#now that i think about it i think i was running on the middle of the street (in the forest) and kinda was in danger of dying cause of cars

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Eldritch being who has taken over your entire town.

TW. Dead Dove Do Not Eat Horror, confinement, isolation, death, Stockholm syndrome, yandere

You didn’t know when it had happened, but there was something very obviously wrong with your town.

It was the little things like the warped street signs, the inconsistent cracks in the sidewalk, and the way that the uncanny faces of people seemed to stare at you. It didn’t use to be like this, but you found yourself cautious about your new reality on the daily. You did try to leave and call for help, but there was some mysterious force cutting off your network. And when you did try to pack all your bags and high tail it out of there, you would end up just looping straight back on your street no matter what direction you drove in.

So now you made do with the fact that nothing was normal.

You sometimes wonder why whatever has infected all the people decided to leave you alone. Because there was no way it wasn’t a conscious decision. Your favorite flowers would start sprouting out of concrete walls and glass despite the fact it would be the middle of winter one day and a scorching summer the next. Not to mention, those flowers didn’t even grow here to begin with. It was a gesture. If it was meant to tempt or be kind, you weren’t sure. 

The town functioned like nothing was out of the ordinary, though. Well, at least it tried to puppet the barely real bodies of your community to do things they would daily. The grocery store always had food and figures milling about, and even though none of the products ever tasted quite right or had words in a real language, you could tell “it” was trying to keep things running for you.

You’d once tried to hide away in your house, thinking that it was somehow protecting you from whatever was out there. But all you did was make it angry. Constant thunderstorms that shook the ground, and hail that pounded on your roof and walls. When you continued to stay inside, that’s when it made things clear: it was letting you stay as you were. The house shifted dramatically, doors disappearing and walls bending in front of your eyes. 

Come outside. Stop trying to resist.

Privacy was just another one of those far-out concepts now.

The thing, as you so liked to call it, had been more affectionate lately. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it had started morphing all the “people” into more attractive versions of themselves. Or at least, what it thought of as attractive to humans. Their faces were more tangible now and less blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but they were uncanny in a new way. Skin too smooth, too perfect in so many different ways. Symmetrical, full lips, pleasant expressions, soothing voices: all things that on paper would lure someone in, but it had alarm bells ringing in your head nearly all the time now.

“I don’t like this, you know,” You said one day as you sat in the diner. The room was stretched out wider than what it looked like on the outside, and the waitress had an unnaturally wide smile. Before you was a plate of… something. Your guess was pancakes.

“What do you mean?” Several voices asked at once. It came from all around, and the waitress’s mouth barely moved to match the words. 

“ I like you better when you aren’t trying so hard to be something you weren’t.”

There was a pause, and the building slowly unraveled into a jumbled mess of things that you could barely comprehend, the other patrons' faces and bodies melting away into linoleum floors. 

“You’re not human. You don’t have to be. I think I’d prefer that honestly,” You shrugged and poked at your food. From the corner of your eyes, a figure seemed to emerge from the mess of what used to be your favorite restaurant. It was a writhing mass of dark tendrils, reaching for anything nearby. You’re breath caught in your throat.

“Do you really mean that?”

The voice spoke, but there wasn’t any face to accompany it. It reverberated in the base of your spine, racing through your nerves like lightning. Your breath hitched, and you finally gathered enough courage to look at it. It was a mess of things you couldn’t quite make out, but it was almost comforting. 

“This is the first time I’ve actually seen you,” you admitted, a small laugh of disbelief caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time it had actually listened to you. 

The being twitched, pulsing as it slid over towards where you were sitting at the booth. It was the only thing that had stayed intact. For something so expressionless, you’d dare to say it seemed shy. 

From the inky mass, one tendril reached out for you, the air around it crackling. You stayed in place as it slid over your hand, and you felt the wonder and relief.

“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to force you, but I’m so alone… you’re the only one who doesn’t disappear when I’m near.”

You blinked as the mass filled the cracks between your hands, folding into the lines of your palms as if trying to memorize you. If it had a hand, you’d be holding it. If it had lips, yours would be slotting against them. If it had a heart, you were certain they’d be painted a similar shade of loneliness. 

You stood up and slowly approached it, holding out your arms as you leaned in, wrapped your arms around its slowly forming figure, and nodded in silence. 

[starsinthesky5]

yail blurb idea maybe???

joe and reader trying to do literally anything and joe keeps making those jokes

like they could be working out and all hes thinking and saying is abt taking her back to the bedroom ( and he does )

here's a little something something since i couldn't get the fic up today for YAIL's one year anniversary ;)

perpetually horny joe below!

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

it happens all the time.

they’ll be working out together, both of them focused—her in the middle of a set, joe spotting her, watching the way she moves, the little scrunch of her nose as she powers through. her ponytail swings with every rep, sweat glistening on her skin, and she bites her lip, determined to finish strong. joe tells himself to focus—spot her, don’t stare at her ass, spot her—but it’s impossible when she looks that good.

and then it hits him. the way her body moves, the way she exhales in little, breathy huffs, the way sweat beads at her collarbone, slipping down between the curves he knows so well, and suddenly, he’s not thinking about working out at all.

"you know," he says, his voice low and rough as she racks her weights. we could take this back to the bedroom. work up a different kind of sweat,".

she shoots him a look as she reaches for her water. "you’re ridiculous,".

"am i?" he steps closer, fingers ghosting over her hip, his body heat making hers spike even more. "or are you just scared you won’t be able to keep up?".

the challenge in his voice sends a shiver down her spine. she rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "joe,".

he just smirks, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, voice like sin against her skin. "c’mon, baby, let’s see who’s got more stamina,".

she exhales through her nose, tilting her head just slightly as his lips graze the sensitive skin under her ear. she can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his breath fans against her damp skin, the way his fingers skim along the waistband of her shorts.

"we’re supposed to be working out," she points out, but her voice is already softer, breathier.

joe hums, not convinced. "we are working out," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear now. "i’m just suggesting we take it to a more…private setting,".

she scoffs, shoving at his chest, but he barely budges. "you have no self-control, joe. it's 10:30 a.m,".

he grins, reaching for her water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a slow sip before handing it back to her. "not when it comes to you,".

the way he says it—all raspy and quiet like it’s a simple fact—makes her stomach flip. but she holds her ground, tilting her head as she smirks up at him. "so, what? you can’t handle me doing a few reps without thinking about bending me over the weight bench?".

his smirk falters for a fraction of a second, and she knows she’s got him.

"jesus christ," he mutters under his breath, scrubbing a hand down his face.

she grins. "thought so,".

but she should know better than to challenge him, because in the next second, joe’s grabbing her wrist, pulling her flush against him, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"baby," he drawls, dragging his thumb over her pulse point. "don’t tempt me,".

her breath catches, heart hammering as she swallows.

he smirks. checkmate.

"now," he murmurs, fingers moving lower, gripping her hip. "are you gonna let me take you home? or do i have to throw you over my shoulder?".

her lips part, pulse racing. she hates how easily he gets to her. hates it, but loves it.

and, well—who is she to deny him?

"you’re paying for my post-workout smoothie," she finally mutters.

his grin is wolfish. "deal,".

--

or they’ll be out shopping—just running errands, nothing remotely suggestive about it—except joe still manages to find a way.

"you’d look real good in this," he muses, holding up some tiny little lace set he spotted while they were supposed to be picking up new sheets.

she lifts a brow, crossing her arms. "and what happened to being ‘smart with money’?".

"this is smart," he counters smoothly, holding the fabric between his fingers, eyes flicking between her and the delicate lace. "investment in our relationship. and we're like...mutli millionaires. this is hardly a dent in any of our pockets, even though i will be paying like usual,".

"you’re so full of shit," she laughed, eyeing the lacy red set.

"nah, baby." he leans in, voice dropping. "i just really wanna see you in it. and out of it,".

she smacks his arm, cheeks warming, but joe? oh, he just grins, because he knows exactly what he’s doing.

she rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but joe can see the tiny twitch at the corner of her lips. he steps closer, his free hand sliding around her waist, tugging her flush against him. "what?" he murmurs, all innocence, but his fingers are playing with the hem of her hoodie, slipping just beneath to brush against warm skin.

"we’re supposed to be buying sheets," she reminds him, though her voice is already softer, breathier.

"mm," joe hums, feigning thought. "and what if i want to get you something to wear on those sheets?".

her brows lift, unimpressed. "wear on the sheets?".

his lips twitch. "briefly,".

she snorts, pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. doesn’t even wobble. just stays there, all tall and broad and warm, his hands staying, his breath spreading across her cheek.

"if i try it on," she says, tilting her chin up at him, "you’re not coming in the fitting room,".

his eyes flick down to her lips, then back up. "baby, i would never,".

she glares, knowing that's a damn lie, and he just grins.

she groans, snatching the lace set from his hands. "you are going to the register,".

he just smirks, watching her scurry off toward the fitting rooms, the little red number dangling from her fingers.

"gladly," he murmurs, already reaching for his wallet.

--

it happens at a friend’s house party—music playing, drinks flowing, bodies moving in easy conversation. she’s off chatting with some friends, her laughter ringing through the room, and joe? joe is leaning against the bar, nursing his drink, watching her with that look. the kind that makes her whole body tingle, like he’s already touching her from across the damn house.

he’s been patient. all night, he’s played it cool, nodded along to conversations, pretended like he wasn’t dying to have her closer. but now? now, with the way she keeps glancing at him, the way her dress clings to her like a second skin, the way she bites her lip around her straw—he’s about to lose it.

so when she finally makes her way back over to him, he doesn’t even give her a second to breathe before he leans in, lips brushing her ear, voice thick with heat.

"been thinkin’ about gettin’ you alone all night, baby,".

her breath catches, heat pooling in her stomach, but she refuses to give in so easily. she tilts her head, eyes flicking up at him, playful and knowing. "oh, yeah? that why you’re staring at me like that?".

his fingers find the small of her back, warm and insistent, slipping beneath the fabric of her top, skin to skin. his grip tightens, just slightly. "mhmm,".

she sips her drink, feigning nonchalance, though her pulse is hammering. "well, too bad," she teases. "i’m enjoying the party with our friends,".

joe just chuckles, quiet and knowing, his lips barely an inch from hers. "that’s cute, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against her spine, flashing her those irresistible bedroom eyes.

her breath catches, but she keeps her composure—barely. the way he’s looking at her, all heat and promise, like he already knows exactly how this night is going to end, sends a shiver down her spine.

"cute, huh?" she says, tilting her head, trying to keep her voice steady despite the way her body betrays her, leaning into his touch. "is that what you think?".

joe smirks slowly, fingers pressing just a little firmer against her back. "mm," he hums, dipping his head so his lips ghost along the shell of her ear. "think it’s cute you’re pretending you don’t wanna leave with me right now,".

her breath stutters. his voice is all gravel and honey, thick with something dark and knowing, and it’s doing dangerous things to her determination.

she could fight it—keep teasing, keep pretending like she’s not two seconds from giving in—but the way his fingertips trace absentminded circles against her lower back, the way his voice drips with something wicked and irresistible, the way he looks at her like he’s already imagining all the ways he’s going to ruin her—yeah, she’s toast.

so she exhales, lets her fingers trail down his arm before slipping into his hand, lacing their fingers together. "one drink," she tries, but it’s weak at best.

joe chuckles again, squeezing her hand, flashing her that smug, lopsided grin that tells her he already knows she’s full of shit.

"sure, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a sluggish, lingering kiss just below her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin. "one drink,".

but they both know damn well she won’t be finishing it.

--

but the worst one—the one that really gets her?

the card game.

the air is stale with competition, both of them sitting cross-legged on the couch, knees brushing, a mess of playing cards scattered between them. her brows are furrowed, lips pursed in deep concentration as she studies her hand, determined to win. joe watches her, amused—she’s so damn focused, so convinced she’s got the upper hand. and honestly? she might.

but joe’s got a different kind of victory in mind.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, his smirk mischievous, "you know," he drawls, voice dropping to that honeyed rasp that makes her shiver, "there’s a different kinda game we could be playing right now,".

she doesn’t look up, too focused. "joe, hush and pick a card,".

"nah," he shakes his head, grin widening as he tosses his card onto the pile. "i think i’d rather play strip poker,".

her head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "you are insufferable joseph lee burrow,".

"nah, baby," he counters smoothly, dragging his fingers along the curve of her thigh, slow, teasing, just enough to make her breath falter. "i just know how to have a little fun,".

she glares at him, but her body betrays her—the way her thighs clench slightly, the way her chest rises a little faster. joe notices everything.

"joe—,".

he leans in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "bet i can make you fold real quick,".

his fingers trace higher, grazing the hem of her shorts, feather-light but willful. she swallows, heart hammering, heat pooling low in her stomach. she knows exactly what he’s doing—knows this is just another one of his games—but damn it, she’s already losing. "you're always horny," she mutters, but her voice wavers.

joe just smirks, slow and smug, eyes locked on hers as he pushes his luck, his palm spreading warm over her bare thigh. "mm, maybe," he murmurs, "but you love it,".

she exhales sharply, tossing her cards down. "you are the worst,".

joe chuckles, shifting closer, his lips grazing her jaw, his hands already slipping beneath her shirt, fingertips tracing along her ribs as he begins to move his hand to her back, inching towards her bra clasp. "nah, sweetheart," he breathes, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below her ear, "pretty sure you love this,".

and she absolutely did. even if she put up a fight at first ;)

[magpiepills]

Got Your Money

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Clint x sex worker!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: you’re a hooker who owes her pimp money and his right hand man, Clint comes to collect.

Warnings: SMUT! Including but not limited to: Porn with minimal plot, dub con, mean Clint, name calling and degradation, unprotected PIV, misogyny, rough sex, creampie, big dick, no beta, no proofreading, typos are all my own. You know what I’m about.

A word from the author: thanks to @youandmeand5bucks for the prompt that has had me in a tizzy for several days!

Masterlist

You’d barely made it past the front door when he knocked. Your dress was half unzipped down your back and your heels were left on the carpet where you’d stepped out of them.

It gave you pause. Nobody knocks this late. Not in this neighborhood. Not when you do the kind of work you do. You never did business here. You were careful and discrete and so was Angelo. He hustled and bargained and sold your ass for as much as he could. He made a pretty penny and paid for that Coupe Deville he liked to drive real slow around town when he took his cut, and he gave himself a very generous cut. He was a greedy son of a bitch, but he knew he better treat his top girl right. He wouldn’t put you at risk by letting anyone know where you stayed stashed away.

“I saw you walk in two minutes ago and I know you hear me. Open the fucking door,” the voice on the other side growled with the barest restraint. Clint. Of course.

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the door but kept the security chain latched, giving Clint three inches of room to say whatever dumb shit he needed to before he left to go back in whatever squalid shack he stayed in until Angelo yanked his chain too.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit, open the fucking door,” he boomed through the gap. “I’m coming in one way or another. You want your door on the hinges or off?”

He’s always like this.

You mutter under your breath at him coming between you and a hot bath after a long day, but you open the door anyway. He’s a fucking asshole but you know he’s safe. Angelo doesn’t trust many people anymore.

Clint pushes into your living room while you lock the door behind him, replacing the little chain that seems sort of useless now that you think about it. He stands in the middle of the room, hands on his slim hips, looking around. It offends you.

“What do you want, Clint? I had a long day and I’m going to bed. This better be important.”

His tongue flicks out over his bottom lip as he looks at you with that cold, detached look he likes to wear but doesn’t answer. Infuriating.

“Ok, just make yourself at home, then. I’m going to bed.” You turn a quarter step and tug up your sagging strapless dress, red, garish like they always like and aim casually for your bedroom.

“Let’s make this quick sweetheart. You know what the fuck I’m here for. Don’t play dumb. It’s dangerous.”

“Fuck off, Clint. I’m not doing this with you tonight,” you run your hand over your hair in exasperation and wished you’d never opened that door.

“Oh yeah?” he spits. “Tired after a long day of sucking and fucking? Yeah I bet you’re real worn out.”

In a fraction of a second your hand lands square across his scarred cheek, catching him by surprise and he’s a lot faster than you’d expect him to be for a man who smokes like a chimney and has all that grey hair. He grabs your wrist before you can run or defend yourself and twists your arm around your waist until he’s got your back to his chest and his arm braced against your now bare tits in a too-tight hold.

“Where’s the money?” He is too loud next to your ear and you wince, trying to be as cool as you can. Of course he wants the money. Good luck, you think to yourself. You learned a long time ago about keeping much cash around.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Clint. If Angelo sent you, you can tell him he’s got his cut. He’s never the one with rug burns. He gets his share and I get mine.”

It does nothing but instigate Clint further. He shakes you. “Do you think I’m stupid? You think you’re the first whore who tried to short a pimp?” He is hot with anger. He wanted to be at home too. He’s old and he’s tired but maybe he doesn’t mind so much since your dress has slipped down and he has the perfect view of your tits over your shoulder. Angelo never said he couldn’t have a little fun on the job.

To your shock and surprise, Clint slaps your breast. It stings before he soothes it with his big bear paw palm covering the welt he left and squeezing. You can’t stop the whine that creeps from your throat.

“If you don’t have the money I guess I gotta take it out in trade.”

You pant nervously, wriggling in his arms at the insinuation. Clint smiles against your neck and sinks his teeth into the slope of your shoulder just enough to make you whine for him.

“Just business. Doesn’t have to hurt if you can play nice. You know I’ve seen you playin real nice before.” You can feel him thickening against you, the length of him jutting against the cleft of your ass. You try half heartedly to shake out of his arms, but it just makes him laugh. “Alright. Act like you don’t want it. Like I can’t smell you dripping. Take dick all day long and you’re still ready for more,” he drags his hand across your sensitive nipple and up to your throat, pressing just softly against your pulse. “I can feel your heart beating and I know it’s not cause you’re scared.”

