#and hyperfixate on the reason he's here in the first place

[fireflysugarpie]

I fully believe that if Shen Yuan transmigrated before Luo Binghe existed, he would have shifted all of his weird obsessive fangirl/antifan energy onto Airplane bro

[musicalmoritz]

“ADA Dazai” this, “PM Dazai” that

Shut up

We are never gonna see Bar Lupin Dazai again😔

[pardycity]

I ALMOST FORGOT... happy late birthday to this thing i never posted, it was in response to the countdown art heb did b4 sovstuck came out... its crazy to think how much has changed since then, i was a scared little octo who was scared 2 even BREATHE, look at me now ^__^

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[lady-protector]

and that's a wrap on my tarot series! the upright majors, at least. there may be others sometime in the future if I am seized by a combination of insanity and hyperfixation once again.

you might notice a few cards are a bit (or in the case of the fool and alternate chariot, a lot) different! I did a few retakes for consistency/style.

below the read more I've included a bunch of notes about symbolism and reasoning behind my choices if that interests you!

(tag for individual card posts)

0. The Fool: Ardbert was really the only choice for this one. He's our stand-in, our shard, our mirror. Feo Ul is included partially because of lore (they are my co-WoL's shard on the First) and also because they also fit the themes of adventure and new beginnings and exploration. Most of the cards I played pretty loose on the posing vs traditional depictions, but this one I wanted to hew a little closer, which is why he's on a cliff with a foot hanging over the edge a bit, with his axe standing in for the bindle. This is my second attempt at the card -- the first was in Il Mheg, but I moved it to Kholusia (Ardbert's home) and dawn to more closely symbolize that it's the beginning of something. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 8/10, posing Feo Ul was annoying.

1. The Magician: This card could have had several subjects, chief among them Alphinaud or a more modern G'raha, but I settled on Alisaie a) because the other two cards I had in mind for her (Chariot and Justice) were already taken, and b) the card's focus on physical magic and depicting the "tools of the trade" reminded me a lot of Angelo's creation! So that's why she's here, and why I set the card in Matoya's Relict, among the tools of magicians who came before (Matoya, Y'shtola). I retook the shot because I was unsatisfied with the blurriness/the way the light covered her face in the first one. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 5/10, simple pose but working with Impact's spell effect complicated things.

2. The High Priestess: Another that I never questioned who would appear on it. Y'shtola's arc is entirely about uncovering forbidden, secret knowledge and wisdom, so she fits beautifully. The blue-white orb and the purple staff depict duality between dark and light, and how Y'shtola walks in two worlds, seeing things that are beyond sight, standing before an altar/holy place to the Night's Blessed. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Premade pose, knew where I wanted to place her -- the only thing was finding a prop for her off hand.

3. The Empress: Hoo boy did Minfi give me some trouble. I knew that I wanted our Antecedent, who provides both authority and care for the Scions, to represent the Empress, but I struggled to find a depiction that wasn't, well, boring. Minfilia is deeply linked with the Solar, and I didn't want to lean too hard into Word of the Mother/Hydaelyn territory, so I settled on a triple goddess-like idea. Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 6/10. Not mechanically difficult, just conceptually.

4. The Emperor: Another one that I knew who I wanted but struggled with the concept. Haurchefant is very much emblematic of the stability, structure, and masculinity provided by the Emperor, but it wasn't until I decided to add his equally-Emperor-coded father that things settled into place. Together, Edmont and Haurchefant evoke the image of father and son as well as king and knight, filling both major male authority roles that the Emperor exemplifies. Attempts: 4. Difficulty: 6/10. Same as the Empress.

5. The Hierophant: this one was one of the hardest to choose a subject for -- the WoL's allies are largely a bunch of revolutionary firebrands, and I disagree HEAVILY with the popular choice of placing Aymeric here. So I landed on Alphinaud -- out of the Scions, he is the one most concerned with tradition and the "right" way to do things, with formal education and structure. He wants to bring Sharlayan into the modern day, not upend the institutions that raised him and that he very much still respects, much like how he still respects his very traditionally Hierophant-coded father. So I placed him in his family home with a sort of smug look since he can be a pretentious little shit sometimes (affectionate). The spell effect is from Kardia, and I paid special attention to having the shapes align perfectly with the lines in the background, to give a sense of stability and order to the shot, especially contrasted with Alisaie's more dynamic and chaotic depiction. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, entirely in alignment.

6. The Lovers: Hrasevelgr and Saint Shiva are a great choice for depicting the Lovers as two people, but no one does the Lovers in one subject better than Ysayle. Invoking the spirit of a woman who died for love in order to bring harmony to her people, but it truly being her own power and her own choice the whole time... it's great. Her pose is her transformation/summoning pose, turned into a gesture of affection, which I was particularly proud of. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10, posing monsters is always a little funky.

7. The Chariot: This one has two options -- my co-WoL, Marz, and Tataru/Cid/Nero for the NPC variant. All 4 characters share a singular drive and refusal to let anything stop them once they've set their mind to something, and the 3 NPCs have the added benefit of being associated with a literal "chariot" in the form of airship design. Marz's place on Shadowkeeper has some lore associations (Cylva is her shard on the 13th) as well as being a void mirror to Kaede's sin eater shot. For both I wanted to have dynamic poses to evoke the activity of the card. Attempts: 1 (Marz), 2 (NPCs). Difficulty: 3/10 for both, no major hurdles once the lovely @/karoiseka pointed me at an airship in NG+.

8. Justice: The heart of the Justice card is its emphasis on truth, and no character in FFXIV is more committed to truth even in the face of great suffering than Aymeric de Borel. Because of this, the shot is taken at the top of the Vault, where he confronted his father over his concealment of the truth of the Dragonsong War. The card is usually depicted with a woman holding a sword and balanced scales -- Aymeric is holding his sword in a pose used in statues in the Pillars, and the symmetry of the shot/light and shadow split down the middle is meant to give the feeling of balance. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. I knew my concept, location, and shader before I even went in, and it came out exactly like I wanted.

9. The Hermit: Originally I had Urianger for this card, who still fits well, but when I moved him to Wheel of Fortune, there was a clear second choice: The Exarch. He even resembles the Hermit, with his cloak and staff, holding himself in isolation and possessing secret knowledge with which he guides the party. G'raha has grown out of this role as of Endwalker, but the Exarch fits it to a tee. I wanted to show his longing to return through his body language and reaching out for the portal that shows him the world he is set apart from. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 4/10. Nothing major but did have to do two entirely separate cards lmao.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The one I struggled with the most, conceptually. At first I had a more abstract choice, with the 3 starting city state leaders and Tataru, in a sort of "fate leads to the Scions" idea. But then I remembered that Urianger is a fortune teller who uses a wheel-like weapon with a literal wheel of cards, and, well. Yeah. The man is intimately associated with fate and choice, and the choice to place him on the moon is intentional, to separate him from his more secretive depictions in HW/ShB. He is the one who prepares our second option (flight) while giving us the choice to make our first (fight). Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 7/10. He's up on a high ledge that's not normally accessible and that's always a pain in the ass.

