#he's got the heart but not the ability lol

[strwberri-milk]

Hi berri bbs, can I request a small thing of sylus. Where mc goes to the n109 zone after the caleb plot and just takes a shower in sylus room and wears his top pjs and sleeps on his spot, all while being quiet because he's not there yet and he comes home and finds her like that.

hihi!! im not sure how caleb plays into this request but im gonna maybe think its bc like. youre a little shaken after the experience in skyhaven? so im gonna have it be kinda like, reader is just kinda trying to process everything that happened but not explicitly mention to sylus it's because of caleb quite yet/mention what caleb's become?? idk lol so it just became more. gen comf

You've never had a habit of announcing yourself whenever you come to visit but you'd at least shoot him a text after he was notified either through a surveillance camera in his home, Mephisto, or one of the twins after you greeted him. However, this time all he got was the notification that you used the key he gave you. He watches on his phone as you make your way through the house to his bedroom, ducking into the bathroom.

He can tell by the way you're carrying yourself that something bad happened but he doesn't know how to respond, not right away at least as he's busy. He also knows that if he cuts the mission short just to be with you you'd be mad at him for abandoning "something important" and the best way to optimise his time with you and the ability to talk to you would be to just get his work done. So he does.

He resists the urge to watch you through the cameras some more as you've expressed wanting your privacy even if you are in his home so he just speeds back on his motorcycle (safely, of course). He doesn't usually have a habit of just ditching his things at the door but he does today because the sooner he can get to you, the better.

His heart melts when he sees how comfortable you look, despite the furrowed brows. He gently comes to your side, lifting the blanket to see a set of his pajamas on your form. He gently runs a hand along the side of your body, the silk doing nothing to hide the warmth of you from his palm. He leans over and gives you a kiss to your forehead, wanting to slide into bed next to you but also know he should get changed first.

After showering and changing, he's sure to give a couple of spritzes of your favourite cologne on him before pulling you into his arms. You bury your face into his chest, letting his presence soak into your tired bones as the scrunch on your face finally dissipates. He won't ask anything of it right now but you did tell him you'd be on a business trip for a while and he assumes the trip didn't go as well as you were hoping it would.

When the two of you wake up in the morning he'll insist on a slow day, ignoring his schedule just to provide you some more comfort. You don't really end up telling him what the problem is but he doesn't care - he just wants to be there for you right now, distracting you from the turmoil as he spoils you with his attention.

[pyre-of-pages]

TES Crushes

I'd really like to get to know people in the fandom space, so here's an open invite to discuss something fun!

Which NPCs in TES (all games included!) do you crush on, and why? They don't have to be marriage candidates (in vanilla), just people you find yourself blushing around. Hell, it could be a Deadric Prince if that's what you're into. Name them and say what about them you find appealing! Then feel free to tag a friend or two!

Don't be afraid to reiterate what someone else has said if you happen to like the same characters.

I'll start off by tagging some really cool-looking people I've seen around: @skyrim-forever @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @ladytanithia

Mine? Well, they'll go below so this intro page isn't all about me and mine. ;)

((So far I've only played Skyrim, so my NPC crushes are all from TES: V. And I haven't met every single NPC there is in the game so my list may expand with time, lol.))

Male Crushes:

Onmund - He's just a sweet, nerdy Nord doofus who tries his best at the College despite feeling like a fish out of water. As a spouse, he's always supportive and loving. As a follower, his AI immediately picks up on threats (usually before I do) and it gives the impression of his character being protective. First spouse I ever chose (also it just makes perfect sense for Elur, my first LDB, to fall for him as far as her character goes).

Enthir - Shady but undeniably charismatic in the fact he gives zero shits what anyone thinks of him. There was always an undertone of odd genuineness to his personality in the College quests that made him fun to be around -- and that came full circle when we realize just how much he genuinely cares for members of the Nightingales. I love characters who act shallow but think and feel deeply.

Female Crushes:

Niranye - I crushed on this merchant the second I saw her because I just thought she was beautiful (her eyes got me for some reason). I also find her voice type the most attractive. I have no idea why, but I usually end up enjoying the uppity tone her voice actress pulls off for everyone she voices. Such a fun and charming mix of pleasant and passive-aggresive, lol. Then Niranye reveals she's a fence and her appeal to me became stronger because now she's more than just a pretty merchant, she's got a cunning little personality. She's a smart businesswoman and she knows it well. Used a cheat code to marry her to my second LDB (who is a Thalmor sympathizer who would only fall for another Altmer, and Taarie is too old for her). Luckily she has voiced romance/marriage dialogue. Since I really like the sound of her voice, my sappy ass melted to bits hearing it when my Altmer LDB proposed.

Jenassa - Hired her randomly because I needed extra pockets and was shocked to discover that she has a personality (was not expecting that of the sell-swords in this game). Took her to a Dwemer ruin and girl laid out paragraphs of lore that I hadn't heard before -- which gives the impression that she's rather book smart for a mercenary. Helping this is that every time I make camp with her, the first thing she does is read a book -- which in my mind, is something she keeps with her at all times because she enjoys reading in her spare time. I enjoy how excited she gets when she sees a hidey-hole she could ambush someone from and how she'll comment on the DB's strong ability to fight. I like that she's a suave, confident, capable fighter that comes to enjoy your company beyond the fact you're paying her. I plan to have my third LDB marry her because she's won my heart as far as the mercenaries I've come across.

Astrid - She's a murder-happy bitch who loves what she does and I'd be happy to let her stab me. . . . Shut up. Also, she's the only member of the OG Dark Brotherhood to have a full-blown character arch and in this house we are SLUTS for good character development. Absolute SLUTS for it.

[sysig]

Deflections (Patreon)

Bonus:

Why not lead with that!

[starlooove]

Anyways nothing in the show made me cry till seeing ekko and Mel sitting there alone and it doesn’t even have to do with powder and Jayce it’s the fact that they have to get up the next day its exhausting like there’s so much work to do.

[orestesimp]

Issue #6

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You and your unfriendly neighborhood Spiderman wind up far from your usual neighborhood and you need to find a way to leave before it's too late.

Word count: 2,600 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [TBC]

Your home is gone. 

Everything is gone. 

All you can see is white. A vast, empty space surrounding you, blank and endless as far as the eye can see. 

You suck in a surprised breath, already flinching because you expect a place so white and sterile to smell like sharp stinging disinfectant, but to your surprise it's the opposite. It smells of nothing in here.

“Mierda!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and find Blue-Spiderman behind you.

“Shit!” he growls out. His hand comes up to his hair, fingers fisting into the poor strands as he starts tugging at them in frustration again. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Wha– What happened?”

There was a helicopter, you think… darkness... a loud noise... the wall of your apartment exploding into a cloud of dust and rubble.

"Did... did a fucking helicopter just crash into my apartment!?"

He ignores your question, opting to fidget with his wristwatch instead, swearing and muttering to himself, while you try to make sense of what’s happening. 

“And… And then…” And then the otherworldly light show. At the time, you thought you were dying, but you’re clearly not dead. You’re just… someplace else. “What is this place?”

“We weren’t supposed to end up here,” he says, ignoring your question once again. He smacks at his watch repeatedly before swearing again and then leaves the poor thing alone.

“Come on.” He unceremoniously grabs your arm and starts marching forward, dragging you along.  He seems to have some destination in mind, though you don’t know how he can tell left from right in this expanse of nothingness, let alone where to go.

“Wait, wait,” you protest, “Where are we? What is this place?” Maybe if you repeat yourself enough he’ll finally give you an answer.

“We have to get out of here. We can’t waste time.” There is no pause in his steps, he marches on as if he’s expecting you to calmly accept the situation without further explanation.

"Can you please just stop for a second and tell me what’s going on?!" you say, digging your heels against his strength to try and stop him for even a second. 

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring with anger and irritation. “We’re in an interdimensional fabric where the interstitial domain emerges. It’s void of any discernible quantum fluctuations or energy-matter manifestations, constituting an absolute absence of existence or spatial-temporal coherency and–”

He’s still talking, throwing out a string of convoluted science terms, one after another in quick succession, but all you hear is an endless stream of jibberish. 

His words seem strangely far away, like your ears are plugged or something. You raise a hand to rub at one of them, then at your forehead when that doesn't make the sound go back to normal.

Normal. Ha! Who even knows what "normal" is for this place anyway. Everything since you left your apartment has been so bizarre that you're not surprised your head feels a little wonky.

And there's something weird with your hand too. You pull it back from your forehead and hold it in front of your face, staring at it.

Strange. The tone of it seems off, somehow. Opaque and lighter in shade then you’re used to. Almost like it’s fading.

It's only when he moves to stand in front of you that you realize you can see the red and blue of his suit though your hand. The whole of your palm is turning translucent.

“Shit!” he spits out and steps forward, grabbing and yanking your hand towards him as he inspects your palm.

Whatever he sees clearly doesn’t make him happy. His mouth is at an angle of irritation you had not thought was physically possible before.

"What's your name?" he demands.

"You know my name!" You scowl, tired of keeping up this farce, you know he knows it, and you're not playing this game with him. 

His annoyance seems to grow deeper. “Yes, I know your name. I'm asking if you remember it.”

What kind of stupid question is that!? Of course you remember your own name. What a condescending jerk! Does he get off on making everyone around him feel like an idiot?

Your name is… it’s... it's... uhm…

... huh.

The first syllable of your name is on the tip of your tongue. Your lips shape the sound, but nothing comes out because you don't remember what vowel comes next. Or what comes after that.

Your name... Why can't you remember your name?

“I–I don’t...” you hesitate, blinking in confusion. You don’t understand. How did you forget something so simple? “I don’t understand what’s happening. Where are we?”

“I just told you where we are,” he bursts out impatiently.

You wince at his words. God, he did explain, didn't he? You just... can't remember what he said. You know he used a lot of science-y words… Is that why you can't remember what he told you?

 “Look, it’s been a rough day. Can you explain it to me again, please, but like you’re talking to a 5 year old?”

In front of you, his expression softens ever so slightly, and he takes another deep breath before continuing more calmly.

“We’re in a space between worlds,” he explains, this time in plain speech, thank god. “It’s a void. Nothing exists here. If we stay too long, we won’t either.”

“Okay, but what am I supposed to–”

“Think happy thoughts,” he orders with a testy bite, which is not at all very helpful in making you think of happy thoughts.

“What, like think of a joke or…?”

He scowls at your question, as if it wasn’t a perfectly reasonable question to ask in the circumstances.

“No. Close your eyes and think of a happy memory. Something important. And personal. It’ll keep you tethered to your physical body,” he says, and despite the terse snappiness that remains in this rude man’s voice, you don’t put up a protest.

You close your eyes, trading out white for the black behind your eyelids. You try to form a memory—any memory—but nothing comes to you.

“I can’t think of anything,” you say, as worry starts creeping into your chest. You don’t understand why something that should be simple is so hard to do all of a sudden.

Then you hear his voice in the darkness.

“Think of someone you love. A day you spent together, or if you can’t think of something, then just think of their smile, or the color of their eyes,” he continues, and with each quality he lists out to you, there's a warmth that leaks through the hardness of his voice.

In your mind’s eye, a memory unfolds pixel by pixel. One of your favorite childhood memories of going camping upstate with your family. You’re wearing a pink ball cap, and your parents are standing by the tent, watching as the family dog runs up to you with a soggy tennis ball in her mouth.

Your mom is smiling at you as she waves from afar, gentle and patient. Her eyes are squinting against the bright sunlight, but you can’t remember the color of them. 

Gray hazy mist invades the edges of the memory, eating into the vivid colors, the picture distorts until the smiles of your parents morphs into a faceless blob.

Your eyes snap open, and you can’t keep the panic out of your voice. “What’s happening to me!?”

You don’t remember… You don’t remember what they look like. Who they were, you can’t–

“Hey, hey” his voice snaps you out of the fog, His warm palms come up to cup the apple of your cheeks, face mere inches from yours.

“Stay with me.”

And you're trying, you really are, but the panic is already here. Eating through your veins and crawling under your skin with an itch that won't go away.

“I– I can’t– I don’t–”

You can’t feel his hand anymore. Can’t feel your cheeks either. Can’t feel the clattering of your teeth from your trembling or the hard beating of your heart in your chest.

“I don’t remember her eyes.” Your fingers clutch onto his arms, but no matter how hard you dig in with your nails, it sinks into nothingness,  “I don’t– My mom. I– I don’t remember her name, her face, her–” 

Your feet seem to have fused to the spot you are standing on. They feel heavy and weightless at the same time. You try to move, but can't. Your body is no longer listening to you, and you’ve forgotten what it’s like to coordinate your feet, for the right foot to take a step forward and have the left one follow.

“Lyla,” he tells you, thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheeks, and you can feel the rasp of the rough calluses on it. “Your mom’s name was Lyla.”

The panic subsides at the familiar name. 

Lyla.

Your mom's face comes flooding back, the way her eyes would crinkle at the corner when she laughed, the proud smile she wore at your high school graduation, the soft sound of her voice singing you quiet lullabies as you drifted off to sleep.

“She used to make the most disgusting mac ‘n’ cheese, and whenever you’re sad, it’s all you want to eat,” he reminds you and your mouth tingles at the memory of the thick layer of dripping cheap cheese, scalding hot on your tongue. 

You adjust your grip on him, and you can feel the texture of his suit under your fingertips now. Your fingers aren’t as numb anymore, neither is your face. 

“Food worked, huh?” The corner of his mouth tugs into a half smile, eyes soft as he gazes down at you. “Figures.”

He leans down, hunching over until his forehead rests against yours. “You know that pizza place down on Downing street that you always go to the day before payday? With the gross doughy crust and kimchi topping that you love so much? Think of that.”

You can picture it clearly. The brick brownhouses, the familiar waft of oven-baked dough, and hint of coal burning, and slowly but surely, your stomach warms at the thought of it. 

“Think of those ugly pink fur slippers you wear constantly at home when it gets cold,” he says, and you do, gradually become aware of the soles of your feet and the weight of your own body being held up by them.  

He goes on like that, listing off things about you. The way he talks about them is almost insulting, but there’s an undertone of fondness hidden underneath that you can’t make sense of. He describes your favorite cozy sweater, calling it “ratty”; your favorite corner of central park that he thinks reeks of piss; your favorite episode of Grey’s anatomy, the one where Cristina has to get cut out of her wedding dress, which you always watch when you need a good cry.

The sound of his voice seems to shiver through you, the warmth of it settling low in your belly.

The more he talks, the more you remember, memories bleeding back into your consciousness. The simplest things come first... The sensation of running your fingers through your hair. Stepping barefoot into grass on a summer day. What it feels like to want someone.

And, as he continues to talk, awareness of your body comes trickling back until you're acutely conscious of his forehead pressing against yours; his hands, big and gentle where they're wrapped around your upper arms; the heat radiating off his big body inches from yours as his deep voice lists off all sorts of intimate things about your life, things he has no business knowing. 

Control of your body is returning to you. You can blink now, even if it requires conscious effort, and you blink up at him as he pulls back to look down at you.

