#i just feel really bad right now. and it's only week one.

[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.

[emeraldserenade]

The Better Cousin ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you agreed to be your friend's date to his cousin's birthday, it got complicated when he started flirting with a girl. You end up confiding in Joaquín when he approaches you.

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, cabnw spoliers, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This did not turn out the way I wanted it but it's whatever.

I'm just finishing up some things I have in my drafts so that way I will less guilty when I have to stop posting while I'm dealing with my family thing.

➽──────────────❥

It was as simple, accepting to be your friend's date. He was tired of his family asking when he was going to get a girlfriend. You loved him, sure, but you weren't in love with him. There was no feelings which is why you were so comfortable with it. Sure, you had to go on a roadtrip with your work friend all the way to Arizona.

It was going well, you met his family and had a good time. That's when him and some of his cousin's decided to go to a bar after the party. Which is where you found yourself, sitting alone and staring at him as he flirted and made out with a blonde.

"Hey, y/n, right?" Joaquín, one of the cousin's you had yet to talk to, asked when he sat down. "I'm Joaquín," he offered his hand and you shook it.

"Hi," you awkwardly told him, not knowing what else to say.

"Where's Richie?" Joaquín looked around and you saw the moment he spotted Richie. "Is he?"

"Making out with a blonde? Yeah," you shrugged, knowing that after this he would tell his family that you two broke up.

"You don't sound upset," Joaquín looked back at you.

"Richie and I aren't actually dating, we're friends. Coworkers mostly, he just didn't want to be hounded by your family about being single," you grabbed your drink, just a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple, the jingle of your bracelets causing Joaquín to look at them.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we had a plan. I was going to show up with him and then in like a week or so he was going to say we either broke up or come clean. Whichever he chose, I was willing to be the bad guy," you shrugged, not really caring.

"What's the plan now that he's making out with her?" Joaquín sounded genuinely curious.

"Here comes the rest of your family, so I guess I'm coming clean," you told Joaquín as his family came up with sympathy. There was a lot of comforting words from them, it made you smile knowing that even though they've only know you for a day they were willing to comfort you.

"I'll go fight his ass," Felix told you before moving to walk away.

"Wait," you called out, gently grasping his wrist. "It's ok, and I'm not just saying that. Richie and I are coworkers, friends. He just didn't want you guys to ask about a girlfriend so I said I would pretend. Truly, it's my fault, I suggested it. Well, not that I would be his fake girlfriend but that he could just lie about having one, he asked me if I would pretend. And I'm going to stop talking now," you realized you were rambling. Everyone around you just nodded and you realized how they weren't in the least bit shocked.

"Oh, thank goodness," one of the female cousins, Angeline, laughed. "No offense, but you could do so much better than Richie. Trust me," he smiled at you and you smiled back. Everyone dispersed from around you, minus Joaquín.

"They weren't shocked," you stated in slight disbelief.

"Every time he was asked something about you or talked about you, he sounded so disinterested. Everyone thought this was once sided and didn't want to hurt your feelings," Joaquín told you and you raised your eyebrows.

"Oh, I guess I never thought about how bad he was at acting," you mumbled.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Joaquín had been talking for hours, both of you hadn't been drinking. You were approached a few minutes ago by various cousins saying they were headed home. You two were only still there waiting on Richie to either go home with the blonde or come over staying he was ready to go.

"So you're the new Falcon?" You were leaning close to Joaquín, the music in the bar had been turned down a little but it was still relatively loud.

"I am, I just have to finish healing before Sam will let me do anything," Joaquín told you. He had told you about what happened at Celestial Island.

"That's cool," you're eyes tracked Richie as he walked over.

"Are you two ok with me going with Ginny?" He pointed his thumb over to the blonde he's been talking to all night.

"That's fine with me," you looked over at Joaquín who nodded.

"Well, see you two," Richie ran over to Ginny and you looked back at Joaquín.

"Ready to go home?" Joaquín stood and offered you his hand, which you accepted.

"I hope you mean back to your family home because I live all the way out in DC," you joked.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín and you carefully walked back into the house, most of the lights were off which is why you both slightly jumped when you ran into his mother in the living room. You stepped closer to him while he wrapped his arm around your shoulders in fear.

"Oh, Quino, y/n, you two are home," she gave you a smile. "The others told the rest of us all about the plan you and Richie had, my dear," her smile shifted into a knowing one.

"I'm sorry about lying to all of you," you hung your head slightly.

"It's ok," you missed the way her eyes went between you and Joaquín. His arm still around your shoulders and you stepping even closer. "I understand wanting to help a friend, plus maybe there's come good in this after all. We did get to meet you," she smiled and you looked back up at her with one of your own. "Oh, I hope you don't mind but we moved some people into the room you were supposed to stay in. I hope you don't mind having to share a room with Quino."

"Oh," you are Joaquín shared a look. "I don't mind if you don't," you told Joaquín.

"I don't," he told you.

"Good, we moved you things in there. Now run along to bed you two," Joaquín's mom told you, both of you wishing her a good night before going upstairs to bed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"You two know," Richie started talking, it had been a few years since you first went with him to his cousin's birthday. You and Joaquín had been dating for 2 of those. "You two wouldn't be together if it weren't for me," Richie gloated, you were sitting on Joaquín's lap laughing. You felt his arms tighten around your waist.

"Hm, and you wouldn't be single if you just listened to me and asked Ginny out. Yet here you are, single and moping because you're a coward," you gave Richie a bitchy smile.

"You win, this time," he told you.

"I win every time, how else do you think I got the better cousin?" You leaned back into Joaquín as everyone laughed.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 7 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 9 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hihi!! i would’ve updated sooner, but unfortunately, my body decided to nerf me with a sickness debuff. tragic. 😔 BUT!!! i had so much fun writing this chapter. like, full-on giggling to myself like a mad scientist. i really hope you guys enjoy it!! (or at the very least find it as funny as my fever-ridden brain did)

The day starts like any other. Which is to say, badly.

Greg the Manager, who has been conveniently absent all morning, suddenly materializes with the urgency of a man who just remembered his parole officer exists. He’s slightly out of breath, like he sprinted exactly halfway here and then gave up. His tie is loose, his shirt is untucked, and his eyes have the glazed-over look of someone who is about to make their incompetence your problem.

“Oh, by the way, a news crew is coming in five minutes.”

You pause mid-coffee pour. The statement is so absurd, so wildly out of pocket, that your brain flatlines for a solid three seconds. “A what.”

Greg, already retreating like the rat he is, waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, some feel-good story about supporting small businesses or whatever. They called a few weeks ago? Thought it’d be good PR. Forgot to tell you. Anyway, good luck!”

You stare at him, waiting for some kind of elaboration. An explanation. An apology. A joke. Anything.

“And you’re telling me this now?”

Greg shrugs, the human embodiment of the ‘Not My Problem’ energy. “I forgot.”

“Greg.”

“Gotta go, bro.” And like that, he vanishes, as if he were never there to begin with.

You stand there, emotionally buffering. You stare at the empty space where he once stood, trying to come to terms with the fact that a news crew is about to descend upon your personal hellscape with exactly zero warning. You look down at your apron, which has a very concerning stain on it (origin unknown), and realize your only hope is radical acceptance.

There’s no time to panic. You take a deep breath, straighten your apron, and slap on your best retail smile—the one that says I hate my job but I need to pay rent!

The café door swings open, and in comes the news crew with the confidence of people who have never suffered a single day in food service. The camera crew bustles in, setting up tripods, adjusting microphones, and looking around like they’re trying to absorb the rich ambiance of your workplace. Which, to be clear, smells like burnt espresso and quiet desperation.

The reporter, a professionally dressed woman with overly bright eyes and the enthusiasm of someone who has never once been berated by a middle-aged woman demanding to know why oat milk costs extra, beams at you. "We’re so excited to feature your charming little café!"

The words I would rather die are on the tip of your tongue, but you figure that’s not what she wants to hear. Instead, you nod politely. “We are also excited.”