11. Strength: The one that started it all. The original shot of Kaede contained some layer elements I wasn't happy with so I ended up retaking it to better cohere with the others. Strength is about confidence and inner strength "leashing" power, symbolized by the woman and the tamed lion, and there's exactly one good lion model in XIV -- Forgiven Cruelty. It also has the fun side meaning of Kaede conquering and wielding the light that almost killed her. For Moenbryda's, I went with something simple -- her axe to symbolize her strength, but with her archon mark and the Sharlayan Thaliak statue prominently featured, emphasizing her intelligence. Attempts: 2 (Kaede), 1 (Moenbryda). Difficulty: 6/10. Kaede's was straightforward enough (though I had to wait an annoyingly long time for the sky to shift colors correctly), but Moenbryda's involved me floating her up on a building so i could get Thaliak in the shot correctly.

12. The Hanged Man: Holy moly this one was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I knew from the minute I started this what I wanted to do with it -- Lahabrea holding Thancred's ankle as he reaches for Minfilia. The Hanged Man is one that I felt it was especially important to mimic the iconic pose on the card, and this was how I decided to do it, but it took me over an hour and a half to accomplish. Anyway, the Zodiark idol stands in for the Tree of Life, which I really liked. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 10/10. Absolutely infuriating to have to pose 3 actors in three dimensional space like that.

13. Death: I only ever considered Estinien for this card. It stands for transformation and change, for shedding the old to make way for the new, and I chose to depict that by having his old corrupted drachen mail posed behind him like a shadow or an abandoned husk. He has left the hate and the rage behind, but the helmet is meant to symbolize that he always remembers it, and carries it with him so that he can do better. His lance is also vaguely reminiscent of the traditional Death scythe. That spot in Coerthas is where he challenges you in the early DRG quests while controlled by Nidhogg, as well as being just visually striking. Attempts: 1, but it took a while. Difficulty: 9/10. The ground is very much not flat, the helmet is on a minion, and I had to change angles and locations a few times.

14. Temperance: I briefly considered Hythlodaeus here, but Krile fits very well. Calm, competent, but unsure of her own worth. I chose Eureka Hydatos both for its importance to Krile as well as its easily accessible water -- instead of pouring from a cup, Krile is looking at her reflection. This one came together so quickly and easily. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. In and out of Eureka in less than 20 minutes.

15. The Tower: Originally, before I reshuffled, G'raha was going to be the Tower simply because I didn't know where to put him, and I couldn't think of an ally who is ultimately a destructive force, but it always bothered me because he truly didn't fit. Meteion, though -- despite her innocence and unwillingness, is THE destructive force within Endwalker's story. This card had the highest hurdles -- I had to get 7 friends to help me queue for Endsinger and then leave, and I almost couldn't get my tools to load Meteion in properly. After that it was smooth sailing, however. I used the whole lockout timer, but this was only the 4th shot I took, and it's one of my personal favorites. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, purely for queuing.

16. The Devil: Addiction, obsession, and control -- Zenos was the only answer for this card. I included Zero as well, despite intending this to be a primarily 6.0 and earlier set, to represent the humans bound in chains to the Devil, using the way she's pinned between Zenos and the scythe to symbolize that she's trapped. Afterward I realized this exact shot and character choice would have also worked quite well for the Tower, as well, but I ultimately prefer the Devil for him. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10. Came together surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I had to make Zero's hat touch pose myself.

17. The Star: Symbolizing hope and new life, I can think of no one better suited than Ryne and the Empty. Ryne herself was given her own new life when Minfilia passed on her power, and the ability to make her own destiny -- and she used that power to revitalize a barren wasteland. My first version of this shot had a photoshopped in central star, but I decided to revisit the concept with an in game effect for the star instead. Helios provided what I needed, with the fun extra benefit of some additional rainbows (happy pride!). Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 3/10. Nothing crazy beyond trying to find a good angle to get the star in the shot, as well as Eden and the rainbow crystal. Second attempt I messed up the framing and had to redo it again.

18. The Moon: The card of dreams, fear, anxiety, and secrets, Gaia is perfect here (and a lovely companion to Ryne as the Star), though I did briefly consider Urianger as well. I wanted to have Gaia on the sand, with the moon hanging between the crystal walls of the Empty above her, but the angles would NOT cooperate to allow me to get the moon in the shot. So, levitation was the only answer. Fortunately it suits Gaia well, especially the distance that it evokes. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 6/10. I hate midair posing.

19. The Sun: Another card that sprang fully formed into my mind. Joy and fulfillment is symbolized by Lyse enjoying the morning light in a free Ala Mhigo, thinking of Papalymo. It also allowed me to get both of these very different characters into a single card, as they are very much a package deal, though I did consider Papalymo for the Hierophant as well. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Came together very quickly.

20. Judgement: The last two cards of the Major Arcana are very high concept, with very lofty ideals, so they felt hard to pin down. I thought of doing both my WoLs here, or maybe Elidibus with his three forms for light, dark, and balance. But ultimately I ended up on Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, as the sort of "final judgement" before the battle with the endsinger, the last step before everything ends. Their literal rebirth, the resolution of Emet-Selch's conflict with the WoL, the not-redemption but understanding reached, our efforts judged worthy -- it all just seemed to fit. The card design is simple but I hope the colors and emotion of the scene carry the weight of the arcana. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. No major roadblocks.

21. The World: At last we arrive at the end, not only the last posted but the last taken as well. I always knew I wanted Venat/Hydaelyn for this card, as she is the literal heart of our world, as well as an Azem who has reached the end of her journey, as Ardbert was one who was at the beginning of his all the way back at the Fool. But when I didn't use Elidibus anywhere else, I decided to add him here as well, since he also served as the heart of the star for a time. Light and dark united together, watching over Etheirys. The one who destroyed our world in order to save it, and the one who saved our world only to try to destroy it. Perfect symmetry, a completion of the circle. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 9/10. I had to stitch together 3 separate screenshots in photoshop, with the fore and backgrounds cut apart so I could control the opacities separately. Probably the card that took me the longest, but it was worth it.

[hazard-haze]

I have more Eddie and Volt headcanons. I can't stop thinking about them.

Mild TW for brief mentions of Self Hatred and Harassment. Nothing major or explicit but just thought it was worth a mention.

-----

-Their bar is incredible accessible. You cannot tell me they did not build that place with the comfort of any object or person with any level of accessibility needs in mind.

-Volt has given Eddie compression gloves. He doesn't wear em' (even though he should) but they are around here somewhere.

-Eddie's favorite color is orange.

-Ooooh we actually have some player ones this time, the homeowner is definitely welcome to hang out before opening and after closing (assuming the friendship or love ending)

-eventually they'd probably give them a key so, as Eddie puts it, they can "make themself useful by locking up for us" but in reality it's just so they can get in even when the 2 are in the back.