“You back with me?” he asks softly, one big, warm hand rising to cup the back of your neck in a way that makes you lightheaded.

You tip your head ever so slightly until you catch sight of your hands, now totally opaque instead of that eerily ghostly sheen, and you nod back at him. 

“I– I think so.”

“Good.” 

You’re still a little bit frazzled. Disorientated by the whole experience that it takes you a while longer to gather your thoughts together. 

You still don’t know where you are. You don’t know what the hell just happened. Or what this place is supposed to be. Calling it a ‘void’ doesn’t really explain as much as he seems to think it does. How on earth did you just lose control over your body like that? Why did your body literally start to disappear, fading into the nothingness? 

A chill trickles down your spine as you recall the lack of sensation, and you grip his arm underneath your fingers just a little bit tighter to remind yourself that, yeah, he’s still here. 

It makes you feel just the tiniest bit safer. 

With one arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his other wrist to his mouth and speaks into the watch. “Lyla, have you got a lock down?” 

Huh? Lyla? What is he– You don’t understand. Wait, is he talking to your mom? What does he mean he’s locking down your mom!? 

There’s a crackle of static in your ears, and the endless white gives way to a burst of color as reality reforms around the two of you. A wall of masonry appears brick by brick before you, nothing but blue clear skies above. There’s a crunch of gravel on the concrete tiles beneath your feet, and when you look down to your right, you see the New York skyline below you. The bird’s eye view of the city is familiar. It’s one you’ve seen many, many times before. 

You’re on top of the Chrysler building. 

For a second you panic at the height. You clutch onto the man who has once again saved your life, and he lets you, holding you steady, with one big palm resting on the small of your back. 

“You’re okay,” he says, shushing you until you relax in his arms. “You’re okay.” 

You stay like that for some time, held in the safety of his arms, until your heartbeat slows, until the pulse racing in your throat is no longer in a clustered lump and you feel like you can breathe and think again. 

And now that you can think again, your brain is racing a mile a minute. All the things that have happened… All the things that this man said to you to bring you back to yourself. 

Things that no one except for you would know about. It’s too personal and intimate. Even if he had somehow been stalking you, he wouldn’t know these things unless he has been stalking you from childhood. The things he knows about you only comes through years of being with a person. Your habits. Your likes. Your dislikes. The things that upset you. The things that make it better when everything else has gone wrong. He knows all these things about you that he really only should know if he’s known you for a lifetime.  

"Who are you?" you ask him again, pulling back slightly to stare up into those blood red eyes inches away from your own, "Who are you really?"

"My name is Miguel O'Hara,” he says, holding your gaze, “and I’m Spiderman from another dimension."

Dedication & Credits: To my sister clown in arms @thirstworldproblemss thank you for putting up with me since this series started, I have been bugging his poor woman every second of her waking day. Please give her all the love because I couldn't do this without her or even if I did, I wouldn't have 1/100000000000000000 of the fun I have now with her.

[satellite-evans]

Panic

a/n : enjoy whatever this is lol

Warnings : fluff, giving birth

Lando had spent years perfecting his ability to handle high-pressure situations. Split-second decisions at 200 miles per hour? No problem. Dodging crashes? Easy. Keeping calm when his entire race strategy was turned upside down? He could manage that.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared him for this.

“OH MY GOD, THIS IS HAPPENING,” Lando screeched, pacing frantically around the hospital room as you gripped the bedrails, wincing through another contraction.

You turned your head toward him, sweat dripping down your forehead. “Lando, I swear to God—”

“I mean, I knew it was happening, obviously! Because that’s how babies work! But it’s really happening! Like right now!” Lando continued, running a shaky hand through his already-messy curls. “What if I say something stupid? What if I do something wrong? What if I—”

“You already are!” you snapped, gripping his hand with a force that made his knees buckle.

Lando yelped, barely holding himself together. “Okay, okay, you’re doing great, babe! So great! Best labor I’ve ever seen!”

The nurse beside you stifled a laugh. “Dad’s looking a little pale.”

“Oh, he does that,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

Lando gasped. “I do not!”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wild. “Lando, you gag when you had to change my nieces diaper. You nearly fainted when I had my blood drawn last week.”

He flinched. “That was… different! That needle was huge! Like a sword!”

The nurse snorted. “I’ve seen toddlers handle that better.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp inhale of pain cut him off. Instantly, his expression softened, panic giving way to concern. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, gripping your hand in both of his. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

You squeezed his hand—this time, just for comfort—and met his eyes. “I know.”

For a brief moment, the room quieted. The contractions were getting stronger, closer together. You knew this meant you were almost there, but exhaustion was beginning to weigh on you.

Lando noticed. “You got this, okay?” His voice was softer now, steadier. “Just think of it like a race. Last few laps. You’re leading. You just need to push to the finish line.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Did you just compare childbirth to a race?”

“I panicked,” he admitted sheepishly. “But… was it a good metaphor?”

You gave him a tired smile. “It wasn’t terrible.”

Before he could respond, the doctor clapped their hands. “Alright, Mom, you’re fully dilated. It’s time to push.”

Your heart pounded. This was it. Months of waiting, of preparing, of wondering what this moment would feel like—

And now, it was here.

Lando felt the shift in your energy, and instantly, he was back to full panic mode. “Okay. Okay! It’s happening! It’s really happening!” He turned to the doctor. “What do I do?! Where do I stand?! Do I—do I hold her leg? Do I—oh my god, do I catch the baby?!”

The doctor didn’t even blink. “Dad, just stand where you are and try not to pass out.”

Lando’s face paled even more. “Pass out? Who said anything about passing out?”

The nurse handed him a paper bag.

Lando stared at it in horror. “Oh my god, do people actually—”

“Lando!” you cut him off, your voice sharp with pain. “Less talking, more hand-holding!”

“Right, right! I got you, babe, I got you.” He quickly took your hand, bracing himself—

Then the nurses adjusted the bed, helping you sit up—

And as you moved into position, your elbow swung back—

—And smacked Lando directly in the forehead.

The entire room went silent.

Lando staggered back, clutching his head. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” he announced, though his eyes were definitely unfocused, and he was swaying like a driver who just took Eau Rouge at full speed with no grip. “You have no idea how much that hurts, though.”

The medical staff just stared at him.

No one spoke.

Lando blinked. “What?”

You, in the middle of active labor, shot him a look so sharp it could have cut through steel. Your voice was dangerously calm. “Lando.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re complaining about a little boo boo while I’m pushing a human out of my body.”

He gulped. “Right. Not about me. Got it. Carry on.”

The nurse patted his arm, barely holding back laughter. “Nice recovery, Dad.”

But before he could respond, the doctor’s voice cut through the moment. “Alright, Mom, one big push.”

Your breath came in short, labored gasps. Your body ached, exhaustion weighing down on you, but you knew this was it. You took a deep breath—

And pushed.

Lando held onto your hand, whispering encouragement—until he made the terrible decision of looking down.

His eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. That’s… um. That’s a lot—”

And then, like a driver who just experienced complete brake failure—

Lando hit the floor.

“Oh, for the love of—”

The doctor barely glanced at his unconscious body. “Nurse, should we wake him up?”

You, panting and literally pushing a human out of your body, groaned. “No. Let him miss it. He deserves it.”

Minutes later, as the baby’s cries filled the room, you felt a rush of relief so overwhelming it nearly brought you to tears. The doctor placed your newborn into your arms, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. The pain, the exhaustion, even your unconscious husband on the floor—it all faded away as you stared at your baby.

Tiny. Perfect. Yours.

A few minutes later, Lando groaned from the floor. “What… happened?”

“You fainted,” you muttered, still in awe as you cradled your baby.

Lando scrambled to his feet, eyes wide as he took in the scene. “Wait—wait, did I miss it?!”

The nurse smirked. “Oh, you definitely missed it.”

Lando looked genuinely devastated. “Nooo! I was supposed to be there!”

“You were there,” you teased. “Just… unconscious.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his curls before looking down at the tiny bundle in your arms. His expression softened instantly. He sat beside you, completely transfixed.

“That’s… that’s our kid,” he whispered.

You smiled. “Yeah.”

For the first time since you arrived at the hospital, Lando was completely silent. He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers over the baby’s tiny hand. When her little fingers curled around his, he let out a shaky laugh.

“She is so small,” he murmured.

You leaned against him, exhaustion finally catching up to you. “I know.”

Lando swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly. “I love her so much already.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

After a beat of silence, Lando sighed. “Okay, but technically, I didn’t fully faint. I was just… resting my eyes.”

You chuckled. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and hold your baby.”

And with a sheepish grin, Lando took your child into his arms, staring at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

[chowadoe]

my Metamy kid!! his name is Dusty Rose :D ft. single mom Amy Rose and Absentee baby daddy metal sonic LOL

his name's Dusty Rose after Dusty Miller, a plant that looks like metal/silver. Dusty Rose is also a pink color ! it also rhymes with Rusty Rose. im so smart (/j)

born from Metal Sonic's core and infused with Amy's biosignature, Amy and Metal Sonic had a very brief 'thing'... eventually Metal Sonic was soft rebooted and sent away yet again, but he left a piece of himself (part of his 'core'? infused with chaos energy..?) to Amy, which then became Dusty. leaving Dusty as the last true remaining testament of their love

(I just love the idea of Amy with a Waitress style character arc... finding love again in raising her child and not the way she used to think, being spent with another person)

Dusty would be very fixated on the idea of love, after all his mother raised him on the notion of that. Amy's standards for true love and fairytale romance have definitely changed being with Metal Sonic, but the root message being that love is all encompassing and transformative.

He was 'created' to look like Mobian, and Amy treats him no differently than any other Mobian/human. Still, he believes that he should hide all the parts that 'other' him from society, which means his robot parts. (legwarmers!)

He's got a bit of a bad boy edge to him LOLLL i kind of created him that he'd be an emo kid. (fall out boy.. my chemical romance.. a bit of IDKHow) really good at electric guitar and part of a band. eventually he finds his passion is in lyric-writing (all those love stories and inheriting his mother's gift for writing love letters)

he often wonders what a beating heart is like, as someone without one. he's interested in the heartbeats and the pulses of others, but he is a total sweetheart himself.. still, even to other mobians unaware that he is an android (a weapon at that), it's still a little off-putting..

more abt him belolow

Dusty's core is already made/designed after Amy's biosignature, and in meeting other people, he's able to read their biodata and stash it into an archive, but he doesn't reproduce it onto himself. (though unsure if he could? either his code has a blockade or he chooses not to)

Dusty, additional to his stash of weapons, has the ability to shift too like his papa... become something similar to Metal Overlord but not entirely... like a half robot dragon boy or smth.. IF he's under the right conditions to have it pulled out of him. or something

Dusty DOES "grow" up. basically, he's an inorganic being whose core is trying to emulate/copy the growth progression of other organic beings.

As it would grow in size (and Dusty's cognition "matures"), his mother and her friends would modify as needed to adjust his frame, etc, but rarely were things ever replaced. Like a mollusk, its shell growing in size- but one needing accommodations. A heart bigger than its own body that threatens to spill- a chick that has outgrown its shell, well before its expected date- needing modifications to keep it inside and protected

Metal Sonic and Amy would have something profound-- one of those tragic, star-crossed enemies-to-lovers dark fantasy romance stories Amy's always loved to read about- but then having it play in real time and having to come to terms with the real world implications of actually having one. It's just that- a fantasy. and metal sonic would grapple with the ideas of love, which i think would be inherently dark and a little possessive given his upbringing-- but what him and Amy have would be sweet at the very core of it. so him giving a piece of his core that reads and adapts to Amy's biosignature and oops... accidental baby....

Dusty finds himself drawn to music. his mom and dad couldn't quite communicate love language physically (with Metal Sonic's claws and his lack of mouth) so I hc that Amy taught Metal Sonic how to hum and sing and communicate their love through music and vocalizations (which carried onto Dusty)

4th pic is Dusty doing breathing exercises with his mama... Dusty gets embarrassed super easily so him and Amy would regularly do breathing exercises so he doesn't overheat like a PC

[biteyoubiteme]

cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, flights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of. 

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets. 

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was. 

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,” 

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,” 

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading. 

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying. 

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?” 

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week. 

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back. 

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space. 

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago. 

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,” 

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after. 

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up. 

“You did well tonight, you looked…” 

“Good, I hope,” 

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,” 

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,” 

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,” 

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,” 

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?” 

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over. 

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor. 

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?” 

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,” 

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening. 

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,” 

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you. 

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,” 

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,” 

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?” 

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound. 

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him. 

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix. 

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt. 

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?” 

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock. 

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down. 

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[dreadark]

so why is Luka obsessed with Hyuna anyway?

(mostly just trying to get my thoughts on Luka down before blink gone rewires my brain)

every pet human is extremely limited in freedom, but Luka's case is definitely the worst literally even his birth was by Heperu's design... he can't control any aspect of his own life, from his participation of ALNST (twice!) to what he eats on a daily basis

*translations all by whatafruit

humans have no power over segyein, and Luka doesn't even have any power over own his own body so what can he have power over, then?

other humans, of course

most obvious in round 5: Luka would've had an easy win even if he barely tried, but he goes out of his way to provoke Mizi anyway until she finally snaps... and he smiles as he's beaten

because this is his "power." he successfully manipulated Mizi into reacting, proving he has some control over the situation no matter how pointless it is in the grand scheme of things, this is all he can influence, so he makes the absolute most of it and this control is so important to him he doesn't care about his own physical injuries

it's Hyuna talking in this comic, but clearly reflecting Luka's own mentality

while for Hyuna it's likely just her love for singing and performing (whatever happens, they can't take this away from her) for Luka I imagine it's the ability to influence others from the stage (crushing his opponents, but also shaping his fanbase?)