She turns toward a customer near the window—Muffin Guy, your most mysterious regular. He sits in his usual spot, staring unblinkingly at the muffin before him, as if waiting for it to reveal a prophecy.

The reporter, undeterred by the strange aura surrounding him, approaches. “We love to highlight loyal customers!” she chirps. “Sir, could you tell us what you love most about this café?”

Silence.

The camera zooms in.

Muffin Guy does not blink.

He does not move.

He does not acknowledge the camera, the reporter, or the fundamental concept of human interaction.

The silence stretches.

The tension is suffocating. The reporter’s smile wavers. A single bead of sweat rolls down the intern’s forehead. Someone in the back coughs.

The reporter, clearly regretting all of her life choices, tries again. “Sir?”

Still nothing.

The camera stays on him for a full twenty seconds.

It is unbearable.

You mentally check out just as the reporter shifts focus to you, her expression slightly cracked but still hopeful. “So, tell us about this lovely café.”

You recite your dead-inside script: “We serve coffee. Sometimes people drink it.”

There is a beat of silence.

The reporter’s enthusiasm dims like a cheap LED bulb. “Wonderful.”

The reporter, visibly eager to move on from whatever existential nightmare Muffin Guy just put her through, scans the café for her next victim. You can see the calculations happening in real time behind her eyes: Okay, that guy and the barista were a bust, but surely the next person will be normal.

Unfortunately, she picks Choso.

Choso, who has been standing near the counter watching you with his usual unblinking intensity, straightens up as she approaches. You can tell he's eager to be of assistance, but his posture is too stiff, his expression too serious, and he moves with the slow, deliberate energy of a cryptid trying to blend into human society.

“How about you?” The reporter smiles, extending the mic. “What’s your name?”

Choso stares at her for a beat too long, like he’s mentally reviewing whether or not he should tell her. Finally, he leans toward the microphone. “Hello,” he says in his usual dead-serious monotone. “I am Choso."

The way he delivers it makes it sound like a warning. Like he's introducing himself as an omen of death.

The reporter, momentarily thrown off by his delivery, laughs nervously. “Oh! And what do you like about this café?”

Choso considers this. Too long.

Like, way too long.

The camera guy shifts. The boom mic sags. The intern wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.

Finally, Choso nods to himself, having seemingly reached a conclusion of great personal significance. A normal person would say something safe like the coffee or the atmosphere or that it’s not a Denny’s. But Choso is not normal. “The barista.”

The camera zooms in on your horrified expression.

The world stops. The temperature drops. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.

The reporter blinks. Once. Twice. Three times, like she’s trying to reboot her system. Her professional instincts desperately try to steer this awkward trainwreck back onto the tracks. “And what about the drinks?”

Choso nods, like this is an acceptable question. “The lattes bring me peace.”

The reporter hesitates. “They… bring you peace?”

“Yes.” Choso stares directly into the camera, like he’s about to issue a public service announcement. His expression is completely unreadable. “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.”

There is an audible silence. The kind that only happens when everyone in the room is simultaneously thinking Oh, this man has killed someone before. It’s like everyone suddenly realizes they are part of something far bigger than themselves. Something unknowable. Something profoundly unsettling. Somewhere in the background, Yuji is shaking his head like a man watching a car crash in slow motion.

There is no appropriate response to this, and yet the reporter is contractually obligated to continue this interview. “...Right. And, uh, what do you do?”

Choso doesn't hesitate. “I protect my brother.” he answers with a hint of pride.

“Oh!” The reporter latches onto this like a drowning woman grasping for a life preserver. “That’s… nice?”

Choso tilts his head, as if considering the very concept of “nice.” Then, as if suddenly struck by divine realization, he adds, “I would also protect the barista. If required.”

You nearly choke on your own spit.

The reporter, alarmed, shifts slightly away from him. “...Required from what?”

Choso does not blink. “Threats.”

“What… kind of threats?”

Choso narrows his eyes. “Unclear. But I remain vigilant.”

The weight of that statement sinks into the room. The energy shifts. The café suddenly feels smaller.

Then, with no warning, Choso reaches into his coat.

The reporter flinches. The intern drops his clipboard. The cameraman tenses, like he’s about to record a live crime.

Yuji, who knows exactly where this is going, starts waving his arms in the background like a man desperately trying to stop a rogue missile launch.

Choso pulls out… a single hard-boiled egg.

The collective exhale from the crew is audible.

Solemnly, as if this is the most important action he will ever take, Choso extends the egg to you.

“Eat.”

You stare at the egg, then at him, then at the egg again.

You clear your throat. “I, uh... Thanks, Choso.”

Choso nods once, as if you’ve just agreed to some kind of unspoken contract.

The reporter looks at the camera like she is moments from calling the police.

While the reporter is still trying to process the whole mildly threatening egg presentation situation, Gojo—human calamity, agent of chaos, destroyer of peace—has decided that his one and only mission is to singlehandedly ruin every single camera shot.

The moment the cameraman turns around, Gojo materializes behind the reporter, flashing a double peace sign like he’s about to drop the hottest mixtape of the century. His grin is blinding. His sunglasses somehow catch every possible light source.

The cameraman pivots, adjusting the shot.

Somehow, impossibly, Gojo is already there.

This time, he’s leaning against the counter, holding a latte he definitely did not pay for, sipping obnoxiously with exaggerated flair. He winks at the camera like he’s in an over-the-top commercial for overpriced cologne. If he had a fan blowing his hair back in slow motion, it would be perfect.

“Sir, please move,” the cameraman pratically begs.

Gojo, unfazed, turns his full attention to the lens.

“HELLOOOOO~,” Gojo sings, waving both hands like a game show host who has just revealed a brand-new car. “I’M THE FACE OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT!”

This is objectively false.

Before you can attempt damage control, Gojo launches himself next to you like a man with zero impulse control and a PhD in being a public nuisance. He throws an arm around your shoulders, his sunglasses catching the light dramatically, making it impossible to tell if he’s about to endorse your café or announce the second coming of Christ.

“This barista?” he announces dramatically, pointing at you with a flourish like he’s about to knight you on national television. “The best. The backbone of this place.”

Yuji, in the background, is visibly panicking. “Gojo-sensei, please. No.”

Gojo completely ignores him. Instead, he strikes a different pose, basking in the camera’s attention like it physically sustains him.

“I come here every single day,” he declares with the confidence of a man who lies recreationally.

You narrow your eyes. “You show up, like, once a week at best.”

Gojo ignores you, too.

The reporter, attempting to maintain some semblance of control, nods hesitantly. “Oh! So you’re a regular—”

“You know why?” Gojo interrupts and then pauses, letting the tension build as if he’s delivering the monologue of a lifetime. “The experience. The drama. The coffee that, against all odds, continues to exist despite this machine’s cursed energy.”

He gestures vaguely to the espresso machine.

As if in response, the espresso machine lets out a deep, unsettling groan that seems to reverberate through the walls.

The reporter looks horrified. “Cursed—what?”

“Nothing!” Yuji yelps, visibly panicked, as he attempts to grab Gojo. “He’s joking! Joking! Ha ha ha!”

Gojo, still completely ignoring Yuji, gestures dramatically to the café at large.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, effortlessly resisting Yuji’s efforts, “the vibes? Unmatched.” He motions toward Muffin Guy, who is still staring directly into the camera like an urban legend caught on night vision footage. “Where else do you find a guy like that?”

The cameraman—who is either an artist or a man in the process of losing his grip on reality—zooms in on Muffin Guy.

It is haunting.

Yuji tries to grab him once more. Gojo dodges effortlessly, throwing up finger guns at the camera.

“Hashtag Support Local Businesses!”

You consider whether it's legally permissible to quit mid-shift.

The reporter, who looks like she has aged twenty years in the past five minutes and like she's beginning to suspect that this café is actually some kind of underground social experiment, attempts to regain control.

Before she can salvage any part of this nightmare of an interview, the door opens.

The camera instinctively pans toward the entrance. The crew is expecting another customer, maybe, finally, someone normal.

They are wrong.

Toji walks in, moving with the kind of dangerous ease that suggests he’s about five seconds away from committing a felony or taking a nap—whichever comes first.