His hand moves again, moving down, over your belly and the fabric bunches around your waist. He helps himself to your body, rubbing and pinching. He pushes your dress down the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor around your feet and covers your mound with his hand. You don’t realize that your head has tipped back against his shoulder as he spits you unceremoniously with two fingers.

He pulls them back out and holds his slick shiny fingers in front of your face so you can see your arousal stretching between his fingers. “Look at that. I know Angelo won’t let anybody bust in this pussy. This is all you, baby. Slick as fuck.”

He crudely sucks your wetness from his fingers and pulls you down with him when he flops down onto your sofa, pretty and creamy and soft, a stark contrast to his roughness, his dark, plaid.

“Does Angelo even know you’re here? You think he’s gonna let you come over here and threaten me?” You struggle against his hold, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Clint shifts you over to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans, freeing his turgid member.

“Angelo’s the one who told me where to find you. Told me how good you ride him, too,” He says as he positions you back over his lap with his cock hot and hard as steel against your throbbing pussy. “You owe Angelo, Angelo owes me. So I think we can sort this out right here and now.” You can’t help the way your body heats. The men you see are often rough. They pound into you and take you with harsh strokes on half limp dicks, blaming you when they can’t stay hard. They want you to watch them or they want to watch you or they cry with their heads in your lap.

They don’t talk to you like this. They don’t use their cockhead to rub your clit until you’re moving your hips yourself to chase the pleasure the way Clint’s doing now. He covers his impossibly thick length in your slippery wetness, spreading it all around.

“You gonna give it to me, or am I gonna take it?” he asks with a sharp swat against your ass.

You lick your lips and close your eyes, you’re still focused on how big he feels between your legs as you sigh. “Take it,” you breathed.

He was going to do it anyway. He presses you down on his cock, stealing your breath with the sheer size of him. He takes a moment with his hands firm on your hips, pushing down and thrusting up to full depth, holding you there, giving you that deep ache that so many men can’t.

Before you could even get your head around the way he stretched you past what you thought was possible, he was driving into you with enough force to make you wail. You were grateful that such noise wasn’t something that would raise an alarm in this building. People minded their business.

You arched your back and planted your feet on his thighs for a little control, but Clint was in charge.

“Yeah, that’s right. You feel this cock all the way in your throat? You still want to act like a bitch?”

You whined a response to his vulgar talk but he didn’t care. He liked hearing how fucked up you were on his cock.

“Fuck,” he shoved your knees down. “fuck your self on this dick.” You rebalanced on shaky legs and slowly slid your swollen, soaked pussy up and down the length of him. His hands found your ass and slapped it while you worked him up and down, making your skin sting and heat. “Come on, you got a debt to pay. Show me what this little whore pussy’s worth.” Your thighs trembled, and Clint grew impatient.

“Up,” he commanded. You stood and he shoved you toward your bedroom, following close behind you.

The streetlight shone in the window, casting stripes of light and shadow through your blinds and across the bed. You crossed your arms over your chest as Clint undressed himself, clothes heaped on the floor, along with his heavy boots. He scoffed at the way you tried to hide your body. “Get on the bed. Lay down.”

You climbed to the middle of your queen size bed, neatly made as it was every morning, with your heart shaped pillow between the two regular pillows, the chenille bedspread tucked in just so. Clint stood at the end of your bed, stroking himself while he inspected your body.

“Legs up. Spread your pussy for me. Let me see how fucked open you are.”

You drew your knees up and rubbed your clit in a messy circle, then dipped two fingers into your wet hole, followed by a third that made you groan. “You’re so fucking sick, Clint.”

“Yeah? I’m sick? You’re the one selling her greedy snatch in the street. Spread your pussy.” You did as he said, your manicured fingernails framing your delicate folds, swollen and wet so he could see how your entrance clenched for him.

“Look at that,” he marveled sarcastically, "Angelo's million dollar pussy.” He stared at your body, then spat, a thick glob of saliva dripped over your nails and mixed with your arousal. “You’re never gonna be happy with another dick again. You’ll be begging me to come over and shut you up.”

Clint tapped his cock against your pussy and entered you in one powerful thrust, bottoming out while he held the back of your knees. He leaned over you, folding you in half to hammer hard and fast, punching into your squelching pussy. He grunted above you, his body warm and sweat gathering along his hairline.

“Clint!” you yelped, nails cutting into his biceps. “Clint!” You couldn’t get out the words you needed. He kept you pinned in place while he devoured you, making the pressure and heat you felt grow.

“That’s it, say my name. Tell everybody in the place who’s got you screaming like a bitch.”

You felt delirious, your body was all raw nerves and that familiar pressure, until one snap of his hips and scrape of his coarse hair over your clit did you in. Your orgasm was intense. Rippling and wet and hot, you were suspended in protracted pleasure. You didn’t even notice Clint was coming too, pumping you full. He never even offered to wear a condom, and you kicked yourself for not insisting. Of course he wouldn’t have worn one, he never does.

Clint slipped out of you, followed by a trickle of cum that dripped onto your sheets. As you caught your breath, your body limp and exhausted, he pushed your knees apart and spread your tender pussy with his thick thumbs.

“I wish I had a camera,” he said with an ugly pride. “Bet you this pussy won’t ever be the same now.”

Without sentimentality, Clint got dressed, tied his boots, and turned to where you remained on your bed and said with a sinister wink “We’ll call that a partial payment.”

[haikyu-mp4]

Irrestistible – Suna x reader wc 1143 – gn!reader hockey player x figure skater au

“You figure skate, right?” Suna said, a bare-minimum attempt at whispering. The two of you sat in the middle of the library, squeezed between someone who seemed to be on their last straw and someone who did not like history.

His random question brought you out of your self-deprecating thoughts and back into the room, where you had to tutor one of your class’ most obnoxious, lazy, careless, idiotic-

“Yes,” you answered kindly, despite your thoughts. “I do.”

“I know,” he whispered, lips pursed together as if sheepish, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “You’re real pretty.”

Clearing your throat, you strictly kept your eyes on his book on the desk after realising you had stared at his eyes for a little too long. “Let’s stay focused on this, I don’t have all day.”

“Sure, take the lead.”

The next time you met in the library, it seemed that the two of you finally loosened the knot in Suna’s head that insisted he couldn’t do maths. You grinned when he solved one of the more difficult issues on his own, holding up a hand for a high-five and not even caring that much when the sound of it might have disturbed some of the others who sat close by.

“You did so well!”

But the happiness you felt at him accomplishing this wasn’t the only thing that occupied your mind. At your praise, Suna couldn’t help but smile widely, showing much more of his teeth than you could usually see. Your eyes zeroed in, and Suna’s smile fell, lips pursing together to hide his two missing teeth on the one side. “Thank you. What’s next?”

You nodded subtly, registering his avoidance of the subject. “Integrals.”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm dramatically over his face. “The misery never ends!”

You didn’t stop thinking about it, though. A lot of the more reckless hockey players chipped or lost their teeth now and then, but it was usually fixed within the week. What could have happened for him to be missing them still?

Suna suddenly turned to you, putting a finger under your chin so you would face him. “You might as well just ask.”

“What happened to your teeth?” you whispered.

Suna huffed through his nose, and the signature smirk stretched across his lips. “I annoy people, frequently.”

The answer made you chuckle under your breath, gaze falling on his notebook, which proved he hadn’t focused much on the last few problems either. Gulping at his intense stare, you hesitated but asked anyway. “Why haven’t you had them fixed?”

“It’s expensive. My parents already paid for me to transfer here; the scholarship doesn’t cover my own wrongdoings.”

Looking back up, you had sympathy painted all over your face. You weren’t sure how to answer but didn’t have to figure it out as Suna perked up and turned back to his task.

“But one day I’ll be in the big leagues and my smile will be back to irresistible.”

Even though you and Suna were both at the rink many days of the week, you hadn’t run into each other much before. At least, you hadn’t noticed him.

Now, you could swear he was always there. Whether he gave you a short wave when you passed by while he played or winked at you when he saw you skating, you found yourself growing fond of his presence.

This time, he walked up to you after you finished training, slumping down beside where you were switching from skates to normal shoes. “Hey,” he said.

You looked around and noticed there were no other hockey players left, then glanced at the clock to confirm that his training had ended two hours ago. “Suna, did you wait here for two hours?”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face gave away something less careless. “I’m glad you noticed.”

“Why?”

“The other day, you said you weren’t happy they switched our training because you had to walk home late. Thought I might walk you home.”

It sounded like your heartbeat wanted to talk to him, ringing in your ears and pinching its colour into your cheeks. You looked down at your shoe and tied the last lace. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

Suna made it a regular thing, staying around until you finished training to walk you home, chatting about your days and lives, interests and dislikes. It became your favourite part of the day, and your friends commented regularly on how you and Suna sat closer and closer to each other each time you tutored him.

This time, you didn’t get off the ice after training. You skated a couple more laps while the others filed out of the room one by one, wishing your pulse would slow down before you spoke to Suna.

“Put your skates back on.”

Suna blinked, taken off guard by the change in routine. “My skates?”

You confirmed and giggled as he got to it, glancing at you with suspicion. When he got back up, skates safely secured, you ushered him to meet you in the middle of the ice. “Have you ever danced on ice before?”

Pride filled you at seeing the cool-headed Suna Rintaro out of his element. He raised his arms carefully, allowing you to direct his hands to your waist. “Not like you do.”

With careful movements, you moved to the side, and he followed clumsily. His eyes darted straight down to your feet. While he was good at skating, he wasn’t used to avoiding someone else’s skates while moving. “Just follow my lead,” you encouraged.

Your eyes were locked onto where a blush spread quickly from his neck to his ears. He finally looked up as he got into the pattern of your movements. “Am I in trouble?” he chuckled.

You hummed and smiled, leaning closer to twirl the two of you in a circle. When you slowed to a stop, you slid your arms around his neck, and a chill ran through you as he naturally followed and moved his arms around you. “I think I have a crush on you.”

Suna groaned, which disturbed the palpable tension between you and made you question yourself entirely. Oh no, maybe you had misunderstood. Had he not returned your affections? Did you just make a complete fool out of yourself-

“Sublime!” he yelled, tilting his head back so it wouldn’t ring in your ears. You drew a breath and held it, shocked at the outburst yet consumed with happiness at what it might mean.

His head came back down so he could look at you, grin wider than you had ever seen it, with his missing teeth on full display.

You couldn’t help but think that his smile was already irresistible.

masterlist

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 11 (m)

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

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

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

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!!! This one came a bit late but here it is!! Honestly this chapter was the trickiest to write bc I didn't know how to still make most of it entertaining. I'm proud of myself for DESTROYING this writer's block with my own hands, though. 😈 With this chapter, we reach the mid point of our story!! Not literally, though, because I don't know how many chapters we still have ahead of us lol BUT we're def in the middle. ANYWAY! Feedback as usual is VERY MUCH appreciated! If you've been reading this fic up until now and never commented, please send me a hi or anything. I'll love to know how you like the story. DON'T BE SHY AROUND ME BABYGIRL 😈 Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Caution was the rule that dominated Olrox’s life.

He had learned from a young age that in order to survive in this world, you have to be cautious about everything. The people you let into your life, your enemies, the alliances you make; before speaking, you should listen. Before forming an opinion, you should take as much information as you could find. Before taking action, you should think about it – plan it, revise it, think about it again and again and again.

Caution was what kept Olrox alive while his city and his people burned. Caution was the reason why Olrox was still alive to this day despite all odds being against him. And caution was what told him he had to leave the Old World soon.

Olrox knew when a war was lost; he had tried to turn the tables in the past, and it led to nothing but pain. He knew better now. Sometimes, retreating is the best course of action.

Erzsebet had retrieved the second half of Sekhmet’s soul. Olrox tried to intervene by giving Alucard an advantage in the run after the mummy; the son of Dracula had failed to take it. There was nothing he could do anymore, not now that Europe became Sekhmet’s territory.

Olrox had to be cautious for the sake of his inner voice – even more than usual. Erzsebet was still no goddess, but she had managed to summon the soul of one back to the land of the living… and that was a clear commandment for him to stay away.

Which is why Olrox was shocked at himself when he left the docks and flew towards Paris.

Every instinct in him was yelling at him to turn back. Her stench was worse than ever; he could feel her power from miles and miles away. It made the tiny hairs in his arms raise, made him feel genuine repulse. He shouldn’t be anywhere near her. That wasn’t fear or cowardice as he knew Mizrak had assumed. That wasn’t even just his caution.

No… that was something that ran deep within Olrox – in his body, his spirit and his soul.

It was a law he shouldn’t break.

Preys shouldn’t sleep around predators. Earth shouldn’t stop spinning. Rain shouldn’t go upwards. Fish shouldn’t be out of the water.

A god shouldn’t be anywhere near another god.

That is why Olrox had been so cautious ever since the night Tenochtitlan burned. He had to take care for something other than his life – his inner voice.

But Olrox was marching towards Paris anyway, and even though he knew the rules better than anyone else, he couldn’t stop himself.

Perhaps because a part of him never got to terms with what happened to his people, all these centuries ago. Perhaps because, although he promised himself to never join any cause that wouldn’t benefit him only, he never got over the fact that he had failed more than once to fight for justice.

Or perhaps because Mizrak’s saddened brown eyes didn’t leave his mind for a second.

And spend a lifetime running from her? No.

This was Mizrak’s response to Olrox’s invite to come to the New World with him. Not because he didn’t want to go; but because he didn’t want to live a life hiding from Erzsebet.

And perhaps that was enough of a reason for Olrox to want to defeat her.

The closer he got to Paris, the more his heart tightened. He felt his limbs get weaker, a strange ill sensation set in his guts. He’d never felt the presence of another god so strongly like that; before, Erzsebet was just feeding off Sekhmet’s power. Now that she had settled another half of the deity’s soul, things got entirely different. Much more complicated.

The greater force overwhelms the weakest. Erzsebet-Sekhmet had claimed territory over the entirety of Paris, even if she did it unknowingly. It made things even harder to navigate.

But Olrox remembered that Mizrak, a simple human being, was somewhere down there fighting, so he shouldn’t make excuses.

Even so – he had to be careful. Facing Erzsebet directly would be unwise.

Then, he decided to focus on Drolta.

He never liked her. She reminded him of the Spanish Christians too much. Her obsession disgusted him. But he had to admit that she was strong – much more now in this horrendous form.

So Olrox wouldn’t be able to face her in his usual form, too.

The transformation was longer than he expected, took too much energy from him; even in this form, he wouldn’t be able to give his all. Sekhmet’s presence overwhelmed him. But Olrox pushed forward anyway until he no longer resembled a man, but a giant, glorious winged snake in the night sky.

He came in time to save Alucard from a certain strike.

Purple lightnings of pure power slashed the sky.

Drolta knew what she was dealing with immediately.

She groaned, wrapping her arm around her own stomach for a moment – the exact spot where the power jolt hit her – before taking flight once again. She narrowed her eyes and took a defensive position.

“Quetzalcoatl,” She hissed in a mix of surprise, anger and pain. “I should’ve known you were just a snake!”

Olrox attacked again.

The sky got brightened up in eerie purple flashes as their battle unraveled above the ceilings of Paris. Drolta was strong – much stronger than a regular night creature, but her previous fight with Alucard had taken a toll on her. Meanwhile, Olrox was fighting with half of his usual strength; being in Sekhmet’s territory weakened him deeply. In fact, transmuting into the Quetzalcoatl form was something he shouldn’t even be doing, but fighting in his normal form against her would be suicide.

The scales were evenly balanced in this fight.

Drolta slashed his body with her sharp nails – so strong that they could pierce even through his usually impenetrable scale armor, making him snarl in pain. Olrox sent more and more lightnings in her direction. She flew in zigzag, trying to avoid being hit, and every time one missed, it destroyed entire chunks of buildings; any time it hit, Drolta yelled in agony.

Olrox understood Alucard’s strategy: by keeping Erzsebet and Drolta apart, they’d have double chances to defeat them. He knew some magicians – including the Belmont boy – were somewhere down there fighting Sekhmet’s vessel. All he had to do was keep her busy while they worked, even though Olrox didn’t know how much longer he could take…

His inner voice was unsettled; he could feel His discomfort, how it tugged at the corners of his consciousness, making him lose focus for a second. Back away, He ordered Olrox; Go away. Take distance. You must not be near them. You must not.

Yes, Olrox knew that; he knew what he was doing was foolish and Olrox didn’t like to be foolish–

Wait.

Near... them?

But Sekhmet was the only deity there–

His eyes passed rapidly by the city’s cathedral, meters and meters away from where he was. There… there was a figure laid in front of its central doors.

And at that moment, the world stopped.

Nothing else mattered. His inner voice. Drolta or Erzsebet or Sekhmet. His caution.

None of that mattered anymore because it was Mizrak and he was bleeding to death.

A desperate snarl erupted from his throat as Olrox flew in his direction, leaving an injured and tired Drolta behind. He crossed the streets at an unnerving pace, way too fast for a creature so big, making humans down there gasp and run, not knowing if this was another enemy.

Olrox didn’t care about any of them. He got close to the ground, his dragon form dissolving in a black cloud until what resurfaced was a desperate man running towards Notre Dame.

As soon as he got a good look at Mizrak, his heart dropped.

The black haired monk bled from the stomach – he had been pierced. He was laying on the floor, his fist tightened against the wound; his breathing was shallow, his lips already had a nauseating blue color. Olrox knelt down by his side and immediately took him in his arms. Mizrak was getting cold.

This can’t be happening. It can’t be.

Mizrak, who was nothing but fair and virtuous and kind; Mizrak, who weeped at the death of unknown people and put his life on the line for them, even if he was just a fragile human. Mizrak, who made Olrox remember the best mankind had to offer.

And he was dying.