...so back to Luka -> Hyuna

it’s mentioned more than a few times that Hyuna’s a really talented performer, but seeing their respective stat pages really drives it in

(think the “superiority test” Hyuna was put through relates to this also)

Hyuna doesn't seem to have been created in any special way like Luka was… she just has a natural affinity to performing. and that's enough that she’s considered a real rival to Luka—Luka, who was literally made for this, and put through constant hellish training on top (the pain of having your heart stopped...) to mold him into the perfect idol

to Luka… if he can’t dominate Hyuna, he can't even take pride in his own ability (that everything he's forced to go through amounts to something?). and power over other humans is all he has, so he needs to overpower Hyuna (also he likely admires Hyuna’s talents at the same time, which just adds to his twisted feelings)

so since his ability isn't enough... by making someone think of you, only you… that’s another way of having power over someone, isn’t it

“your life is mine” “I told you I only wanted one thing”

whatever exactly happened with Hyunwoo… well that certainly worked. both removing Hyuna's most important person and making Luka someone she can't not think of (oh and he doesn't seem particularly interested in Hyunwoo despite how similar the siblings are in personality? Hyunwoo was even the first to approach Luka, not Hyuna so it's likely because he doesn't have his sister's talents)

but you know how his intimacy(?) value for her is only 70% I figure that's because she escaped, so they could never actually face off onstage... maybe he's disappointed in her "wasting" her ability

what all this amounts to is that she did end up escaping his control, and he never even got to compete against her. so until he can somehow completely overpower her, he'll be obsessed with her

I wonder if this represents his final effort to that... ultimately, he values control over his own well-being, so if he can goad Hyuna into killing him, then doesn't that cement his power over her?

and maybe "saves" him from this hellish life too

kind of a tangent, but I really like how their designs contrast this dynamic Luka looks really angelic and androgynous, so from appearance he seems fragile and like someone to be protected (which even Hyuna seemed to be tricked by when they were younger) and Hyuna obviously looks the stronger one in comparison (very #girlboss (lol...))

but their relationship is one where Luka's trying to control her and Hyuna's trying to escape it... that "beautiful lady" line of ruler of my heart always felt somewhat uncomfortable, and then learning it's actually pitiful (가련한) instead of beautiful is... ...it's a very gendered dynamic, if you get what I mean. despite their surface-level appearances going against what's considered typical

[rosenclaws]

Erased || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You are a powerful mutant with powers you hated. They ruined your life and it led you down paths you weren't proud of. Things changed and now you lived happily with Logan. Until your past seems to come back to ruin everything

warnings: angst. traumatic childhood, brief mentions of torture.

wc: 2.7k

Link to part 2

a/n: Hi guys, so this is kind of the you get hurt and he goes feral fic but i've combined it with this other wip i had laying around. I talked a lot about wanting more angst and tw death (my grandmother passed last night) so ive been in this weird state of sadness that i'm repressing. Either way i wrote a fic so there's that lol. I will def have a part 2 btw so don't worry.

Sometimes when you close your eyes you can remember your childhood. What it was like before your, gift, appeared and ruined everything. How your family loved you, how your friends welcomed you, how the world didn’t hate you. Everything was perfect.

Until the day it appeared. All you did was touch her arm. That’s all you did. An argument with your mother, silence, and then you touched her arm to try and apologize and next thing you knew she was asking who you were. Yelling at you to get out of her house. You cried not understanding what was happening.

She looked at you with nothing but confusion. Not even a hint of recognition. Then your father came home and you ran into his arms. Afraid and distraught when he pushed you off him. The same look in his eyes. Who are you? They threw you out, threatened to call the cops. They left you all alone, afraid, and confused.

It didn’t take long for you to understand. A mutant. You had heard of mutants but never thought you could be one. A mutant with a powerful ability. Memory manipulation. You could alter memories, dive into someone's deepest fears, their secrets, and even erase anything from heads. In a single moment their whole lives could be changed. It was a dangerous power and you wanted nothing to do with it.

For years you lived on the road. Keeping yourself moving, stealing when you needed to. Never getting too attached to one place, to anyone. You were alone.

Then one day some people found you. Dressed in stupid costumes. Still they took you in. Gave you a home, fed you, trained you. You grew up there. From teen to adult. Charles was kind and you don't think you could ever repay him for all that he's done. Your powers were strong but he taught you to control your emotions.

Still you tried to stay a safe distance away from people. Not just physically but emotionally. The nightmares of your parents haunt you everyday. They're nice. All of them are. The kids loved you and you enjoyed the mansion.

Still when the team invited you out you declined, when the kids wanted to crowd you during dinner you politely excused yourself to your office. You didn't go to parties, you didn't celebrate the holidays with them. You were just you, a nice, safe distance away from them. Then your world got flipped upside down.

The day Logan rolled into the mansion. He was mean and angry. He had that "I don't like being around people" kind of vibe but he stuck around. Ended up becoming more apart of the team than he wanted. And he liked it.

Logan was the first one to really break down your walls. Just like everyone else you stayed away from him. Smiling and greeting him but never going past that. Maybe that's what drew him to you. You were a mystery who smelled like vanilla. It was your perfume. He would try to flirt but he got nowhere. Eventually he gave up the flirting but his interest stayed. He find ways to talk to you, getting bits and pieces of information from you.

You quickly learned he was just like you in some ways. Guarded, a past life that you don't want to talk about, loners. Somehow in all of it, as he stayed at the mansion and grew to become part of this family, he wormed his way into your heart too. Just too loners who found out that being alone together is better than being lonely.

As time passed, your relationship with Logan evolved into something you never imagined you would experience. Love. You never let yourself feel this way, too afraid that you would do the same thing to them. That you would get close, build this connection, make these memories, only for it all to come crashing down with just a single touch. These memories are precious to you. Every single one of them.

You remember the day your feelings were revealed. Both of you desperate, afraid of what they meant, but neither of you could lose each other. It was the cure. Some company had found a way to suppress the gene. The moment you heard about it you were intrigued. Your mutation wasn't fun. It didn't let you control the weather or turn things to ice. You couldn't touch people. Just like rouge you were at risk for destroying someone's whole life.

Even with the years of lessons you weren't fully in control. You never let yourself try. Logan could see it in your eyes. The confrontation wasn't pretty.

It was anger at first, wondering how you could even consider that. Then it was anger from you, years of pent up feelings releasing all at once. The fighting turned into a deep confession. An intimate moment between the two of you. He cared for you in a way that scared the shit out of him. He couldn't say the words yet but he felt them. You felt the same way but just like Logan. Something was holding you back from saying those three words.

Still you showed your love to each other in other ways. You always let him know how much you cared for him. The words died on your tongue but he knew. You hope he did.

Logan bought you a necklace. Didn't make a big deal of it but you could see the blush on his face. Tossing you the box and mumbling something about him seeing it and thinking of you. It was gorgeous. Just a simple heart necklace with two sparkling stones. One for him and one for you.

Even if you couldn't touch he wanted apart of him to be with you. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. You had Logan. You had the team, the mansion. For once you felt like your life was falling into place.

Apparently the universe didn't like that. Charles had called the team in for an important mission. You weren't on the team due to your own choosing so when Logan came back to bed he started to talk.

"Yeah some rogue mutants. Bunch of assholes who enjoy torturing humans." He grumbled as he threw his jacket on. Fixing his hair in the mirror as you sit on the bed. You're doing everything you can to stay calm, to not set off Logan's super senses.

"Some guy named Mack is their leader. Guess he's got some illusion powers or something." Logan says it all like its nothing. To him it is nothing. Just another mission. To you though, it's the beginning of the end.

"Don't know who in their right mind would do shit like that. Just a bunch of low life idiots." He spits. You wince at his harsh tone. He notices your silence and glances over at you. You're practically frozen in place. An unreadable look in your eyes.

"You alright?" Logan moves to touch your arm but you jerk it away.

"Yeah sorry, just had another nightmare last night." You lie. Logan looks at you strangely before sitting on the bed. His hand intertwining with your gloved one.

"Though I told you to wake me up." You snort and roll your eyes playfully. "And I told you the same thing." You counter. He smirks, you have him there. Part of why you go so well together.

"I'll wake you next time, I promise." There's a loud knock at the door and Logan grumbles.

"Promised some dumb kids I'd take them to the mall. Storm promised me a six pack of beer." After saying goodbye you let your smile fall.

This couldn't be happening. You thought you were finally safe, this was years ago. How could they still be around. Before Charles had found you, you were involved with this group. You weren't proud if it but you were hungry and afraid and they found you. Mutants just like you. They weren't afraid of you. In fact they were in awe of you, something you had never felt before.

You fell into their group, participating in the horrible things they'd do. You never did anything yourself. You were clean up crew. Wiping memories of anyone who saw something they weren't supposed to. Still, you enabled it all. When you finally left, it wasn't easy. You had tried to erase their memories but for some reason they could block you. You got away but they swore one day they'd come back for you. You were one of them forever now. No one would understand, no one would forgive you. You were a monster just like them.

Your mind runs a mile a minute. Thinking of everyone in the mansion. The team. Storm, Jean, Scott, Rouge...everyone.

Logan, oh god Logan.

Would he understand? He would have to. He's just like you. He did things in his past. He was violent, angry, a survivor. He never claimed to be a hero. But that doubt swirls in your mind. Fear overtakes any rational thought. You know what you have to do.

This was your fight, not theirs. You could stop them, you needed to finish what you started. Grabbing your wrinkled old backpack you stuff clothes, money, and any essentials inside of it. You had to move quick before any of the mind readers got a hint of what you were thinking.

Especially Charles. You barely had time to think about this but the fear was creeping into your mind. Poisoning it. It's better this way. It's safer this way. They've done so much for you that you owe it to them to help. You're protecting them. All of them. Logan included.

You held on tightly to the necklace he had given you. Tucking it in your shirt as you leave the room. You smiled as you walked through the halls. Saying hello to those who passed by. By the time you were at the front doors you felt a pull to keep you here.

Deep down you didn't want to leave. Of course you didn't. But you overcome the pull and walk through the doors. Refusing to look back as the mansion grows smaller in the distance. You walked for hours. Your feet aching as you finally reached some rinky dink motel. The room is depressing but for now it's home. Curling up on the bed you bury your face in the pillow.

Your heart longing for Logan. You're scared, so scared. A part of you wants to go back and find him. Tell him everything and ask for help. But then you remember what he said. How would he react knowing that you were one of them? Would he forgive you or would he turn his back on you just like Mack always said?

You barely get a moment to think before there's a loud knock at the door. Hand slamming impatiently against it. You quietly get up and look through the peephole. You cover your mouth to hide your shocked gasp. Logan. How the hell did he find you?

"I know you're in there." Oh he's angry. You open the door and Logan steps through.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice booms through the room.

"I come home to a ransacked room, I thought you were in danger. Only to be told that you ran away." He growls. He's clenching his fists tightly. How could you do this to him?

"How did you find me?" You demand as you slowly sink back towards your bag.

"Why did you leave? What's going on!" Logan is confused, lashing out on you because he just doesn't understand. Things were going great. You loved him and he loved you so why would you just run away. Away from the mansion, away from him. Did you not trust him anymore? Why?

"You wouldn't understand." You try to move past him but he grabs your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.

His claws coming out to pin you to it. The sharp adamantium knicks the chain around your neck, breaking it in two. The necklace falls to the ground but neither of you notice.

"Try me." The anger is slowly fading as he silently begs you to talk. To let him in.

"I'm sorry Logan, but I can't."

"Why not? What are you running from? I can help. Let me help." He begs. Please don't leave him. Please. He can do something. He can heal like crazy, he can track, he's fast, he's got fucking metal claws. He can help.

"You can't help me with this Logan. This is for your own good." You try to stay strong but looking into those gorgeous eyes of his was about to make you break.

"This is my fight and mine alone." He scoffs and lets go of you and starts to pace.

"Bullshit. This is our fight now. That's the deal. I lo-" He sighs and pulls you close. "Its you and me. Together." You gently trace his jaw with your gloved hands.

Tears glossing over your eyes as it takes everything in power to stay strong. To not fall into his arms. He's protected himself his whole life and you can't be the one to put him in more danger. He's a hero, he's your hero but tonight he's the love of your life and you need to protect him. Even if it feels like ripping out your own heart.

"Logan..." You say softly. He looks at you with those pretty eyes and you cup his face.

Slowly your lips brush against his. It's just a hint at first. Then it's everything at once. He smashes his lips to yours. Kissing you with a passion and need that you've dreamed off. This is your first kiss after all. It's everything you ever wanted. To feel his lips on yours. Skin to skin. You'll treasure this moment forever.

He's so wrapped up in the kiss that he doesn't notice you take your hand away. Taking off your gloves and move your hands to the side of his head. Hovering over his temples. He pulls away, breathing heavily as he leans in and kisses you again.

"I love you Logan, I love you so much." You say with tears falling down your cheeks. He realizes too late, a flash of fear as you press your hands to his face.

"No!" He roars but its too late.

Like he's in a trance he stands there. You cry as you erase every memory he has of you. He won't remember you, he won't know why he's here or how he got here. You know that you won't have long before someone else finds you and you'll erase their memory too. It's for the best. It's for his own good. His eyes flutter close as he falls to the floor. You catch his head, lowering him gently to the ground. A pillow placed under it. You can't stay, he'll wake any moment. But you have a few seconds. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you Logan Howlett." You whisper gently.

You take one last look at him before grabbing your bag and running out the door. Each step apart from him is like a knife in your chest. You tell yourself this what needed to happen. You'd rather lose Logan like this than watching him suffer because of you. This way he can be happy, he can move on.

You did this for him. All of it for him.

-

Logan wakes to a pounding in his head. Confusion washes over him as he takes in his surroundings. Where the fuck is he? He doesn't remember how he got here, why he came here. He stands up and looks around the room.

"What the hell?" He mumbles to himself.

Was this a prank or something? He cracks his neck and looks around. The room is mostly empty but a small glimmer catches his eyes. He walks over and sees six holes in the wall that match his claws.

Leaning down he picks up a necklace. A heart with two stones. He winces as a sharp pain shoots through his head. He stands up and slips the necklace in his pocket, something telling him to keep it close. He feels a pain in his chest. Not physical pain but something else. Maybe he finally got drunk. Drank enough to finally fuck him up.

All he knows is that he needs to get back to the mansion. As he leaves stops for a second. He shakes his head and continues on, hopping back on his motorcycle. For a second there he swears he caught a whiff of vanilla.

Must be his imagination.

[scribblestatic]

The autosave didn't work. Thrice.

*kicks my feet and screams*

THE WORLD SHAN'T STOP ME, tho do excuse me if some of the stuff seems short. I got tired of writing some parts over again lol.

Spider Shen Yuan, aka, continued creaturfication of the twink.

--

More people ask for silk so they can use it for repairing clothes, making rope, and other necessities. It's stronger than iron and softer than a silkworm's well-treated cocoon. They use it for rope, integrate it into their utilities, everything. And it's such an iridescent color, very enchanting to look at.

Considering the thick forest and the mist that flows through it, perhaps someone could mistake them as a village visited by a god responsible for clouds, capturing rays of light and stringing them into form for their favored worshipers.

But, well, no. It was a spider.

A spider that, despite the agreement and the comfort many people came to have with him, they never quite forgot that he was a beast. Of course, that was well and good enough. Their relationship was built on mutual respect with some reverence built in.

Fan Zhenzhen's relationship with him was much closer to that of a devout follower, it seems.

That was the only way he could explain her standing in the snow of winter, bundled warmly in fur coats and thick boots, her cheeks pink from the chill as she held her infant.

"He is Ruoxing. 'Like a star.' Because of Zhizhu and your blessings, he was born safely."

(若星 - Ruò Xīng)

Shen Yuan's largest two eyes focus intently on the child, who coos and gurgles, unable to move in his warm swaddle. He smells like milk, and looking at him evokes memories of a life he perhaps had begun to forget. If he'd been a little girl...

"Zhizhu, this lowly woman has a request. As payment for today's story, please bless this little boy, that he may have a good fate."

"...Mm. Commence."

This time, Zhenzhen tells a story about her husband, the man she'd lost just a few months before. She talks about how they met in their old village, he being a known playboy and she being a stalwart visitor.