Toji, who was very much not expecting cameras, tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking to the reporter, then the crew, then to you.

You lock eyes with him.

You watch, helpless, as he slowly takes in the situation.

Then, with the kind of ease that only comes from years of very questionable decision-making, he smirks.

“Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?”

Behind him, Shiu walks in, immediately lights a cigarette inside the café like a man who has never respected a single law in his life, then realizes—far too late—that there are cameras everywhere. 

Slowly, with the calculated movement of a man processing a series of very poor life choices, he lowers the cigarette, muttering under his breath, “Oh, shit.”

The reporter goes still.

You can see the realization dawn on her face—the slow, sinking horror that she has just stumbled into something she was never supposed to witness. The reporter looks at you, eyes wide with concern.

You meet her gaze, deadpan.

You just nod.

By the time the segment actually airs, it is nothing like the wholesome, feel-good small-business feature it was supposed to be. Instead of showcasing a “quirky but struggling café,” the final product is an absolute trainwreck.

The official headline?

"Muffin Man, Mystery Egg, and Wanted Criminal? Local Café More Concerning Than Quirky."

It gets worse.

The tone of the segment suggests the café is possibly haunted, a front for illegal activity, and a gathering spot for deeply concerning individuals. It does not encourage people to visit. It warns them. Every shot looks like it was pulled from an unreleased horror documentary about places you should not go. The ominous background music—something that belongs in a Dateline special—only adds to the effect. 

The highlights include:

The news crew inexplicably leaving in the full, unbroken 15 seconds of Muffin Guy staring directly into the camera like he’s either a demon or an AI-generated horror experiment. No words. No movement. Just him, staring—waiting—as if challenging the audience to comprehend his existence. The way they edit it makes it look like he’s part of some psychological horror movie, a lost soul trapped between dimensions.

Choso’s interview, which, thanks to the dramatic lighting and his very serious tone, is framed like a true crime documentary. They use dramatic zoom-ins on his expression, emphasizing the fact that he looks way too intense for a man talking about coffee. The way he deadpans “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.” is played over eerie background music, making it sound like he's fought in at least three wars, suffered great personal loss, and only finds solace in lattes. The words "Remains Vigilant Against Threats.” slide across the screen in bold letters.

Gojo and Yuji wrestling in the background while Gojo dramatically yells, “They can’t prove I don’t work here!” The footage is grainy, shaky, and the captions just read: [Incoherent yelling] as Yuji desperately tries to prevent Gojo from launching himself directly into the camera.

Toji, smirking at the camera, casually implying he is a wanted fugitive. The producers slow down his words for dramatic effect: “Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?” followed by a zoom-in of his grin and the words: "??? Unknown Criminal Activity ???"

The espresso machine, actively rattling and smoking in the background of multiple shots. At one point, the camera catches it letting out a deep, unsettling groan, and they overlay dramatic violin music as the reporter visibly recoils. The segment's b-roll footage of the café includes multiple instances of the espresso machine shaking, glitching out, and occasionally making a noise that sounds vaguely like a demonic whisper. The captions simply read: [UNSETTLING METALLIC GROAN]

Greg the Manager, with the most suspicious phrasing humanly possible, stating, “We’re totallyyy not violating health codes!” The phrasing alone guarantees that everyone now believes the café is absolutely violating health codes. The camera cuts immediately after, giving it the same energy as a villain’s last known sighting before fleeing the country.

There is a random, blurry, and heavily pixelated, freeze-frame of Greg at the end of the segment, edited in black and white, with the words: “DOES THIS MAN KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING?”

The answer is no.

And finally, the closing words from the reporter, who stares deadpan into the camera, fully drained of life and hope, and states with exhausted finality:

“I am never going back there.”

The screen cuts to black.

A single ominous boom sound plays.

Gojo, watching the segment from his phone at full volume in the café, nods to himself, clearly proud of his work. “We did great!”

Yuji is actively attempting to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Choso, on the other hand, looks genuinely pleased. He gives a slow, approving nod. “I have promoted the barista’s establishment.”

You stare at him. “That was not promotion, that was a federal warning.”

Gojo waves a dismissive hand. “Details, details.”

You don’t have the energy to argue. You’re already preparing for the worst when you walk into work the next morning.

You expect Greg the Manager to be pacing anxiously, waiting for someone from the health department to shut the place down.

You expect fewer customers because, surely, surely, no sane human being would willingly come to a place that was just portrayed as a front for criminal activity, a ghost-infested hellhole, and a potential cult meeting ground all in one.

You do not expect to see a line out the door.

You stop in your tracks, processing the sight of dozens of people wrapped around the block, all eagerly waiting to enter the chaos.

The café is more popular than ever. People aren’t scared. They’re curious.

Inside, Greg—who has learned absolutely nothing—is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Dude, FREE PUBLICITY!” he cheers, spinning in circles like a man who thinks chaos is good for business. "We need to, like, start making merch!"

You stare at him. Then at the never-ending line of morbidly curious customers.

Then at the espresso machine, which lets out a low, menacing growl.

Then at Muffin Guy, who is—as always—unmoving.

Then at Choso, who is standing in his usual spot by the counter, nodding approvingly, like he has manifested this outcome through sheer force of will.

Slowly, you reach into your pocket, pull out your phone, and start updating your resume.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: fun fact: this chapter is based on my real-life nightmare scenario. i have never been a barista, but i have worked in an animal shelter (as a manager, no less—why did they trust me with that? unclear.), and i still have war flashbacks to the absolute menaces that walked through those doors. (there was a time when a man i instantly recognized from a local true crime documentary tried to adopt a dog from us?? he was found innocent because of very questionable reasons so needless to say i was terrified the whole time lmfao)

one day, the higher-ups told me the news was coming to interview us, and i lived in pure fear from that moment on. i spent days spiraling, imagining the absolute worst possible situations. (what if i tripped over a dog? what if i accidentally said something insane on live tv? what if i just. forgot how to speak?) i had actual nightmares about it. thankfully, they never came while i worked there, but the fear? the dread? permanently ingrained in my soul. so naturally, i had to make the barista suffer through it. :)

also!! just a heads-up—i wrote another side story for a choso x reader request set in the minimum wage, maximum suffering universe! not canon to the main fic, just a fun little “what if” scenario, feel free to check it out! as always, thank you so much for reading and your feedback!! reading your reactions makes my day, and i’m so grateful for everyone enjoying this little unhinged fic. hope you all enjoyed the chaos of this chapter!!

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka @kodditty @arrozyfrijoles23

[almostmylove]

Shatter me with your love Part 4

Synopsis: everything is just going great

Being in a school play wasn’t really your thing. Like at all. or at least it wasn't before. but here you were, making the final touches ups to your outfits before the day of play.

it was a fashionable outfit, one that looked straight out of the 1960's, not too much was needed other the final touches and fixing a few tears. As you finish the final touches you here your drama teacher, Ms parker call out to everyone. “ ok listen up class” she claps her hands loudly, grabbing everyone's attention to the teacher.

“Tomorrow is the big day so i need you guys to rest and prepare for tomorrow . We have worked for this for the few months.” your drama teacher continues her dramatic speech, you daze off. you were too busy thinking about your classes, more specifically- your grades. drama was open of the easy classes that had a nice teacher that would let things go a lot but the same couldn't be said for your other classes. you were absolutely failing, too focused on other stuff like the play, work and family problems. you weren't a bad student per say, all you needed was to finish this week and then things would go back to normal.

as your mind wonders somewhere else you hear something that catches your attention.

“ psft” you hear from beside you. You turn slightly to your right side to only to see Your friend, Marly, crouched down on one knee looking holding her finished costume “ what is it? ”you quickly whispered making sure your eyes faced the teacher as she talked.

“ i was thinking, maybe we could hang out at your house someday?” She asked her voice laced with mischief . “ hell no” you quickly replied. You knew how she was, and it wasn't any good. she wanted to meet your family to see if she could fancy one of them but the only person that was the closest age as was tim and he wouldn’t have time for her. the others lets say also don't have my interest to her

“ aww why not?” She whined dramatically . “ you don’t want to meet them, trust me . they wouldn’t pay attention to you Marly anyways” you chuckled trying to make the comment light hearted.