Olrox ripped some of Mizrak’s cape and pressed it against the wound to stanch the bleeding; he gently tapped his face, called his name a few times. To his relief, Mizrak opened his eyes – but there wasn’t much strength to him. His olive skin was sickeningly pale.

Mizrak looked confused, as if his sight was out of focus. Then, Olrox saw the moment his pupils dilated almost imperceptibly.

“Ol...rox?” He managed to speak somehow – his voice was but a ragged, painful breath.

“Shhh. Don’t speak.” The vampire shushed him softly before, with the utmost care, helping him to sit. Mizrak groaned in pain. Cold fear crept up Olrox’s body; he had already lost way too much blood. Medicine wouldn’t save him, and as far as Olrox knew, there weren’t any healers powerful enough to help in France…

It was then that Olrox realized that the cold he felt had nothing to do with fear.

His eyes widened.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

He looked behind his shoulder in time to see the tall shadow approaching.

Olrox brought Mizrak closer to him protectively. The entity grinned at them, trembling in what could be interpreted as excitement. At that moment, Olrox damned that fucking Abbot for the hundredth time for dragging Mizrak into all this.

“Old Man Coyote,” Olrox hissed. “He’s not for you.”

His inner voice got agitated, which surprised Olrox. He has been in the presence of this demon before, and He didn’t show much of a reaction… what had changed?

The shadow laughed mockingly – it was like multiple voices overlapping – before disappearing once again.

He had to take Mizrak out of there as soon as possible.

His original plan was to just teleport both of them out of there, but fuck – Olrox had exhausted himself with Drolta; the little strength he still had was being suppressed by Sekhmet’s presence. Olrox helped the monk get to his feet, putting Mizrak’s arm over his own shoulders. Olrox didn’t know how damaged his organs were, so he had to be delicate. Slowly, Olrox started to walk out of there.

“We’re not far from a safe place,” Olrox explained. “Hold on a little longer.”

Mizrak whimpered in response. His head was hanging low, he panted with difficulty. It just made Olrox feel even more desperate.

Then, out of nowhere, the monk raised his head.

A new emotion clouded his face.

“Olrox…” he called in a weak voice again. The vampire shushed him.

“Save it. Everything will be okay.” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince Mizrak or himself. The monk, however, got more and more agitated.

“No… Olrox… y-you have to…”

“Don’t exhaust yourself.”

Mizrak groaned again – but this time, it sounded more like frustration.

He looked over his shoulder; his eyes widened.

Using the little strength he still had, Mizrak put the entire weight of his body on Olrox’s side – making him lose his balance and stumble closer to the sidewalk.

“What–?” Olrox tried to say.

He had no time.

Mizrak got away from Olrox’s grip in a surprisingly swift movement and pushed him into an alley on their left.

The vampire fell on the cobblestones, completely confused; why did he do that? Did he not want to be saved? Was he disgusted of him–?

Light.

It came out of nowhere. It was blinding. It brightened up the whole sky.

Olrox watched with widened eyes as the avenue he was standing in a second ago was completely engulfed in light. He thought it was an explosion at first, but no boom or shockwave came. He felt his stomach drop, his fingertips shake.

Mizrak stood under the light with closed eyes.

Then, Olrox started to hear the screams.

They came from all directions, screams of the purest agony. Screams of death.

Things slowly made sense in his mind.

Olrox approached the corner of the alley. Hesitantly, he stretched his arm towards that light. His fingertips burned. He immediately flinched away.

That was sunlight, even though the sun itself was still hidden behind the eclipse.

He retreated and gazed at Mizrak in pure shock.

Mizrak… somehow, he knew that was going to happen. At the last minute, he pushed Olrox into that alley; it was between two tall buildings, reigned by shadows. Sunlight wouldn’t reach it from the position it was coming from.

That fragile human was on the verge of death himself, and even so, he saved Olrox’s life.

His heart tightened.

After no more than two minutes, the light diminished. Olrox didn’t care to learn where that came from, who caused it, and why it made his stomach drop like that. All he cared about was taking Mizrak in his arms again before he could fall. All he cared about was bringing Mizrak closer to him, cradling him, caressing his face.

Weakly, the monk put his gloved hand over Olrox’s.

He was visibly in so much pain. Even so, Mizrak’s half lidded eyes were full of determination and… care.

He took a deep, difficult breath before speaking.

“F-Fight.” Mizrak whispered. “For m-me.”

Olrox’s heart tightened even more.

The vampire never expected he’d find someone like this in the Old World. He never expected that this painful sweetness would take control of his actions again, of his sanity, overwhelming everything else – his usual caution, his selfishness, even his inner voice.

Mizrak represented everything Olrox loved about humanity.

So, if this fragile human asked him to fight – he would.

Olrox brought their faces closer to each other’s. He pressed his lips over Mizrak’s softly; his hand caressed the monk’s face gently. It was a chaste kiss – much different from all the kisses filled with passion and heat and anger they had shared. And yet, that simple press of lips ignited fire through Olrox’s soul much more than anything they’d done to each other before.

He could feel that something was happening not far from there. An explosion of red power that made him feel even more ill. That didn’t matter. Olrox just wanted keep closer to Mizrak for a second more.

Finally, he delicately laid Mizrak on the floor and got up. If he wanted to save the monk, he’d have to act fast; each wasted minute could cost Mizrak’s life.

Olrox was weakened. Olrox’s inner voice kept telling him to run away. He ignored all that and marched towards battle once more.

That day, Mizrak would lose his mortal life. And yet – he got something far more precious, far more powerful in return.

That day, Mizrak gained the heart of a god.

Drolta was tired.

Tired of the incompetence around her. Tired of these humans. Tired of waiting. She had waited for over a thousand years to awaken her goddess; century after century, she had roamed the Earth after a suitable vessel. Her only goal was to bring Sekhmet back. Everything she did was to comply with her duty as a High Priestess.

And she was tired of Erzsebet.

She took care of this woman for almost two centuries; fed her with her goddess’ holy blood, trained her, pampered her. Drolta killed thousands for Erzsebet’s sake. Drolta made a pact with a demon for Erzsebet’s sake.

And now that she had finally retrieved Sekhmet’s Ba after centuries of searching, how did Erzsebet repay her?

By being humiliated by a bunch of humans.

Drolta was tired.

So when she finally bit Erzsebet’s neck and sucked her blood, she felt nothing. There was a time when maybe, maybe, Drolta felt some sort of affection for her. Not anymore. Not now that she had ashamed and failed her.

This power belonged to her, after all. It had always belonged to her.

Drolta felt a wave of pure power penetrate her skin, her bones, her muscles, every centimeter of her body. It hurt like she was being pierced by a million needles, like she was being chewed by the biggest crocodiles of the Nile. An animalistic growl erupted from her throat; red energy revolved her, cloistered her, pierced her, clacking the air. The air got hotter than the midday sun in the Sahara. Her leathery skin smoked.

Pure agony was what her body felt; her mind, however, was enlightened – as if such excruciating pain broke the boundaries of consciousness.

So much power. It was as if she could see and hear everything at the same time, but all made sense; she could feel the weight of a spirit much, much higher than her permeate her mind. A spirit filled with anger and hate and blood thirst.

It almost felt like an inner voice, commanding her to attack.

Sekhmet, the Goddess of War; She Who Mauls.

Maniacal laughter escaped past her lips. The Belmont boy, knelt on the floor whilst holding the woman that carried a whisp of Sekhmet’s soul, looked at her with widened eyes. Yes; feel scared, be frightened, for I have returned. She was tired of him, too. Drolta had faced Belmonts in the past and she hated all of them throughout history. It was time for that clan to end.

But most of all – that girl he was holding had to die. Who did she think she was to get anywhere near Sekhmet’s Akh? How dare she disturb her goddess’ soul like that? She didn’t know what Sekhmet needed, what she represented. She had no right to be anywhere near her.

After these two, she’d go after that snake. Drolta never trusted Olrox enough, but she didn’t think he’d have the guts to actually face her… and most of all – she didn’t know what lied within him. You must destroy them, her inner voice growled in a wrathful female tone that did not belong to her.

The son of Dracula was next in line. She was also sick of him. He had killed her once, and she’d have her revenge. Drolta would not give him another chance to escape.

And lastly…

Ruby.

She had to die.

It was all Erzsebet’s incompetence, Drolta knew; all she had to do was keep that girl locked and away from the world, but she obviously failed. Drolta spent so long breaking into her, making her submissive – and it all went to waste in less than a week. Now, things were out of control. Ruby had obliterated most of her army. Ruby was remembering, and she shouldn’t remember anything.

But Erzsebet was dead and Drolta had retrieved Sekhmet’s power, so there was no use in keeping her alive anymore. It was time to fulfill her part on the pact and finally get freed of it.

Yes. Everything was within reach. Everything. There was nothing she couldn’t do; there was nothing she couldn’t achieve; there was no one powerful enough to stop her. I am Sekhmet, Goddess of War, her inner voice growled. And I want my revenge against the humans who have wronged me.

Drolta would be the harbinger of this revenge.

She raised her right arm, ready to slash the Belmont boy with her sharp nails–

And it was stopped midway.

It couldn’t be. Not him again.

Alucard stood between the couple and her, halting her attack with his long sword. That… that half-breed bastard was putting himself in the way again. She couldn’t stand looking at his face anymore, she’d took her time to kill him and she’d make it as painful as possible–

Drolta felt a shiver run down her spine.

A shiver?!

No. That couldn’t be possible… she was the Goddess of War and Revenge. She was more powerful than anyone on Earth. Nothing should be able to make her shiver.

Alucard let a raspy, angry scream. It was the first time he let any sort of extreme reaction in all the times they fought. The air around him became different. Drolta… Drolta could see things she couldn’t before. There was a red aura growing around him as rapidly as flames on hay.

His sclera got red.

And at that moment, Drolta knew why she felt a shiver.

His power and his aura and his eyes made her body remember the most powerful creature who had walked this Earth, the only man who ever made her feel real fear, the only man who ever made her obey.

Drolta shouldn’t have forgotten – but that was the son of Dracula.

He didn’t get turned into a vampire, he was born as one. The Vampire King’s masterpiece; the perfect alchemical aberration.

And Drolta realized with anger that during all of their fights until that moment, Alucard wasn’t giving his all.

She growled back at him and tried to attack with her left arm. Alucard deflected it and pushed her back with his sword. No. No one should be able to push her back. She was… she was stronger than anyone else, wasn’t she?!

Drolta launched herself towards him again – this time, he wouldn’t escape. Alucard’s face was distorted in a scowl of anger now. He pulled his cape to cover his body and teleported in a beam of yellow light – only to appear behind her.

She had time to turn back and see as Alucard summoned a giant ball of pure fire and lava in her direction.

Drolta stopped it with her bare hands, but that thing kept pushing and pushing and pushing with the force of thousands of tons; she grunted with the effort, felt the ground beneath her crack, the air get so hot that it boiled the skin of her palms. No, she wouldn’t be defeated. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Drolta yelled when she finally managed to kick that thing away in the Belmont boy’s direction. Unfortunately, he deflected it somehow.

For the first time, she focused her gaze on him again.

The Belmont boy walked towards her, took his whip in his hands; a serious, stone hard expression covered his features. She could see it, too – the blue aura growing around him, invisible to the human eye. He’d never transpired as much power as in that moment. Shouldn’t he be at least tired after fighting against Erzsebet?

The girl behind him, the one that carried a whisp of Sekhmet’s soul…

Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings.

Love is extremely powerful in magical terms.

Drolta found all that pathetic.

Another maniacal laughter erupted from her throat as both men got ready to fight her: Alucard’s sword embedded in red fire, the Belmont boy’s whip embedded in blue. Pathetic is what both of them were. All of them were pathetic – these humans soldiers, the weak vampires that died in battle, Erzsebet, this disgusting city. They all would soon be trembling under her feet; it’s where every living creature deserved to be. Fear is what would unite this world. Fear would be her crown.

They attacked.

Drolta used her hair tentacles to deflect them. Each tentacle had an extremely sharp blade on their tips; they were able to cut through concrete and cobblestones with ease as they whipped around violently. Perhaps Alucard would be able to heal from such injuries, but the human boy wouldn’t – so she focused mostly on him.

Both men immediately understood her tactic.

They fought in synchronicity as if they were connected somehow, attacking while protecting each other. The Belmont snapped his whip around him, twirled mid air to create a field of protection around his body while pushing her tentacles away; whenever one got too dangerously close, Alucard cut them. Drolta was able to regenerate the tentacles fast with her new powers, but it still burned whenever one of them were able to slash her.

That wasn’t going how she wanted it.

Drolta used her nails to try to cut them, her legs to try to kick them, her tentacles to try to strangle them; they always somehow got away. The Belmont summoned fire and ice and lightning against her, somehow piercing through her thick skin; the red flames of Alucard’s sword burned her and his sheer swordsmanship confused her, forced her to be on her toes the entire time. The vampire made sure to tank her heaviest blows so the Belmont could attack with his magic freely.

Alucard jiggled from side to side in the blink of an eye – so fast that even her sharp senses failed to follow. Drolta couldn’t expect where his next attack would come from; his sword twirled in the air creating arches of death, trying to reach for her neck before falling in the hands of its owner again. He was even faster now compared to their previous fights, even more brutal, his precision heightened to two hundred percent.

Excruciating pain.

Drota widened her eyes. Blood spilled from her right shoulder and hair tentacles.

She was so focused on Alucard that she didn’t see when the Belmont sent a sharp ice shuriken wrapped in electricity her way.

Alucard didn’t give her time to recover.

He pushed her up towards the sky – up, up, up, each push more and more violent; his attacks came from all sides, his sword slashing and piercing her leathery skin, each cut deeper than the other. Alucard’s strikes were so fast and so intense and so disorienting and so painful that Drolta couldn’t help but stop for a moment to try to protect her body with her arms and tentacles; he didn’t give her any opening.

Enough!

Drolta screamed in both anger and pain. She whipped all of her tentacles towards him at the same time, finally managing to push him; Alucard fell many meters away back to the ground, creating a crater where he hit.

She smiled. There’s no way he didn’t get slashed by her tentacles this time–

The whip tangled around her neck.

Drolta didn’t have time to prepare for the kick on her face the Belmont struck, propelled by his fire magic. He kicked again, punched her head, kicked again; Drolta growled, feeling rage fill her more and more. That human scum had the audacity to hit her with his bare hands?!

She clasped her hands together and hammered him down to the ground. The boy hit the cobblestones on his back, blood spilled from his lips. Drolta grinned at his immobile figure; she made her nails grow until they were as long as a blade before flapping her wings and flying down on a beeline towards him. Oh, she’d pierce through his chest. She’d take pleasure in ripping his heart out with him still alive.

Her nails were centimeters away from his body…

And then, she couldn’t feel her left hand anymore.

Drolta had forgotten about the ice shuriken he made earlier.

It cut her entire hand off.

She yelled in agonizing pain and stumbled away, holding the severed arm close to her chest. He… he cut her hand off. That fucking human boy cut her hand off.

Anger as red as the sky above her rose from her heart.

Her body got once again wrapped in energy. Crimson electricity clacked around her; her tentacles moved around frenetically like angry snakes. No. That couldn’t be happening. She had achieved the power she sought for over a thousand years. These two couldn’t be offering her enough of a challenge… that didn’t make sense.

Her inner voice growled.

Will you continue playing around with my power like this?

Drolta was tired.

She turned to face them at the exact moment they would attack together.

Time stopped.

Drolta gazed at both men. They were frozen in the air centimeters away from her. They had painful expressions. She could see them struggling to break away from her spell.

The woman laughed and straightened her posture. She lifted her severed arm. After focusing a bit more energy there, it regenerated in the blink of an eye; bone, muscle, veins, flesh and skin rebuilding a new hand in seconds, much faster than Ruby’s healing. Her inner voice was right. She’d already given these two insects enough time to play around. She’d been fighting with what she knew; using her body and strength. But… that was only the surface of what a goddess could do.

Drolta focused on this new power, letting her heightened consciousness travel through it. The larger spirit that now inhabited her body had an infinite reservoir of power. So, so much power; so much energy. The possibilities of what she could do were infinite. They went much beyond just making her skin thicker, her muscles bigger or her tentacles sharper.

It didn’t matter that her opponents were the son of Dracula and this Belmont. Alucard wasn’t Dracula himself, he only had a fraction of his father’s power. And the Belmont… he was just a human magician.

Her newly grown hand got wrapped in pure energy.

She grinned and pointed her hand towards Alucard.

He had to go first. Not only because she despised him, but because he was hindering her attacks the most, confusing her, getting in the way and acting as a shield for the human boy.

Drolta unleashed a wave of red energy his way.

It blew on his face. Alucard groaned in pain as he was sent flying back meters and meters away, hitting a building on his way – destroying half of it – before hitting the floor the same way he did to her earlier at the Notre Dame.

And then – it was just her and the Belmont boy, frozen in time in front of her.

Drolta chuckled with cruelty again. He didn’t have his vampire shield anymore. That wave of energy would tear him to pieces.

Slowly, she aimed her hand at him.

For every suffering, a wisdom is gained, she thought. Maybe if this fight hadn’t happened, Drolta wouldn’t have realized the true extension of her new powers. For that, she was grateful. A goddess shouldn’t fight like a mortal. Now, she knew how to obliterate this city with a flick of fingers. After the Belmont boy was done – and after she beheaded Alucard; she knew that wasn’t enough to kill him – she would have no enemies powerful enough to face her anymore…

Her thoughts got interrupted by a punch.

Drolta got dizzy for a moment.

What?!

The Belmont boy – he broke away from her freezing spell and landed his fiery fist on her face.

Love is extremely powerful in magical terms.

Drolta growled. She hated him. She hated him. She HATED him! He had to die. He was going to die right now. She raised her hand wrapped in power again to annihilate him – there was no way this human boy would survive her next attack–

The next second – all her power was gone.