-They have all the fixings in the back or at the bar for injuries/disabilities/emergencies. Including but not limited to epi-pens, narcan, good first aid kits, juice/snacks for blood sugar, a fold up wheel chair, free earplugs/noise cancelling headphones, and cots.

-Homeowner will not be served alcohol if Eddie thinks something is up with them. Or at least they will be cut off before they can even get tipsy. Bro is not letting them drown and ignore their problems, usually Volt will end up doing most of the talking to them about whatever is bothering them.

-It's kind of obvious but the hallway closet is very much the hub of the upstairs. And honestly? Most objects hold Eddie and Volt to the same level of respect that they do the mayor, neither of them really realize it but they are pretty integral to the community

-Not a headcanon but I just thought of the funniest shit: Breaker Box Hallmark Movie AU. Featuring the Breaker Box getting shutdown for some reason and through the power of winter holiday magic and love probably it is saved lol. Would anyone read this?

-Eddie inadvertently gets so much tea working the bar. Bathsheba has been begging him to give her some gossip. Eddie refuses every single time.

-Volt cries when he see's cute animal/inanimal videos

-If they got a cat people would assume its name is like Sparky or something but no, Volt is gonna want to name it something really pretty like Eleanor or Anastasia, and Eddie is gonna take one look at it and go: "Uhhhh... Todd." "Eddie she's a girl." "So? Girls can be named Todd!" "..." "Stop assuming our cat's gender Volt!"

-I don't know if he actually would in canon, but I think it would be so fucking funny if Volt just loved calling minor inconveniences homophobic. This includes Eddie. Eddie won't stop working? "Eddie if you don't go to bed your homophobic!" "Wha? I'm ga-!" "HOMOPHOBIA!"

-Self deprecation? In my breaker box? I think not! And by that I mean Volt holds the very strong conviction that no one in his club is allowed to be self hating except for him. I mean he is a flirt, but he is also a sweetheart. He see's someone crying? Absolutely not. Gives you a tissue, tells you your too hot to be crying over anyone and then reapplies your mascara for you.

-Eddie does not play when it comes to patron safety. He will cut you off if he thinks you've drank too much. He is making sure everyone leaving at the end of the night has a designated driver (I don't know if any of them NEED designated drivers seeing as they all live in a house, but its the principal okay?). Harassment of any kind you are gone and banned so fast you won't even know what happened.

----

God this hyperfixation hit me like a truck.

I noticed most of these ones focused more on how they actually run the club. Idk why it just kind of ended up like that. Anyways I'm having so much fun with these let me know if ya'll want more or if anyone has specific hc requests because I CAN cook up more! Hope you enjoyed!

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel Characters:

Forgetting an anniversary

A/N: This is my first time doing anything like this, so if anybody wants to see more, feel free to ask! The Hazbin brain rot is real—

Warnings‼️: Established relationship, character x reader, fluff, but also some angst?, swearing, gender neutral!reader, mentions of alcohol.

Not really proofread

I didn’t mean to write that much for Alastor but here we are—

Lucifer:

To be fair this guy is the literal KING of hell, (the devil from, THE BIBLE) so to say he’s a busy man is an understatement.

This dude is also MAD depressed making him constantly disassociate, so he’s prone for losing track of what day it is.

You kind of figure he’s forgotten the day is coming up when he’s not hyperfixated on it.

For birthdays, planned dates, special occasions, this man usually goes ALL out.

He tries to keep what he has planned secret, but he’s usually bouncing off the walls the days before, and ends up letting his plans slip.

So when he’s not talking your ear off the day before your anniversary, you suspect the date might’ve slipped his mind.

When the day of your anniversary comes along and you’re not woken up with kisses and cuddles, possibly breakfast in bed, you KNOW your partner has forgotten.

However, you don’t tell him or remind him of the date. Since your partner had a busy day ahead, you didn’t want to force him to focus on you when there much more important things to be settled.

You kind of wallow in your own self pity, while you wait for Lucifer to return to the castle.

Lucifer had plenty of things scheduled for the day, but he can’t shake the feeling that he IS forgetting something.

(And he is)

He checks his schedule, triple checks he didn’t miss any meetings, makes sure he has his lucky duck in his suit pocket.

All seems well. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he’s forgetting something.

It’s not until he gets home later in the evening and SEES you, that he remembers the date.

This man is ON HIS KNEES, profusely apologizing to you. The king of hell is practically begging for your forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?? You’re more important than some stupid meetings! I’m so sorry, I won’t let this happen again.”

Despite if you say it’s alright, he calls off anything he has scheduled for the next week. Treating you to the prettiest and fanciest places every inch of the pride ring has to offer.

This man usually goes all out for your guys’ dates and such, but this is extravagant. He’s treating you like the royalty you are to hopefully become. (If he ever gets the gall to ask you-)

Vox:

Similar to Lucifer, but even worse in the sense of his schedule is ALWAYS booked. It’s not easy being the face of all tech in the Pride Ring.

This man gets ZERO days off, working 8-12 hour days depending on what’s going on.

He’s got meetings, interviews, paperwork, you name it. This man might as well be the living embodiment of stress.

The thing he usually looks forward to is going home to you. Finally being able to relax and rant about his day.

(Finally able to stop his fake ass smile that’s usually imprinted on his face)

So when he gets home to find you already in bed, fast asleep when you usually would stay up and wait for him, he’s a little peeved.

He tries to be understanding, not really knowing what you might’ve done in the day. Perhaps it could’ve exhausted you. Or maybe you were feeling under the weather.

He then almost throws a full blown hissy fit when he sees blanket and pillow on the couch

A silent demand from you that he is to sleep there for the night.

His screen glitches in silent rage, as he grumbles to himself about how childish you were being for no apparent reason.

The two of you had obviously gotten into fights/arguments, mostly about his work schedule.

But it was rare that those arguments wouldn’t end in the two of you talking it out and ending the night in a cuddle session to make it up to each other.

(Vox refuses to really apologize for his work, his pride won’t let him apologize for something he doesn’t think he did wrong.)

Vox kind of accepts your demand, not wanting to piss you off more. You could talk about it with him tomorrow.

Vox wakes up early the day after your anniversary, going to work as usual. Velvette is getting him in ready in a new suit she designed. While she’s getting him ready she asks;

“So how was your night? Did you have anything planned?”

“Uhh.. what? Planned for what?”

“Wasn’t yesterday your anniversary?”

“….Fuuu-huh-huuuck”

He ditches his morning broadcast, instead heading towards his monitor room. When he sees you’re awake, and on your phone, he makes his face appear on the small screen.

Which scares the shit out of you— he usually gave some sort of warning when he was going to just appear on your device.

By the look on his face, you can tell he now knows the reason you made him sleep on the couch. You give him a look in return, waiting for his excuse.

And just by the look on your face, he can tell you’re not willing to hear any bullshit he has to spit about his work being a priority.