“ that's not true, they would be delighted to meet me! maybe you could consider me your future sister in law” Marly Responds, blowing a kiss to you. “Pftt trust, there's already enough people in my family” you countered shutting her comments down .

“ yeah i guess well what can you say when your dads a whore” "past player" I correct. honestly it didn't matter or people what title your father had in the past because to them he will always be above, billion "playboy" Bruce wayne. you both start laughing like, forgetting that your teacher was in the middle of a speech.

“Eh hem” a rough scratchy voice say, recognizing it as your teachers. “ yes ms, parker.” both of you say in sync, immediately straightening up .

“ well? what do you young ladies find so funny” ms. parker ask her voice bombing with authority now grabbing the attention of the whole class. everyone's eyes bur into your backs, you could practically feel them engraving around your body. “ nothing ms Parker, just foolish banter .Marly answers on the behalf of both of you while you stay quite, eyes glued to your costume. Both of you lower your heads in shame. “ well i guess it wouldn’t be a problem in detention. Go now” she commands shooing you guys off. Both of you look at each other in disbelief but you guys followed orders leaving class. Feeling the eyes of your classmates and the disappointed gaze of your teacher deciding to walk faster. welp, there goes your favorite teachers list into the trash.

You and marly walked through the nearly empty, echoy walls of your school. every twist and turn you made only made you question the validity of this whole thing. it didn't take too long before you reached a unique soon with a big detention sign plastered front and center. it was only a few classes away and it felt shorter as you chatted about small mindless rumors and banter. truly without Marly you would of dropped out a long time.

Once inside it didn't take you guys long until school ended, drama was your last class.

You were never a bad kid so you bad never gotten detention before unlike Damien but you assumed that by now your father had gotten an email or something informing him about your detention notice.

The bell rang, ringing thru your ears , a sign to get the hell out of there. You grab your bag that carries your school supplies and your play costume and made your way out with Marly. Gotham city was one of those that by September snow covered almost every visible part of Gotham. So when you walked out it was snowing lightly and it was getting dark .

You wave goodbye to Marly who quickly zipped up her winter coat and bag in hand, grinning from ear from ear, returning the wave .

You chuckle to yourself wondering how you got a friend like her. You didn’t deserve her and you knew it. Alfred by now had already picked Damien and probably wouldn’t have time to pick you up. It didn’t matter tho because you usually walked anyways , no matter weather or time . The streets were empty like always , post sane people didn’t want to be out at night at night. Too many criminals and villains out. But you didn’t have a choice, there was no-one that would pick you up at this time plus you were almost home. Gotham high was farther away then you would have liked, about 30 minutes walking. It got easier as time went on. You remember that on a day like this, chilly , snowing and getting dark was the first day that you had to walk on your own because the car had broken down and it wasn’t fixable. He had assured you that he would be there in 20 minutes but he never came. Turns out that Damien had to be driven to his tae kwon do after school. “Either you wait until i drop of master Damien or you can walk home miss (name) ” that's what pennyworth told you over the phone. It wasn’t really much of a choices, it was getting dark and you didn’t want to look like an open target tho walking wasn’t any better. That evening you walk all the way from your high school to the manner clutching your bag , weary of any sound and sharp corner. You were about 14-15. You reach the manner opening the door in silence, immediately being hit with the scent of Alfred's cooking; pasta you thought. You walked past the kitchen without a glance, you planned on getting food later in the night and your brothers and dad were going on patrol like every night.

As you walked past you hear a deep voice calling out to you from in the space. You walked backwards taking another look at the kitchen and saw something that you never thought you would .

Your eyes wide and hearty pumped slightly faster at the sight of your whole family there. Bruce , Jason , dick , Damien even Alfred was sat down and they were all looking at you. you wondered what you did wrong this time.

@mys0cksrwet

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART TWENTY FIVE

summary: moving in with thanos was easy—his place became a home, filled with warmth and you. he asked, you said yes. friends accepted him, family hesitated, but love won. unlike myung-gi, he didn’t own you. he cherished you. and that was all that mattered.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: mention of violence

bad investment masterlist

a/n: there’s only one more chapter left of this story :(

“You can take me to my eomma’s house,” you said, shutting the trunk after loading the last of your things into Thanos’ car. “May as well break the news to my parents that Myung-Gi and I are over. She’ll be thrilled—she never wanted me to move out in the first place.”

Thanos leaned against the car, arms crossed as he watched you. “Or,” he said, tilting his head, “you could move in with me.”

You froze for half a second before turning to face him fully. “You want me to move in?” You tried to keep your voice even, but the giddy little laugh that bubbled up gave you away.

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest decision he’d ever made. “I know this is fast, but I don’t give a shit. I like having you around. I want to share my space with you.”

You let out a slow exhale, pretending to think it over, but the truth was you already knew your answer.

Then you shrugged. “Alright. Fuck it.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Fuck it?”

“Fuck it,” you repeated, biting back a smile.

Thanos grabbed your face, kissing you hard, laughing against your lips. “That’s my girl.”

Thanos took you to his apartment that night, helping you move your things into his space. His wardrobe, once sparsely filled, was now split in two—your side and his side. His bathroom, once home to just a lonely bottle of cologne and a razor, was suddenly stocked with expensive skincare, which he shamelessly helped himself to.

As the weeks passed, the apartment transformed. What was once cold and impersonal became warm and lived-in. The blank walls now held photos of the two of you—snapshots of late nights, drunken adventures, and lazy mornings. Candles lined every surface, filling the place with soft, comforting scents. A rug appeared near the couch, making the space feel cozier. Even his cupboards, once filled with nothing but ramen and energy drinks, now held actual food.

He liked it. He liked the way his apartment felt with you in it, how it no longer felt like just a place he lived, but a home.

And he wanted to do this right. He wanted to make it official.

So he took you on a proper date, got you flowers, and asked you to be his girlfriend like a gentleman. And of course, you said yes—because you loved him.

You introduced him to your friends first. They were wary at first—he was nothing like Myung-Gi, and that alone made them hesitant. But when you told them what had really happened, how Thanos had beaten the shit out of Myung-Gi for what he did to you, they started to warm up to him. By the end of the night, they liked him.

Then he introduced you to his friends. Your favorite was Nam-Gyu, a chaotic menace who teased Thanos relentlessly for “going soft.” He’d tell you embarrassing stories about Thanos—things Thanos would groan and threaten to kill him for—but the second you started laughing, he’d join in. And when Thanos saw how much you enjoyed it, he’d stop protesting altogether.

Months passed, and you were finally ready for the biggest step yet: introducing him to your family.

They knew you and Myung-Gi had broken up, but they didn’t know you had moved on. And definitely not with someone like Thanos.

Your mother was an easy win—she had a heart big enough for the whole world, and from the moment she met Thanos, she hugged him like he was already family. She doted on him, fed him too much, and called him ‘son’ by the end of the night.

Your father was different. He took one look at Thanos—his tattoos, his purple hair, the devil-may-care attitude—and barely hid his disapproval. He was skeptical, stiff, watching the two of you with sharp eyes. But as the night went on, as he saw the way Thanos treated you, how easily he made you laugh, how happy you were… he started to soften.

And eventually, he warmed up to him too.

Because Thanos made you happy. He treated you the way you had always wanted to be treated—not like a possession, not like a prize, but like a person.

Like you were the only girl in the world.

Then, you met his family—which, considering Myung-Gi’s family had absolutely despised you, was easily the most nerve-wracking thing to date.

But Thanos’ family? They loved you.

His mother was the first to win you over, bombarding you with a million and one questions, listening intently to every answer. She was warm, affectionate, and utterly smitten with you. “How on earth did you end up with my son?” she teased, ruffling Thanos’ hair. “Don’t stuff it up.”

His father was a bit of an oddball, definitely a borderline alcoholic, but he meant well. He was the one to whip out the family albums, grinning as he showed you every embarrassing baby picture of Thanos he could find.