That girl the Belmont put his life on the line to protect… she was floating in front of Drolta, holding her wrist with her much smaller hand.

And yet, when she squeezed Drolta’s wrist, she yelled in pain and fell to her knees.

Drolta looked deep within that girl’s eyes. They were golden, her irises were vertical like a feline’s. Her grip was hotter than Alucard’s lava ball; her expression was ferocious like a lioness’.

At that moment, Drolta finally understood.

That girl wasn’t stealing her goddess’ power. That girl… somehow she did what not even Erzsebet was able to do.

She became an avatar.

Drolta wasn’t looking at a human girl. Drolta was looking straight into the eyes of Sekhmet.

She shivered.

A part of Drolta wanted to smile, wanted to bow. Finally… after a thousand years, after uncountable nights of prayers, after sweat and blood and tears dropped, she stood in front of her goddess. The one she always fought for. The one who possessed her utmost loyalty and adoration. The one whom Drolta went to the ends of the world for; the one whom Drolta went as far as making a pact with a demon for her sake.

Drolta had fantasized of this moment many times before… the day she’d finally have Sekhmet walk on Earth again; and, if she died trying, the moment her goddess would meet her with open arms at the duat, after Anubis had weighed her heart as righteous and deserving of eternal rest.

But that was not how Sekhmet was looking at her at that moment.

Her golden eyes were clouded by rage and disapproval.

And, for the first time since her mortal days, Drolta felt shame.

“I am Sekhmet!” Her goddess growled as a golden aura grew around her like flames. “Guardian of the Dawn, Child of the Sun, Mistress of Healing!”

Drolta’s entire body shook in pain.

“I did this for you!” Drolta claimed. “All of this! I did it for you!”

“Made yourself into this unclean thing!” Sekhmet vociferated – and, as she spoke, Drolta realized that her inner voice was repeating the same words in unison; she felt as the soul within her and Sekhmet in front of her connected their consciousnesses into a single one. “Filled my temple with atrocities! Fed my soul to a disgusting walking corpse!”

Tears welled up Drolta’s eyes. Her chin trembled.

“So that you could live again!” She tried again; her goddess had to understand, she had to… “I-I thought it was what you wanted! I thought it was what you wanted!”

“It is time to balance the scales!” Sekhmet declared.

At that moment, reality hit Drolta.

Her beloved goddess. The one she had worshiped and served her entire life, from her mortal days to her vampire days to her reborn form…

Sekhmet was disappointed at her.

No. It was more than that.

Sekhmet despised her.

Tears dripped down Drolta’s cheeks.

“I thought it was what you wanted…” she whispered one last time. Pain much stronger than any physical attack slashed through her soul.

In less than a minute, Drolta’s determination was gone.

Her existence was pointless.

She did not fight as Sekhmet started to pull her power – her souls – back from Drolta’s body. She yelled in pain until her throat ached. She yelled for all the years gone to waste. She yelled as she felt her heart breaking into a million pieces.

Drolta weeped for the only real love she ever had as it turned its back on her, forever.

Alucard hadn’t completely healed the wound in his chest when Annette– Sekhmet intervened in the fight.

He almost sighed in relief when she did. He barely made it out alive of Drolta’s last attack; Richter wouldn’t have stood a chance. He stayed knelt on the floor holding his chest. Surprisingly, her attack made a lot of internal damage, but his skin wasn’t pierced – which didn’t mean he didn’t get hurt or wasn’t in pain.

But that pain could wait for now.

Because Richter was trying to reach Annette’s body as Sekhmet pulled her souls back.

Both of them – Annette and Drolta – were involved in a gigantic golden aura, as bright and as hot as the sun. Her power was jarring, he could feel it with every centimeter of his body. Richter made his way towards Annette with difficulty; he covered his arms with a layer of ice to try to lessen the burns before hugging her from behind.

A part of Alucard – the methodical part – was annoyed that this boy was intervening in the process. That was their only chance of putting Sekhmet’s souls where they belonged: out of anyone’s reach.

But Alucard’s mortal heart spoke much, much louder this time.

Because Richter was just a boy. Much stronger than the average human, carrying the heavy Belmont crest on his back with the responsibilities it possessed, one of the few mortals on Earth who could actually be a threat to a goddess.

But he was still just a boy in the end.

And like all Belmonts, he carried a heart too big, too sincere. It was a burden and a blessing at the same time. His heart made him experience the world in more intense ways than any other human Alucard ever met.

Richter was a Belmont. Like Juste, like his grandfather, his great-grandfather… like Simon. Like Trevor.

And on top of that, Richter was in love – and Annette could die at that moment, be consumed by Sekhmet’s power. This boy with a heart too big wouldn’t know what to do if he lost the one he loved the most.

So Alucard had to step in before he’d do something he would regret.

“Richter. My friend.” He called softly, resting his hand on the boy’s back, right over the Belmont crest.

Richter looked at Alucard with round blue eyes – scared blue eyes. I don’t care if we live in eternal fucking darkness, just leave Annette alone!, are the words that had just left Richter’s mouth. Alucard knew Richter didn’t process the true gravity of these statements, but at the heat of the moment, anything could become true.

He needed someone to be the voice of reason.

Alucard looked at him with empathy and quiet sadness.

“You know that’s not what she’d want.”

Richter gulped.

He tightened his eyes for a moment before finally – hesitantly – letting go of Annette.

Both men stepped back.

The golden aura between Annette and Drolta got stronger, more volatile. Tears of blood dripped down Annette’s eyes; Drolta screamed in pain like a hurt animal. The light got so strong that they had to protect their eyes.

Finally, with a last agonizing yell, that volatile aura exploded.

A shockwave hit them. Annette let go of Drolta’s wrist, each falling in a different direction; Richter rushed to catch her body before she could hit the floor.

Sekhmet’s presence was in this world no more.

Alucard would’ve sighed in relief if Annette weren’t in such a critical condition.

Richter was knelt on the floor while holding the girl in his arms. She was unresponsive. Richter called her over and over again, on the verge of tears; the scene made Alucard feel as if a cold hand gripped his heart.

He stood at some distance to give them space. In moments like this, Alucard wished he’d be fit to summon healing – it was one of the rarest forms of magic in existence. Healing someone else takes an absurd amount of energy… and this form of magic is not part of a vampire’s existence.

So there was nothing he could do at that moment but watch.

Richter was so young... he shouldn’t have to experience this type of loss so soon, especially when he didn’t even have the chance to confess his true (obvious) feelings.

You said you’d be here; make her feel it’s true. That she can always come back to you.

These were the words Alucard told him.

So, with a weak, trembling voice, Richter started his whispered confession.

His blue eyes were drowning in tears, but he still tried to sound firm as he described quietly the moment they first met. It even felt wrong for Alucard to witness this moment of fragility; he’d rather not be there at that moment, but he couldn’t walk away when they weren’t sure if their enemies were really gone. So Alucard chose to stand away from his field of view, but still protectively close. Richter held her gently.

���I can’t imagine the world without you, Annette. Any of it,” his voice was but a hopeful whisper. “Not hearing your voice, not seeing you roll your eyes at me, not waking up to know that whatever happens, somewhere, you are there. Please… don’t leave me. Please.”

Alucard tightened his lips. He felt genuine sadness at the boy’s heartfelt words.

...Something changed.

Annette’s body started to shine. Richter widened his eyes, startled.

But that shine was very brief this time. When it disappeared, Annette was herself again; her usual clothes were back, her hair was short again.

Alucard held his breath in anticipation.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were no longer soulless, her pupils weren’t vertical anymore… just her usual brown and round eyes.

“...You smell of burning,” she said in a weak, raspy voice.

Richter gasped. Fear immediately left his gaze, being replaced by utmost relief and joy. He chuckled and sighed. “Y-Yeah, that would be you… you’re like holding burning coals.”

Alucard watched with a small, serene smile while they hugged each other and cried.

He knew that feeling very well. Being so deeply in love with someone that your heart aches for them. Caring so much about someone that being apart brings genuine suffering. Sharing their sadness, their happiness, wanting to support them at every moment, knowing them intimately – and receiving this same intensity back.

Alucard had fallen in love countless times during his life… but it’s been a long time since he let himself feel it to the fullest. He decided to shroud his heart after so much pain, so much longing. At the slightest sign that he was beginning to develop feelings for someone, he’d immediately distance himself. He couldn’t bear going through anything like that anymore.

But at that moment, he realized something.

He’d been running away from pain and longing for so long that he had forgotten how love can be… sweet.

Was… was Alucard ready to feel it at its full intensity one more time?

Would his heart be strong enough to bear this again?

Did he even have the right to feel it, especially considering who this involved? What if the other end was too fragile to take him? Would Alucard take the pain of allowing himself to feel something like this again, only to have it ripped away from him like so many times in the past?

Would it be fair for him and for her?

Alucard didn’t know.

And his thoughts came to a halt when an anguished scream slashed the air.

Drolta.

She held her head, her breathing was irregular… for a second, she looked absolutely lost – almost like a child throwing a tantrum.

Drolta gazed at a confused Annette with pure hatred.

Then – Alucard saw the exact second she realized something.

Her eyes widened. Her back stiffened.

Alucard saw everything that unraveled in the next few seconds in slow motion.

Drolta turned her head to the northeast. At first, the vampire thought she wanted to flee – she was obviously weakened now; she had no power source, no army and no chances of winning. Of course, he would never let her go; his hand already gripped the hilt of the sword.

But then, Alucard saw her expression. The aggressiveness. The hurry in her gaze.

Those were not the eyes of someone planning to run away; they didn’t reflect defeat. That was not the gaze of a desperate woman wanting to go down fighting.

That was the gaze of a woman who had a plan.

And when she extended her giant wings and took flight, Alucard realized.

Notre Dame was at northeast.

He unsheathed his sword and flew.

Alucard hadn’t healed his wound completely; his brusque movement sent jolts of pain through his body. But at that moment, that didn’t matter – nothing else mattered, his mind went completely blank. Because even though Erzsebet was dead and Drolta was weakened and most certainly defeated, she still wanted to retrieve Ruby.

He would never let that happen.

They clashed mid air.

Drolta’s reflexes were slower now. Though she already sensed Alucard behind her, she couldn’t defend herself when he threw a heavy blow against her – sending her straight to the ground again not far from where they stood initially. A crater opened where her body hit, rising a cloud of smoke and debris.

She didn’t even have time to recover. Alucard was already upon her.

Both of them were slower, their limbs heavier, their powers weakened – but none of them wanted to lose. Alucard noticed that by Drolta’s fighting style, she was more worried in brushing him away than actually killing him. Her movements showed urgency. In fact, she looked almost desperate. Alucard was in a hurry, too; he didn’t know if Richter could still fight, considering the amount of blows he took, and Annette didn’t look like she could fight at that moment.

What was her plan? Why did she still want to get to Ruby? Sekhmet had completely vanished, the eclipse was still up in the sky – so what use would Ruby have? That couldn’t be just revenge. Drolta might’ve been defeated, but she would never lash out uselessly like this.

These answers would stay unanswered because Alucard needed to kill her.

He was tired of that woman, of the destruction she had caused, of the pain she inflicted. He’d been tracking her for five years – he needed to finish her right then and right there, he needed to end this chapter of his life. If Drolta staying alive meant Ruby would still be in danger, then there were no questions to be asked. She had to go – and she had to go now.

But Drolta was as determined as him.

She elbowed his chin in a blow that left him dazed; she gripped the hilt the sword and grabbed it from his hands. Then, she kicked his chest–

Right where the internal wound still hadn’t healed.

Alucard lost his senses for a second and fell on his back. He felt the taste of his own blood, his vision got blurred, extreme pain radiated from that spot in his chest to the rest of his body. As if she knew that was where the wound was, Drolta pressed her hoof right there to keep him on the ground. Alucard groaned in pain, trying to push her away–

His eyes widened when he looked up and realized what she was about to do.

Alucard had time to put his forearm in front of his body for some protection before Drolta impaled him with his own sword.

He screamed. The blade pierced through his forearm directly into his shoulder – if Alucard hadn’t moved a few centimeters up, she would’ve pierced his heart. With an angry growl, Drolta hammered the hilt of the sword with her fist with such strength that the blade sank into him, piercing the ground below.

Alucard spat blood. The pain was so extreme that he couldn’t think for a moment. Shit, I need to get up. I need to keep fighting. Get up!

His vision was still blurred when he saw Drolta being whipped from behind.

The woman let another yell of anger and pain before stumbling away from Alucard and turning around; Richter was, somehow, still standing. He had rushed to retrieve his whip which was already soaked in blue flames. His flames were visibly weakened now, showing the true state of his physical condition. Richter’s eyes, however, didn’t looked weakened; he sent a fast worried glimpse towards Alucard before gazing at Drolta with determination.

Alucard could hear the sounds of the fight happening beside him, but he didn’t look; he was too focused in trying to get his sword off him. He gripped it with his right hand and started to push it up. Every centimeter it moved send jolts of more pain throught his body. The internal wound and the wound Drolta had just inflicted hurt, his body was weak, his senses were slow – none of that mattered. He had to get up. He had to get up. Richter wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. Get the fuck up!

With a last groan of pain, Alucard finally managed to take out the sword, holding it by the blade; it was completely soaked with his own blood. He looked towards Richter’s direction and his stomach dropped.

The Belmont boy was about to get hit with no defense.

“Richter!” Alucard managed to scream…

But a new sound completely engulfed his voice.

A purple lightning slashed the air.

Both Richter and Alucard looked above with shocked expressions as a giant winged snake floated near them.

Olrox hit Drolta on the chest with his electric attack; she screamed in agonizing pain, her whole body had spasms. Alucard didn’t expect that Olrox would come back, especially not to save Richter. The Belmont boy himself seemed shocked, though his eyes had anger and resentment in them.

Alucard took these small moments of distraction to stand up and hold the hilt of his sword again. He’d let himself feel pain and tiredness later.

With his last breath of strength, he ignited his sword in red fire once more.

Richter got the message.

As soon as Olrox’s attack ceased, Richter snapped his whip; it entangled around Drolta’s neck. She was too disoriented to resist. Richter pulled the whip, forcing her to bend on her back.

Alucard jumped in the air.

The sword was ready to come down on her neck.

Unexpectedly, Olrox sent another of his attacks – but this time, he aimed the lightning at Alucard’s blade, wrapping it in purple electricity which mixed with Alucard’s red fire.

Time slowed down once more.

Alucard could see everything with clarity: the air clacking with purple sparks around him. Richter’s blue fire burning Drolta’s neck. The reflection of his red fire on her face. Her widened eyes in an expression Alucard knew very well: the gaze of someone realizing they have nowhere else to go. The gaze of someone finally understanding they are about to die.

With the way Richter forced Drolta to bend, the ruby necklace came to rest directly over her neck. It was time to fullfill the promise Alucard made to Ruby and to himself.

The blade came down on Drolta’s neck.

A sanctified silver sword. The purple magic of a god. The red fire of a dhampir.

Nothing could withstand that.

The ruby stone was shattered to pieces.

Drolta’s thick skin offered no resistance.

And then – an explosion.

The three of them were sent flying back. The explosion was red; it had a strange cold feeling, it smelled of sulfur. Alucard had time to see an incredible amount of energy being released from the jewel when he broke it apart. The destruction of the ruby caused the explosion, which made Alucard realize in shock that that was never a regular necklace.

The explosion rumbled the entire city of Paris.

Then… silence.

Alucard got up with difficulty again. Richter too, a few meters away from him. Olrox’s dragon form floated above them. Drolta’s lifeless body stayed in the middle.

The air seemed lighter. The city was eerily quiet.

Alucard looked up.

The shadow that covered the sun… it was slowly disappearing.

It… it was over.

Alucard gripped the wound on his left shoulder. It still bled. Now, his whole body was in pain, but he still stood – because something else could unravel in front of him.

Richter and Olrox stood face to face. A giant winged greature and a Belmont. Richter’s whip was still ignited.

Alucard watched them with anxiety. He knew what had happened to Richter’s mother… and he also knew that neither him or Richter were in condition to fight anymore.

But Richter closed his eyes for a moment.

“...I will kill you, Olrox. One day.” Finally, the blue flames of his whip went out. “But not today.”

He opened his eyes.

They gave each other a last meaningful gaze before Olrox retreated in a shadow of pitch black smoke.

Alucard almost sighed in relief.

The red color of the sky was slowly being replaced by its original blue. The vampire closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself feel relief. He could hear the sounds of the city again… citizens realizing the eclipse was over… people walking on the streets…

Five years of searching for Sekhmet’s mummy, of planning a strategy against them, of finding ways to defeat their troops…

It was finally over.

Alucard opened his eyes once more. Richter was limping his way towards Annette. He saw Juste and Maria, many meters away from where they were, waking up. It’s a miracle that all of them ended up alive…

But he caught something with the corner of his eye – and it immediately made him freeze.

Alucard whipped his head towards Drolta’s body.

She was still laying there. Beheaded. No signs of life at all.

But the shadows below her were moving.

They were getting thicker. The shadows of the entire square seemed to be getting pulled towards Drolta’s body; they twirled under her like a whirpool of pitch black. Alucard gripped his sword. Richter took his whip again. Annette stumbled back. The temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

A black figure rose from within the shadows. It grinned down at Drolta; something that sounded like mocking laughter hovered in the air.

They watched in shock as the shadows engulfed Drolta’s body – and then, both of them were gone.

You were… confused.

You could hear and see. You knew there was something violent happening somewhere in the city; colorful explosions, shockwaves and earthquakes, thunders and the sounds of destruction. You could hear Henri’s and Charle’s nervous chatter somewhere beside you. And yet – it’s like you weren’t really there. As if your mind and body were disconnected somehow. As if… you couldn’t react to anything.

You felt strangely at peace.