His screen glitches in a slight panic, as he’s sort of loss for words at first. He could tell you were angry, and he knew only he was responsible for causing that.

To your surprise, he actually apologizes, saying how there was no excuse for his absence and your guys’ special day.

He reassures you it won’t happen again, telling you how he still loves you. He has you pick any place of your choice for the two of you to go to dinner tonight.

(He hacks into the system to be put on the reservation list)

Anything to somewhat make it up to one of the only souls that truly understands him in this miserable afterlife.

Alastor:

He’s not as busy of a man as Vox or Lucifer, but he’s not very big on celebrations like birthdays or anniversaries.

You’re his and he is yours, you both don’t need to prove that to anyone.

But…..it would feel nice to at least acknowledge the stepping stones in your guys’ relationship.

Alastor doesn’t really understand the hints you drop when mentioning your guys’ anniversary.

He definitely knows the date is coming, but once the day arrives, he treats it like it’s just any other day.

He notices your mood is less cheery than any normal day, but doesn’t connect the dots that it’s because of HIS behavior.

(What could he have POSSIBLY done wrong??)

He instead tries to cheer you up by poking fun at you the entire day. Calling you little names like “grouch, stick in the mud, drag”.

Insisting that you wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a similar smile to his own permanent one.

He unknowingly rocks the boat with his behavior, only making your mood turn more sour.

Before he can even continue his banter for the last half of the day, you’re ignoring him. Not giving any excuse to him either, you’re just walking away from him.

He makes fun of your bitter mood? You didn’t hear it.

He asks you a question? Your conversation with Charlie is more important.

He tries to hold your hand or embrace you? You suddenly have something totally necessary to get done on the opposite side of the hotel.

You are determined to push all of his buttons just as he had unknowingly done to you.

And this absolutely gets under his skin.

Alastor is one for control, he needs to know everything, he needs to be in charge of situations. Why you were being so stubborn, this man is CLUELESS. And that irritates him to no end.

Tensions are high in the hotel, with a very grumpy radio demon and his other half who refuses to sooth his anger.

Night falls on Hell painfully slow, as you just want this whole day to disappear and never return. You sit at the bar, swirling around the liquid in your glass.

Husk knew better than to pry at you and your annoyance towards your significant other. He instead kept your glass filled, and offered you a soft smile.

You’re slightly buzzed when your source of annoyance sits in the bar stool right next to you. You feel Alastor’s gaze on you, but you keep your eyes on your drink.

You feel static prick at your skin, making the hair on your arms rise from the chill. You hear the crackle of a very peeved radio demon sitting beside you.

Who did you think you were?? Ignoring someone like him! You were his lover and you were treating him like he meant nothing to you.

(At least that’s what it felt like)

The overlord beside you finally snaps, his voice toned heavily with radio static, his eyes darkening with dial pupils.

“What is with this behavior, 𝙈̳̎𝙮̳̎ ���̳̎𝙚̳̎𝙖̳̎𝙧̳̎? What could possibly be your excuse for such immature actions towards me?”

Maybe it’s because you’re slightly buzzed from one too many drinks, maybe your emotions had been building up way too quickly from your irritation, maybe you felt guilty for treating your S/O like spoiled leftovers all day.

But as you look towards Alastor, observing his anger, your eyes suddenly well up with big crocodile tears, threatening to spill if you even dare to blink.

Alastor notices your expression soften and watches some unwanted tears slip down your face. There’s literally a record scratch as he just watches you desperately try and hide your face from him.

His eyes soften back to their normal red hue and he feels his harsh smile crack at the edges.

(If he could frown, he absolutely would seeing as you were so hurt by his actions.)

He’s quick to comfort you, pulling you in and whispering comforting words. Shooting a glare at Husk to leave the two of you alone and to not speak a word of this to anybody.

The two of you talk out your feelings about the day. You admit how you felt a bit abandoned by his lack of acknowledgement for the date.

He promises to you that for your next anniversary, because he knows you will always be his, he will make sure to make you feel as special as you truly are to him.

[rcvcgers]

Challengers, part one

series masterlist , main masterlist

18+ content! minors dni!

please read the author's note before continuing.

pairings ; caleb x reader x zayne

synopsis ; it's the last playoff game between the linkon hunters and skyhaven fleet. their star players, zayne & caleb, go head to head. you sit in the crowd and watch.

word count ; 5.5k words

author's note ; hi all! thank you so much for your interest in the series! it made me so excited that i decided to write the first chapter and post it for y'all! now, to get into it:

this is an adaptation from the movie challengers. i am essentially putting these characters into the roles of tashi, art, and patrick. i HIGHLY recommend watching the movie first before you read! the structure is non-linear and there will be time jumps back and forth. those who have seen the movie will understand but if you haven't it may be hard to keep up. i will indicate when there is a switch in time, though!

i also plan on (trying to, at least) making this hornier than the movie! i will be writing out the sex scenes & will even expand upon a few of them alongside other scenes from the movie. the movie is erotic and i will try my best to match the mood! i want to do luca justice for his amazing direction of the movie!

also, this will be an alternate universe where the characters do not have powers & their relationships/dynamic aren't exactly like in the game. if you're looking for canon compliant characterization, then i suggest you go read another fanfic because i am taking liberties with caleb & zayne & any other character that may appear (stares at the other LIs).

now that is done & over with, i hope you all enjoy the fic! i love the movie so much and had to make it into a fic for caleb & zayne for obvious reasons! and psst, this chapter is a little on the shorter side but the other chapters will be heavier in word count! and it will most likely have weekend updates!

content warning ; blood, light violence (punching), light neck kisses, slight vulgar language, let me know if i missed anything!

my challengers ❤︎ ; @militaryapple , @godoffuckedupcats , @tojicide , @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane , @mariojins , @probably-hyperfixating , @neigesprincess , @leeniverse , @debrahhhhhhh , @31streasonwhy , @loversobession , @idiashusband , @nezuswritingdesk , @sanrioprincessdani , @blorbohunter , @divxvx , @kazbrkker , @deathdakidz , @here-for-the-tea-baby , @zariahx , @rxelarailuj , @aliyahluvsfall , @novthirty , @mxkvlio , @yumesagashite , @zeskyzed ,@llamabois , @darkeskye , @hrtnote , @cathedralofaudra , @chakalimic , @butterbiscuit444 , @jexireads , @updatesoftware , @blcknebula

The center face off circle is a faded blue color. A red line runs down the middle, Skyhaven Fleet’s logo dead center of the ice. Two shadows approach the center. A man with purple eyes and athletic tape poking over the edge of his heavy uniform. The other has hazel eyes, mouthguard hanging from his mouth, chewing on the malleable plastic.

The puck is dropped. The arena cheers, air horns going off, and chants from the fans beginning.