It was through communication and budding love that he decided to marry her. But his family didn't approve. While he wasn't exceedingly rich, he wasn't a commoner either. His family was relatively affluent, and his marriage to her was seen as a slight, like someone trying to pull themselves out the mud by hugging someone else's thighs (not the term she used, but it felt right to think of it that way). This disdain toward her only became stronger when she failed more than once to have a child.

But her husband loved her. Defended her for as long as he could, even after they cut him off from his wealth, sabotaging his business and saying they would only return his earnings if they divorced. He was stubborn, though, and refused. He even began doing hard labor to try to feed the family, eager to make a living.

It was during that hard labor that a bull went awry. He was gored in the stomach by its horns, and he was made bedridden. He suffered in pain, but he tried to recover for his wife. They spent his last days cuddled in his bed when she was home from work. One morning, she woke up, and he was gone.

But, he hadn't left without leaving her a gift. A little star in her stomach.

...Having gained the ability to speak more clearly, Shen Yuan murmurs his dissatisfaction with her family. Whispers little curses, that they would never know peace for what they did.

But he turns his words around upon the request for a blessing.

This isn't just a story to critique. There's a little boy here, and she wants him to bless him.

He's just a spider, however. How could he do something like bless someone? Even so, her story had been genuine, full-hearted, and overall, not yet a tragedy. If this boy lived well, she said, she would consider her life and success.

In the face of that, he must repay her for the tale she told.

"...Burn brightly, little star. Stay true to your path, young stallion. May you weave a tale that blesses those who bless you, and curses those who curse you. Be firm, and be kind."

He gives her a little woven blanket for the child, and Fan Zhenzhen, with tears in her eyes, bows as low as she can manage with the babe in her arms.

As she leaves, Shen Yuan wonders how he knew the boy was born during a Fire Horse year.

...

Winter turns to spring, and spring to summer, and so on.

The seasons change, and Shen Yuan receives many stories, from enchanting and thorough to boring and benign. Regardless, he continues to trade with them as he always has.

Little spiders that once had nothing to do with him were steadily coming under his control. After eating the insects that would try to eat his plants, it seemed their little minds connected to him, and they went out of their way to follow his will.

His own qi was also getting stronger, and his abilities more numerous. Cultivation and meditation became second nature to him. Along with his diet of qi-dense fruit and spiritual and demonic creatures, he felt like his skin was growing a tad thin on himself. For sure, it would be time to molt within the next few years.

As that time approaches, he watches as Ruoxing grows. He goes from being held in his mother's arms to holding onto her hand as he toddles beside her, to walking on his own and bowing to him when his mother does.

He also starts telling him his own stories. As a toddler, of course, it was mostly nonsense babbling, but it had been more entertaining that some of the half-assed attempts a few other villagers tried. The older he grew, the more his stories took shape, although the characters didn't always make sense and the plot could change at a moment's notice.

Shen Yuan, being himself, couldn't help but lightly critique the stories with genuine intent. After all, a child raised with too much praise and not enough guidance could quickly become a fool. He wasn't nearly as tough on the child as he was on the adults, so he was clearly just teaching him the elements of a good story.

...Apparently these critiques caused a slight shift in how Ruoxing saw him.

While Fan Zhenzhen revered him, Fan Ruoxing seemed to see him like some sort of uncle.

That was probably what explained the boy's reliance on him for decidedly human issues.

"I don't know what to get Miyun for her birthday. But I really want it to be nice. Zhizhu, what do you think I should get her?"

Ruoxing, now a young teenager, is cutting into some wood, trying to sculpt something, but clearly not trusting that whatever he made would be enough for her. He gazes up at him hopefully, as though he's a reclusive neighborhood uncle and not a giant spider that could quite literally eat him whole.

Being a spider notwithstanding, he also had never mated, not in this life or the one he feels he may have lived before. As such, he was, quite literally, the worst being to ask for romantic advice.

"...This spider cannot be sure what little Miyun likes. Xing-er would know more. However, a gift given with heart and meaningful intent often means the world to those receiving it. Perhaps Xing-er could recall something little Miyun finds of particular interest?"

"Erh...she likes clothes, I think. Not the hemp ones. I'd want to give her something fancy. She's the eldest daughter, so she works hard. She deserves something nice to wear, like A-niang has. You know, A-niang still wears the coat you made for her. She only ever wears it in the house..."

He sits up straighter, as if in realization.

"A coat! Zhizhu, if I, ah—" He clears his throat. "If this servant tells Zhizhu a story, could he make a coat for Miyun?"

"...It...would be difficult. The coat this spider made for your mother was done in her presence, where this one could see and hear her, measure her. Little Miyun does not visit this spider, so he cannot make a coat to fit her. Unless. If Xing-er describes her well, perhaps he can make one anyway."

Ruoxing hums, his fingers pausing on whatever he'd been sculpting.

"Well...she's older than me by three months, but she's a little shorter than me." He illustrates this by holding his hand horizontally, just a bit above his chin. "Her hair is dark brown, like chestnut skins. She's not pale like some ladies in the big town, but she's really pretty."

Shen Yuan had really meant for the boy to describe her size and features more, but he didn't stop Fan Ruoxing as he started waxing poetic about her personality and beauty.

The more he listened, the more he decided against anything particularly fitted. Something like...a poncho. Yeah. A poncho-like cloak that can fit over her clothes. Something that looks nice, but not so nice that she'd get robbed or accused of theft...

By the time Ruoxing finished, stuttering to a stop with a red face, Shen Yuan had finished most of it.

"Hmm... Heartfelt. Earnest. This one thinks this gift could use a personal touch."

Per his suggestion, Ruoxing carved the wood into a triangular, rounded pin with a hole through the base. Shen Yuan wove thread through the hole, making the pin into a clasp, and had a small hole on the other side of the shawl-like cloth. Pushing the pin through that hole would secure the shawl around her shoulders.

"Thanking Zhizhu for his guidance!"

"Mm. You guided yourself to this. May your gift be received well."

Fan Ruoxing grins eagerly before running off. He only just remembers to turn back and bow in respect before making his way down the hill.

Humming, satisfied with himself, Shen Yuan crawls through his webs, back to his cave for him to relax and meditate in peace.

...

And despite his efforts to accommodate their economic status, it seemed he still made Miyun's poncho shawl too nice.

A few weeks later, a demoness stands where humans usually would, surrounded by demon guards. She has her hands on her hips, glaring up at him. Her eyes are a bright yellow, hair black and skin pink-toned. She wears long, silken clothes that are, honestly, ill-fitted for trouncing around his forest, gold vambraces and necklaces denoting her status.

"This is what you said made your coat? This dumb beast?"

She sneers at her captives, one of whom is Ruoxing. He leans near a shivering girl, who, by the looks of her and the shawl on her body, is Miyun. However, she doesn't seem to be shaking completely from fear, judging from her furrowed brows and severe expression. Fan Ruoxing does his best to shield her, but with his own arms caught and held tightly, it is difficult to do so.

"It probably can't even speak. Ugh. Whatever. Human, how does Li-er make this...thing...produce the silk to make my clothes?"

"...What does the miss want?"

She turns back to him, eyes wide with clear shock. The demon guards also stiffen, becoming more wary of him. They point their swords and spears in his direction.

Miyun flinches in fear, toward him, her eyes shutting tight.

Ah, he probably understands now. Is she arachnophobic? No wonder she never visits. Quite understandable.

"Oh... So it speaks." The demoness huffs, putting her hands back on her hips. "If you understand this girl, listen well. There's no reason for a mere human to have such clothing. This benevolent one shall give you the opportunity to rectify your sin. Make her a beautiful dress, and she shall let you live."

If Shen Yuan had eyelids, he would certainly lid them.

Instead, he just crawls down a little further, staring at her intently.

"...Tell this one a story."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell this spider a story. It is payment."

"Payment? What need do you have of any sort of payment? The only payment you deserve is to keep your—"

"Guuakk!!"

A guard jumped out in front of the demoness. Despite the hard armor on the guard's body, Shen Yuan's leg pierces easily through their torso.

He smells the blood dripping from the demon's body...and can't resist.

It was like putting a prime steak drizzled with butter right in front of him, okay? Sure, he had an audience, but food was food!

So, not minding the iron armor, Shen Yuan's teeth pierce through the chest plate as the demon cries out. He screams in agony as his organs began to liquify, but Shen Yuan's venom acts quickly. Once the demon chokes on his own blood and falls still, he easily sucks up all the guard's innards and qi with a deep, hearty slurp. Not a single thing is wasted, not even the marrow in the demon's bones.

Once emptied, Shen Yuan drops the guard's body like a crumpled carton.

The demoness had stepped backwards, more guards standing in front.

Shen Yuan sighs, then settles in his web.

"Tell this one a story, and the miss may have her dress."

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 9 (m)

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

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

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

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO GUYS!!!! Ooof I rushed to finish this one and it got SO FUCKING LOOONG. It took a little longer than expected, but as I said on Tumblr, my pregnant sister was hospitalized this week. Not only did I accompany her hospitalization but I was also not in the mood to write lol but everything is fine now! She was discharged and the baby is safe. My lil niece wanted to be a pisces real bad for some reason lmaooo not yet bbygirl stay there a little longer 🤚 Also!!!!! Dear reader Em made this incredible art of Ruby!! I got so shocked what 😭😭 someone was willing to make art of a fic of mine?? That's so cool!! Ruby looks so hot in their interpretation!! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU EM 🫂🫂🫂 @anesthesia-4rizzle Anyways, let me shut up this chapter is already long enough lol Enjoy!! <3

⤕  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3

The scepter was lifeless yet again when you took it in your hands.

You didn’t really want to, scared of it starting to burn once again. Now that adrenaline had completely ran off, you understood that Alucard was right; you had, in fact, some sort of fever. Your forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat and you felt unexpectedly hot, given the chilly night air. Your limbs also felt strangely weak as if you’d done some tiring exercise.

And your chest…

You remembered how your chest – your heart – seemed to burn with these three dead vampires, too. Burning you from within.

You wondered if you’d have burned with them if you kept holding it for much longer.

To your great relief, nothing strange happened when you touched the scepter again. It was exactly on the same spot you had dropped it.

Alucard knelt down near the burnt bodies. Smoke still steamed from them. He had a deep, serious frown in his face.

“Did you read the inscriptions of the scepter out loud?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No.” You looked down as Alucard got up and approached you again. “I didn’t do anything. I was just… scared. And angry.”

Alucard observed the scepter with the same frown. He touched the sun symbol softly.

“It’s still warm.” He mumbled to himself. “This scepter, for some reason, seems to be reacting to your feelings.”

You lifted your gaze to his face for the first time in a surprised expression.

That made a lot of sense.

You were frightened when you first held it. Your head was running with similar intense emotions when this strange reaction happened again. Maybe he was right… the scepter needed to be fueled by strong emotions to release its magic, whatever it was. Perhaps it didn’t even need to be you specifically, but anyone going through something similar.

You inhaled before asking – and Heavens, were you tired of asking this same question over and over again:

“Do you have any idea of what might’ve happened?”

You weren’t brave enough to look down at the corpses again, but Alucard got the message.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment; his shoulders dropped a bit as he crossed his arms. He looked frustrated.

“I hate not knowing what’s happening as much as you do,” he confessed. “But this doesn’t feel like Speaker magic, although we’ll have to check with a real Speaker before jumping to conclusions. And it’s not fire, either.” He pressed his lips together in a thoughtful expression. “It is Sun. The scepter either has the ability to somehow store sunlight, or it can replicate it.”

You nodded. There was no other explanation: the vampires burned as if they were, indeed, standing under the sunlight. You had seen Richter’s fire magic; although it was unnaturally blue, his flames weren’t different from regular fire. They burned, but they didn’t provide light as much as the scepter did at that moment.

Alucard held his chin. He looked at nowhere in particular.

“Sekhmet is the daughter of the Egyptian Sun god, Amun-Ra. She’s related to the Sun in many ways.”

You looked down at the scepter again.

“Do you think this belonged to her?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t look Egyptian. You didn’t find it at the Egyptian gallery, either. Though it might not mean much, since the palace wasn’t all too well organized.” He dropped his arms to the sides of his body once again. “Didn’t you say you were translating the writings to our alphabet? Can I have a look at it?”

You hesitated.

The paper was safely folded and stored inside the pocket of your vest. It was the first thing you took from the floor as soon as you stepped into the alley. You wrote it with the intention of Alucard reading it in the first place.

And yet – you didn’t want to show it anymore. At least not at that moment.

Your mind was burning, and it had nothing to do with magic this time. You were overwhelmed by a number of different things; the strong emotions you felt, this new discovery involving the scepter, the sheer frustration of not knowing exactly was going on with you…

...And the hug. Heavens, the hug.

You had stopped crying. Adrenaline had ran off. Now you could think with clarity – and the more you thought about the intimacy you shared with Alucard mere minutes ago, the more embarrassed you felt. Not because you didn’t like it… well, perhaps you felt this way because you liked it. 

Why were you feeling that way? It wasn’t the first time Alucard witnessed your vulnerability first hand. Oh… in fact, that was the reason. He had witnessed this vulnerability too many times in the span of 24 hours.

You felt weak. You felt like a nuisance. You felt like a child that had to be taken care of constantly.

That is not how you wanted Alucard – or anyone for that matter – to perceive you. But how could that be different when all you did the entire time you’d met them was getting hurt?

You desperately needed to avert his attention elsewhere. You needed him to stop looking at you for a moment, to focus somewhere else; you wanted to slide away from his view, to be nothing but an afterthought at the back of his mind. His gentle gaze burned. His soft touch burned. His scent which already permeated your clothes burned. Everything about him burned.

It burned in a different way than it did with Drolta or Erzsebet, however – because you didn’t hate him. Not at all. Alucard had shown nothing but respect and worry towards you.

And yet, it burned anyway, was overwhelming anyway, and that was disorienting. That was scary. You didn’t feel like you had the right to like it.

So you avoided his gaze once again and held the scepter tightly.

“Did everything go well with the Revolutionary Commune?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“...Yes,” Alucard clearly did not understand why you changed subjects so suddenly.

You nodded. “So I think this can wait for now. Can’t it?”

Alucard hesitated once again. “Ruby…”

“Please.” You reunited all of your will to not sound fragile anymore. You were tired of being fragile. “Erzsebet and her army are coming to Paris. This entire city needs to prepare. I know you already wasted way too much time with me. We should focus on what’s more important now.”

“You’re not a waste of time, Ruby.”

Your heart tightened.

Please, don’t be so kind to me. Don’t make me feel this way right now.

“B-But I’m right anyway. You know I’m right. Whatever is going on with me or this scepter – it’s not relevant anymore, not now that they retrieved the mummy.”

He kept silent for long seconds, which made you hold your breath with apprehension. Finally, Alucard sighed.

“Alright. We should go.” You almost sighed in relief. “Their headquarters have plenty of accommodations where you can rest in–“

“No!”

You finally looked at him again. You didn’t expect to blurt that out like this, but it escaped anyway. Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You already felt heat creep in your cheeks.

“I don’t want to rest, I want to help. I’m not tired.”

He tilted his head to the side only slightly. A tiny, not-so-focused part of your brain remarked that this little quirk of his made him look like a curious owl. “You haven’t slept properly in three days and you have a high fever.”