His sister adored you. She’d pull you aside constantly, whispering about how relieved she was that Thanos had found someone normal to be with. “I always thought he’d end up alone, or worse—dating some complete psycho,” she’d laugh.

Being with Thanos was easy. Effortless.

There were no games, no overthinking, no second-guessing.

He loved you.

You loved him.

And that was all that mattered.

[thequeenofcurses]

Wounds Without a Name

True form Sukuna x f!Reader

summary: local villagers beg heian era sukuna to help them in a war. he refuses, so you decide to help them yourself (angst) words: 3.6k

context: so I was listening to music at work and this song came on and it really reminded me of sukuna's story. I def recommend checking it out! Also wanted to shout out this art piece by @xxnghtclls because it also gave me some inspiration for this.

tw: blood, war, death, angst, true form sukuna, heian era, established relationship. it's my first time ever writing TF kuna so plz don't be mean 😭

masterlist | jjk masterlist

The battlefield was littered with bodies. Left. Right. Forward. Anywhere one could look, their eyes would feast upon a massacre. Broken bloodied weapons on the ground. The faint echoes of groans from wounded survivors. With heavy losses on both sides, it was nearly impossible to tell which side won. Most bodies were unrecognizable from either the missing limbs or the burnt to crisp corpses.

The battle had drawn out into the night, the sun just starting to peak through the sky. The red-orange light forcing a calmness over the unpleasant sight. 

He urged you not to go. 

“Let them fight their war, woman,” Sukuna once grumbled, sitting on his throne. His head was lazily rested atop one of his four hands, yet his lower set of eyes never left yours. You stood right by his side, as you always had the past few months. “Their matters don’t concern us.”

“I cannot stand idly by while they massacre children,” you chided back to him. “If you won’t help them–”

“I said no!” he shouted. You didn’t flinch, even though everyone else on this planet would have. Sukuna may have never said those cursed magical three words, but you knew how he felt about you. Knew he would never truly harm you. Knew he treated you differently. Knew he let you get away with too much. “We’re not going.” He rose, then gave you an annoyed side-eye, before his stomach grumbled. “Uraume!”

“Lord Sukuna?” they immediately appeared to his side, bowing.

“Prepare our dinner.”

“Yes, Lord Sukuna.” The white-haired monk vanished, as quickly as they had appeared. 

The royal kitchen bustled with servants searching for the ingredients Uraume requested to prepare dinner. Their instructions were quite specific as you had been feeling quite ill this last week. Or was it two weeks? Going on three? As skilled as Uraume was with reverse cursed technique, even they couldn’t pinpoint what was constantly making you feel so unwell.

Your stomach ached, craving a snack in the meantime before dinner is prepared. Unfortunately, your heart also ached while you thought about the people who were just in the throne room, weeks ago, begging Sukuna for his help.

“We will offer you anything, please–” the elder couple were bowing, heads touching the floor, as they begged for salvation. “Our enemy village is attacking us. They’re killing our men. Taking our women, our children.”

This was typical. Commoners from all over the land often came with offerings for Sukuna for something in return. If their offering wasn’t good enough, they’d often leave severely injured, if they were lucky to survive a cleave attack. That was what you were used to. But never had anyone yet, begged to save their children.

You couldn’t tell what it was, but something about this elderly couple’s begging tugged at your heartstrings. Children, the children. 

To your knowledge, Sukuna did not want any offspring, yet you were too afraid to ever ask him that question. You may be his favorite, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he will change for you. 

Week after week, different people from the elderly couple’s village came begging for deliverance. Each update was worse than the last. At first the enemy were only taking the children, now they’re killing them and everyone they get their hands on.

Regardless of how bad it got, Sukuna still refused to aid them.

The children. 

The children! 

Your heart ached day after day until you finally imploded.

“Uraume!”  Sukuna shouted. “Prepare our dinner.”

Sukuna soundlessly started the walk to his private chambers, disrobing on the way there. He paused, turning his head to make sure you were following. 

“I’ll be right there,” you called out.

He grunts, then continues his venture towards his room.

Although you've been sleeping in Sukuna’s chambers for quite some time, you still had your own room, where your clothing and personal items were kept. You quickly make your way to your boudoir.

The rain pattered softly against the window, but the storm inside your chest raged far louder. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands; hands that had done nothing but remain idle, sheltered under Sukuna’s protection, while others suffered. The weight of your inaction pressed heavy on your ribs. How many lives had been lost while you stayed here? How many more would die if you did nothing?

But leaving… it wasn’t just about sneaking past Uraume and the other servants or enduring Sukuna’s wrath. It was about what you would be throwing away. The safety. The stability. The certainty that, no matter what happened, you would always be protected under his reign. Sukuna doesn’t make promises, but you knew, with an unshakable certainty, that as long as you remained his, no harm would ever come to you.

And yet, you couldn’t stay.

You pressed a trembling hand against your stomach. A strange nausea had plagued you lately, but you’ve chalked it up to anxiety, to sleepless nights spent debating this very decision. If you left now, there would be no turning back. If you stayed… you might just drown in regret, knowing you had chosen yourself over the helpless.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Sukuna, standing over a battlefield, blood splattered across his face, grinning. The bodies of men, women, even children, crumpled in his wake. And yet, that same bloodstained hand had once brushed your hair from your face with an almost unbearable gentleness.

He was a monster. But he had never been a monster to you.

Would that change when he found out what you had done?

With a deep breath, you rose to your feet. Back and forth, you pace your room. Thoughts of innocent children being slaughtered fill your mind. Death was something anyone close to Sukuna was forced to get used to. But Sukuna often killed people whom (for the most part) he had a reason to kill – if annoying him counts. Innocent children though? You’re not sure if you can let that go.

You had learned a thing or two about your technique from Sukuna and you often watched him and Uraume train together. With that knowledge and your little secret practice sessions with Uraume, you for sure could help those people.

You made your decision. You had to do something.

Sukuna usually bathes right before or after dinner and considering he was walking around naked when he left you, there's a good chance he's in there right now. 

You decide to change clothing, putting on a thicker, but looser kimono and closed toed footwear, then head for the kitchen.

You peek in through the door, seeing Uraume slice up different meats. No doubt some of it was fresh “offerings,” from those village people. Aside from them, the kitchen was empty.

You noiselessly push open the door to slide into the kitchen. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be able to help the village. 

You walk in, feigning extreme hunger. 

“Y/n?,” Uraume questions, eyes narrowing. “Has something happened?”

“No–” you respond a little too quickly. “Uh, Sukuna just wanted me to check on dinner. He was growing rather impatient.”

Uraume frowns, but speeds up their chopping. “Supper will be ready soon. Though, he often doesn’t send you, as his messenger.”

“I too, was growing rather hungry…” you rub your belly, hoping Uraume believes you.

“Well it won’t be much longer,” they nod their head back towards the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait, please–” you start. You walk closer, slowly, so as not to alarm them. “Those villagers that have been coming in lately…”

A silent stare, urging you to continue.

“I want to help–”

“No.” They turn away from you, gathering more herbs.

“Uraume, you must understand,” you take another step closer. “They’re killing children. And if I recall correctly, Sukuna mentioned he found you as a child.”

Uraume sighs, adding the meat to a boiling pot of water.

“I have been practicing my technique like you’ve shown me. I can fight. I can help them.”

“Lord Sukuna would never allow it,” Uraume finally faces you again. “If he knew I permitted you to leave, he would be enraged. It’s too dangerous.”

“Hmph,” you scoff. “Well that’s why I’m not asking.” Uraume’s eyes open wide at your bold statement. For the first time ever, they were truly shocked and flabbergasted. “I just need a weapon. Please.”

The determined look in your eyes was unwavering. You stared Uraume down with the confidence you gained from continually standing by Sukuna’s side.

Another low sigh. “Fine,” they surrender. “But I will have no part in this. We never spoke tonight. You were never here.” If that’s what it takes. You nod and follow them toward the training area of the shrine. As inaudible and quick as a ninja, Uraume slips into the room, then seconds later, returns with exactly what you need.