Skates dash across the ice, slicing into the frozen landscape. The once perfect ice is now ruined. Holes and scrapes dig into the surface, the tips of razor sharp places picking up snow when a player comes to a sudden stop. Bodies collide. Gear and padding smack into each other. Sweat falls from foreheads. Men yell at each other on the ice, trying to be audible over the deafening sound of the championship crowd.

One Skyhaven player, in a black and blue uniform, sprints down the ice. He pants, face in a grimace, as a Linkon Hunter slips in behind him. The puck dances back and forth against the ice, staying in the comfort of the player’s reach. They shoot down the side of the ice, the player in the gold and white uniform catches up to him. The curved edge of his stick scrapes across the once smooth ice, the tip just barley nicking the back of the Skyhaven player’s blades.

The Skyhaven player quickly looks over his shoulder, purple eyes focused on the stoic face that closes in on him. A smirk flashes across his face. He flicks his stick to the right, tilting his blades against the ice, snow kicking up from the sudden movement. He slows enough for the arena’s camera to pick up the white last name on his jersey.

Xia 

The Linkon player slips by him. His black hair falls onto his forehead. The thin, clear visor veils his hazel eyes, trained on the black puck that’s been hit to the other side of the ice. He groans and circles behind his team’s goal. His appearance is blurred from his speed. It’s only when he hooks around the net that the camera is able to grab his name.

Li

The black haired man pushes up to the other Skyhaven player. His hockey stick slaps and swipes across the ice. They tussle over the puck, bodies leaning in on each other. The Linkon player slips the puck out from the chaos. The black puck is just about to reach his teammate when Skyhaven’s star player cuts between the pass, intercepting it. He darts down the rest of the ice.

Everyone in the stadium leans forward, slowly sucking in all of the air from the chilly area. Knuckles are white, babies stop their cries, anticipation bubbling inside the enclosure.

The puck flies through the air, the thwack from the hit echoing across the ice. Time slows. The puck collides with the back of the net. The crowd erupts into screams and cheers. Grown men jump from their seats and hug each other while others shake their head and take a sip from their beers, cursing under their breath.

It’s the last game of the playoffs. The seventh and final game has begun with the Skyhaven Fleet taking the early lead over the Linkon Hunters.

Sirens and horns blare throughout the stadium. The Fleet’s team skates to their star player who just scared. They slap and smack his padded body and helmet, a charming smile gracing the man’s face. His purple eyes lock onto a player who skates by, sharing an intimidating and threatening glare.

“Caleb Xia with the first goal of the night!” An announcer screams through the arena’s speakers. 

The scoreboard is bright, dangling over the ice like a taunt to the losing players, especially to one in particular. Caleb Xia’s headshot and dazzling smile is displayed for all of the fans to see.

1 - 0

“A devastating blow for Zayne Li of the Linkon Hunters,” the announcer continues, “if only he got to the puck sooner!”

Caleb and Zayne skate around the inner circle of the ice. Their eyes remain on each other. Caleb wears a smug smirk, closing in on his spot next to the referee. Zayne slowly approaches with a scowl sewn onto his lips.

They lean down, resting their weight onto their knees, eyes on the ice. Caleb’s breaths are steady whereas Zayne’s are shallow, anticipation taking over his body. In unison, they lower their sticks onto the ground, placing a bit of their weight into it. The referee leans down with them, puck in hand, whistle in his mouth. He glances between the men. The tension slowly builds. He drops the puck and skates backwards, a blur of sticks colliding and smacking against each other. Zayne is able to slip in and swipe the puck away, passing it to a teammate.

Caleb hesitates in his place. Zayne bumps his padded shoulder into his. Caleb’s nostrils flare. He turns on his blade, immediately darting after Zayne, who sticks to the edge of the frozen playing field. He is nowhere near the game of play, watching as his teammates pass back and forth. Zayne remains open, waiting for the right moment to slip in. He’s just about to push off the edge when—

Slam!

The large plexiglass planes stutter in their place, reverberating from the sheer force of Zayne’s body colliding with it. The side of Zayne’s face smacks against the barrier, pain flashing across his face. A metallic taste fills his mouth. Caleb keeps him held up against the wall, only letting go when a referee pulls him off. As the men are pulled away from each other to prevent a fight, their eyes move to someone sitting behind the glass.

There you are. The object of their desires, the angel in their dreams, the woman who has captivated them for the past thirteen years of their lives. A she-devil disguised as an angel. The woman who has been nothing but honest about her pursuit for greatness, expecting nothing less from those who surround her.

You like to sit to the side of Zayne’s team, always available to give him so much needed words of wisdom when he begins to falter in his gameplay. You watch from your seat, glossed lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over your chest, diamond wedding ring sparkling under the stadium lights. Eyes flicker between the men, their lips parting when you make eye contact with them. You slowly lean back in your chair. Caleb passes between you and Zayne, his purple eyes locked on you, smirk spread across his face before he disappears with his team. Your gaze lingers on him. You reread his last name on his jersey before peeling your gaze away.

Zayne hovers by the glass, looking at you. His eyes soften yet hold back any emotion he may feel, an internal push and pull with himself. You tilt your head to the side and your gaze sharpens on him, shaking your head ever so slightly. He swivels on the ice and skates away, swinging his stick back and forth as he catches up with the play.

Four Weeks Ago

Zayne sits on the hotel couch, remote in hand, knuckles white. His hazel eyes remain on the television screen. You move behind him, talking in hushed whispers with his personal trainer while shaking up a green drink in a water bottle.

“It’s predicted that the Skyhaven Fleet will be facing off against the Linkon Hunter’s in this year’s championship. The other teams in the league aren’t able to keep up with their offensive players. With the return of Zayne Li, do you think the Linkon Hunters will be victorious?”

Zayne’s grip on the remote tightens. Unable to look away, he watches as footage from his injury plays on screen. A player in a green uniform uses his hockey stick to swipe at Zayne’s feet, the man’s shoulder colliding into the tall glass planes. His shoulder popped out of its socket, his collarbone shattering into three distinct fragments.

It took him out of the game for three months. He sat on the sideline alongside his team, arm in a black sling, while you sat beside him on the other side of the glass in your usual spot, watching the game, taking notes on plays and players for him. He returned just in time for playoff season, having jumped in a few games before the official start of playoffs.

His game, though, had changed. The once strong and confident player now plays timid, staying away and out of skirmishes that may arise.he hangs back, preferring to shoot from afar despite knowing that the goalie will snatch it in his glove. He no longer slams other players out of the way, instead making sure to always swerve around them instead of taking the hit like he used to.

After every game, Zayne saw the look of disappointment in your face. He noticed every micro-expression, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, the twitch of your lips tugging down, the way you could barely look at him when you got back to the hotel while in another city. Zayne knew you were hiding your lackluster enthusiasm for his return to the game. He knows that every smile you give him is filled with sadness that he’s allowing his injury to ruin his season, his career.

Zayne knew he had to make it up to you, to get back into the number one spot in the game and in your heart, even if it means he doesn’t want it as much as you do.

