so definitely the beach, then, he thinks.
âHonestly dearest, whatever it is you can just tell me,â he jests, âThereâs no need for all the drama.â
âHush you,â you respond, âCome along, just a few more steps.â You guide him along the sand until his feet step onto something more solid. âOkay, okay, and⊠open!â you exclaim.
Finally, he opens his eyes. He was right, standing on the beginning of a short dock he sees the ocean stretch out before him, as if the salt in the air hadnât already given that away. The clear night sky allows the moonlight to reflect off the shimmering waves. But whatâs less obvious to him is what lies directly ahead. Lining the dock are lit candles of every color, leading to a lovely little overwater-gazebo. You, never having dropped his hand, begin to lead him towards it, walking slightly in front of him on the way. He followed soundlessly, taking everything in as you ducked under the roof of the gazebo.
Sitting before him, was a cozy looking blanket, set with two glasses, a bottle of wine and a lovely vase of roses. All around you, lanterns hung from the rafters, illuminating the space in a warm glow. The light seemed to swim in your eyes. You took a seat on the quilt and looked up at him expectantly.
Hesitantly, as if his bones were made of lead, he lowered himself down, still looking to you for assurance, âWhat is this?â he all but whispered.Â
You tilted your head slightly to the side and blinked at his question, Gods you were adorable. âWhat do you mean?â you half-laughed, âItâs a date! Do you like it?â
If he had to breathe, heâs sure the breath would have been cleared from his chest. All this, for him? The lights, the wine, the romantic setting? Surely it was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. He looked around, almost as if lost, and he noticed a furrow form between your brows, whether from concern or confusion he couldnât tell.
âYou did all this for me?â he breathed, slowly lowering himself to join you on the blanket.
âOf course I did. Itâs just wine and a blanket, Astarion. You act like Iâve built you a palace, are you okay?â you finished on a concerned note, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
âYes, Iâm quite alright, itâs just⊠no oneâs ever done something like this for me,â he explained, still looking out over the water.
âOh,â you hesitated for a moment, âthen I guess Iâll need to do things like this for you more often,â you finished with a cheeky smile, taking his hand back into your own and giving it a gentle squeeze.
He squeezed back, turning to lock eyes with you, âGods, I love you. Have I told you that recently?â
âHmmm, let me think, only every single day. But, you could tell me once more if you really feel like it,â you joked.
âI love you,â he stated. No frills, no embellishments, just love. Just you and him and the ocean.Â
âI love you too,â you replied, closing your eyes and leaning forward for a kiss, which he eagerly supplied. Your lips were soft and light against his own. A slow, lazy thing between two people who had all the time in the world, and no one theyâd rather spend it with. You gradually separated, and opened your eyes to meet his. The lantern light sparkled in your eyes. He'd never felt so loved, so valued.
You broke eye contact first, taking the bottle of wine you'd prepared and pouring two glasses.
"Shall we?" you asked, raising your glass.
"We shall," he agreed, lifting his own to clink against yours.
"To the first of many," you toasted.
The first of many indeed.
#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x y/n#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate III#bg3#bg3 astarion#bg3 fanfiction#cherryâs writing#my work
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