A twin pair of sai. You’ve practiced them on tree trunks and crows, but never a living human before. First time for everything. You place the weapons in your belt and tighten it along your waist for security.

You turn to nod to Uruame, a sign of thanks, but they're already gone. 

The village under attack was only nine to ten kilometers from the shrine. You could get there within a couple hours.

You left with a small smile on your face. You'll deal with Sukuna’s rage whenever you get back. You're just glad you finally can use your newfound abilities for something meaningful.

The night air was crisp as you stepped beyond the safety of the shrine’s walls. For months, you had lived under Sukuna’s rule; his protection, his dominance, his affection. But tonight, you walked forward with nothing but your own will guiding you.

You knew the risks. Sukuna did not tolerate disobedience, not even from you. He would be furious when he found out, and his wrath was not something to take lightly. But you would endure it, because you could no longer sit idly by while innocent children were slaughtered.

The path down the mountain was steep, but you moved quickly, your grip tightening around the twin sai at your waist. The weapons felt both foreign and familiar in your grasp. The deadly tools that you had trained with in secret, yet never wielded in true combat. But there was no room for hesitation now.

You would fight. You would protect. And when the time came to face Sukuna’s judgment, you would stand tall, knowing you had done what was right.

One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes! Where the hell is this woman? His woman.

Although, Sukuna was much too arrogant to say that to your face. 

He sat in the bath, eyes closed, relaxing. Or attempting to relax. It was very rare he wasn't in the same room as you for very long. Besides, what could you possibly want to do aside from being with him?

It was going on twenty minutes and you still had him waiting. How terribly annoying.

Within moments a servant came knocking on his door. 

“Lord Sukuna, Uruame has finished your dinner. Shall you and Lady y/n be eating in the dining hall?”

“Just bring it here,” Sukuna mutters.

Sukuna stands, the water cascading down his naked muscled form. 

The same servant returns with two hot plates of food. They place the plates down on the table near the bed, all the while never looking up.

As they go to make their exit, Sukuna stops them with a wave of his hand. 

“You there,” he started. Not like he needs to know anyone's name aside from you and Uruame. The servant freezes, her body visibly shaking. “Where is y/n?" 

“I- I-,” she stuttered out. Their teeth clattering together. 

“Spit it out.”

“I do not know. Uruame instructed me to deliver your meal since they had business to attend to.”

“Tch,” he reaches for the nearest long cloth to dry himself off. “Get out.”

Maybe you were upset at him that he yelled at you today. It was rare he ever got vexed with you, annoyed – very often, but genuinely irate? No.

Sukuna lazily throws on his yukata. The aroma coming from both plates smelled divine. Uraume never seems to miss when it comes to cooking.

It felt odd… Having dinner without you. Sukuna took a bite out of his meat. Cooked to perfection. A slice of human male torso, with a female’s palm and breast. Some of his favorite parts to consume.

He chewed but the meat quickly started to turn sour– or was that just his mood affecting the food. Where the Hell is that woman? His curiosity quickly started to turn into anger. 

“Uraume!” He didn’t know or care what “business” they had. Sukuna wanted answers now.

Within moments, the snowy haired servant appeared in the doorway.

“Sukuna-sama?”

“Where is she?” He tried to chew, tried to savor the flavor, the smell, but every bite slowly started to turn bitter.

The shattered remnants of a ceramic plate lay at his feet, Uraume kneeling beside him in quiet apprehension. The silence in the room was suffocating, stretched taut with an unspoken fury that crackled like a brewing storm.

“She’s gone,” Uraume said evenly. “The servants—”

“I don’t give a damn about the servants.” Sukuna’s voice was low, almost calm. But Uraume flinched, recognizing the telltale signs of an imminent explosion.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. He had known—known—you were reckless, that you let emotions dictate your actions. But this? Running headfirst into battle? It was the single most idiotic thing you could have done. Especially with your condition.

His lower hands twitched toward his stomach, a rare, almost unconscious gesture. Stupid girl. You didn’t even know. Didn’t know about the life you carried. His life.

And now you were out there, in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, fragile and unaware.

A slow, seething rage curled through his chest, suffocating in its intensity. He had half a mind to tear through every single soldier in that war-torn wasteland himself, not out of any sense of justice, he didn’t care for the politics of it, but simply to prove a point. To drag you back, trembling and bloodied, and make you understand that you do not get to leave him.

He inhaled sharply. “Where?”

Uraume hesitated. “Lord Sukuna—”

“Where.”

A beat. Then, reluctantly, Uraume murmured the name of the battlefield. Sukuna turned, striding toward the door. He would bring you back. He had to.

Ten kilometers. It wasn’t extremely far, but far enough he couldn’t sense you anymore. Far enough he couldn’t protect you. Damn it. Damn you.

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since her. That damn woman. He considers her more of a monster than himself. 

“Stay here,” she whispered.

Sukuna had been too young to understand what those words truly meant. Too young to recognize the way his mother’s voice trembled, how her fingers lingered just a little too long on his face, tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbones as if she were memorizing them.

"I’ll be right back."

She had kissed him then, something she rarely did. Her lips were cold. He remembers that. Cold, and wet with the tears she tried to hide.

Then she turned and walked away.

And she never came back.

Sukuna learned to lie that day. Learned to smother the ache in his chest, to twist his words, his thoughts, his very being into something untouchable. Because if love only led to loss, then what was the point? If people always left, then why should he ever believe in their promises?

So he didn’t.

Not until you.

Yet here you are, trying to leave him too.

You should have stayed behind. That thought claws at Sukuna’s mind like a relentless beast, gnawing and tearing through his usual ironclad logic. Why didn’t you just listen to him!? He’s never been one to hesitate, never one to question the necessity of a fight—but this time, something festers in his chest, heavy and unnatural. It’s you.

He’s always known you were reckless, too willing to throw yourself into danger for the sake of others, before he saved you. It’s one of the things that made you so damn frustrating. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not just your life on the line.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch at his side. No one else knows. Not even you. He had sensed it before you started feeling sick, something faint but unmistakable; a new life, fragile and barely formed, nestled within you. His child. His heir.

And you’re running straight into a warzone.

The knowledge should have made him stop you. It should have made him tell you the truth, force you to stay behind, do something to keep you safe. But he didn’t. He let his pride, his cold logic, his damned belief that you were strong enough to handle anything—just like always—get in the way.

Now, as he prepares for battle, unease coils around his ribs like a vice. Sukuna isn’t a man ruled by fear, but right now, he’s afraid. Not for himself. For you.

And for the life you don’t even know you’re carrying.

The journey to the village is a quiet one, with Uraume silently following behind. There was no need to plan or think any further. Sukuna knew exactly what he was going to do once he reached that battlefield.

The battlefield is a storm of blood and screams, but none of it matters. Not to him.

Sukuna scans the chaos with razor-sharp precision, his instincts screaming that something is off. He should have found you by now. You should be here, tearing through enemies with that reckless determination of yours, throwing yourself into the fray as if you were invincible.

But you’re not here.

His heart, if he even has one, lurches violently against his ribs. His body moves before his mind catches up, cutting through bodies, ignoring the spray of blood and the desperate cries around him. The only thing he cares about right now is finding you.

Cleave. Dismantle. Cleave. Dismantle. 

He slices and dices everything in sight, not caring whose side they were on.

Until he finally sees it.

A familiar figure, crumpled on the ground. Still. Far too still.

Sukuna doesn’t remember crossing the distance. One moment, he’s fighting. The next, he’s on his knees beside you, hands grasping at your body as if he can shake you back to life.

But you’re cold.

Too cold.

Something inside him snaps.

Heal. Heal.

He presses one then two, then four hands to your body, all infused with his overflowing cursed energy. He spills his life essence into you (again), yet you remain still. 

Heal. Heal.

He looks toward Uraume who just finished freezing their attackers. Maybe if they both try reverse cursed technique, it may work. 

Heal. Heal. Heal. Heal. Heal.

One of Sukuna’s hands grazes your lips. Cold and wet. Just like his mother’s that day.

You’re leaving him too. Just like her.