“I think Li and the rest of the Hunters have an uphill battle to face. The Skyhaven Fleet just signed back on their star player, Caleb Xia, and—”

The television goes silent. Zayne blinks, slowly turning his head to look up at you. You look down at him, your hand on top of his. His grip loosens and you slip the remote from his hand, moving it to the side table.

An orange medication bottle sits on the table with his name printed on the side. Painkillers for his shoulder and collarbone just in case his pain flares up. On the coffee table in front of him sits an open laptop. His emails with his coach and physical therapist are open to read, x-rays attached in a file. Beside his laptop is a cup of jasmine tea and a small, sweet breakfast treat, one that you were sure to lecture him for having.

You slowly circle around the couch like a predator trapping its prey. Zayne’s eyes never leave your body. A light blue, silk two piece pajama set hugs your body, a hotel robe flowing behind you. Whenever Zayne looks at you, you always manage to take his breath away. You stare at the television screen, though, and take your place at the other end of the hotel couch.

The television screen shows highlights from Zayne’s last game against the Whitesand Sharks. In one of the clips, Zayne falls behind as the other players push past him, skating across the length of the rink quicker than he did. You sigh, watching his number try to keep up.

“You should skate laps tomorrow…get your stamina back up, lessen your time,” you mutter, eyes fixated on the screen.

Zayne’s hand inches closer to you. His calloused fingertips walk along the exposed skin of your leg. He hooks his fingers behind your calf, using just a tiny bit of his strength and muscles to pull you towards him. A gasp escapes your lips. He immediately wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

The palm of your hand flattens against his bare chest, fingers spread out across his skin. He sighs and helps you adjust your legs in a position where you are most comfortable, just the way you like it. Zayne leans his head into yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Look,” you point to the screen, “we need to improve before the first playoff game.”

Zayne’s tiny figure glides across the muted television screen. The network plays coverage of another game he was in, a more recent one, where he misses a pass, the puck being caught by an opposing player. Another clip is of him missing the net from a close distance. A close up of his frustrated face flashes across the screen, shaking his head while he chews on his mouth guard. The last clip shows him throwing his hockey stick away, the piece of black painted wood spinning across the ice while Zayne yells at a referee.

“I wonder what he’s yelling about,” Zayne comments, trying to lighten the mood. You slowly turn to look at him, frowning. “He probably has a good reason. He was playing really well—”

“You should stay on the bench if you’re going to continue playing like that.”

“My love…”

“You should sit out of the playoffs. This isn’t your year, so why contribute, right?” You begin to peel away from him but Zayne pulls you right back. Your eyes meet, his gaze burning into yours, disinterest and disappointment in written all over your face.

“I’m just rusty. It’s a confidence thing,” Zayne reasons. You lean in, face hovering next to his. You squeeze his chest, the tips of your fingers just barely grazing across the slowly fading scar on Zayne’s shoulder.

“Then get your fucking confidence back,” your voice is low, dangerous. It’s a threat, a promise that something bad will come his way. Zayne sighs. His grip on you loosens.

You readjust in his arms, gaze now trained on the fresh and slightly pink scar. Your painted fingernail presses into the skin. Zayne sucks in a breath. You drag your finger along the line of the scar, feeling the raised skin press into the pad of your ring finger. The diamond of your wedding ring shimmers under the afternoon sun; the token of Zayne’s love for you perpetually glimmers like the ring he put on your finger, locking you to him. The ring acts as a silent sign that you’re his, nobody else’s.

So is it really a token of his love? Or is it a way for him to mark his territory?

“I would have killed to have a recovery like yours,” you whisper. Zayne turns his head to look at you but you don’t look back. Your nail pushes into his skin further. Chills spread across his chest and shoulder. “I literally would have stabbed someone. An old lady, a child, a priest…you.”

“Where are Mommy and Daddy?” a little girl’s voice can be hard from just outside the hotel’s living room.

“They’re inside watching Daddy’s past games, baby, you can see them soon,” you Gran’s voice soothes her. Both you and Zayne look at the doorway, waiting for them to enter. You turn back around and look up at him, keeping your voice low.

“What do I need to do? What can we do to get you to play like you used to?”

Zayne’s bright eyes move away from your face, looking at the doorway. You turn, following his gaze, and smile when your daughter enters the room. She holds a snowman plushie in her arms, it’s almost as big as she is, and waddles inside. The budding tension between you two immediately dissipates.

“Mommy? Daddy? Can we watch a movie?” she asks, her eyes big and puppy-like.

“Of course, Lily,” you breathe out. You slip from Zayne’s grasp, his touch lingering on your back as you pull your daughter into your arms. She has your hair and nose while taking Zayne’s vibrant hazel eyes and quiet nature. “We were just talking about hockey, honey.”

“You’re always talking about hockey,” Lily murmurs, looking down at her snowman plushie. Your smile falters. Zayne’s heart aches at his daughter’s words.

“I know, I know,” you quickly recover for you and Zayne, glancing back at him. You push away from the couch, hands resting on Lily’s shoulders, and follow her out of the room. “Why don’t you go get your blanket and other plushies to join us, okay? I bet they’d want to watch a movie too.”

Zayne sighs, remaining on the couch. He looks back to the muted television screen. Footage from a previous season’s game, one where his goals were at an all time high, plays. He darts across the ice, perpetually open and quick to pass the puck when the defenders gang up on him. He slips around the opposing team’s hockey net. The puck flies to him and he’s quick to dump the winning goal into the back of the net. Light flash and his team skates up to him. They cheer and celebrate while the other team sulks, aimlessly gliding across the coarse and beaten up ice.

Pride fills Zayne’s chest. He watches how his smile grows from the other side of the camera lens. He can hear the screams and cheers from the crowd, making his ears ring as sirens blare and lights flash on and off. He still remembers how he traveled across the rink, finding you in your usual spot.

There was a small smile on your face. One that is both proud yet expected. Zayne tossed his hockey stick to the side, swiping the black helmet off of his head. His gloved hand presses against the glass. The world around you two moved slow. Confetti descends from the ceiling, taking its time to reach the frozen floor, and bodies jump up and down, hovering in the air before meeting the concrete below them. You stood from your seat, adjusting your clothes, and pressed your hand on the glass, your eyes fixed on his.

“She likes it here,” your voice breaks Zayne out of his daydream. He looks to you. His black hair falls in his face, ticking his eyebrows. You stand in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest. A knot forms in your chest. You slowly breathe in and out, watching as Zayne’s expression softens.

“We can stay here,” he breathes out. He props his elbow up onto the back of the plush couch, leaning his head against it. His eyes travel up and down your body, gaze hesitating when it reaches the scar on your knee.

“Yeah?” you respond, holding your arms closer to you chest. “We can stay here. We can stay behind and act like rich people, like celebrities. We can stay behind and focus on the foundation, maybe get you a job as a coach of a minor league team before you’re pulled up. I can continue being your wife, the mother of your daughter, and play house while you’re gone all day...if it’s what you think you can handle.”