You knew that the sky started to get clear at some point. You heard the boys celebrating behind you. But… you couldn’t really move from that spot on the balcony of the north bell tower. You didn’t want to stand up.

A familiar touch on your back.

“Ruby?”

You turned your head to the side slowly. That was… that was Alucard. Yes. Alucard. You knew him. He had knelt on the ground beside you.

“...Hello.” You heard a voice say from a distance… your voice. You said that.

Alucard had a worried expression in his face. His hair was gloriously disheveled, the strong winds at the top of Notre Dame played with it. The fair skin of his face was… dirty. He was all dirty, in fact.

You knew they were talking about you. “I… I think she’s not okay, Mr. Alucard,” Henri said in a hesitant and worried voice. “She’s not reacting to anything. It’s like she’s on some sort of trance,” Charles completed. Alucard placed his hand over your forehead – why was he doing that again? – his frown deepened. Heavens, he was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Even with the disheveled hair and all the dirt. You coudn’t do anything but look at him; you didn’t bother when Alucard instructed the boys – “You should take care of the wound on your shoulder, son,” he told Henri. “There are nurses out there. Get medical aid. I’ll take care of her.”

You knew the two boys were walking out of the tower towards the stairs. A part of you wanted to stop them to properly say thank you, but your body didn’t want to move. So you just gazed at Alucard instead.

He held your arm softly. “Ruby, are you listening to me?” he asked in a worried voice.

His eyes widened in surprise when you touched his cheek.

“You’re hurt,” you heard your voice say from afar again.

If you were fully conscious, you’d never be brave enough to touch him like that. But it’s like you weren’t even there, so nothing felt real. You brushed some strands of hair away from his face and cupped his cheek delicately.

“You’re tired,” your voice said again. Your eyes dropped below – and for the first time, you noticed a gash in his jacket, right over his right shoulder… “You’re bleeding.”

Alucard rested his hand over yours, which made you look up again. He had a tiny smile on his lips, though his brows were still slightly furrowed. He gazed at you with… affection. It made your body feel warm on the inside. His hand was bigger than yours. Even through the leather glove, you could feel his warmth.

“I’ll heal anyway. Don’t worry about me.” You knew he was just light-heartedly repeating what you already told him over and over again. “Are you hurt?”

You frowned and looked down again.

“No. But I feel strange.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I’m… distant. And I’m tired.” You looked at him again. Alucard didn’t move to take your hand away from his face. His own still rested above yours, his thumb caressing your fingers slowly. “You’re hurt.”

“You already said that.” Alucard chuckled lightly before a bit of seriousness covered his expression once more. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours and took it away from his face; he didn’t let go of it, however, resting both of them over your lap. He looked hesitant before speaking.

“Ruby… Drolta and Erzsebet are dead.”

You stared at him in silence for long seconds.

“Are… they?” Alucard nodded slowly. “Are you sure?”

Alucard hesitated for a second. You saw a glimpse of something you couldn’t understand cross his gaze.

But he nodded again in the end. “Yes. No mistakes this time.”

You lowered your head and… smiled.

Where did that smile come from? Why were you smiling in the first place? You had no idea.

Erzsebet and Drolta are dead.

The mere mention of their names made you feel… closer to your body, somehow. As if things were starting to get real again.

The sun was shining once more. You should’ve understood what that meant. The eclipse had vanished… and so had the Vampire Messiah.

Erzsebet and Drolta are dead. They are dead.

You didn’t know where the tears came from.

They came spontaneously, unannounced. You covered your mouth, trying to swallow a sob; your body was shaking. What were you crying for? Happiness? Relief? Sadness? Grief? Hatred? Pain? You had no idea. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t know how. When was the last time you let yourself cry freely like that, without trying to be silent, without muffling any sob?

Drolta didn’t like the sound of you crying… so probably never.

But she was dead now.

Maybe if you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t have wrapped your arms around Alucard’s neck, embracing him in a tight hug. Maybe you wouldn’t have hid your face in his shoulder. No, you wouldn’t have the courage. But nothing felt much real at that moment, so you didn’t really care.

Alucard hugged you back immediately, offering no resistance, no hesitance. He kept you close, kept you tight. Tighter than your previous hug. Maybe if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shivered when he hid his face on your neck, too. Maybe your legs would’ve lost all of their strength when you felt his hot breath there, the touch of his soft cheek on your skin. All you could do was cry in a way you never did before.

At some point, you heard your voice stuttering a strangled thank you.

Alucard sighed deeply.

The morning sun kissed you both. The city down there was still in chaos – too many losses, too much damage, too many questions to be answered. You and him were still in he eye of the hurricane. But at that moment, nothing felt too real, so you didn’t care.

Nothing but him felt real. Him, and the fact that those who hurt you were gone from this world definitely. Him, his embrace and the way he warmed you up.

The voice of that unknown woman whispered in your ears once more – and, for some reason, it brought even more tears to your eyes.

...Love doesn’t burn.

Love warms up.

It was over.

[anhesacardia]

Forbidden Promises

Chapter 8 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Also I love women and the depiction of women gushing over sukuna is purely for the plot point of reader realizing she’s not okay with Sukuna being with someone else and she still loves him. I don’t agree with the demonizing of other women jut because they flirt with someone who’s not taken and I think it perpetuates misogynistic standards. At the same time I would like everyone to remember this a fictional story and these are these are fictional characters, jealousy, Hana finally gets to know Sukuna is her dad!! That’s it for now, if anything else is there please message me and I’ll add it!!

Wc: 2.1k

The layout of your house was confusing for anyone who was visiting for the first time. At first glance, it would seem like the only way in was through the backdoor of the bakery, but what most people didn’t know was that the  main door situated between the bakery and the building to the right opened to a longer pathway which led to the entrance of the house. Not that it mattered, since you rarely invited anyone over to begin with. 

That’s why you didn’t register the doorbell the first time you heard it, years since someone had used the chime you chose half a decade ago. Your head snapped to the door, the ringing becoming incessant after a few vexing minutes..

A frown framed your face and Sukuna’s gaze darted towards the door, pissed that some asshole dared to interrupt his time with you. You looked at Sukuna for a second, murmuring some excuse as you ran down the stairs, quickly opening the door before you got a headache from all the ringing. 

Uraume was standing before you, worry painted across their features as they peeked over your shoulder, frown deepening further,

“Sukuna-sama, there is something urgent you need to attend to right now, it seems as though one of the investors have pulled out of the newest project,”

Sukuna walks down the stairs, hand skimming over the railing as he pushed his hair backwards,

“What the fuck happened now, Uraume?”

The man scowled, standing behind you with a hand on your back, resting the other one on the railing of the door as he looked down on Uraume. 

You felt worry claw up your spine as you watched the two converse about topics that you quite literally didn’t care about, only wanting to sooth the crease that had formed in between Sukunas forehead with your thumb. 

A few minutes passed by while your attention wavered between Uraume and Sukuna, the man’s hand on your back stopping you from leaving when you tried to slip away. You gave in and let yourself indulge in his touch even though you knew better.. 

Sukuna finally shut the door in Uraumes face after a flurry of curses, pushing your back to the cold wood and bending down to rest his head on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around him reflexively, threading your fingers through his soft pink hair as he groaned. His arms encased your body, effectively caging you in, chest an inch away from brushing against yours,

“...What’s wrong?”

Sukuna didn’t respond, just sighing heavily,trying to bury his head further into your body. You took a peek at him, the tattoos on his face had faded a bit, more blurry around the edges compared to when he had them freshly done out of highschool, a sort of rebellion towards his parents when they refused to accept you. 

You were shocked when he first got them, mouth open as you stared at him for a good ten minutes before he barked at you to stop. You let him hold you a bit tighter that night, tracing the healed outlines with your finger as he leaned into your touch. 

Sukuna turned to look at you when he felt your gaze on him, smirking when you flustered at getting caught,

“Somethings come up, looks like I’ll have to go now. Uraume’s waiting outside,”

His breath tickled the hair on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he moves his lips closer to your cheek, hesitating,

“What were you going to tell me, pet?”

You feigned innocence, pushing at Sukuna’s broad shoulders as you turned your head away, avoiding the dreaded question,

“Sukuna we should talk later, I need some time to think about everything, it’s just a lot to take in now and I-,”

Sukuna sighed, the sound making you pause as you looked at him, he untangled himself from you, hands itching to hold you again. 

“Got it, sweets. don’t have to worry your pretty little head over it,”

He punctuated his words with a flick to your forehead and you yelped, hands coming to soothe the ache. He smirked at the gesture, hand floating over your head for a second before he patted it once, pushing you out of the way and opening the door.

“See you later, pet.”

He raised a hand, waving, before the door shut close behind him, leaving only the scent of his cologne behind. 

The bakery was unusually packed, couples and families lining every table and filling the shop up with bustling chatter, warm smiles and carefree laughter. Fumiko was helping you out at the cashier, the waiting line reaching the end of the shop,as one by one, the pastries you worked hard on were starting to disappear with each satisfied customer.

The herd of customers had come to a slow stop around midday and combined with the lunch rush  earlier, it was getting far too overwhelming for you to deal with by yourself. Fumiko had even started to send customers away as per your request. 

You were a few minutes late to the pick up time, Aoi told you that her son had come down with a cold and was pulled out of school early. What you didn’t expect, by the time you reached the kindergarden, was Sukuna being surrounded by a dozen single mothers, manicured nails raking over his arms as they batted their lashes up at him. 

Your stomach churned with unease, feeling underdressed compared to them. You were still wearing work clothes, apron dusted with flour and other unknown powders, sweaty from half running to the kindergarten. You clenched your hands at your sides, mind rushing to think about how many women Sukuna had been with since after you. 

Even during college, Sukuna’s popularity had just skyrocketed, rumours about him being violent or cruel did nothing to deter the women that tried to hang off of his arms, no matter how many times he said he was uninterested. 

The dark feeling just multiplied in your gut as you saw Sukuna politely push them away, heart beating uncomfortably fast as you tried to gouge out every reaction from his face. 

Why wasn’t he pushing these women away, was he really going to entertain them after kissing you like that just a few hours ago? 

Your skin pricked with goose flesh, stuck in daze as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. Only snapping out when you heard a man calling out your name, 

“Ah it’s good to see you again!”

You turned your head around and he grasped your wrist in his, curling his fingers around the skin and making you want to pull him off.He was one of Hana’s friends' fathers, another single parent like you. His wife had passed away in childbirth and sometimes you would look after his daughter when he came home late after work.

He had found out about your situation when he trespassed your home to get his daughter one evening, noticing the lack of photos of a husband in your living room and questioning you about it until you eventually came clean and he promised to keep it a secret. You never trusted him though, always walking on eggshells for the slight chance he used the information against you. 

A practiced smile came over your features as you greeted him, he was getting far too comfortable with you, calling out your name like that in public and touching you without your consent. People could misunderstand this and you did not want Hana to be hearing things from her classmates or their mothers, god knows the last thing you need on your hand is rumours about you being promiscuous. 

“It’s good to see you too Mr.Takumi,”

You pulled your wrist back, cradling it behind your back as you tried to not let your displeasure show. 

It was then when the bell rang and the kids came running out, the teachers behind them chiding them not to run lest they fall.

Hana saw you and her face lit up, a similar smile dancing on your features as you crouched to catch her in your arms. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck as she giggled into your neck,

“Mumma! You came!”

You smiled, getting back up as you patted her back. It wasn’t often that you came up to pick up Hana, only when the goods ran out early, which was rare or on special occasions- like birthdays or holidays or the one day you take off every year to go explore places with her.

Takumi had his daughter in his arms too, the little girls talking together as they leaned forward for a hug while still being in their parents’ arms. You leaned forward, shoulders brushing against Takumis as you held the same tight lipped smile. 

That’s when you felt Hana being pulled out of your grasp and you gasped, Sukuna was standing next to you, balancing Hana on one arm as the other wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

He had been watching ever since he heard your name being called, pushing away from the crowd of women as he strided over to you. Takumi sputtered for a second as he saw Sukuna, the six foot man was a good head taller than Takumi and was currently glaring at him, looking down at him through his nose. 

Sukuna bent down to nose your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as heat rose up your cheeks at the action, eyes widening as you stared back at him. The man just smirked before turning his attention back to Takumi,

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting the conversation short, been a while since my wife got off of work early ,”

The shorter male fumbled over his words and Sukuna held in his grin as he waved goodbye, glancing back with amusement glinting in his eye. 

Hana looked at Sukuna and then at you, a suspicious expression on her face as she furrowed her eyebrows and pointed at Sukuna,

“Mumma, is the mean mister your boyfriend?”

You stopped on the sidewalk, turning to look at Hana in her fathers arms as you took her in yours, letting Sukuna hold her bag. 

Sukuna felt uncomfortably warm as he awaited your answer, huge body almost shaking in anticipation. His eyes trailed down to yours and held eye contact for a while before you brushed a stray hair from Hana’s forehead,

“Hana… why don’t we go home and have a talk hmm baby?”

Hana just nodded, ever the understanding child when it came to you, lying her head down on your shoulder as she hummed. 

Sukuna on the other hand looked like someone had just informed him that he had to spend thirty more days in the burning pits of hell while being forced to clean Satan's shit at the same time. He quickly plastered on a fake expression, hiding his true feelings once again.

“So how did it go?”

Sukuna was once again sitting at your dining table, this time playing with the utensils as he stared at Hana sitting at her own table and patiently waiting for her food. 

“How did what go?”

He turned his attention to you, brow cocking up in question as he looked confused. You stopped plating the food and made eye contact with him again.

“Your work? Uraume said something went wrong?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, looking like a petulant child in the comfort of your own home. 

“Got that dealt with as soon as I could to see the kid again,”

Hana perked up at the mention of a kid, eyes gleaming in excitement as you finally put down the plates in front of Sukuna and Hana, dusting off your hands as they held the same hungry expression,

“Mister you have a kid? How old are they? Where are they? Are they a boy or girl?”

Hana’s endless curiosity had stopped phasing you long ago, you ruffled her soft pink hair with hand, pinching her cheek as you sat down in the dining table,

“Baby, mumma and mister have something to tell you before you eat your food okay?”

Sukuna glanced at you, then back down at your trembling hand under the table. He reached out, enveloping your own hand in his as he squeezed softly, calming you down with his warmth as you let out a shaky sigh.

Hana sensed your anxiety and immediately ditched her food, running up next to you and climbing into your lap with a scared expression,

“Hana, this is your father,”

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[written-and-readen]

imagine your making out with anaxa and your brother (Mydei or Phainon your choice not mine) walked in at the worst time?

Interrupted at the Worst Time

Anaxa x reader

Summary: Phainon is becoming a nuisance to Anaxa. First, interrupting his date with you and now...

a/n: Getting caught has to be one of my favorite things to write

"Kiss?" You tap your lips with a finger. Anaxa raises a brow at your signal.

"No, we're in public." He continues walking. Indeed, the two of you are strolling through Marmoreal Market, but it's not that busy. Despite knowing Anaxa isn’t the biggest fan of PDA, you thought he might give you a quick peck if you asked nicely.

"Awww, fine." Anaxa takes your hand in his as some sort of compensation. His eye watches the way your lips pout, already letting his imagination run wild with how they’d feel against his. Of course he wants to kiss you. The problem is he might want it too much. He’s not about to draw everyone’s attention just because he can’t hold back and ends up making out with you in the middle of Okhema.

A shout of your name diverts your attention, and you're searching around for the familiar voice.

“Phainon!” You spot your brother in the crowd, waving at the snowy haired Chrysos Heir.

“Ah, there you are! And with Professor Anaxa…” Phainon’s tone goes flat upon seeing your hands locked together. He’s always been protective over you. After the destruction of Aedes Elysiae, the only thing you have left of your hometown is each other. At the same time, Anaxa’s hold on you tightens.

“Where are you headed?” You ask, hoping to ease the animosity somewhat.

“I was going to see if Theodoros has any new antiques.” His voice is cheerful again once he turns to you.

“Sounds fun!” You reply in a nearly identical chipper tone.

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Anaxa deadpans, peeved at having his time with you interrupted. Just as the conversation has started he's already pulling you away. For a scholar, he’s stronger than he looks, and you’re forced to stumble after him.

“I’ll see you later I guess!” You say over your shoulder to Phainon who’s back to glaring daggers at your boyfriend.

“What was that for?” Anaxa says nothing, continuing to string you along until you reach a more secluded alley in Okhema. You find your back hitting a wall and the scholar's hand placed next to your head.

"What...?" The words die in your throat when you realize just how close he is as he leans towards you.

"You said you wanted a kiss, right?" You can feel his breath against your lips.

"Yeah..." You affirm before he closes the distance. The insistent press of his lips has your knees weak, but when you go to lean back against the wall, Anaxa's hand catches your waist, pulling you into his chest instead. It's not the kiss you had imagined when you requested it, but you're certainly not complaining. When you part for air, Anaxa takes a good look at your flushed face, faintly smirking at his handiwork.

"Did you want to take this somewhere more private?" You ask, once again becoming cognizant of where you are. It's clear you both want more from the way you tug on the edge of his jacket and how his hands still hold your hips against his.

It's a desperate run through the streets of Okhema back to your house. You slam the door to your room seconds before Anaxa claims your lips again. You manage to slip his jacket off, tossing it aside to a chair before he backs you into the bed.

As you fall into the mattress, the kiss is broken, and Anaxa climbs on top of you. You think he's about to say something with the way his eye takes you in, seemingly studying every feature of your face with quiet contemplation. Instead, his lips collide with yours again.

You smile as his hair hangs down to brush against your cheeks, hands going to card through the turquoise strands. For someone who didn't seem interested in kissing you at all earlier, he's pretty eager once you're alone, effectively stealing your breath over and over.