“You haven’t slept, either. And the fever’s cooling down.” Why did they still insist in worrying about your physical condition? You shook your leg impatiently. “There must be something I can do, right? Anything.”

Anything to stop me from thinking about my healing condition and my unknown past and this strange scepter and my fear of being taken by Drolta again and remembering my old scars and to stop myself from wishing you’d hug me again right now and never let me go.

Alucard didn’t look sure about that yet.

You felt apprehensive and nervous and impatient.

You scooped the floor with your eyes quickly. Stepping away for a moment, you grabbed something on the floor before running towards him again.

You lifted the red string to his eye level.

“Do you still have yours?”

Alucard blinked. Then, he let another tired sigh and… smiled. That tiny smile he let slip when he thought you were acting funny.

He took his piece of red string from inside his coat.

“Care to help?”

You leaned the scepter on your chest, letting it go for a while, and took the string in your hands. You tied it around his right wrist while remembering that he could tie it himself very well – he had shown he could before – but chose to ask for help anyway and- well I guess this doesn’t mean anything.

Alucard tied your red string around your right wrist, too.

He held it softly for a second longer than necessary.

“If you feel anything strange, let me know.” Alucard asked. You nodded.

“I will.”

He patted your shoulder softly. “Come on.”

You followed him shortly, relieved that he wasn’t looking at you anymore – and, at the same time, desperately wishing he was. 

In less than two hours, the peaceful Parisian night descended into chaos.

Multiple guards ran through the streets on horseback, spreading the warning in loud voices, awakening the citizens from their sleep. Windows and doors were opened, confused and dazed heads peeking from them, trying to understand what was happening. The urgency of their voices made hearts beat faster and apprehension fill the air. Husbands locked their wives inside their houses; mothers tried to calm down their scared children.

Their message was clear: every healthy man was being summoned to defend the city. 

Soon, the Place de la Concorde was packed with a confused crowd. They wore a strange mix of pajamas and coats to protect them from the chilly night air; most faces, still puffy from sleep. Confused and anxious conversations hovered over the crowd. Mere hours ago, the last king of France had been executed on that same square. The platform of the guillotine was still set up. No one expected that another historical – and apocalyptical – event would unravel so soon.

At last, Robespierre stood up on the platform, and the entire crowd went silent. You didn’t know exactly who that man was, but he was certainly very respected. 

“My brothers and sisters,” he started, his voice rising over any other. “I summoned you all here tonight to bring appalling news. Yesterday, we won one more battle against the monarchy that chained us under their feet for years. Today, we face another great enemy. Our city is being threatened by foreign forces that want to lock us in chains once again…”

You doubted this Robespierre had any idea of who Erszebet Bathory truly was, but he wasn’t far from the truth… at least when it came down to you. The most positive side of you hoped the Vampire Messiah would forget about you now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy (as morbid and wrong as it sounded), but another part of you was almost certain that she wouldn’t… be it for a plausible reason or her plain possessiveness over you. Erzsebet didn’t like to lose anything. She was like a spoiled kid who never let go of her favorite toy… and you’d been Erzsebet’s favorite toy for as long as you could remember.

You zoned out for a moment, not paying attention to much of Robespierre’s speech. Every pair of eyes was focused on him. Men and women, curious teenagers, homeless children – in fact, there were homeless people of all ages… their eyes filled with growing apprehension and fear of the menace the man on the platform described. If Erzsebet and her court succeeded, there were little chances of hope for them. Erzsebet would rejoice in their fear. She would bathe in the blood spilled. She would murder the ones she deemed unattractive and feed on the women she deemed attractive; she would “share” with her court. She would turn the ones she deemed worthy into vampires against their will. The men would either serve as entertainment or as slaves for manpower. Then, the ones that survived would learn to not fight and not scream and not cry. 

You knew the patterns very well.

No one should go through any of that. As much as you wished peace for yourself, as much as the incoming battle frightened you – the mere idea of being anywhere near Erzsebet or Drotla again and the understanding that they could and would take you back if everyone failed made your limbs go cold -, there was another feeling growing within you, too.

Anger.

It had always been there. Every second in Erzsebet’s presence was torture. You never respected her. You never felt any sympathy for her. You never thought she had any sort of quality at all. You knew that there was a time when your quarters were a literal cell in her palace’s underground, your clothes were rags, your food was just bread and water if there was any food at all. When you became docile and Erzsebet granted you privileges – a proper room, good food, beautiful gowns and jewels, compliments and compliments – your anger towards her did not decrease one bit. You never felt blessed or thankful over any of those “privileges”. 

You were always so busy trying to simply survive the torture that this fire didn’t have time to spread. Three days away from them was all it took for it to burn in every corner of your soul. 

You weren’t just angry. No, you hated her. Hated them. Every vampire from her court was as awful as her. You hated their smell and you hated how they had no respect for human life and you hated their pompous attires and parties and you hated the fact that you had to sit and watch as they killed hundreds of innocent humans in front of you, not having the power to do anything to stop them.

They had to pay.

You weren’t as strong as Annette or Richter or Alucard. You didn’t even know how to hold a bayonet or wield a sword. And yet, if there was anything you could do to help these people defeat her army, then you would. 

“…We will not subject to anyone who wants to imprison us!” Robespierre boasted. The crowd cheered; fear and apprehension were replaced by rage and motivation in front of your eyes as the man’s speech progressed. Fists raised in the air, screams and whistles of support popped here and there. “We will not allow any self proclaimed queen to sit on a throne atop of us again! We will not allow anyone to take our liberty away from us!”

Robespierre made a long pause, eyeing the crowd in all directions. It seemed that everyone held their breaths in anticipation.

Then – he raised his fist in the air.

“This self proclaimed queen will feel the taste of our iron and the weight of our freedom! Woe to the one that stands in our way. We will fight!”

The crowd exploded in cheers. 

More and more fists raised in the air, mirroring their leader. Vive la Révolution!, they chanted. 

You had to admit – Robespierre was great at giving speeches. You felt motivated yourself.

A sigh by your side caught your attention.

Alucard didn’t look very impressed. His golden eyes were as hard as stone. Underneath the severity of his expression, you also saw a slight hint of annoyance.

“What’s the problem?” You asked hesitantly. 

Alucard took a second to answer. He narrowed his eyes.

“I just don’t appreciate hypocrisy.” It didn’t look like he wanted to elaborate on that statement. “Come. We have to act before the heat of the speech vanishes.”

Indeed – the “heat” of the speech spread like true fire through the city, being carried by anyone that witnessed it. The Revolutionary Army took the lead, its generals reuniting to trace defensive strategies. 

And yet, none of these generals seemed to have the same level of authority Alucard had.

You watched from the back of the room, almost hidden (yes, you said you wanted to help, but at that moment you were the only woman present in the middle of soldiers and that was quite uncomfortable because you attracted a lot of attention for some reason) as all these generals listened to anything Alucard had to say. You didn’t know exactly what the white-haired vampire had done to gain their respect so quickly, but apparently, his first introduction left quite the impression.

Alucard was soft spoken. He didn’t raise his voice in any moment, keeping the same usual quiet but deep and husky tone – and that seemed to be much more effective than screaming, because it forced everyone else to be quiet. Whenever he spoke up, silence filled the room. It seemed no one had the courage to argue with him, though everything Alucard proposed was highly intelligent and you’d have to be a fool to disagree.

You doubted any of these men had been in the presence of a vampire before. Probably never talked to one, at least. However, it seemed that everyone understood that they weren’t talking to a simple man. Standing in the middle of these humans, it became even more clear how Alucard stood out, and not just in appearance. That was the intellect and way of speaking of a person that had lived much, much longer than the human brain could process. It seemed that everyone could feel it, even if they didn’t know Alucard’s true age. He exuded quiet authority, unyielding and highly intelligent. Once again, it reminded you of a mountain. It is silent, has been there for thousands of years; no one can move it.

Alucard looked very noble.

You remembered Richter’s words at the forest. Well, he does look like a prince.

You were glad his attention wasn’t upon you at that moment. You wouldn’t have been able to hide your awe very well if it was.

Around an hour later, the soldiers left the building to spread the strategies. What they needed the most, counting on the collaboration of every citizen:

Salt.

A lot of salt.

Sacks, boxes and buckets of salt were brought to the streets. The army provided weapons – swords, knives, rifles, gunpowder, bayonets and even cannons which were carried to the entries of the city. Every weapon should be wiped with salt.

You busied yourself with that.

Without asking permission, you knelt down in front of a crate full of swords, pulled a bucket of salt closer and started the process of applying salt to the blades. Then, you put the “salted” ones into another empty crate.

It was an obvious task, but it ended up calling more attention than you expected… maybe because, again, there weren’t many other women around the headquarters of the Revolutionary Commune. Most women and children were being led to the outskirts of the city or locked inside houses that had basements as part of the evacuation tactics. You vehemently ignored the looks sent in your direction and just kept working.

Some moments later, you noticed that a young man started imitating you. He sat on the sidewalk and took a crate of weapons himself.

And then another man joined.

And then an older woman.

You heard her husband try to shush her back home, but she sent him an annoyed look.

“I won’t sit down and watch everyone fight. If there’s something I can do, then I’ll do it.” She retorted. He wasn’t brave enough to argue with her any further.

You were glad someone else shared this feeling.

It seemed to awaken some sort of camaraderie in that street, at least. Before, only the men that intended to fight were busy with the preparations. Then, you started to notice more people joining in; women and elders. They brought water, food, fruits, helped carrying crates from place to place. 

Hours went by. You busied yourself with many other tasks after all the weapons were ready. The situation was beyond serious, but it was… nice. It was nice to be so busy doing something that you didn’t notice hours passing by. It was nice to help others. It was nice to not feel so useless for once. Under imprisonment, you didn’t have much to do other than sleeping. You weren’t used to this feeling of being so focused on a task that you could somehow brush your worries to the farthest corner of your mind, at least for some hours.

The sky got clear, but there was still much to be done. You only stopped for some minutes to eat an apple before going back to work.

“Aren’t you tired, mademoiselle?” One of the soldiers asked. He was probably around Richter’s age, which made you remember him and hope he was safe – but the similarities stopped there. This boy, Henri, was shorter and not even close to being as muscular as the Belmont. Curly ginger hair fell over his forehead; his fair skin was peppered by freckles. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for worrying,” you dismissed politely.

“Are you sure?” Another young soldier asked; his name was… Charles? Yes, you thought that was it. His hair was black and he was a tiny bit taller than Henri. “You’ve been working the entire night, mademoiselle. You should rest.”

“I don’t get tired easily,” you dismissed again, smiling awkwardly.

“Do you want water? Do you want to eat?” Another soldier asked… what was his name? You didn’t remember this one. “Please, if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“L-Let me know, too,” Henri, the ginger, intervened. Why did he send this other soldier a slightly annoyed look? “Actually, I asked her first.”

“And? I’m just worried about mademoiselle’s well being.” 

“I am more worried than you are.”

“I doubt it.”

You slipped away from them quietly before they could notice.

Well.

The men here seemed to be very eager to protect you.

All the attention you were receiving was awkward. You weren’t used to so many people wanting to talk to you. Especially not men. Erzsebet never let any men get too close to you for some reason. The guards that kept your quarters and dragged you to places weren’t allowed to talk to you.

These soldiers were… nice in an odd way.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the intentions behind their kindness, because every time you looked at them, you thought of how low their chances of survival were.

You knew Erzsebet’s forces. She had many powerful vampires under her control, not to mention the night creatures. The Vampire Messiah herself was enough of a threat; whenever she summoned Sekhmet, it seemed that air got heavier, as if the atmosphere around her submitted to her power. You couldn’t even imagine how powerful she would be after reuniting with the second half of her soul…

The human forces, on the other hand…

A bunch of civilians wearing soldier uniforms didn’t make them real soldiers. And in between the soldiers, there were barely any warriors. Warriors have expertise in real battle. Warriors carry in their eyes and in their postures the readiness to kill – not because they like it, but because they understand that in order to keep, sometimes you have to take. A real warrior is easily spotted in a crowd.

Other than Alucard? There were barely any.

You doubted many of these men had ever killed a chicken, let alone a vampire.

You tried to be positive, but it was impossible as you distributed more uniforms on the street and analyzed the “soldiers”. A big line was formed in front of you. Smiley man after smiley man. You handed them the uniforms, trying to smile back, but it was quite impossible. Not muscular enough. Not enough callouses. This man is frightened. This man has no idea what he’s getting himself into. This man has awful posture. This man won’t last a second in the battlefield. This man… why did he wink at me?

It was so, so bad.

Maybe if the city had time to actually prepare, to reunite a real army instead of counting on its citizens last minute… maybe they’d have a chance then. Hell, you were trying to be positive, trying to not be frightened, but it was getting hard…

The sound of someone cleaning their throat caught your attention.

You lifted your gaze once again to an unknown man. He was short, wore simple clothes and had a lot of hair missing… but a kind smile adorned his features – kinder than most of the men that stood in front of you, actually.

You forced yourself to smile back and handed him another uniform. The man took it in his hands and inhaled.

“Mademoiselle,” he started, and it somehow caught the attention of the other men that stood nearby. None of them had really spoken to you, just resigning themselves to saying ‘thank you’ and leaving the line. “Y-Your efforts into helping all of us and your kind smile will be what fuels my courage in the battle to come.”

Completely taken by surprise, you froze and stared at him for some seconds.

“Uh… thank you,” your smile got awkward again. Why was everyone looking at you? That wasn’t very comfortable. “I-I mean– I am glad to be an incentive for you to fight, b-but your biggest motive should be to protect your freedom, isn’t it?”

The man got speechless for some reason.

Oh. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

You already felt your fingers shaking and your heart beating faster with embarrassment–

“Beautiful!”

What?

Another man behind in line said loudly. Why were his eyes glowing as he looked at you?

“Beautiful words!” He started clapping.

What?

“You are right, mademoiselle! What encouraging words!” Another man boasted.

“We are fighting for the liberty of our country!”

“Vive la Révolution!”

And then they were all chanting with their fists in the air.

You stood there with your mouth opened, not understanding what the hell just happened. Beautiful words? Weren’t you stating the obvious? You just wanted to take his attention away from you. Why did they all get so excited all of sudden?

What was wrong with these men?

But then, a familiar voice caught your attention, making you forget about the entire embarrassing situation completely.

Richter’s voice.

You turned around to see him and Annette approaching at fast steps.

Immediate relief washed over your body.

You looked around. The line was still pretty long… oh! There was Henri. You waved at him, and the boy approached like an excited puppy. “Would you take my place? Thank you,” you didn’t wait for him to reply, however, not did you notice that the other men waiting in line didn’t really like that you ran away from your position.

You met each other on the sidewalk.

“Are you guys okay? Did you get hurt?” You blurted out immediately as soon as you got close enough. Both of them looked tired, but other than that, no injuries.

“How are you asking that?” Richter seemed to be in disbelief. “Last time we saw you, you were bleeding to death. Are you okay?”