Zayne turns his face away from you. A bitter taste spreads across his tongue. He looks at the television. Caleb Xia’s face is plastered all over it. The volume is off but Zayne can hear the commentator’s praise through the silence. He watches as the man skates across the ice, passing the end zone lines, over the face off circles, the puck moving in and out of other player’s grasps before he launches it into the net.

Frustration builds inside Zayne’s chest. It ferments, rotting his once strong confidence, withering it down as the seconds tick by.

“Or you can continue being a hockey player.”

Zayne’s head snaps to you. Your arms are crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pursed.

“Which is what you are. Still.” You push away from the doorway. Every step is calculated, meticulous. He stares at you, heat trickling into his cheeks. His eyes narrow. You look down at him, unable to read the emotions on his face.

Is it anger? Contempt? Love? Hatred? Have you finally broken him? Pushed him past his limit so he can’t return to the same player he used to be?

You stand in front of him, slipping between his spread open legs. He leans forward and places his hands on the back of your thighs. You look down and place a hand on his cheek, your touch gentle and tender. Zayne pulls you closer, your knees and shins pressed against the material of the couch. Your thumb grazes over his cheekbone, wiping over a faded bruise from a punch he took just a few days ago.

“It’s your choice, Zayne,” you whisper, “what do you want?”

Your breath mixes in with Zayne’s. His hands run up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. With one gentle pull, he guides your leg to his side, pulling you on his lap. Your hands rest on the sides of his neck, thumbs grazing the stubble on his jawline. Zayne’s hands slip behind the rope and under your silk pajama shirt, one that he desperately wants to rip off your body with his teeth. He holds back, though, and allows his gaze to travel up and down the bare, unmarked skin of your neck. HIs hazel eyes slowly travel back up to your face, catching your gaze.

“I’m going to be a hockey player,” he whispers.

“Good,” you whisper back. Zayne leans up but you tilt your head to the side, his lips coming in contact with your cheek. He begins to press slow, tender kisses down your jaw, making his way to your neck. You sigh and lean into his touch, closing your eyes, feeling his hands bring your chest closer into his hardened muscles.

Caleb taps his fingers against the car’s steering wheel. The windows are devoured in dirt and grime from the outside world, some of it being trapped beneath his fingernails. His phone screen illuminates the inside of the faded blue Jeep.

“Has the deal gone through yet?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. The man on the other end of the call sighs.

“They’re being difficult with the paperwork. It will probably be finalized tomorrow.”

“Uh huh…” Caleb swipes out of the call, not ending it, but opens up his bank account. Red numbers stare back at him, his recent transactions for gas and drive thru food sinking him into the negatives. He narrows his eyes at the screen, sighing, before moving back to the call. “Do you think I can get an advance on the paycheck? Or just enough to stay the night somewhere close by?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Caleb,” his agents responds with another let down of an answer. The man’s face scrunches up. He pinches the bridge of his nose, muscles in his forearms flexing.

“Really?” he follows up.

“Appears that way,” his agent confirms. “This is what happens when you let your ego get in the way and are dropped down to the minor lea—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb interrupts, “I got it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” He hangs up the phone before his agent can answer. He tosses the small device into the passenger seat, hitting an empty styrofoam cup from some chicken place called The Chicken Joint and bounces to the floor. Caleb leans back into his chair, groaning. He slams his fists against the wheel. The horn sounds off for a split second.

 Caleb gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side. Skyhaven’s nightly breeze chills him, a few snowflakes flowing with the wind. He rips open the passenger side door and picks up his phone, running his thumb over the cracked screen. It vibrates.

Rest up. You have practice tomorrow before the first playoff game game. Don’t fuck it up.

A frown tugs his lips down. He shoves the phone inside the back pocket of his pants and rushes to the motel doors. His boot slips on the wet plastic of the welcome mat, clinging to the metal bar of the door for some stability. The old woman at the front desk watches him, half burnt cigarette hanging from her lips. Bright red lipstick stains the outside of the white roll of tobacco, a grumble leaving her lips.

“Welcome to Cloud Motel,” her voice is gravelly, “what can I do for you?”

“Yeah, hi,” Caleb puts his most charming smile on his face, beaming down at the woman. “I’d like a room, please, but the thing is…” he pauses when the woman begins to turn away, rolling her eyes.

“No money?”

“Yeah…” he scratches the back of his head. “I can get it to you tomorrow! I just signed a multi-million dollar deal with the Skyhaven Fleet so—”

“I don’t know what that is,” the woman quips with a condescending smile. Caleb pauses, smile slightly faltering, before he moves his fists to his side.

“It’s a professional hockey team, ma’am,” he breathes through gritted teeth, “playoffs start this week but they haven’t given me an advance on my salary.”

“Oh? The multi-million dollar deal you were bragging about?” she throws his words right back into his face. Caleb forces his smile to remain, not letting her attitude spoil his mood. “You know, if I gave out a free to room to whoever came in here claiming to be a future millionaire, I wouldn’t be a motel…I’d be a homeless shelter.”

“I can sign a hockey stick for you? It’d be worth a lot of money on eBay—”

“Sir,” the woman snorts, “I don’t know who the fuck you are!”

A laugh flies from Caleb’s lips. The woman takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out into his face. He shakes his head and looks away. He taps the counter with his hands before eventually turning around and exiting the motel.

Caleb hugs his arms to his chest, hurrying back to his beaten up Jeep. There are grayed splotches from where the paint has faded. He’s had the car since high school, something he saved up for before he left to go play for the Fleet for the first time.

Now, it was just a reminder of where the past thirteen years of his life has led him to. He’s a washed up hockey player, one that was purposefully demoted to the minor league due to his ego and constant need to hit the puck and fight, that is broke as hell and needs a redemption…what better than to win the playoffs for his team?

He gets inside his car, the engine sputtering to life. He sits there for a minute. The windshield slowly loses its fog and the orange roadside lamps make the world seem more orange than dark. Caleb rubs his dry hands together, warming them up. He puts his seatbelt on and puts the car in drive. The wheels spin against the snow, car drifting as he pulls out into the snow covered road.

The radio is on. Caleb usually has it on some sports channel, especially when hockey season rolls around. A cigarette hangs from his teeth, puffing the smoke out in medium sized plumes.

“Rumor has it that Caleb Xia is coming back to the Fleet,” the radio show host’s voice buzzes from the speakers. Caleb smirks, taking another prideful drag from the stick of tobacco.

“Oh yeah?” the co-host adds. “That’ll either be a whole lot of trouble for them or they’ll win back to back championships!” The hosts laugh. Caleb’s smile fades. He turns it off with a forceful push of the button. The car tilts on its side as he turns into a nearby parking lot.

The Skyhaven Fleet’s arena is owned by Ever so, of course, it’s named Ever Stadium. The bright blue letters illuminate the night and the low hanging clouds. Caleb’s Jeep slips and slides on the snow, eventually parking crooked and across multiple spaces.