A sound rips from Sukuna’s throat; something raw, something primal, something wrong. He’s not the type to grieve, not the type to break, but as he cradles your lifeless body, he feels something inside him shatter beyond repair.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to live. To survive. To stay by his side, infuriating, annoying, and stubborn and alive.

His grip tightens around you, claws digging into your flesh, as if holding you close will somehow fix this, somehow reverse the unthinkable. But it won’t. He knows it won’t.

And then, it hits him.

The child.

His jaw clenches so hard it might break. His breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps, his entire body trembling–not with grief, but with unfiltered, world-ending rage.

They didn’t just take you from him.

They took everything.

A furious roar tears through the battlefield, drowning out the clashing of swords and the screams of the dying. The ground quakes beneath him as his cursed energy surges, turning the air thick with malice. His vision is drenched in red, his mind consumed by a singular, all-consuming need:

Vengeance.

He will burn this world to the ground. And he will make them all pay.

The battlefield is silent now. The stench of blood clings to the air, thick and suffocating, but Sukuna no longer tastes it. His blade is still warm in his grip, his hands stained with the lives he has taken. Corpses litter the ground, the remnants of his wrath, yet none of it matters. Not anymore.

You are gone. So is the child you never even knew you carried.

Sukuna stands amidst the ruin, but the rage that once burned inside him has been smothered, leaving behind something far worse: a hollow, endless void. He thought vengeance would bring him something. Closure, maybe. Peace. But there is no peace in this. No satisfaction. Only silence.

A familiar voice calls his name. Uraume. He barely registers them as they step closer, hesitant yet unwavering, the only presence left in the wake of his destruction. 

“It's over,” they say, as if that means anything.

Over.

Sukuna lets his weapon fall from his grasp. It lands with a dull thud, swallowed by the lifeless ground beneath him. He does not move when Uraume reaches for him, does not resist when they pull him away from this graveyard of his own making. He feels nothing.

You were supposed to be by his side. You were supposed to live.

But now, there is only emptiness. A vast, aching nothingness that no amount of bloodshed can ever fill.

A/N MAN I WAS SO NERVOUS WRITING THIS 😭 It was my first time ever writing true form kuna and I'm not sure if I even did good (he's so hard to write!) 😭 I'm lowkey shaking, because I'm so in love with him and don't want to ruin his character or write him OOC. Welp. (I hope I made you cry, bc that was my goal) Also shout out to Ayron Jones, who's such an underrated artist. I hope you guys listen and enjoy the song! 🖤

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Revisiting this idea because I need to round it out. This intro text is orange so you already know it's J Price focused

John doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth and questions it. Instead, he looks at the angel in his and his boys' home and goes, "How can we keep her because the boys like her?".

He doesn't like her presence, but he likes that his boys seem calm and interested in her.

She has been a fixture in his home for two weeks, going on three now. He takes notice of how Simon follows her about like a specter. Always watching her and asking questions about people that have died, wanting to know if his own seat is reserved in hell. He notices how Johnny goes out of his way to ask questions about God, and each time, she squints her eyes at him. She isn't confused about the questions, but she is beholden to some rule about not speaking God's name or saying what they look like. Johnny normally shrugs and then starts asking questions that really stem from Catholic guilt, John has heard him ask once, "That time locked in the church confessional, am I going to hell for not telling Father Morris that I did kiss the boy on my football team?"

She had laughed at him and only pressed a kiss to his forehead, saying something about "You didn't commit a sin."

He is not sure what Kyle gets out of their angelic guest. Most of the time, he pulls her close to him and spends hours just holding her. Kyle is the one who most often enjoys her quiet company, and if he happens to sniffle and cry? Well, she makes no comment on it.

The vulnerability that he sees in his men scares him. It's why he doesn't go too near her. Her patience and sweetness seem to be easily corruptible. He would ruin her, sink his teeth into her body, and taste her. He is almost certain that angels help fight demons, and he knows he filled with them, and he doesn't ever really want to confront them. He's been in the military since he was 16. He's seen things, and he's done things, all terrible in nature. He's had to play God himself and decide if a civilian was worth more than his men who had people to go home to. He is not proud of hurting innocent people for the sake of taking down more egregious monsters that took advantage of innocent people.

He's got issues with how his mind is muddy with what's right and wrong. He still doesn't believe in a higher power. He never will after the life he's lived. He does believe in peace, though, a quiet life for him and his team. But back to the higher power thing, he can't believe in God even if proof is sitting in the living room being fascinated by the Angel Hierarchy Deep Dive that Soap put on to see if any of it is true.

John sits down in his recliner, lighting a cigar. He's halfway paying attention to the show. "Soap, why are you showing her this?"

Johnny grins at him, "Just wanna see how close we are! Not all of the books say the same thing."

The angel laughs, and it's music to John's ears, and he looks at her. Her wings are kept tucked close to her body, and the injured one is healing up nicely. His eyes trail down her body, and he knows it's wrong, but he isn't a blind man. He can appreciate her shapely legs, smooth skin, and her plump lips with the almost exaggerated cupids bow. He doesn't think it's all that bad, really. He's not the only one struggling with a soft body in the house.

(He's caught Simon hugging her close, his face pressed into her neck. Kyle, when he thinks nobody is paying attention, enjoys resting his head against her breast. Johnny really needs a muzzle because he kisses her all over her face, always just shy of placing one on her lips.)

"You'll die that way." Her soft voice cuts through the drawl of the telly. She is staring at him. "I know that is bad for humans."

Johnny laughs, "Aye, scolding tha man won't work, lassie." He nudges her with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"It still isn't good." She keeps her eyes on John, and he feels like she is staring right into his soul. "Why do that when you could just face your issues?"

To say he's shocked is an understatement. The ash from his cigar lands on his lap as he tries to figure out what to say. He doesn't smoke and drink from any issues. He happens to like it.

"Don't lie and say you like it. You humans do everything to feel numb except heal." She shakes her head.

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" John finally bites out, "And if I do it to feel numb, it's not your problem or concern." His eye twitches a bit in irritation.

"You smoke the same brand your father smoked and drink the same whiskey he drank... He didn't make it to Heaven if-"

"Enough." John growls out. He hasn't had to think of that particular demon in years. Not since the man shot himself and left his mother destitute and with four kids to look after. He's a strong believer that he wouldn't have run off to the service if his old man just got his shit together.

Johnny is quietly stuck on the outside of the confrontation. "Bonnie Birdie." He whispers, "Let's not talk about that." He tries to get her attention back on the video. "What type of angel are you?"

She only smiles and shakes her head, "I am a being that does what they are told."

John only huffs and looks back at the telly.

It's a few hours later, when John finds himself in his office. He's going over work and papers that need to be turned into Kate. He wants his mind to leave the sad image of him finding his father slumped in the basement. The splatter of blood and brain matter, the limpness and somehow stiffness of the body. His poor mother could not even have an open casket or see her husband. John had made sure of it as the eldest and now man of the family. He had an undying need to protect his mother from the man even in death.

"Let me look at you, John." His mother said he had been avoiding her most of the week of the funeral. "You have his eyes, and I just want to see his eyes again."

Those words are forever engraved in his psyche. He left for the service nit even two weeks later and only sent home money to keep his family going. The office door opens, and it is Her. She stands there quietly with a tilt of her head.

"I didn't mean to upset you." She said quietly. She doesn’t avert her gaze and stares into his soul again.

"It's fine." He gruffs out.

She approaches him and makes herself at home by perching herself on his desk. Her nimble little fingers brush through her feathers as she grooms herself. "No it's not...you are still hurting."

He doesn't say anything and doesn't plan to.

"You are afraid of admitting your first ever transgression is you running away from your mother." It's said as a fact and not as a question.

His eyes snap up, and he's staring at her, all six of her eyes, and a few on her wings are open. It is a hellish vision but also gorgeous in a way. There are so many warm colors, and it feels like he's falling and floating, and he hates it. It's a struggle, but he does look away from her and breathes deeply.