The two of you don't even notice how you fall into a rhythm until it's broken by the door being flung open. Phainon was probably checking to see if you'd returned from your date with his professor, not expecting to find you beneath said professor. Your eyes are just as wide as your brother's at his intrusion. On the other hand, Anaxa is sending a glare equivalent to pointing his gun at Phainon's forehead.

"Out," You and Anaxa say at the same time, you more understanding yet insistent and him more commanding but both equally breathless. Without a word, your brother does as told and closes the door. Your body relaxes once it's shut.

"Annoying," Anaxa scoffs. You rub soft circles into his shoulder as if that's going to soften his anger (it does).

"We'll lock the door next time," You assure him with a smile that has him wanting to kiss you until he goes stupid. So, he leans down to reconnect your lips, and you melt underneath him again. With how lost both of you become in one another, neither of you remembers to lock the door.

[stateissuedgf]

FACE IT, TIGER. YOU JUST HIT THE JACKPOT!

mark grayson x loislane!reader part 1

warning(s): none, just fluff <3

College was a smooth transition, as smooth as that transition could be while being a superhero. Keeping up with assignments has been hard, and the tests have been even harder, but Mark was determined to finish college, one of the only pieces of normalcy he had left; thankfully the newest student made it easier to deal with.

THE girl, the girl next door, (y/n) (l/n). She had started at college just a little bit after he did, but he didn’t notice her until she tore into some poor guy that had bumped into her and had her coffee spilling on her pristine white top down onto the floor, effectively embarrassing him in the middle of the hallways.

Mark had never been so turned on in his life. What wasn’t to like about her? Gorgeous, great smile, even better laugh, and a complete refusal to take shit from anyone, he had hit the jackpot. The only problem was there was no way she would ever be interested in him.

They were pursuing two different majors, her passion for telling the truth to keep people educated on what was really going on in the world leading her to journalism— and besides that, they were in two different worlds. She was surrounded by very few people, but those people were just as intellectually gifted, and Mark wasn’t exactly known for his smarts. She had men and women falling at her feet, Mark was still surprised he was able to pull Amber.

“Dude, you can’t just give up!” William exclaimed. Maybe opening up to him was a bad idea, he wasn’t being very secretive about what they were discussing at the lunch table. “Would you quiet down?” Mark hissed, William letting out a much quieter ‘Sorry’ in response. “And yes I can, she doesn’t even know who I am. How weird would it be to have a guy you’ve never interacted with before ask you on a date? She would have a field day with me.” Mark shuddered at the thought of (y/n) and her wrath. Watching it from the sidelines was hot, being at the receiving end? Not so much.

“Mark, you fight monsters and murderers literally on the daily, you're telling me asking out the hot journalist is where you cross the line?” William raised his eyebrow, his lip twitching on a barely contained smirk.

Mark thought for a second. He’s right I suppose, asking her out can’t be as bad as being beaten within an inch of my life, right?

—

There she was, her strawberry scented shampoo making its way to his nose, a scent he had all but memorized. She was on her phone texting, he assumed by the quick movement of her fingers, her face concentrated. Maybe now wasn’t the best time, and he was about to walk away, until he saw a guy two time her size approaching her; he watched as her eyes rolled and she attempted to look too busy to interact with him.

Clearly it didn’t work, because once he came within her vicinity he took no time at all placing his hand on her shoulder. She shoved it off, the man's face twisting in anger in response, and soon enough their argument became loud enough to make out what they were saying.

“What part of ‘We’re over’ don’t you understand, Xander?” She huffed. “We’re done when I say we’re done.” He then but his arm around her shoulders and tried to lead her away to god knows where, but she had already started fighting to get his arm off of her. “Get off me you creep!” She yelled, and before he could think mark found himself already going to stop him.

He grabbed him by his shoulder, pulling him away from her roughly. Maybe he was too rough, because the action had him falling to the ground, his eyes open in shock. “She said to leave her alone, man.” Mark’s voice was hard, a stoney look in his eyes.

“Who even are you? This is between me and her.” The man responded, on his feet and in Mark’s face. “You’d better get to running if you don’t want your ass kicked.” (y/n) had a enough. “Xander seriously stop, this is getting out of hand.” she sighed. “Shut up, (yn)—“ That set mark off.

In no time at all Mark threw his fist into the guy's jaw, a small crack that was only able to reach his ear’s resounding in the room. The man was sent to the floor again, but he clearly had no plans to get up anytime soon, too busy holding his jaw in pain. “Let’s go.” Mark took (y/n) by her hand and stomped away.

It took a second to snap her out of whatever daze she was in, but she eventually got out of it, yanking her hand out of his grip. “I didn’t need your help.” She hissed. “I had full control over that situation.”

“Really? Cause it looked like he was getting ready to kidnap you.”

“He was not about to kidnap me—“

“Whatever,” Mark cut her off. “There was no way I was gonna watch him put his hands on you and not do something.”

That successfully stunned her into silence, her eyes searching for something, it was honestly kind of awkward. She must have found whatever it was she was looking for, because her eyes softened, then looked to the ground, then back up to his face.

“Thank you.” She said simply, her voice much softer. “What’s your name?”

“Mark.” She raised her eyebrow. “Grayson, Mark Grayson.” She seemed satisfied with his answer, a barely noticeable smile on her face.

“Well Mark Grayson, I’m grateful for what you ddi for me today, truly.” She began to walk away. “I hope to see you around.” She called from behind her.

Mark was in a daze. She smiled, she actually smiled at—“Wait!” He called. She turned around, a questioning look on her face. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She stares for a few seconds, before one of her beautiful smiles makes its way onto her face. “Okay.”

“Catch you later, Tiger.”

—

I’ll probably make this a series because i love Mark with a civilian gf, be on the lookout for a part 2 ! ( •��ᴗ•̤ )♡

[mageknife]

the point of me doing all of that timeline nonsense is to talk about the letter from alexius to halward shortly after alexius takes dorian in. there are two primary takeaways i have from this and they both make me crazy. first:

He's rather despondent over the life's path you've charted for him—if I may speak frankly—and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself.

this sentence is. it’s a lot. in knowing dorian for such a short time, alexius understands him far better than his parents ever have. (“I know my son.” What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble.) dorian acts out because he’s miserable, he’s angry that he’ll never be what his parents want, angry at both them (for setting such unachievable expectations) and himself (for never being enough, for his inherent inability to be enough). alexius can see this so clearly. alexius genuinely cares for him. whether his parents at all care for the man he’s become or just for the man they wanted him to be is debatable.

and secondly, we have this sentence:

The boy had enough cheek, even in his inebriated state, to invite me to join him.

alexius tells halward that dorian propositioned him for sex. dorian is at this point, what, 17 or 18? this is likely the first evidence halward has that dorian likes men. alexius basically outs him. subtly, but it’s there. halward knew for a long time, or at least had a suspicion. but it was in private. only admitted in alexius’s correspondence.

in 9:37, when dorian is 26, he’s caught in bed with a lord’s son and essentially taken captive by his parents. he runs away a few months later, never to return.

below are two quotes from dorian during last resort of good men:

But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to change me!

He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left.

“the first thing you did.” this implies that halward only truly confronts dorian about his homosexuality and moves to act after the incident with lord abrexis’s son.

as dorian says in his sex scene:

Where I come from, anything between two men… it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.

maybe it would have been fine behind closed doors, but it’s been made extremely public. word has spread quickly among halward’s enemies. just look at this letter:

Halward: I only wanted what was best for you!

Dorian: You wanted the best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!

when dorian says this, he’s exactly right. halward might not understand dorian, but dorian understands him. halward knew dorian slept with men for 8, 9 years before this, thanks to alexius’s letter detailing how they met. it hasn’t been an issue before. but it’s only now that it could pose a threat to halward’s reputation that halward decides it has to change. he goes back on his word, his teachings against blood magic, to protect himself, his legacy, his image. it’s disgusting. appalling.

finally, i want to address this banter between cole and dorian:

Dorian: You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn't want to hurt you.

Dorian: So you feel betrayed. You say things you can't ever take back.

Cole: “Get out. You are no son of mine.”

Dorian: Yes, like that.

Cole: He wishes he hadn't meant it.

world of thedas says dorian “escaped,” “fled.” even dorian says he “found out [and] left.” but this banter, given the above context, is elucidating. dorian didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. he confronted halward. he stood his ground. he refused to let halward change him. he had hope, even if just a sliver of it, that halward would understand, would still love him, even if he wasn’t everything his father wanted.

and for staying true to who he was, he was given rejection. wholehearted rejection. halward said that dorian was not his son, and he meant it. if dorian couldn’t behave in a way that would uphold house pavus’s perfect legacy, if he couldn’t “put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away,” then he couldn’t be a pavus.

dorian left having tried everything. having desperately pleaded with his father to still love him for who he was. but halward never truly loved dorian. he only loved the man he hoped dorian would become, the man he tried to force him to become by throwing money and disciplinary action and strict schools at the problem because he never truly cared about what dorian wanted, the man he was entirely willing to abandon his abandon his principles to use blood magic to change dorian into.

dorian was not halward’s son, because he fought against the life he was forced into since birth. dorian was not halward’s son, because he dared to put dorian before pavus.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 44. Unexpected Reunion

Summary: Dahlia's Squad and Bodhi are dragged into their first assessment for RSC. Land Nav. And just her luck she'd end up with not one, but two people she would like to be as far away from as possible. A/N: This is going up while I'm travelling for a week away for my birthday, so not sure if I will have reception or time to check my phone before I don't have it. But I can't wait to come back and see your comments and asks! Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

My eyes fly open, jolting back as someone moves something away from my face. I squint at the bright morning light, shielding my eyes I look up to see our RSC teacher Professor Lee backing away as he approaches Liz who lies on the ground next to me. My head feels foggy as I sit up and take in my surroundings. We’re in the middle of the forest, somewhere definitely close to Basgiath as the foliage is similar.

”Let me guess, RSC?” I ask Proth as I reach out to him.

I feel agreement flow through the bond. “Yes, something I hope you can over come quickly. A waste of time if you ask me.”

”Why is it a waste of time?” I ask, as I push off the ground, dusting grass and dirt off my flight leathers.

”You only need it if you don’t stay seated. Or we somehow get separated, which has never happened.” He growls in annoyance.

Noted. Don’t leave my dragon. Something that’s already been drilled into us. Though you never know what could happen. I look to my left seeing Kai, Austin and Bodhi waking up as well. My eyes widening as I take in the squad next to ours. You have to be kidding me. Dain and I lock eyes, both of ours narrowing at each other. Great. On top of being stuck out here for up to two days, I had to spend it with him. And work with him. Movement next to him catches my eyes and I can’t help but smile slightly at Imogen who pokes her head around him as she assesses the area. I hadn’t had much to do with her, but the interactions I did have with her were good. I could see myself getting along with her.

”Well, look who we have here. Haven’t seen you two in a long time.” A deep, but somewhat familiar voice drawls.

I turn my head to see two squads of infantry cadets, my blood running cold as I recognise the one speaking to Dain and I. Despite how much time had passed, there was no denying who stood in front of me. Ethan Caldwell. The boy who had thrown that rock in that clearing. The actual reason my mother was dead. This day was just getting better and better.

”See you took after your father in infantry.” Dain says through pursed lips.

Dain and Ethan were never close, always butting heads as kids. So I know his displeasure is not due to what happened that day. But mine definitely is. He was my friend up until that point. At least I thought he was.

”As did you two. Though I’m honestly surprised after that little incident.” He drawls as he turns his attention to me.

My hands tighten into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands as I stare at him. I would enjoy nothing more than running him through with one of my daggers, but I don’t think it would go down to well if I took out a cadet from another quadrant in front of two Professors.

”Everything ok?” Liz asks as she steps closer to me.

”Fucking fantastic.” I growl out as I hold Ethan’s stare.

”You sure? You look like you want to murder him.” Bodhi adds as my squad gather behind me.

”Trust me, that’s not even the start of what I want to do to him.” I say as I tear my gaze from Ethan and look at Bodhi.

There’s no denying the worry in Bodhi’s eyes as he looks at me. But he clearly understands this is something I can’t talk about right now. And honestly didn’t entirely want to. Though there was no stopping Ethan from spilling what he was referring to. I just had to hope that he kept is damn mouth shut.

”What the last thing you guys remember?” Kai asks as two healers cadets walk around handing out a small ration and water. Which I’m thankful for seeing as I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and it was now the morning.

”Walking to dinner from the gym with Dahlia.” Austin says as she opens her water skin.

”Yeah, the last thing I remember is heading there with Kai.” Liz adds.

Seems we were all taken after we left the gym. They had definitely been watching and waiting. Maybe that’s where Garrick and Xaden ended up? No, third years didn’t go through this. Their equivalent was being sent to an outpost to assist.

”Sorry for the abrupt change in scenery, but welcome to your first land navigation exercise of the year.” Professor Lee starts as his eyes scan us. “In the last two weeks, we have hopefully taught you how to read a map and survive. And now you get to put those skills to the test, and seeing how well you can adapt to working with other cadets you have never worked with before.”

Two squads of infantry, two quads of riders, two healers and a scribe. All of whom have never worked together. This was going to be interesting.

”For this exercise there will be two maps, two teams, but you will work together as one cohesive unit. Aetos, your squad-”

”Which one?” Dain and I say perfectly in sync as we cut off the Infantry Captain, causing all the riders to look at us in shock. Almost surprised with how in sync we’d been, even down to the tone in our voice. Perks of being twins I guess.

”Of course they sent you two together. Second squad-”

”Which one?” We both ask again in sync, Dain turning to glare at me as Bodhi and Imogen snicker behind both of us.

”You’re both second squads?” She asks, looking annoyed.

Professor Lee chuckles as he steps forward with two maps clutched in his hand. “Yes and both from the same wing. Dahlia, you’ll be with third squad.” A blonde haired infantry cadet raises his hands. Thank the gods I wasn’t with paired with Ethan. I step forward and take the map from Lee. “And Dain you’ll be with second squad.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon.” The infantry captain says before turning and walking away from us with Lee and leaving us on our own.

”Oh, and just to make it more fun, there are other groups out here with you.” Lee adds as he turns back to us. “You are also not allowed to mount your dragons. But they are hunting the other groups, and their dragons are hunting you. Best work together so you don’t die.”

And with that, we’re on our own. The infantry, healer and scribe cadets look pale now Lee has mentioned the role our dragons are playing in this. Two days to find our extraction point and not get burnt my another dragon. Oh and add the fact I’ve got Dain and Ethan to deal with. What could go wrong? Oh wait, everything.

”Did he just say we could die?” The scribe squeaks out as they clutch their satchel.

”Sure did. Kinda part of being around dragons.” Imogen says with a smile, though it does nothing to ease the now petrified scribe.

”Don’t listen to her. You’ll be fine.” Dain says as he tries to ease the scribe’s nerves.

”Don’t sugar coat it Dain. You know very well how deadly dragon fire can be.” Ethan snickers as he eyes Dain and I.

”Pretty sure we all do. So lets get to work and get moving.” Bodhi says sternly, ending the conversation. I’d almost swear he was innistic with how he could read situations.

”Good idea. Dain give me your map.” I say as I hold out my hand towards him.

”You have your own map. You don’t need mine.” He tells me as he puffs out his chest.

”Well aware, but I wouldn’t put it past them to give us different maps or do something to confuse us.” I tell him as I cock my head at him.

He grumbles but quickly hands his map to me so I can lay them out next to each other. We all gather around to assess the two maps, and it’s immediately clear our maps are completely different. Our extraction points are in the same spot, but the markings and layout of the maps are completely different.

”Well look at that, you were somehow right.” Ethan says smugly as he looks up at me.

”Yeah, she generally is. Without her we wouldn’t have won war games last year.” Austin snaps at him, causing him to glare at her.

Great we were already at each others throats. This was going so well.

”Let’s figure out where we are and get moving then.” The blonde squad leader from infantry commands as he cuts off the bickering that was definitely about to start, all of us nodding in agreement. We needed to win this.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf

[prettycalla]

|| pulchellus puer ||

Pairing: Geta/Empress!Reader

Summary: You help your husband get ready for the day.

Tags and warnings: Mostly fluff, Geta is a nuisance and loves his wife, no use of Y/N.

Word count: 1.5k (approx.)

(@getaapologist had made a comment about sitting in Geta's lap and doing his make-up for him and boy did that get me thinking. I hope you don't mind me spinning your idea into a little fic! also ‘pulchellus puer’ more or less translates to ‘pretty boy’, which is so fitting.)

Having rule over an entire Empire is exhausting, to say the very least. Rarely a moment do you have where prying eyes are absent. Even the early rise of the morning is amiss of those quiet moments that are so often taken for granted, now filled with servants rushing here and there to ensure you are perfectly preened and dressed for the coming day.

Almost every moment of your life has been made public in some way, and while you would not give up the life the Gods have been gracious enough to bestow on you, you find yourself missing the small moments of intimacy that you and your husband once shared together.

You had confided your feelings to Geta, and he had agreed. And so now, for a small sliver of the morning, you are both afforded the time to finish your morning routines in peace.

This arrangement had begun well, until you were to quickly realise that Geta has rarely had to attend to much without the helping hand of a servant.

Another sigh drifts across the room to where you sit in your shared quarters, this one heavier and more irritated than the last. You know your husband well enough at this point to know that it means "I am struggling and will not admit to it."

Laying your hairbrush aside, you rise from your vanity table and cross the room, to where Geta sits at his own table in front of a silver mirror. An array of pots filled with powders and creams are laid out in front of him, along with an assortment of tools and a bowl of cool water. Once perfectly organised, they are now scattered every which way - more evidence of his growing frustration.

He wipes harshly at his face with his fingers, before tossing the brush in his other hand to the floor. You reach down and pick it up, placing it back in its place on the table.

"Whatever is the matter?" you ask.

“Leave me,” he snaps in reply.

You ignore him, knowing there is no real bite to his words. There may have been once, but you have long since broken down the armour of the feared Emperor.