You instinctively looked down at your own body and extended your arms, as if to show them that there were no wounds.

“I’ve healed,” you said with simplicity. Because it was that simple, and you didn’t understand why they didn’t understand that yet.

It didn’t seem to ease any of Annette’s guilt.

That was what you wanted the least.

The girl in yellow dropped her shoulders, the corners of her mouth turned downwards.

“I am so sorry, Ruby,” her voice was somewhat shy. “Because of me, you got hurt. I… I should’ve been more careful…”

She looked up at you again when you rested your hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

You weren’t good with physical touch, but that seemed appropriate at the moment.

“That’s not what happened.” You started in a calm voice. In fact, that was the most level headed you’ve ever heard yourself… where was that coming from? “I jumped in front of you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I did it. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

Annette seemed a bit surprised by your actions. Well, you were surprised, too. But it seemed to ease whatever she was feeling, even if just a bit; she managed to offer you a tiny smile.

Richter put his hands on each side of his waist and looked around with a frown. “The city is in chaos. What happened?”

“Robespierre called for all citizens to join battalions in their neighborhoods.”

This new voice startled you slightly.

You hadn’t noticed Alucard approaching. You knew he was close – in fact, he stood somewhere around you the entire time; Alucard himself was too busy, but he was always somewhere in your field of view, although you didn’t really interact the entire time.

“Legions of volunteers are taking positions around the city,” he concluded. It was interesting how his voice became just a tiny bit less dull now compared to when he talked to soldiers or other unknown people.

“Do you think they’re ready for what’s coming?” Richter asked.

Alucard hesitated.

You exchanged a knowing look.

They weren’t. He knew it. You knew it. But… that was all you had for now.

He looked back at Richter with his eyebrows slightly turned upwards. “...An impassioned speech can make even the weakest man believe he’s brave.”

There was no better way to describe the current situation.

Richter and Annette eyed each other. The Belmont boy seemed to hesitate for a moment and cleared his throat as if building up courage – and then you remembered that the last time he saw Alucard, they weren’t exactly on good terms.

“So… I know things didn’t work out at the Louvre, but maybe all isn’t lost.”

Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You held your breath in anticipation.

“I have a plan, and I think it’s going to work,” it was Annette’s turn to speak.

“If we work together,” Richter concluded.

The white-haired vampire observed them in silence for some moments, while the three of you looked at him in anticipation back.

Finally, he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.

“Very well. What’s your plan?”

The Tailleur de Jordan was a small establishment you had hidden your scepter the night before, just two streets away from there. As the citizens were being evacuated, places like that were empty and ready to use. It would be perfect for what Annette needed to do – though it immediately filled you with worry.

“That was what the spirits were trying to tell you?” You asked.

Annette nodded. “...I believe so. It’s difficult to be certain about anything, but this is the best chance we have.” Alucard unlocked the door and stepped aside. Annette walked in first. “This will do,” she stated after a quick look.

The tailor shop was small. It had a couple of chairs, a large windowsill, a table, a desk, cabinets filled with all types of fabric in multiple colors, threads, needles, scissors… it had somewhat of a cozy atmosphere. You hoped whoever owned it was somewhere safe – and you hoped they’d survive the incoming battle to take this place back.

As the two men pushed furniture from the center of the room, you rushed to find Annette some chalk. When you turned around to hand it to her, she was eyeing the scepter with curiosity. It was leaning on a table in the corner of the room, exactly where you left it.

She looked at you with one quirked eyebrow.

“...It’s hard to explain,” you said.

Annette shrugged and took the white chalk from your hand.

She knelt on the floor and started to draw an intricate symbol you’d never seen before. It resembled a fleur de lis, though it was much more complicated. After she finished, she put the chalk aside and sat in front of it with crossed legs.

Then, she took a deep breath.

“My soul may be away from my body for a while,” she explained quietly.

Richter folded a piece of fabric and placed it behind her, offering Annette a gentle smile, before sitting by her side on the floor.

“Just in case.”

She reciprocated his smile.

You sat down on a chair in the corner of the room beside the scepter, watching the entire scene in silence. Alucard stood near them in the other side of it.

Annette looked down again. For the first time, you saw a hint of fear in her eyes… and you felt fear for her, too. She was going to walk into a path where no one could follow or help her. She’d be truly alone in this – and if she failed, then you’d really have no chance. You already knew the “army” out there was hopeless.

“Cécile always warns that our souls mustn’t get lost in the spirit world,” she explained in that same quiet tone.

“What happens if they do?” Alucard asked.

“...I will never wake up.”

Richter gasped.

He rested his hand over hers. And then… it was happening again. That intimacy they shared that made you feel like an intruder. It seemed that, in these moments, they were alone – but in a delicate, pure way; it wasn’t as if they were ignoring you and Alucard. They were simply… too lost in each other to care about anything else.

It was beautiful to witness, in a way.

“We’ll be here. Don’t be afraid.” Richter’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe it’ll help you find your way back.”

They exchanged a final sweet look before the Belmont moved away.

Annette inhaled deeply. She pressed her hands together in a praying position and closed her eyes before chanting something in a language you didn’t understand.

She chanted a few times. Her voice got slower. She opened her eyes – but they seemed empty.

“Annette?” Richter called.

She stopped talking. Her body stopped moving. Her chest moved almost imperceptibly – the calm breathing of someone asleep. Her eyes were opened, but she wasn’t seeing anything anymore.

Her soul was gone.

It was a chilling sight to witness.

Richter held her hand. He knew she wasn’t there anymore, but he kept repeating “I’ll be here” anyway.

The care he had for her was deeper than you first assumed…

You crossed your arms and rested your back on the chair. It wasn’t going to be a fast process. So… there was nothing you could do but wait.

Wait…

And wait.

A part of Sekhmet’s soul must be in the spirit world, Annette had explained. If I find it and retrieve it, we may have a chance.

A third part of Sekhmet’s soul…

If Annette was right, than it’s impossible that Drolta didn’t know about it already. She was the goddess’ priestess, after all. Could it be that she tried to retrieve this third part of Sekhmet’s soul before? Maybe it was impossible for her, as it was a spiritual journey, not physical. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t succeed and kept looking for Sekhmet’s mummy.

Time went by. Minutes turned to an hour. Richter walked from side to side nervously, biting his nails, while you and Alucard didn’t move or talk at all. After a few more minutes, Alucard approached and leaned on the wall beside you with his arms crossed.

“You should try to sleep for now.”

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“I’m not sleepy.”

He sent a side eye at your blatant lie. “I’ll repeat it. You haven’t slept properly in almost four days.”

“You haven’t slept at all in almost four days, either.”

“And I can keep awake for much longer. How about you?”

...You’d never been awake for this long, actually. He got you.

You sighed and crossed your arms, sinking in the chair even more. “I don’t want to sleep. What if something important happens?”

“He won’t be quiet about it. You’ll wake up in no time,” Alucard said jokingly.

“I heard that,” Richter almost pouted. It seems he didn’t really like when both of you chuckled at him.

You dropped your voice to a whisper, hoping Richter wouldn’t hear you from the other side of the room.

“Don’t be mean to him.”

Alucard paused.

You had the strong impression he wanted to roll his eyes but held himself back. The white-haired vampire sighed and tilted his head to the side.

“I won’t if you sleep for a bit.”

It was your turn to let a deep sigh. “No promises.”

“No promises on my part, either.”

He sent you a last lighthearted look, the hint of a smile on his lips, before walking back to the windowsill.

The thing is, your eyelids were heavy. But you genuinely didn’t want to miss anything. One week ago, your life was basically a long, confusing sleep; it was the first time you’d been awake for so long, experiencing so many new things – good and bad – and it was the first time your mind was so clear. No memory lapses, no confusion; you knew where you were all the time, there were no blank spaces in between events. You didn’t want it to go away. If Alucard could keep awake for much longer, you could too, right? Maybe your brain would heal the sleep. Maybe if you pushed a little longer you wouldn’t feel tired anymore–

Pitch black.

“Come back here!”

You run around the alleys after that little rat. Heavens, why does ??? have to be so disobedient?! Although he’s screaming, you’re pretty sure he likes being chased like this. He loves pissing you off for some reason.

But his legs are much shorter than yours, and without much effort, you grab him by the collar.

??? looks at you with the round eyes of a scared pup.

“What are you doing here?!” You hiss, crouching down to get to his eye level and holding him by both arms. “I told you over a hundred times, you’re not allowed inside!”

“I was curious!”

“I don’t care!” ??? shrieks at your loud reprimands. You can’t bring yourself to soften; he has to understand that his actions have consequences once and for all. “There are places you’re not allowed to get in! Do you want me to get into trouble because of you?!”

??? crosses his arms and looks down, pouting. “I-I just wanted someone to play with!”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You have plenty of friends. You can’t fool me with that.” He sticks his tongue out at you; you ruffle his hair violently in return. “Go back home right now. And if I catch you here again, I’ll hang you by your feet and let you dry in the sun like a peace of meat. Did you understand?!”

“You’re annoying! I hate you!”

??? runs off. You gasp out loud, outraged.

“I’ll kill you when I get home!”

You woke up with a soft gasp.

For some seconds, you were completely disoriented. You blinked several times, trying to understand what was happening.

Oh.

You were exactly on the same spot as before. Sitting on the wooden chair. A long, soft fabric was put over your body, serving as a blanket.

...You ended up sleeping, after all.

And for a long time.

You knew it not only because your body ached from sleeping while sitting in a hard wooden chair – your neck was especially painful –, but because the Sun was gone. Judging by the height of the moon in the sky, it was already a little over midnight. It brightly illuminated the entire tailor shop through the large window, bathing it in silver light; one candle was lit over the desk, but it wasn’t really necessary.

You massaged your neck, frowning, and looked to your right side. Richter was sleeping over the desk right beside you, snoring softly and drooling a bit. It made you chuckle. Annette hadn’t moved a centimeter. You wondered if she’d feel pain when she “came back”; not moving for so many hours, not drinking water or eating…

“You should sleep a bit more.”

Alucard’s quiet voice reached your ears and immediately made you shiver… for some reason. He was being quieter than usual as to not wake Richter up or disturb Annette.

The white-haired vampire was comfortably sitting on the windowsill with his arms crossed, one of his legs over the wooden platform. The usual serenity adorned his features. Moonlight bathed him directly through the window, making his hair look like strands of pure braided silver. His long eyelashes cast a soft shadow over his golden eyes.

You rubbed your eyes and forehead. Of course, you were trying to brush the sleep away, but you also were trying to pretend his sole image didn’t make your stomach feel funny.

“I already slept too much,” you whispered back.

Alucard observed you in silence for some seconds. He pointed at something with his finger; a basket with some apples right beside Richter’s head.

Sure. You needed to eat. You haven’t had lunch at all. You held one of the apples and took a bite.

You munched in silence for some moments.

A silent battle took place within you.

You… wanted to approach him. You hadn’t really talked the entire day, too busy in your tasks to have a moment – and as stupid as it was because, well, he’d been near you the entire time, you… missed him. But you didn’t know if you should approach him at all. What if Alucard didn’t want to be disturbed? There was no reason for you to leave your spot in the room.

The hesitance only got worse because now, every time you looked at him, you remembered the hug. It was so comforting at that moment… why did you feel so embarrassed of yourself about it now? Alucard took the initiative to hug you first. There was nothing wrong with that, was it? Wasn’t it common for friends to hug each other? Well, you never had a friend before, you couldn’t tell if it was true...

Were you his friend in the first place? Did Alucard consider you a friend?

The truth is… you felt that something shifted in your “relationship” with him since that hug, even if it was all just in your head. You couldn’t tell exactly what. Maybe you were acting like a fool. Alucard probably didn’t stop to think about it even once.

You took another bite.

Alucard wouldn’t be mean to you, would he? He hadn’t been until that point. Not even once. So, why were you hesitating?

You gulped and got up from the chair.

Still holding the blanket, you crossed the room, tip toeing to not make much noise. Your eyes were glued on Annette’s immobile figure, both because you didn’t want to touch her by accident and because you didn’t want to make eye contact with Alucard yet. You knew he was watching you.

You sat on the other side of the windowsill, facing him. As the window was large, it was a considerable distance, which made the situation a bit less awkward for you. You put both legs over the windowsill and brought your knees close to your body, covering them with the blanket.

The only sound filling the room was of Richter’s soft snoring and your quiet munching.

It was peaceful. You didn’t expect you’d feel any peace in the hours that preceded the hell that would unleash upon the city. It was even a bit ironic how beautiful the moon looked that night.

After finishing eating the apple, you placed the stem aside and stayed in silence for some more minutes.

It took courage to speak up.

“Do you think they still need help out there?” Your voice was quiet.

Alucard didn’t take his eyes off the window.

“We already did everything we could to help them.” His deep, husky voice sounded even more soothing than usual for some reason. It was truly admirable how relaxed he could be in that moment, considering what awaited you in the near future. “They have all the instructions. They’ll know what to do.”

It was kind of him to include you in this. Your “help” wasn’t as significant as his; Alucard not only gave instructions, but led the entire defensive strategy. But you decided not to feel bad about that… not at that moment.

You put your hands over your knees and adjusted your posture a bit better.

“...Can I ask you something?”

Alucard turned his gaze to you for the first time, nodding.

“What did you mean back there at the square? When you said you don’t appreciate hypocrisy?”

The white-haired vampire exhaled softly; his expression got a tiny bit tense. You were under the impression he was expecting you to ask something else…

“That whole speech about liberty.” He started. His voice became more serious, a slight hint of annoyance once again. “It’s all surface level, you see. Very selfish. They talk about fighting for freedom whilst still keeping colonies under their power, refusing to let them be independent.” Alucard’s eyes landed on Annette. “Annette’s home country, Saint-Domingue, is one of these colonies. They are currently battling for independence over there. Annette herself was a slave; she had to fight for her own freedom.”

You widened your eyes and immediately looked at her as well.

Annette used to be a slave?!

Suddenly – many things about her started to make sense. The mark on her right hand… her words to you at the forest; “I understand how you feel”, she said. “Those people… they keep haunting you. On your sleep, or even when you’re awake”, she said.

“To be truly freed is to not be afraid.”

You tightened your hands on the blanket. Annette… she really could understand you better than anyone else. And she still came to this country to fight for the people that wouldn’t fight for her…

“Why did she even agree to help them?” You wondered in disbelief.

“She understands that Erzsebet will become a much bigger menace to the whole world if she’s not stopped in time.” Alucard tightened his eyes. “The people of France, like Richter and Maria, aren’t wrong for fighting against the monarchy. But it’s the leaderships of the Revolution that are hypocrites. If it’s not liberty for all, then it’s no liberty at all.”

You looked at Annette again.

She was so much stronger than you imagined… not only because she was a powerful witch or because she was, at that moment, wandering alone in the spirit world; Annette had a noble soul. She was strong enough to overcome her fears and fight for herself.

You wondered if you’d be like her one day.

You wanted to be like her.

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

Well… if you wanted to be like her, you’d have to overcome your fears, too. And your hesitancy.