"Your mother, she would love to see you or even hear from you." She says, and when John looks back at her, the extra eyes are gone. She leans towards him, and he feels frozen as her fingers brush through his hair. It's a familiar and greatly missed comfort that he hasn't had in a long time. The proximity between them both makes the heat in his body rise. Without thinking, he pulls her into his lap and holds on to her.

He won't take her advice today, but maybe some other time.

This got long and I got carried away. I'll do Kyle next! Also I added that video because it was the video that inspired this blog post

Sigh 😕 (changes font to bonnie Johnny blue)

Here's a thought. Fallen angel reader.

Johnny was surprised when he found her. He was taking out the trash, rolling the bins to the curb when he heard the sniffling. It was strange, how the security system didn't pick up on any movement. That was neither here nor there.

What was important was that it was freezing cold and there was a naked woman on the side of his house. She had wings on her back and one of them was bent at an odd angle, the scent of blood in the air. Those wings, he thought, were beautiful. They matched her skin tone, brown, and dispersed in them were a multitude of pretty colored feathers. Little trinkets and small gold chains hung from her ears.

"Hey- wot ye doin' behind me and mah mates' house ma'am?" Johnny is trying to look anywhere but at her heaving breast that shakes with her hysterical crying. He opts to stare at her eyes, and it's like looking into the universe. There's so much fire and color, but he's thrown off by the number of eyes. She's got all six of them trained on him. He startles, and she seems to realize it, and four of them close and disappear.

She hiccups and sniffles and cowers away from him. Her nose scrunches up, and she looks like she is thinking. Johnny looks her over again, and certain alarm bells ring in his head. He knows he needs to go inside and get the others, but he does not want to leave her so soon without taking her inside. Every time he inches closer, her body shivers and curls into herself.

"Donnae be afraid lassie." He whispers quietly, "I jus wanna help."

That seems to make her perk up, and she stares at him, wide and teary-eyed, her sniffles calming down. "Be not afraid?" Her voice is soft, "yeah, be not afraid." A bit of life comes back into her.

Johnny holds out his hand for her, and she takes it. A shiver slithers up his spine, it doesnt feel bad, but he does feel the change in the air. "Let's get ye inside lassie."

More ideas from my mind I guess as I flip through my wips and write. It would be the Catholic that finds the fallen angel. Like this would eat ngl. Like them trying to nurse an angel back to health and unfortunately that makes them face their inner demons.

[haemey]

Et Resurrexit Tertia Die - Chapter 5: Somebody that I used to know (3.8k, 30.9k total so far)

Chapter Summary:

Aziraphale learns something interesting from Muriel, while Crowley doesn't quite manage to be as annoying as he'd like.

Excerpt:

“How often are those records used?”, he asked, almost to interrupt himself. “Well…” Muriel looked a little sad now. “Almost never. They’re mostly for archival purposes, I think. Sometimes it feels like the other angels kind of forgot the records exist, really. A few years ago, I think Michael came to one of my colleagues to request some files, but otherwise, no one really comes along.” “That…” Aziraphale swallowed. “That sounds lonely.” When Muriel smiled again, it had lost some of its brightness. “Oh, no, it’s fine. If no one comes, then you don’t get distracted, right?” He gave them a sympathetic smile of his own. “Quite right. That’s why I never liked having customers in here, I think.” It wasn’t quite the same, though, was it? Solitude by choice or by nature?

Don't be fooled, this one gets silly.

Fic summary, tags and tags under the cut.

Fic summary:

Half a year after Aziraphale left, Crowley is trying his best to come to terms with the fact that the world is going to end in just seven weeks and that he will likely have to face that end alone. Having done all he can, all that's left for him to do is to distract himself while he waits. Teaching a too-nice-for-their-own-good human not to take in random strangers might be just the ticket. Meanwhile, up in Heaven, Aziraphale is receiving some troubling news about the Second Coming. Troubling - but possibly the best chance he is ever going to get to set things to rights. Now, if only he could get Crowley aboard, but that seems to be much more difficult than he would like. The solution to all their problems is much closer than they think. If only they'd remember the elephant... OR: Just another post-season 2 fic. But with more glitter.

Tags:

Post-Season/Series 02, Canon Compliant, until S3 is out at least, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, sfw, The Second Coming (Good Omens), Jesus took the Crucifixion personally, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), They Are Not Talking, until they are, canon typical drinking, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Jaded Millennia old beings vs jaded Millennial, Original Character(s), Symbolism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Bad Puns, Innuendo, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Miscommunication, actual communication, Unlicensed and Unintentional and Involuntary Therapy, Rated M for heavy angst towards the end, POV Alternating, Additional Tags to Be Added, Betaed, Glitter, Footnotes

Big thanks to @bellisima-writes and @lickthecowhappy for beating <3

Tagging @goodomensafterdark and @di-42. Let me know if you want to be added to or taken off the list :)

[niranutcake]

.

I wasn't sure if I should've even posted this... Please don't read it if you don't feel like it. I just... wanted to vent my frustrations at least somewhere rather than keep everything inside

I helped out a friend. Well, at least I considered him one. Half a year ago he asked me to lend a bit of money. I don't have much myself. The only source of my own income is a 36$ stipend. I don't currently have a job and I live with my parents, but their income plus mine is enough to give the four of us stable and happy life. So out of pity and kind heart, of course I helped him, because it felt like he needed it. He promised to return the money. He didn't. I asked what was wrong and for my money back, because I needed them. But he just ignored my messages.

Now, after going MIA for half a year, he returns. Apologising. And asking for more money yet again. I already told him my frustrations about his inappropriate behaviour, for which he apologised yet again and told me how his life was rough, how he got his money stolen when being away on a sports competition and he wasn't able to return home, how he needed to sustain his girlfriend (and now, how it turned out, a wife) and pay rent and his parents and noone helped him. He has a normal job. He knows how much I earn.

I wanted to believe him. But my trust was seriously wavering. I gave him money. The last one for food that I had, because he was assuring me he'd 100% return it tomorrow before evening. I chose to believe him. The next day I starved. Now I don't have money for food for the end of the week. He said his paycheck got delayed, even sent a picture of the paper, said he'd give back tomorrow. I chose to believe him. I was left with nothing again.

There's a lot of emotions inside of me right now. I feel hurt, betrayed, angry, frustrated and more. I told him everything about how I felt and afterwards decided to block him. I'm tired of his empty promises.

But I also feel said, because, like, he wasn't like this before. We met eachother in a small organisation (that I'm not longer in), he was a fun, energetic, open boy, and we quickly connected with eachother. We smiled and laughed at jokes, did assignments together, I joyfully cheered on him on a dance competition. I remember him as a good person. But then he comes with this.

It left me confused and hurt... What could've happened? Why did he act like that?? Why did he say all of this? Was he even telling the truth? I really don't know...

Now I feel bad. I'm still confused. Something like this never has happened to me before. I don't know what to do... I just... *sigh*...

Am I doing something wrong?...

[fridayyy-13th]

wow. not even a week into college and i'm already behind on work. fucking lovely.

[cerbreus]

surgery leave finally okayed!!!!

[garlique]

me when i actually think i have a shot at a job that would work well for me 😭 i hate job hunting so much my dumb ass gets so invested into every single job and it never works out and logically i know i only have a 1/100 chance of getting this particular one but i know that's still better odds than most jobs and it already feels like things are aligning for it a little bit?? and i don't want to get my hopes up again and them get crushed because it feels like every time it happens it's like. genuinely devastating for me but i also really want to manifest this shit i feel like i'm being stretched by my arms between two giant rocks lol

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[songtwo]

idk i think my bf might be developing a drinking problem and i just don’t know what to do…..

[b-blushes]

you know when you're in da overwhelm zone due to Circumstances that you don't really have power over. well it's really hard to deescalate from that i am finding!

HOWEVER i am attempting:

FACING THE THINGS because the longer they loom. the longer they are looming for.

regular breaks from Addressing Everything

regular snacks/meals/drinks

prioritising

postponing stuff that can be left until later (But watch out!)

doing other things in advance that are easy to do now (such as stockpiling meals ready for feeling more ill)

asking for help where i can

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.