He sighs again. The spot he had been rubbing is now a brilliant shade of red.

You gently pry his hand away from his face. Despite his simmering ire, he lets you.

“No more,” you chide gently. “Let me help you.”

“I do not need-” he begins to argue, faltering as you press the tips of your fingers to his mouth.

“Enough,” you say, insistent. “Let me help you.”

A small sigh escapes him, but he says no more.

You lift a cloth, dipping the edge of it into the bowl of water. Gently, you run it along Geta’s skin, wiping away the smudged powder. The cloth lingers on the red mark, to soothe it.

Geta’s hand reaches out, encircling your wrist. His dark eyes watch you intently. He would appear fearsome to anyone else, but you can see the softness that lies within his gaze. The fondness he holds for you.

He plucks the cloth from your hand and tosses it aside, gently pulling you close to press a kiss to your knuckles, then your fingers. He turns your hand over and continues a trail of kisses along your palm, down your wrist-

Knowing all too well where this will lead, you firmly pry your hand from his grasp.

“You are not to distract me,” you scold, the smile on your lips betraying you.

Geta licks at his lower lip, resisting the urge to argue. He lays his hands in his lap, and you bring yourself back to the task at hand.

A little pot of red powder sits in the middle of the chaos, its lid laying haphazardly across it. You pick up a small brush, dipping it into the pot.

“Close your eyes.”

Geta obeys, and you find yourself stopping for a moment. Not only for the fact that he now listens to you - something that you are still yet to become accustomed to, but you cannot help but stare. The curve of his dark eyelashes, the slope of his wide nose, his full lips, slightly parted. Truly he was carved by Venus Herself.

“Wife,” he murmurs, as versed in your thoughts now as you are his. “You are becoming distracted.”

You huff a little sigh. And so modest he is, too.

You tap his nose lightly in response, and he instinctively scrunches it. Gently, you begin brushing the stick in your hand across his eyelids, first the left, then the right, until they are both dusted with a fine layer of red. You lightly blow out a little breath to take away the excess, and Geta opens his eyes again.

“Surely you cannot be comfortable,” he comments as you turn back to the table.

“Whatever do you mean?” you ask distractedly, looking for the little pot of black powder and kohl stick that you know must be here somewhere.

Geta reaches for you then, his hands on your hips as he suddenly drags you into his lap. You let out a yelp of surprise, sending the already chaotic table arrangement into further disarray as your hands scramble to pick up what you were looking for before you lose it again.

“Geta,” you scold, turning as best you can to glare at him.

The smirk on his face speaks volumes, so pleased he is with how he has startled you.

“Much better,” he says, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you close.

“Really,” you sigh. “How do you expect me to finish now?”

You already know the answer. He has grown restless, among other things, and expects you to entertain him.

How you loathe to be made the responsible one.

You allow him to arrange you as he likes, legs spread across his as you settle in his lap, knees pressing into the plush cushion beneath you both. His hands spread across your thighs, holding you in place.

“You will keep your hands where I can see them,” you tell him in as stern a voice as you can manage, despite your racing pulse.

“And if I do not?” he asks in return.

The smile playing on his lips widens as he gently digs his nails into your thighs, pulling a gasp from you.

“What then, wife?” he persists.

You tilt the kohl stick in your hand from side to side, and his eyes follow its movements.

“Then I fear I may not be so gentle with you,” you warn with a sly smile.

“I do not need eyes to know your beauty, carissima,” he replies, looking up at you once more.

His teasing has suddenly turned into something soft, sincere, and you falter. The ferocious Emperor of Rome, made pliant and docile by his adoration of you.

You press a gentle kiss to his mouth, prising yourself away as he tries to deepen it, to urge you further into his depravity.

How you long to let him. But alas, duty calls.

“You may have me as you wish tonight, I promise you,” you tell him sincerely. “But in return, you must allow me to finish my task.”

Finally, Geta relents with a nod.

“Good boy,” you all but coo at him.

You cannot help yourself. The expression on his face is always worth it.

You press your fingers gently beneath his chin, tilting his head up a little more.

“Look up,” you command. “No, not at me. You will distract me again.”

“Perhaps my wife should ask the Gods for more resolve,” he mutters as he does what you ask.

You turn to where the pot of black powder sits, readying the kohl stick.

“Perhaps my husband should ask for more restraint,” you retort.

He laughs softly, a gentle breath brushing against your skin.

You turn your attention back to your task, carefully swiping the stick just beneath his lower lashes. Not so much that it is unseemly, just enough to accent. You do not think he needs to decorate his face so, but you cannot deny how beautiful he looks.

You check to ensure that no powder has fallen where it should not be, before you sit back to admire your handiwork.

“Well?” he prompts.

“Pulchellus puer,” you murmur, and you smile as his cheeks colour at your words.

"Wife," he groans in exasperation as you finally slip free from his grasp, ignoring the dull ache that has been building in your knees.

"Tonight," you say again, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Geta takes your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing across your soft skin.

"Promise me," he murmurs.

"I promise," you assure him. "Have I ever been known to deny you?"

The trust he has placed in you through your time together is unsurmountable, yet he is still delighted to find that you are as good as your word later that evening.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[msilverstar]

transcription:

FOREWORD: BUCKY BARNES (by Sebastian Stan, Spring 2025)

I remember standing up on a ladder, sweating, in the middle of a take on a hot day in Palmdale, California, on the set of The Apparition. They were doing a camera reload, I think, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and looked at it: "Unknown caller I.D." "That can never be important," I thought. I let it go to voicemail.

We got the take and, in fact, continued to shoot for another few hours until, finally, I remembered, "Oh right, I had a voicemail." | took out my phone and brought it to my ear, expecting a telemarketer, only to hear, "Hey, it's Kevin. From Marvel. We'd love for you to do Bucky. If you're up for it. Give a call back." My heart stopped. My knees got weak. No way. Impossible. Earlier that day, someone had played a prank on me, stating, "It's April 1st! APRIL FOOLS' DAY!" Was this a joke or the real Kevin Feige?

It's an understatement to say my life changed that day: April 1, 2010. In three months' time, I was to go to London and start filming Marvel Studios Captain America: The First Avenger as Bucky Barnes.

It's insane for me to admit I didn't know anything about good old James Buchanan Barnes before my Captain America screen tests - which were for Steve Rogers, not even Bucky Barnes. I just didn't grow up with comic books, but I immediately had to dive in. I had a lot of catching up to do - including reading the convention-breaking series by Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting that revived Joe Simon and Jack Kirby's long-dead creation and started his journey as the Winter Soldier. Now, fifteen years later, I'm here trying to impart some wisdom. Life is crazy. I've never known it any other way. And neither has Bucky.

I think the thing I've loved most about Bucky all these years is that he always keeps me guessing, in one way or another. Every time I think I have him figured out, he keeps surprising me. Sometimes, I don't know what he's going to do next. What he wants from this life next or if he even knows - like most of us, I guess. Part of the reason is that he never really had a choice. I always felt that, at the end of the day, he enrolled in the Army back in the '40s mainly to protect his best friend, Steve - to go on with him and fight the good fight and keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't get hurt. After all, Steve kind of was the only family he ever had. At least, it felt that way to me.

Bucky was always a real human being to me. A young man trying to figure out his purpose - and before he could, he was captured, brainwashed and turned into a fighting machine. A Manchurian candidate, to some extent. Held against his will. Given a new identity. And for the wrong team. Bucky Barnes is all of us. And that's why Pretty intense for a comic book if you ask me. And yet real. I've never questioned why so many people related to Bucky or why so many former soldiers approached me about him, saying, "I know what he went through..." But I just knew he was real. People connected to him in a deep, profound way.

As we know, Bucky eventually regains his memory and thus all his "sins" along with it, leaving him more lost than ever and full of guilt and shame. How does he go on? How does he accept his past?

I think, for me, this was always incredible to explore, because this is a very real thing. It's human. We all must do this in life - confront our past - and some are braver than others, while others fight and run from it. But this struggle to embrace the past and move forward is something I think has always rang true about Bucky, and it's also something many people understood.

Without a doubt, he is one of the most fascinating characters I've ever played. Alongside him for fifteen years, I have met life as best as I could and questioned life as much as I could - and I feel we have grown together as a result. He's my brother, in a way. The brother I never had. And he's taught me a lot.

Bucky Barnes is all of us, and that's why he will always live on. He understood that the only way out is by going back in and truly confronting yourself. By doing so, he achieved his freedom. The freedom he lost back in the '40s. I could go on and on because he fascinates me, and I feel so blessed to have been given the chance to play him. I'm so grateful for that day: April 1, 2010. It changed my life. Thank you, Kevin.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER [MARVEL PREMIER COLLECTION] (Amazon link) by Ed Brubaker. Features an exclusive foreword by Academy Award-Nominated actor Sebastian Stan

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER [MARVEL PREMIER COLLECTION] by Ed Brubaker Features an exclusive foreword by Academy Award-Nominated actor Sebastian Stan

[starconstruction]

Tattered Evidence

Yandere Xinyu + Julie + Wonyoung x Male Reader (SFW)

Word Count:2837

The wise detective slumped over his trusty desk, once one of the most prolific in their field now is much more resigned. Taking on small cases, this one would be no exception. A disappearance, collage student. Just up and vanished.

The police force instantly closed it, citing it as a classic runaway case, the detective had a gut feeling that was only half the story. Gathering all the evidence the police had collected, which laid disorderly on the desk. Nothing much, but more than enough.

A phone, adorned in a cerulean case,. Bright as the ocean, tiny little decorations painted on the back. The screen was fractured. A harsh impact judging by the way the crack formed, directly in the middle.

The battery laid depleted, plugged into the detectives personal charger. His hand anxiously tapping the mahogany table, feeling the blemishes and definitions under his chipped nails.

A notebook, beige in colour and tattered. The pages dingy and well used, a testament to a personal connection. The detective took a sip of the bitter coffee on his desk, feeling it creep down the throat. This was going to be a long shift.

The final piece of evidence was the most intriguing, a printed picture of their room moments after the reported incident. The room was dishevelled, pillows laid strewn on the floor in chaos. Blanket thrown in the ground, coiled peculiarly. But the weird thing was how ordered the desk was, neat and punctual.

This couldn't have been a run away, was the conclusion the detective came to. But he needed some more evidence, taking the scrappy book in his rough hands. Scrolling through the pages, useless revision resources. Math, English, Art. There had to be something.

He flipped to the back, seeing the tail end of a promising scripture. Rushing through each and every page until he found the beginning of these notes.

"Ahaha!" The detective let out, beginning to read from the beginning.

"September 7th - 2024

Oh my god! I actually got into it, Solemn University! Not the most cheerful name, but God! I'm so proud, I wanna try a new method this year. Writing down all my thoughts, heard on Instagram that it was helpful for the mind. We'll see, or well. I'll see, I'm the only one reading this, but I'm excited! None of my friends got in with me, but that's okay! I will just socialise. I'll report back next time I'm thinking." The first passage read, the detective readjusted his glasses. Reading the next page.

" September 15th - 2024

Wow, making friends is harder than I thought. People have been blowing me off left right and centre, but I'm not deterred! Classes are starting up and the teachers seem cool, especially my art teacher. But it is quite exhausting, oh well. Until next time, future me."

The detective kept reading, the cheerful nature of these notes didn't seem to match a runaway case.

" November 12th - 2024

God I am so bad at remembering to note things down, but I remembered today atleast. I finally found a friend! Xinyu, she's so nice. She came to me, I was just sitting there writing down notes and she sat next to me! Atleast I have someone, until next time, wish I had more to write about."

Xinyu. The detectives lips curved, a first potential suspect. He kept reading.

"November 18th - 2024

Xinyu and I have really been close together, she's really nice. A great friend, our first examinations were looming, she handed me most of her notes. Pretty cool, it's nice to have some friends for once, been feeling a lot better these days. Until next time, future me."

"December 3rd - 2024

Xinyu introduced me to the rest of her friend group, they seem nice. If not reserved, Juile said very little, giving courteous remarks. And Wonyoung gave not much more than a quick nod, Xinyu said not to think much of it. But it stung a lil, eh, too much school work to worry. Bye for now, future me."

More names, more suspects. The detective checked the phone. 5%. A bit longer before it could be checked. Another page.

"December 18th - 2024

I think Xinyu was right! The other 2 seem to be more willing to talk now, me and Wonyoung went rollerskating, that was pretty neat! It's nearly time to go home for the winter break, well most people. I won't be, but I hope everyone else enjoys. I did really well in my exams, time to grab a celebratory drink."

"December 23rd - 2024

Yesterday was really nice, I met someone new and I really think we hit it off. Her name is Yena, we met in the hallways after I accidentally walked into her, well shit happens. Anyways, she and I got talking and she invited me inside her room, we just hung out for a bit. Watched a movie, drank a bit, good stuff."

The detective chuckled, licking his finger to turn the flimsy paper.

"December 26th - 2024

Me and Yena spent yesterday together, grabbing some cheap chicken and a bit of beer and threw on a movie, she looked captivating. Her hairs so nice, I hope I don't come off cringy to myself. But, okay. The night got a bit steamy at the end, she caught my lips in hers. Just a small kiss, but I remember it vividly. Cherry lingering on my lips as she imparted her lip gloss on mine. That's all for now."

Scorned ex? Wouldn't be the first. He kept reading.

"January 3rd - 2025

The other girls arrived back, but I didn't spend much time with them. Me and Yena were spending most of our time these days, watching movies, going out on walks and just hanging out. Xinyu walked past us once, eyeing Yena with a disgust? Maybe I misinterpreted it. Classes were going to start soon, guess the grind never stops."

" January 6th - 2025

I don't know what I did, Yena suddenly started avoiding me? Why, what did I do? She just stopped talking to me, running off every time I tried to make conservation, her voice was super pale. She looked petrified, I hope I didn't hurt her. I would never hurt someone."

The detectives heart throbbed, remembering times like that, young love was a bitch.

" January 14th - 2025

Something felt different about the three girls, they seemed to be wanting to hang out much more than usual, casual touches lingering for moments far too long. I don't know why but I'm uncomfortable, it's all too much. But for now I'll handle it. "

"January 18th - 2025

Yena cornered me in the library today, face white with fear. She pulled me into a private room and showed me her phone, the messages made my skin crawl.

Xinyu, Wonyoung, Julie. All of them, they all sent horrendous messages. Insults, threats, pictures of her. They were blackmailing Yena. I can't believe this, I remember her words. 'I'm sorry, but I can't ever talk to you again...' I don't know what to do, I think I'll avoid them for now."

The detective was invested, he may have just solved it.

"February 1st - 2025

I'm shaking, they came in. They grabbed a kitchen knife, forcing me to my bed. I was trapped. They made it very clear if I avoided them any longer I'd regret it. Wonyoung warned if I dared to talk to anyone else she'd kill them, I am so scared. So scared. But, what will they do if I report them? They are fucking insane."

"February 4th - 2025

Its getting worse, way way worse. Theres always atleast one of them around me, when I'm in class. When I eat, when I shower, when I sleep! I can't do this... I need to think of a way out of here, before it's too late. They are getting more and more... I don't fucking know! But I need to go, I can't handle this. I can't keep writing these escapes in stolen moments! I need to act."

" February 8th - 2025

I tried to run, pack my stuff up and go. But Xinyu was just, waiting there! Knife in hand. God, what do I do??? Shit... They have stayed even closer, no free time. No moments to myself, I think they may be planning something, I keep hearing whispers. Snickers, everything is too much. Maybe I just run, leave my stuff behind."

That was all the pages. The detective rubbed his stubble, pondering the words. The answer was clear, he just had to find out where the student was trapped.

-

You came to your senses, head pounding, groggy as it awoke to the ashy basement. They trapped you down here, ankle torn and wounded. Skin severed as it leaked sanguine liquid, the metallic scent of blood overshadowed everything else, it's a miracle hadn't caught an infection.

You were alone, will broken and shattered. Clothes torn up, skin exposed to the elements. Nausea crept at you, resisting the urge to hurl, it'd only make your situation worse. The light in the middle of the room laid dim, flickering a washed white. Crusty ropes wrapped around your legs, thick tawny imprisoning binds that didn't let up.

The jingling of keys caused your eyes to dart, dread creeping up in your spine, watching the metallic door. It was Xinyu, visually a complete juxtaposition to you. Pale fair skin, smooth, flawless. You envied it in a strange way, given how she ripped your appearance from you.

"Morning sweetheart, are you going to be better for us today?" She asked, voice laced with sweetness, hands carrying some large box object.

"Fuck, you." Your voice was laboured, choking out each syllables as the pain pumped through you, head falling back against the plastic chair.

Tension hung in the air, palpable and thick. Her brows furrowed, eyes narrowing, tempting you to act up. Your hands gripped the seat, fear becoming stronger. Like an insufferable darkness trying to choke you out.

"Sweetie, is this really the route you want to go? I have medicine, bandages, the pain can stop. You just have to comply." She said.

Stop.

The thought made you think, is being defiant worth the agony?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Xinyu speaking again, "How about this, I'll clean you up, and you'll be good. Otherwise the pains just going to get worse, worse and worse. You want that? You want to suffer? Or do you wanna be good?" Her frequent questions made your head spin, the pain eliciting a grunt.

"Yes, Xinyu please. Just, make it stop." You muttered.

It was like a shift went off in her brain, aggressive posture turning into a sweet smile. Doe eyes gentle as she got close, the scent of her orange body wash cutting through the iron.

"Okay, that's a good boy... First let's clean your wounds, then shower, you smell awful..." She said.

-

The detective rushed into the police department, hands shaking with anticipation. "Ah ha!" He bellowed, slamming the evidence down. The room fell silent, listening to the wisened man.

"I've got a lead, his notebook. He noted his school day!" He waved his arms around, the officers looking with intrigue.