You hugged your own legs and stared at the fabric of the blanket, gathering the courage to speak these next words out loud. If you spoke them, they would become more real. A part of you was scared of that fact.

“I… I think I have a son.”

Alucard immediately whipped his head at your whispered confession.

Although he was visibly surprised, he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“...Or a brother. I’m not sure.”

The white-haired vampire narrowed his eyes; he was the one that seemed to hesitate now, choosing his words carefully. “What makes you think that?”

You scratched your head nervously and frowned. “This dream I just had. I barely ever dream about anything… my sleep is usually empty. B-But I dreamed of this little boy that looks like me and…”

And I loved him.

I loved the little boy I saw in my dream with all my heart. I missed him the moment I opened my eyes and realized he wasn’t real.

You gulped, passed your hand over your face again. “Or maybe I’m still emotional over what happened to Oliver. I don’t know.” You shook your head, immediately feeling regret and embarrassment for admitting something so personal. Why would Alucard want to know about that anyway? “F-Forget about it. Just a dream, right? I guess it’s not important…”

“If it’s important to you, then it’s important.” Alucard held his chin and looked down, pensive. “Perhaps your memories are coming back in the form of dreams.”

It was a bit amazing how Alucard could reassure you with a blank expression on his face – as if he didn’t understand the impact his words had on you. You looked down at your knees again, that familiar heat already increasing on the back of your neck and cheeks.

“I-Is it common?” You tried to act like his words didn’t make you feel even more emotional.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell. I’ve… never suffered of memory loss before.” He shrugged. “But the mind works in mysterious ways, especially if we consider that your memories might’ve been taken away by magic.”

You exhaled and grabbed some strands of hair at the top of your head nervously again, as if trying to forcefully grab a memory from your brain.

“Why can’t I remember relevant things? Or at least straightforward things?” You whined to yourself. “Small, useless things come to me, but nothing that could help me find out who I am.”

Alucard leaned forward slightly, seeming interested.

“What type of things do you remember?” He asked softly.

You hummed.

“...I can’t call these things memories. They’re more like… things I know. Like…” You pressed your lips together. “I know the difference between a poisonous mushroom and an edible one. No one taught me that, I just know it. Or… there’s many animals I know of, though I don’t remember ever seeing them before. And…”

You looked out the window towards the sky. Alucard watched you with curiosity.

You pointed towards a specific star.

“That’s Mars.” Alucard looked subtly surprised. “Right in the middle of the Gemini constellation. Pollux, Castor…” You searched for something else in the sky. “And there… Betelgeuse, Bellatrix... the Orion constellation. And right over there–“ You pointed a bit downwards. “That’s Jupiter, in the middle of Taurus. And that star right beside it… it’s…” Your frown deepened and you hummed, trying to remember its name. “It’s…”

“Aldebaran.”

You looked back at Alucard.

He had the tiniest of the smiles on his lips.

“Yes. Aldebaran.” You confirmed, unable to hide your tiny smile that mirrored his.

“That’s why you look at the night sky so much? You were remembering?”

Oh.

You didn’t know Alucard paid attention to that.

You averted your gaze from his, trying to hide your shyness. “M-My point is: why do I remember these small things, and nothing more relevant… like where do I come from or my real name?”

Alucard leaned his back on the wall once more and looked out the window. You watched as serenity took the lead over his features again – being accompanied by quiet sorrow. That was new. You hadn’t seen him show an expression like that before.

...He looked quite vulnerable at that moment.

“My father… was many things,” he began, which immediately surprised you and locked all your attention over him. Alucard was finally letting one more piece of information about him; these moments were rare. You cherished them deeply. His voice was featherlight, mirroring the quiet vulnerability of his expression. “A scholar, a philosopher, an alchemist… and he was also an astronomer. He was passionate about the stars.”

A small sad smile appeared on his lips.

That was another new expression.

That was the same man that led an entire room full of generals with unyielding authority; the same man you’d seen kill vampires ruthlessly. A real warrior. And yet, at that moment, locked inside this small tailor shop with no more witnesses other than you, Alucard was letting himself be fragile for a moment.

Perhaps it was inappropriate of you to think this way – but at that moment, with the silver moonlight kissing his saddened image, he had never looked more beautiful.

The intricate paintings you’d seen at the Louvre did not compare to him.

“He taught me all about it when I was a child,” Alucard continued softly. “Constellations. Comets. Planets… I never forgot any of it.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking down. “What I mean with that is… I don’t really use this knowledge in my life other than to know the seasons of the year. Some magicians are benefited by the positions of celestial bodies, but they don’t affect the type of magic I use. And yet…” He finally looked up at you again. “This knowledge isn’t small or useless to me; because it was taught by someone I loved.”

For some reason, you felt your heart ache at his words.

Of course, you understood what he meant; he was trying to help, to change your perspective, to not deem that your simple “knowledge” was useless. However, what you noticed the most was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the quiet longing. You remembered, once again, the fact that Alucard was centuries old. Still, he visibly talked about his father with some sort of affection. Longing.

...He’d been missing someone for centuries?

But you remembered, once again, that his father was Dracula. The name that evoked primal fear in you; the vampire that, according to Richter, almost wiped out mankind. He must’ve been as dangerous as Erzsebet or even worse. Even so, Alucard seemed to miss him… it made the whole situation so much more painful.

Did Alucard have to kill someone he loved…?

Why did it make you so sad?

Maybe it wasn’t that serious to him; maybe it was a scar that had already healed long ago. Maybe you were being too emotional again. But the simple idea of Alucard having to go through something so horrible ached. You… you wished there was something you could do for him. If you could comfort him the way he comforted you so many times.

...You wondered if he’d mind if you came closer. If he’d be surprised if you draped your arms around his shoulders; if he’d push you away if you made him rest his head on your chest, the same way he did to you yesterday. You wondered if he’d appreciate if you held him like that; if he’d like if you caressed his hair, tangling your fingers on his silvery strands. You… you wondered if it would make him feel a bit better. If he’d sigh, if he would cage his arms around your waist and reciprocate it.

You didn’t just wonder it; you craved it. Because as much as his touch and his gaze and his eyes burned, you craved that burn. It wouldn’t hurt you – at least, not in the ways you were used to.

It was scary.

If you were a little more brave, you would’ve moved. You would’ve made your imagination come true.

...But once again, you were reminded that there wasn’t time for any of that.

You felt a cold shiver run your spine, which immediately snapped you out of your trance. What surprised you, however, is that you weren’t the only one; Alucard also frowned and immediately straightened his posture, putting both feet on the floor again.

Both of you turned to Annette.

Both of you watched in quiet shock when she started to float in the air, keeping her meditation position.

Both of you stood up.

“...Is this normal?” You whispered.

“I don’t know.” He whispered back.

“What do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“I should wake–“

“No.” Alucard held your arm softly before you took one more step. “Let the boy sleep. There’s nothing he can do, either. He’ll just be even more stressed.”

You gulped and nodded, sitting on the windowsill again and hoping that whatever battle Annette was facing, she’d be strong enough to win.

Hours went by. The sun raised in the sky again – and with him, apprehension beyond words.

Before, Richter was the only one walking from side to side and biting nails; now, you felt like a pile of anxiety yourself, watching as Annette didn’t send any sign that she was close to coming back. Two hours ago, she had gasped for a moment as if she was underwater; after that, her expression went back to being blank and she stopped levitating, her body slowly getting down on the floor again.

No more reactions after that.

The streets were packed with soldiers once more. You looked out the window and back to her nervously. What if she got lost in the spirit world? What if she never came back?

Even Alucard was beginning to show hints of anxiety. He chose to stay in the same spot by the window, but his eyes wandered outside as well. He had taken responsibility over the entire operation, after all. Despite what he said past night, you knew he also worried for everyone.

You stopped beside him with crossed arms. Richter couldn’t stay still for a moment. The three of you watched Annette in silence.

You didn’t want Richter to hear your question. Hell, you didn’t want to voice that yourself – but it had to be asked at some point.

“Alucard, what if… what if she…” you whispered; yet, you weren’t brave enough to finish that sentence.

What if she doesn’t make it?

Alucard understood anyway.

“We’ll fight.” He replied with simplicity. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. Annette never coming back… Erzsebet possessing the true power of Sekhmet… all the unprepared soldiers out there… you were experiencing the worst case scenario. You wished there was something else you could do. Anything to help her.

Minutes went by. Minutes. Minutes…

You… started to feel a strange weakness in the pit of your stomach.

Your legs felt wobbly. It wasn’t due to hunger or anxiety this time; you knew it. This sensation was familiar – albeit much weaker than the other times you had felt it.

You gasped and turned around to face the window.

“No.” You whispered in disbelief.

Alucard and Richter were surprised by your sudden reaction; then, they focused on the window as well.

On the sky.

The sun was beginning to be covered by a shadow.

Slowly, the sky got a sickening red color as the eclipse progressed; sunlight was starting to vanish. You heard rushed voices and screams out there, people running on the streets, locking themselves inside their homes, soldiers yelling orders. A sentiment of fear grew almost palpable over the whole city.

Alucard’s suspicions were right.

With the second half of Sekhmet’s soul, Erzsebet did not need you anymore to summon an eclipse.

You already knew he was most certainly right, but you foolishly tried to be positive. Maybe she won’t be able to summon an eclipse anyway.

All your thin hopes were shattered.

It was impossible to ease your aching heart or calm your shaking hands. The eclipse was the bad omen that indicated her approach. Was Erzsebet close by already? Was her army marching near the borders of Paris?

You couldn’t take your eyes off the window anymore or shut your loud mind – and that’s why you didn’t notice Richter calling Annette behind you.

Suddenly – heat.

You turned around in a jump in time to see Annette being involved in golden light.

Richter was sent flying back and hit his back against a cabinet. Wind made everyone’s clothes and hair sway; you had to protect your eyes with your arm to not be blinded. It became hot hot hot hot inside the atelier; you felt goosebumps roam your skin, your stomach drop, a certain dizziness – the effects of standing near so much power.

Finally – the light diminished. You put your arm down slowly and opened your eyes.

A shocked gasp escaped past your lips.

Annette levitated in the air some centimeters away from the floor; her hair suddenly got longer, her braids cascading over her shoulders like a beautiful lion’s mane. She wore an ancient Egyptian red attire adorned with details in gold. Her closed eyes were painted with blue and red kohl. She had a golden aura around her; the temperature inside the atelier increased significantly.

She carried so much power that the air trembled.

“...Annette?” Richter called hesitantly – but you already knew, and he knew as well, that this wasn’t Annette anymore.

“Where is she?” she spoke; her voice was distorted – beyond her normal voice, there was another female voice speaking upon it, too.

Annette finally opened her eyes. They looked like ponds of pure melted gold; her pupils, vertical like a cat’s.

“Where is this Erzsebet?” she demanded with the authority of a queen.

No… not a queen. A goddess.

Annette wasn’t in front of you anymore. Sekhmet was.

It made all the tiny hairs in your arms and at the back of your neck raise; your breath got difficult. This sensation was familiar – you had witnessed Erzsebet being possessed by Sekhmet’s power before. And yet, it felt slightly different now. The fear wasn’t accompanied by menace or cruelty. It felt more like witnessing a raging tornado coming towards you.

Annette had succeeded.

Great, this was great. Your chances in battle increased significantly with such a powerful ally; more importantly, Annette was alive. Maybe the goddess had possessed her body for a while, but it meant that her consciousness was still there somehow, maybe watching everything in the back of her mind…

Annette– Sekhmet extended her arms, watching everything with a high chin.

“My three souls must be rejoined and the cosmic balance restored,” she said in that same chilling, proud tone. “Though this mortal vessel might be too fragile for the souls of a god.”

Richter tightened his fists; sweat dripped down his temples. You’d never seen him look so worried as in that moment. The Belmont boy stepped forward.

“We will lead you to her. Erzsebet is coming to this city.”

Sekhmet did not show any reaction. It was a bit unsettling to see Annette’s face carrying that ferocious, yet soulless expression–

But then, she laid eyes on you for the first time.

Her gaze was piercing. It made you feel exposed for some reason; as if she was able to see inside of you, inside your soul.

Her eyes scanned your face, then laid on your chest for some moments.

Sekhmet frowned like a feral cat.

It was the first facial expression she showed.

“She must not be close to me.”

You froze in place, absolutely speechless.

W...What?!

Both Alucard and Richter looked from Sekhmet to you rapidly, as shocked as you. What did she mean? Why couldn’t you be close to her? She– She didn’t like you? Did it have anything to do with your involvement with Erzsebet? What was the problem?!

“Don’t make me repeat myself, human,” Sekhmet hissed again, this time addressing Richter; the tailor shop trembled at her anger. Alucard was the only one that didn’t flinch or move. “Where is this Erzsebet?! Lead me to her!”

Richter looked back at you one more time, sending you an apologetic look. The goddess was impatient – and it wasn’t a good idea to make her wait, especially while she inhabited Annette’s body. No one had any idea if it’d be harmful for her to be possessed for so long.

The Belmont boy gulped and walked towards the door, unlocking it and walking out. Sekhmet followed him, levitating out of the atelier.

You stood there, shell-shocked, not knowing how to react.

Alucard’s touch took you out of that state.

He put both hands over your shoulders, blocking the sight of the floating goddess out there and forcing you to lock all of your attention on him. Severity weighed on his features; he had an accentuated frown, his jaw was tightened. And yet, he somehow still looked down at you with care.

“It’d already be best for you to keep out of sight,” his tone indicated that he was not willing to debate this.

You tightened your fists, your shoulders dropped. You knew he was right regardless of Sekhmet’s demand. You knew you didn’t know how to wield a sword or a rifle; you knew you’d be useless in battle. You weren’t a powerful magician or a warrior like these two. You weren’t even like the civilians in uniforms out there – they’d be more useful than you.

But even so… even so…

Alucard cupped your cheek softly.

Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t in panic as you were before that made his gesture burn right away. It burned burned burned much more than Sekhmet’s hot power out there; it spread warmth through your body, made your chest tighten. Heavens, it burned so much; his caring gaze, his gentle touch, his sweet smell… everything burned–

But oh god – how you wanted to burn in this fire.

The rushed voices and steps out there got muffled. It seemed that time itself slowed down for a moment while you looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve failed you two times before,” Alucard said in a smooth, yet determined tone; his thumb caressed your cheek gently. “I promise I won’t fail you again. Erzsebet and Drolta won’t get anywhere near you.”

You didn’t know what to answer.

Alucard was the first person to ever stand up for you; the first person to ever protect you, to make you feel safe. Yes, maybe you were being too emotional. Maybe you were letting your emotions take the lead instead of sanity. But how could you not feel this affection towards him in situations like this?

You believed him. You trusted him.

You nodded.

Alucard managed to offer you a small smile. He let go of your cheek and held your wrist softly, passing his finger over the red string. He still wore his.

“Remember.” He patted his finger over it. You nodded yet again.

When Alucard stepped back, the world started moving at the normal pace again. The noises became clear. The city was loud now – and you felt incredibly cold.

He sent you a last significant gaze before turning around and leaving the atelier, closing the door behind him.

And then – you were alone.

Minutes went by. You walked from side to side with crossed arms. The city was painted in an eerie red hue due to the eclipse; you saw many soldiers running through the window. You tried to calm down, control your breathing, focus on a single thing– but fuck, you couldn’t. Not anymore.

You hoped Alucard, Richter and Annette were safe – especially Annette. You hoped everything would get solved fast so the goddess could leave her body. You hoped Richter would find the strength to fight. You hoped Alucard would succeed in his strategy. You hoped the civilians out there, courageously wearing uniforms and standing up to fight for their families, would survive; as many as possible, at least.

You hoped there was something you could do.

You sat on the windowsill and leaned your head on both hands, gripping your hair nervously. You couldn’t help but shake. You knew Alucard was right; you didn’t want to get hurt or to cross ways with Drolta or Erzsebet. He was being rational. He was correct.

But even so… even so–

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of an explosion.

The floor shook. Multiple screams echoed in the night, followed by shots. More explosions – these were somewhere near, probably a few streets away; you heard more distant explosions too. Cannons being ignited.

The battle had started.

You got up again, unable to control your anxiety. More screams more shots more explosions more earthquakes. The sky lightened up with different colors – blue and red and yellow – for a few seconds. Your heart raced, sweat already covered your forehead, your fingers trembled. Pure chaos had unleashed upon the city.

Erzsebet and Drolta were somewhere out there fighting.

This perception frightened you, made you want to dig a hole on the ground and hide there forever. You couldn’t be seen or caught by them – death felt like a more merciful future, but you couldn’t die, and that was the problem.

At the same time, another feeling increased. Burned.

Anger.

And urgency.

Everyone was fighting out there. Everyone was contributing somehow, putting their lives on the line. Humans against vampires and night creatures; they were much more courageous than you were. All of them were risking their fragile mortal lives. You were reminded of how easy it is for a human to die – while you, with this strange healing condition, were hidden there, too scared to get hurt.

You were tired of feeling useless and even more tired of feeling scared.

Fuck, there should be something you could do! Anything actually useful. You held your head again, once more hating your stupid empty brain, wishing you could find a relevant memory despite what Alucard said before–

Your eyes stopped on the scepter.

It was in the corner of the room exactly were you left it. You weren’t brave enough to touch it again.

You stood there and stared at it.

Explosions. Screams. Earthquakes. Shots. Multiple steps. Everything had a red tone to it. You kept your eyes locked on the golden artifact, the symbol of the sun; you stared and stared and stared and–

You remembered.

Once again – it wasn’t exactly a memory. It was more of a feeling; a knowledge. The scepter seems to be reacting to your feelings, Alucard said that time. It shone and burned the three vampires alive as if they were standing under the sun.

You somehow caused this reaction.

And at that moment, something deep within you told you that you could make that again.

You could make it bigger.

Your fists tightened. You gulped and straightened your posture.

Alucard told you to keep out of sight. Sekhmet said you shouldn’t be near her.

But you looked out the window and saw these soldiers running with rifles in hand; the fragility of their lives didn’t stop them from fighting. Maybe there was something you could do. Maybe you could help them somehow in a truly effective way.

You crossed the room and held the scepter; it was cold, lifeless. You’d find a way to make it work again – you had too. You stood in front of the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. It was shaking.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

You were scared. You were frightened.

But Annette’s voice echoed in the back of your mind:

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You opened your eyes, turned the doorknob and ran out of the atelier shop – stepping into the red chaos.

[sutorus]

HEART SHAKER

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: ~1k

WARNINGS: established relationship, suggestive language, flirting, attempts at humor. fluff, somehow.

A/N: super freaking unedited i just had to get this out bc i can’t believe it’s not smut LOL

“god, you’re squeezing me so hard, sweetheart.”

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend, brows set low in a warning. he only smirks. 

you pump harder. 

“oh fuck, it’s so tight right now.”

you huff in annoyance, slapping both hands down on your legs. 

“can you stop? i lost count!”

satoru laughs at you, throwing his head back. 

you cringe at how loud his movements sound in your ears, the stethoscope you were using still pressed to his skin. 

you release the pressure on the cuff around his arm, sighing deeply. 

“once again, i’m going to ask you,” you enunciate the words slowly, your eyes aiming at his, right behind that blindfold. “why don’t you have shoko do this?”

you’re sure if it were her measuring his blood pressure she could get actual accurate results. 

satoru tilts his head, smiling sweetly. 

“and why would i do that?” he singsongs. “you’re the prettiest little doctor around.”

“resident,” you correct him. 

you wish so badly that he was due for a vaccine or something, just so you would have an excuse to stab him. 

of course, you weren't complaining. you’re incredibly lucky that shoko took you under her wing once you got a job at the school. you weren’t able to master reverse cursed technique at her level quite yet, but you were just as good of a regular doctor as she was. 

it didn’t matter how good you were though, because you weren’t a pediatrician or a saint, and it takes one of either to deal with gojo satoru as a patient. 

“why do we even bother with check ups?” he asks, leaning back on the exam table. “i am literally healing my body twenty-four-seven.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the light test hammer. 

“what kind of question is that? sit up straight,” you shuffle on your chair, getting in between his too-spread legs. whore. 

satoru shrugs, kicking his dangling feet. “a valid one.”

you bring the hammer down hard on his knee to check his reflexes. naturally, it stops just shy of his leg. 

you don’t even have to look. you know he’s smirking again. 

“turn infinity off.”

“‘turn infinity off’? you’re so cute,” he replies. you try to hit him with the hammer again to no avail. “i need to teach you some combat skills, girl.”

“and i need to examine you,” you get up off your seat, facing him. satoru leans in with a grin. “behave.”

he won’t. 

“wanna play doctor?” 

you ignore his voice and the obvious glee in it, a retort dying on your tongue because you do actually have to carry out a check up, to the best of your abilities. 

grabbing your clipboard, you skim through his most recent health assessment records.

he complained about a migraine to shoko. 

it makes your heart seize for just a moment, to think of all the stress satoru puts himself through to have his technique active at all times. 

“how’s your head?” you ask him. 

“you tell me,” his foot grazes the back of your knee, coaxing you closer. “any complaints?”

a dissatisfied sound comes out of your mouth as you press your hands to his chest instinctively, forcing distance between you two. 

“satoru, please.”

“do you worry, baby?” he reaches out to tentatively hold the side of your face. “don’t worry about me.”

“it’s literally my job,” you trail off, head dropping. 

satoru lifts your chin up and presses his lips to yours for a second or two. 

“sorry, sorry,” he says before you can chastise him. “couldn’t help it. you look so cute all worked up.”

at this point you just twist your lips disapprovingly, putting the stethoscope earpieces back on. 

you press it to his chest and listen as he breathes in and out. 

“satoru,” you frown. “are you okay?”

“hmm?”

you look at him knowingly, a smirk of your own blooming on your face. 

“why is your heart beating so fast?”

at that, your awful, awful boyfriend finally has the decency to blush. 

“and you’re breathing so hard, too—“

“it’s hard, alright—“

“—we might have to schedule some follow up exams,” you click your pen to fill out the form, neglecting the way he leans into you. 

“anytime,” he huffs out, breath skirting on your face where you stand between his knees. “do i get a lollipop for being such a good boy?”

“no,” you reply, taking a step forward. “but you can have this.”

you plant a kiss on his lips, letting it linger for longer than it should as he holds your hips tightly.

he hums contentedly when you pull away.

“mm, smart and generous,” satoru noses your jawline. “how did i get so lucky?”

you fight the sudden shyness rising up at his words.

“the same way i got so unlucky,” you smile at his pout. “life’s just not fair.”

he coos.

“you sweettalk all your patients or am i special?”

despite your best efforts not to, you grin at that.

“the most special,” you say, interlocking your fingers. “now get back to work.”

satoru grumbles a complaint but hops off the table nonetheless.

“thanks a bunch for seeing me, doc,” he leans down to hover his face right above yours. you push him away with a fingertip to his forehead.

“no problem. now shoo.”

you walk up to your desk to hopefully do some actual work now that your most special patient is leaving.

“ah, but i was wondering—“

“yes?” you don’t bother looking up from your paperwork.

“if you could give me some anatomy lessons sometime—“

“out!”

he slips out the door before you can turn around to see it.

you take a deep breath.

you love satoru to death, but you’re beginning to understand why shoko picked up smoking as a stress reliever.

[harunayuuka2060]

Zagan: *carefully paints a talisman onto MC's chest, making sure it harmonizes with Asmodeus's symbol*

Zagan: ...

MC: ...

Ezrin: ...

Ezrin: Uncle Zagan? You do not feel attracted to Mom?

Zagan: ...

MC: Why are you asking that?

Ezrin: He doesn’t look like he cares that he’s painting on your chest, Mom.

MC: He's a devil of great beauty. To him, this is trivial. Isn't that right, Zagan?

Zagan: ...

Zagan: *subtly smiles*

WHB Satan: Huh? Your chest—

MC: Why are you looking?

WHB Satan: *pouts* I see that you got yourself a new talisman.

MC: Yes. Zagan helped me with this one.

WHB Satan: Zagan? Haha! It hasn't been long—

MC: We don't have that kind of relationship.

WHB Satan: Why not—

WHB Asmodeus: As expected of my beloved wife, your heart will never yield to anyone but me.

WHB Satan: Tch. You're here again?

WHB Asmodeus: What's with the sour mood? With my wife here, I have no choice but to visit often.

WHB Asmodeus: *about to approach her when a Gehenna devil guard calls out to her*

Gehenna devil guard: Miss MC! We need you!

MC: Alright.

WHB Satan: Hey! Are you not going to ask me to accompany you?

MC: There's no need.

WHB Asmodeus: How about me, love—

MC: *ignored him and left*

WHB Asmodeus: ...

Amy and his subordinates: ...

MC: What are you all staring at?

Amy: ...

Amy: Your clothes, Miss Ma'am!

MC: *sigh* Can I borrow your jacket, Amy?

Amy: Y-Yes! Of course! *runs over to drape it on her*

MC: ...

Amy: Y-You did so well, Miss Ma'am!

MC: *has gained the ability to weaken her target by overwhelming them with intense attraction or lust, leaving them vulnerable and disoriented*

MC: ...

MC: I feel annoyed.

Amy: Miss Ma'am?

MC: I'll wash this jacket and return it to you.

Amy: It's fine, Miss Ma'am! You don't have to!

The Gehenna devils: ...

WHB Asmodeus:* had been watching MC fight the angels; his face looks pleased with the outcome*

WHB Beelzebub: I don't think your wife likes her ability lol.

WHB Asmodeus: Hm?

WHB Beelzebub: Didn't you notice?

WHB Asmodeus: ...

WHB Asmodeus: *smiles* Oh, but it's still an advantage for her, even if she doesn't enjoy it.

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

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[aventurineswife]

Yooooooo self-aware HSR AU!!!

I would LOVE to know what some characters might think of Reader constantly battling the 50/50s (like how the HSR VAs get together and pull on the banners) with a side of the gacha seemingly favoring Bronya. 😅🤣

Off the top of my head, probably the worst one could be when Reader lost more than seven 50/50s in a row. (Based on past experience. 🫠) And not too long ago, they tried to pull for Sunday when his banner was running and when they saw the Harmony symbol—

—well…no points for guessing who showed up in his place. 😅

And then Reader ended up going all the way to max pity.

Reader: “IS THIS KARMA FOR RUNNING HIM OVER WITH THE ASTRAL EXPRESS!??!?!?!??!”

LMAOOO THIS IS GOLD. 😭😭

Okay, so here's how I think it would happen 🤭 (might not be accurate to the characters, plus idk much about pity and stuffs but I tried from the knowledge I got from yt shorts lol)

Bronya, being the gacha queen, might definitely notice how she keeps showing up in your pulls—especially when she’s not the one you’re aiming for. At first, she’d be gracious, “You’ve summoned me again. I can only assume it’s because you trust in my abilities to lead us to victory.”

But after, like, the fifth time, even she starts getting suspicious. “Is this… intentional? Or is this fate…? Regardless, I’ll fulfill my duties, as always.”

(Meanwhile, March is trying so hard not to laugh in the background: “Bronya AGAIN? You’re doomed!”)

Seven losses in a row, though? That’s when Himeko and Welt step in with some serious concern. “Seven? I’d say the odds are against you, but that’s… statistically impossible. Are you sure the stars aren’t just playing with you?”

“Perhaps this is a reflection of the balance you must maintain across dimensions… or you’re simply cursed.” (Thanks for the pep talk, Grandpa...)

Meanwhile, Silver Wolf is like, “You’re fighting against an algorithm. That’s your first mistake.” And then she offers to “fix” it for you (she can’t, but she enjoys messing with your hopes).

The Harmony symbol flashes, your heart soars, and then… Bronya. AGAIN. The absolute audacity.

Reader: “WHY WON’T YOU LET HIM COME HOME!?”

Bronya, oblivious to your suffering, “I will stand by your side, no matter the circumstances. Was this not what you intended?”

Everyone else is just dying. March is clutching her stomach “HAHAHA you were trying to pull for Sunday, and you got Bronya? AGAIN? Oh, I’m gonna cry—this is too good!” (she would definitely take pictures of you suffering.)

Dan Heng would try to be supportive, offering his trademark calm wisdom, “Perhaps it’s better to focus on what you do have. Bronya is an asset in any situation.” But even he can’t fully hide the slight twitch of amusement at your misfortune.

Now the real kicker: when you lose another 50/50 for Sunday and start yelling about karma for running him over with the Astral Express. EVERYONE stops.

Sunday, if he somehow hears this, “...You… WHAT?” (i kinda wanna hc that these characters aren't actually present during the fights/battle scenes.)

The Trailblazer looks at you like you (more like your screen) just committed war crimes.

Meanwhile, March is choking on her drink, “Wait, you RAN OVER HIM? Like, with the ACTUAL EXPRESS? And now he won’t come home? That’s… yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

Even Himeko raises a brow, “Well… actions do have consequences, as they say.”

You’d swear you hear Kafka’s voice somewhere in the distance, smirking, “Seems like fate is toying with you. What a fascinating little game you’ve got going.”

By the time you hit max pity, the entire Astral Express crew has started following your pulling rituals. March has a notepad, “Alright, you’ve hit 79 pity. This next pull is gonna be the one, I feel it—oh… wait. Nope. That’s another Bronya.”

Pom-Pom is pacing nervously in the background, muttering, “At this rate, the economy of our inventory is going to collapse.”

When you FINALLY pull Sunday, the whole group cheers like it’s a world event. Dan Heng, however, just calmly says, “Perhaps you’ve learned not to anger the stars. Or… the train.”

At the end of it all, Bronya might start feeling awkward about always showing up. If you mention your struggles, she’d quietly apologize, “If I’ve interfered with your plans… I am sorry. I only wanted to be of help to you. Perhaps the stars are telling us something we don’t yet understand.” (Translation: she’s just as confused as you are.)

This AU would honestly be too much fun. Every pull would feel like an event for the Astral Express, and I can already imagine March becoming your emotional support bestie through it all. 😭🙏