"Three girls, their names are Xinyu, Wonyoung and Julie. Solemn University, he talks about what they did. This is such a free case!" He said.

"Okay, but what do we do?" A police officer spoke up.

"It's simple, we try to track them down." The detective said.

-

Your wounds were patched up, thick gauze enveloping the injuries. Medicine numbing the burning sensation just a bit, Xinyu had taken you upstairs, laying on the plush, black couch.

Her arms draped over you, you didn't dare complain. Shuddering at the thought of what they would do to you, their wrath was unrelenting. "Hmm, you are being great, they should be home soon." She whispered, hands raking your hair.

"Oh god." You muttered under your breath, petrified. Xinyu was by far the nicest of the three, the only one to show remorse.

"Hey hey hey." She shushed, kissing your head. "Just be good and they'll be nice, you can do that right?"

You were groggy, exhausted, the first comfort you've had since you got here, eyes half lidded as you savored her soft embrace. A brief respite, even if you despised her. "It's okay, hate me all you want, just sleep for now..." She serenaded.

-

Your eyes opened slowly, still firmly pressed into Xinyu's chest. You chose not to move, praying to whatever spirit above they would notice.

"He's been good today, not a word of complaint!" Xinyu lied, overlooking the earlier insult.

"That's great, I wish he'd wake up already..." Wonyoung whined with impatience.

"Yeah, his breathing isn't as loud..." Julie mentioned, shit.

"Hm, that is strange..." A sudden burst of light hit your eyes, painful, the two girls in front of you. Xinyu was back hugging you.

"Oh, good morning." Wonyoung said, her voice uncomforting despite it's sugariness. It felt rotten, fake, sickening.

"Hello." You said bluntly, trying to hide your disgust.

She got closer, hand touching your rough cheek. The touch felt like a mockery, slimy, nails scraping against your skin.

"Hmm, you are still resisting me..." She remarked, "But no worry. You'll break."

Julie sensed the tension, "Hey?? Let's watch a movie, let's not spoil this moment."

-

The weeks went on, they didn't relent. Xinyu acted as the reasonable one, tending to your wounds. Wonyoung the judge, jury and executioner. Anything she deemed as out of line came down with the force of the sun, Julie acted as a mimic, taking the mannerisms of the one they were with.

The police actually did their job, working day and night to get any trace of the mysterious kidnappers.

The night came, four officers coming to save the victim.

A loud crash woke you up, head whipping up as all groggyness had faded. Fighting against the restraints, loud chatter could be heard. The basement door is definitely locked, they are always paranoid.

"Freeze!" A voice could be heard, it's unknown, foreign to you. Is this salvation?

"Move and we will use our taser!" Another voice, you panicked a bit. But this could be your freedom, you started to scream.

"HELP!!!!! I'M DOWN IN THE BASEMENT!" You yelled, throat rippling screams ripping through you.

"Keys! Now." A loud crash was heard, every noise harsh and disturbing. The air was leaving your lungs, deep, short, long. It was all irregular, unable to compose yourself. Hyperventilating against the rope.

"Shit!" A deafening yell was hard, thumps. Things falling over, your legs kicked against the restraints. Desperate to get it undone, shake, shake. It started to unravel, come on!

"Shit! Requesting back up requesting back up!" A shrill scream could be heard, the words filled you with suffocating dread. The restraints fell on the ground, jumping off the chair.

You grabbed the handle, aggressively pulling it up and down. Pounding your fist against the metal "Let me out! Fuck!"

"Baby! It's almost over, stay calm!" Julie yelled back, no... This couldn't be happening, it was futile.

"Shit!" A guard shouted, a deafening yelp being heard.

Footsteps came towards the basement, each step feeling heavier and heavier. Walls closing in, falling to your knees.

The basement door rattled, you started to sob, freedom being ripped from you without scene being able to see it. Fuck.

"Hey baby, I see you got out the restraints?" Julie asked, stepping closer. You crawled backwards. She was adorned in a thick red liquid, coating every crevice of her clothing.

"Dont move. We need to leave now, it's not safe here." Wonyoung said, grabbing onto you.

You had to fight, adrenaline surged through your veins. Heart throbbing against your chest, one hard slap hit her cheek. Rippling through the air.

Her hand greeted your neck, squeezing it harshly. Eyes glaring straight into your soul. "Never hit me again, or I'll kill you." She growled, taking your oxygen.

Wonyoung let you go, Xinyu catching you in her bloody arms. "Wonyoung, get our stuff. I'll get him into the car!"

The minute the other two left you stared to fight against Xinyu, thrashing around in her arms, bodies bashing against each other. Hands pushing her off. "Y/N! Stop it! Unless you want a knife in your leg." She threatened.

You kept fighting, swinging around with every ounce of your being. The sounds of sirens could be heard faintly in the distance, they had to be close. Just a bit longer.

A searing pain pushed into your soft leg, head going dizzy. "Ugh, fuck... Argg." You were incoherent, still trying to fight but it was useless.

"I got our stuff! We need to leave now!" You couldn't identify who was speaking, ears ringing, head pounding, the world was slipping away.

You could feel a faint impression of a car seat, being slid in. Everything was washed out. Your grasp falling away.

".......... " The sounds of voices, completely empty.

The world went dark. Even more hopeless than before.

[lazysoulwriter]

grumpy and irresistible - joel miller. (MDNI)

LOOK AT ME WRITING A SMUT! - trying. hope is gooood. w.c: 1.8k ~

---

Running into Joel Miller months ago was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. I mean… he helps you, he protects you… but he’s a fucking hottie. A goddamn delicious man. And you can barely get close! He’s so moody, so pissed off about everything. You're in the end of the world, of course… but damn. It’s not easy.

Most of the time, he doesn’t even understand how he ended up letting a girl like you tag along on this survival journey. You’re much younger, and despite being strong and brave, you can be a real pain in the ass. You’re chatty, you make him hug you when it’s too cold (okay, he secretly likes that part), and you stop in the middle of nowhere just to say things like, "Oh, look! A hummingbird!"

A pain. In. The. Ass.

And today was no different. As you walked in search of food, you looked at him intently, thinking about how damn annoying he can be sometimes—or how it’s a total waste for someone that beautiful to be so grumpy all the time.

And then… well, then something crossed your mind.

How long has it been since Joel last had sex?

Like… you haven’t had sex in ages, but you have your ways of relieving yourself. And you doubt he even jerks off. Maybe all this frustration, all this grumpiness, comes from that.

Maybe.

"Joooeel…" you hummed in that way he knew all too well. He just glanced over his shoulder, signaling that he was listening.

"Can I ask you something? I know you’re gonna get mad, but—"

"Then no. I don’t feel like getting even madder." He cut you off, his voice rough, trying to shut you up.

But that never scared you.

"Please! I’m gonna start begging…" you threatened, knowing full well he hated when you begged.

"Just say it!" His tone turned even harsher. "And if I get mad, you’ll go find something to eat by yourself."

"Oh, stop. You would never leave me—" you picked up your pace, walking alongside him now. "So… how long has it been since you had sex?" You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t dying of curiosity. "Or, you know… something like that."

He stopped. Abruptly.

Like you had just punched him in the face.

You blinked up at him, waiting for an answer.

"Why don’t you just mind your own damn business?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes in that way that only made him hotter.

"I’m just asking! If you don’t wanna answer, that’s fine." You shrugged and started walking again. Moments later, you heard his footsteps behind you, along with a deep, frustrated sigh.

"I don’t know, okay?" His voice came after a long silence, just when you were already distracted. "I don’t even remember the last time I touched someone like that. And I have no idea when I last felt something like that."

You just nodded. But now? That was your goal. You were going to fuck this man. No matter what. When? You didn’t know. But you would.

-

You let it go—for now.

But after that day, something shifted. Maybe it was just in your head, maybe not. But you started noticing things. The way Joel’s gaze lingered on you just a little longer when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his hand would rest on your lower back when he guided you through dark hallways or past abandoned cars. The way he sighed—deep, exasperated, but never truly angry—whenever you leaned too close, testing the limits of his patience.

And, most of all, the way he didn’t pull away. Not really.

Not when you brushed your fingers over his forearm while handing him his rifle. Not when you sat next to him by the fire, knees bumping under the weight of exhaustion. Not when you made those little jokes, the ones that pulled a rare, reluctant smirk from him, even if he shook his head afterward like he wished he could take it back.

And then, one night, it happened.

You’d just set up camp inside the shell of an old bookstore, a storm howling outside. The fire crackled between you, throwing soft shadows across his face. You could see every line there, every scar, every tired thing he’d never say out loud. He sat against the wall, boots planted on the ground, legs slightly spread. He looked exhausted. But awake. Watching you.

You sat across from him, hugging your knees, tilting your head.

"What?" he muttered.

"Nothing."

A pause. Then—

"Bullshit," he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

You grinned, slow and lazy. "I was just thinking... if you can’t even remember the last time you touched someone, then maybe you’ve just forgotten how."

That got you a look. A dark, warning glance that made your stomach flip in the best way.

"Don’t start."

"I’m just saying—"

"No."

You pushed up onto your knees, crawling closer, testing the waters.

"Not even a kiss, Joel?" Your voice was softer now, teasing but not cruel. "No wonder you’re always so grumpy."

He tensed, fingers twitching against his knee. "You—"

"You could just let me remind you."

His breath hitched. Just barely.

You sat back on your heels, waiting. Letting him think. Letting him decide.

And then—slowly, cautiously, like he knew he was making a mistake—Joel reached out.

His fingers traced up the curve of your jaw, rough and calloused. You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, afraid you might break the moment.

And then he kissed you.

It was careful at first, hesitant, like he was relearning something he used to be good at. But when you sighed against his lips, when your fingers found the back of his neck and pulled him closer—Joel groaned, low and deep, and that hesitation snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

His hand slid to your waist, gripping firmly, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. The heat of him seeped into your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

And just like that, you knew. You were right. He had gone too long without this. Without you. And you were going to fix that.

The kisses were getting more and more intense and desperate. You couldn't afford to waste time.

In seconds, your blouse was thrown on the floor behind you, exposing your lack of bra and earning a little smile from him that you had never seen before. Desire. He attacked your breasts like no one had ever done before. He massaged one, sucked, licked, and bit the other, while your moans were already too loud for your good. But fuck it. You almost cried when you saw him taking off his shirt on top of you, his strong arms now fully exposed, his chest too delicious to be true.

You pulled him back to your lips, which this time was even more urgent. Soon, you were completely naked and desperate for each other. "Are you sure?" He asked, lining himself up at your entrance. And you were already going crazy. You just wanted to be fucked. "Of course! Just fuck me, please." You begged and watched as his eyes darken even more – if that was possible.

Without any further warning, he pushed inside you. Both of you let out heavy sighs. He was big. Really big. But you were so wet that you didn’t even feel him pushing it all in. He didn’t move for a few seconds, as if he was savoring something he had wanted for so, so long. “I know you’re having a moment. But please, Joel! Move!” You whimpered, holding one of his arms tightly. You didn’t need to say anything else. You could feel every inch of him. Every vein. And how he was pulsing inside you. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him even deeper, if that was possible. His moans were like music to your ears. Low, heavy. “Fuck, that’s it… That’s it…” You clawed at his back in a delicious way. He lowered himself a little more, just enough to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, taking you over the edge. And making you scream. The sound of the skin hitting each other was almost pornographic, making everything more intense with each moment. He grabbed your leg and brought it up to his shoulder. This new angle took you to an absurd wave of pleasure, Joel caressed you all over. Your whole body. And he stopped under your belly, just to show off and feel his cock there, filling you.

“You’re fucking delicious…” He murmured between breaths. “So fucking hot… I’ve always wanted to fuck that little pussy of yours. Always.” That brought you to your orgasm. Obviously. Joel fucking Miller telling you that? With that voice? Fuck.

Without a warning, you came on his cock, moaning his name and making him delirious. He was euphoric and ready… ready to fill you. “Can I?” He asked, about cumming inside. It’s not the best option, but at that moment it was all you wanted. And you would have it. “Please… Fill me up.” You whimpered again, holding your own breasts, which made him lose it. And in the next second, you felt the hot jets inside your walls. And then… Oh my. His expression. Completely lost in pleasure. He thrust a few more times and pulled out, only to look at your pussy spilling his cum. Totally filthy.

Joel collapsed onto his side beside you, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. For a long moment, neither of you spoke—just the sound of the fire crackling, the storm still raging outside, and the quiet hum of satisfaction between you.

His arm draped lazily over his stomach, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or keep his distance.

You made the choice for him.

Rolling onto your side, you pressed your face against his shoulder, tracing light, absentminded patterns over his chest. His skin was warm, damp with sweat, and you felt the way his muscles tensed, then relaxed under your touch.

"Jesus," he muttered, voice rough. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

You grinned against his skin. "Nope."

His chuckle was barely there, but it was real. And you liked that. Liked knowing you could pull something soft from him, even now.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply and finally—finally—wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in, letting himself hold you.

"This doesn't change anything," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair.

You just hummed, pressing closer. "Sure, Joel."

You’d let him lie to himself for now. But you both knew the truth. This changed everything.

---

[81pastrys]

hi! i hope youre doing well. i wanna request some dad max with a preteen/teen getting her first period maybe? and he's alone with her so he has to take over. xoxo!

Bad Timing

Summary— Max and Isa were supposed to go shopping, but she realized she didn’t actually know what to do for her period

Warnings— first period ; mentions of blood

A/N— I have another request I’m writing rn 🙂‍↕️

Dad Max List

Divider @bernardsbendystraws

Isa usually wore brighter clothing, especially if they went out to run errands and such. Today she put on black leggings and a baggy grey shirt with her hair in a bun. She hadn’t told Max that she started her first period in fear of how he’d react, but with her Mum away, she has to at some point.

“That’s a new color scheme.” Max noticed her clothing choice but any other ideas flew over his head. His preteen was just expressing herself differently, no biggie. Her friends had told her almost everything about periods, except the main key factor of pads or tampons so you don’t bleed over everything.

“Figured I should wear it if I have it.” She shrugged. They left the house and Max began to notice how she would awkwardly shift or how her face would contort into discomfort.

“Are you okay? You seem off today Isa.” He mentioned while they were at a stop light. She briefly looked over and then back out the window with a small shrug.

“I’m fine papa.” She nearly mumbled. They got to a store and she felt a gush of liquid. She ushered Max into the nearest store and immediately booked it to a bathroom. She was freaking out. Max was oblivious. She cleaned up the bloody mess and stuffed toilet paper to hold off anymore that might surprise her.

“Isa are you absolutely positive everything is okay?” Max was concerned now, different clothes, shifting uncomfortably, now she’s walking like her legs will give out. She looked around her before mumbling to him. He didn’t quite catch what she said but she was not about to raise her voice in the middle of the store they were in.

“I started my period.” She said a bit louder for him to hear. She looked guilty like it wasn’t natural. Max blinked a couple times but ultimately sighed. He walked her to an isle she had seen before but never actually browsed. “What are these?” She asked looking to the array of pads, tampons, and period cups.

“So you don’t bleed through your clothes, I think pads are probably best to start off with.” He looked to the array like he knew what he was doing and she just went along with it. She picked out a brand and Max opened it, she freaked out and went wide eyed at him.

“Papa!” She yelled in a whisper. “You didn’t buy that yet!” He shrugged and handed her one of the unopened pads. She stuffed it under her shirt.

“Take a picture of the instructions, I’ll go buy it now.” He said, he gave her a look of demand to take a picture and she did. “It’s not like I’m broke Isa!” He defended with a laugh. She went back to the bathroom and fitted the pad to her liking.

He was waiting outside the bathrooms for her and they left the store. “Where else?” She seemed like herself again but Max had been through girls and their periods. Maybe not their first one, but he knew she wasn’t feeling good under the smile on her face.

“I figured you’d want to go home, maybe just relax for the rest of the day.” He mentioned as they walked to the car. What he didn’t mention were the snacks and heating pad he also bought. “Just a chill day.”

Isa liked the idea, but hated that she ruined her dad’s day. “You wanted to go shopping though.” She said voicing her concern. He didn’t care about shopping, as long as she was comfortable and having a good day he was content.

“We can shop any other day Isa, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable while we’re out.” He assured her. “I don’t mind staying at home for that to happen.” With that being said he brought her home and they watched shows or old races, because talking about racing is Isa’s favorite thing to do with him.

Max is def the type to open something before buying it 😭😭

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv

[thechy-fychannel]

pssst Wilson semi-accidentally killing someone and coming to House in the middle of the night in a blood-soaked panic not knowing what to do, but trusting that House will help him cover it up and do whatever needs to be done? perhaps? 👀 much to think about

Yessssss I've thought about this an obscene number of times!!!

It starts off as self defense, wilson swears it did, the guy hit him first and then he just. blacks out. And then the guy was bloody and dead at his feet and there's a tire iron dripping blood in his hand and the guy is dead and wilson knows he should call 911 but who are they going to believe when one of them has a busted lip and the other is dead???

So ofc he runs to house, he doesn't even think about it. He just shows up covered in blood and shaking like a leaf, rambling at a million miles an hour about how sorry he is he's so so so sorry he never meant for it to happen. The poor thing is sobbing and shaking and soaked in blood, begging house to help him bc he's going to go to prison and it was an accident, he swears, he never wanted to hurt anyone.

And house just handles it as if he'a done it before. As if it's nothing. He has wilson take him to the body and help him load it up in the trunk and then they take it somewhere, wilson doesn't know where they are bc it's so dark and late and he swears it's like he keeps losing bits of time, it was only 9 p.m. but now it's nearing five in the morning as house is peeling wilson's dirty bloody clothes away and softly murmuring "it's okay, Jimmy. You're okay, just forget it happened, okay? Look at me, I want you to forget this ever happened. It's handled, you don't have to worry about anything. I've got you."