He crawls into the backseat, tilting back the seats as much as he can. The windows fog from the heat of the car, the smoke from his cigarettes sticking to the humid glass. Caleb looks out the window and at the stadium, a scowl on his face. Ads flash by the large screens on the outside of the building. The arena promotes the upcoming playoffs as well as other winter sporting events that are held inside, such as figure skating, curling, and speed skating. He is just about to turn away when two familiar faces appear on the screen.

You and Zayne stand on either side of a luxury brand car. A sly smirk is on your face while Zayne’s remains stoic, making him appear as some stone-faced athlete while you remain the innocent ex-figure skater. In the video, the two of you walk around the car and you slip into Zayne’s arms, resting your head against his chest.

Caleb can’t help but laugh. A tinge of jealousy coats his lungs, his breaths now feeling heavy as he inhales and exhales. He grabs a dirty hoodie that sits on the floor of his car, balling it up and placing it behind his head.

If only the world knew, he thinks to himself, if only they knew what you two were like behind closed doors.

2 - 1

The Skyhaven Fleet are still up by a point, Caleb having scored both goals back to back, but your husband, Zayne, managed to sneak in a slap shot just under the ten minute mark. You smiled for him, clapping as he skated by, needing your validation. When Caleb glides by, your smile falls and your breathing quickens, trying to hide it before your husband can notice.

They circle around the rink as the cheers from the crowd die down. Zayne smiles and waves to some fans in the crowd as they chant his name. Whenever his gaze passes over Caleb, his smile turns sinister, competitive. He smirks as he approaches the center of the rink. Caleb follows suit, gripping his hockey stick like the world depends on it.

“I’m glad to see that you still got some talent left to give,” Caleb remarks when they lean down, ready to intercept the puck. Zayne rolls his eyes in response, not ready to dignify Caleb’s childlike behavior…yet. Caleb inches closer, the sharpened edges of his blades burying deeper and deeper into the icy surface.

The puck drops, clattering against the ice. Zayne goes for the puck, slapping it to his teammate from behind. Caleb, on the other hand, hits his stick against the other man’s hands. Zayne hisses, Caleb quickly skating after the puck to follow the play. Zayne shakes his head, anger boiling inside his chest.

The tips of his ears turn red. The slender man shoots after Caleb, immediately falling in sync with his movement. 

The crowd begins to turn rowdy, yelling “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as Zayne draws closer to Caleb. The Skyhaven player is too focused on the puck, purple eyes following the black speck as it speeds across the ice, to notice Zayne coming from behind him.

Zayne tosses his hockey stick to the side, helmet coming off. Caleb turns around when he hears the crowd scream their names. When he sees Zayne flick off his gloves, fists balled up, Caleb smirks, beginning to shed himself of his gloves and helmet as well. And the fight? It just so happens to blossom in front of you. Your lips tug down into a dissatisfied frown. Zayne’s disheveled black locks poke out whereas Caleb’s hair is slick from his sweat, staying down on his head.

Zayne is the first one to throw a punch. His fist connects with Caleb’s jaw. Caleb snatches a fistful of Zayne’s jersey, bringing the man closer to him. Their fists blur in a flurry of blows and they spin and slip on the ice alongside each other. Caleb throws Zayne to the ground but he pulls him with him. The referees finally jump in and throw them away from each other. Zayne slides across the ice, his back hitting the wall where you sit.

He gets up with the help of his teammates, nose bloody. The warm liquid freely flows from his nose, his once perfect bridge now skewed. Zayne turns to you, eyes wide, begging for you to give him something, anything, to let him know that you’re on his side.

Your expression remains still. It doesn’t falter or move, not even a twitch of your muscles is enough to make you react. Fans of the Fleet from all around you call and chant your name, taunting Zayne. You turn your attention elsewhere, watching as Caleb comes into a view. He throws his hair back, out of his face. He picks up his gloves and stick with ease, his purple eyes finding yours in the crowd. Zayne follows your gaze. He watches as Caleb winks at you, his head shooting back to see how you react.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your fingers pick at the skin around your perfectly manicured nails, threatening to destroy the perfect image you have made for yourself. You look back up and both men  have their eyes trained on you. Your heart skips a beat.

The horn blows, signaling the end of the first period.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 i love seeing what y'all have to say! <3

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 8 (m)

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

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

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

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

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

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

? Years Ago

Jerash, Ottoman Empire

The moon was hidden behind heavy storm clouds that night.

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

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

Drolta hated that place.

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

And the owner of that house was especially disgusting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So another idea grew into her mind.

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

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

Except… maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe there was a way to reach into it.

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

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

Which led Drolta to this annoying mortal man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, are you going to cry? Spare me.

Drolta caressed his arm softly.

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

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

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

Drolta stepped back, letting go of his forearm.

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

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

Tears welled up her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man visibly held his breath.

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

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

He was shocked.

It really looked like he couldn’t breathe.

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

“I will, my lady. For you.”

She held back laughter.

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

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

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

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

He took a deep breath before finally initiating the spell.

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

The candles trembled. The air within the house got colder. Drolta felt the floor beneath her feet shake slightly, the air vibrate in a high frequency – the frequency of high magic.

It was working.

A grin slowly grew on her lips. She… underestimated this little man after all. He was an actual alchemist – but the ritual was only working because of her efforts, she realized. Khalil was putting all of his love into the spell. Yes, actual love. How such a naive creature fell in love with her so quickly after a few days of knowing each other was beyond her.

Love is also extremely powerful in magical terms.

The storm grew angrier out there. A thunder so loud and so close shook the entire house, made Khalil lost his focus for a second before continuing to read the spell.

Followed by another thunder – even closer this time.

And another thunder.

The ground shook. Some books fell from the shelves. Khalil lifted his head and looked towards the window.

There was another sound mixed within the cacophony of the heavy storm.

Screams.

What was that out there? Was the house of his neighbor burning?

“W-What is–?” Khalil stuttered.

He hadn’t noticed that Drolta was towering right behind him. How did she get so close so fast?

She held his head with both hands from behind, guiding it down towards the book again.

“Keep reading,” she instructed in a quiet whisper, her mouth close to his ear.

A violent shiver ran down Khalil’s spine.

For the first time, Drolta’s presence made him feel uneasy. Her voice changed drastically; it wasn’t welcoming anymore, or warm, or caring. It was just freezing cold. It… it didn’t even sound much human.

All these talismans he hung around his house for protection – and yet the worst evil he could possibly imagine was standing right behind him, welcomed by him with open arms.

Another thunder. Another fire. Another house burning down. A few more souls to fuel the spell.

Khalil could be a real alchemist, but he was far from being a good one, Drolta remarked to herself. All of those books taught him nothing – again, she had to do most of the job. In the few days she worked on gaining his trust, she also made sure to mark every house in the village of Jerash with the symbol or Osiris. Marked it with virgin blood to make it even more effective.

Every respectable alchemist knew that in order to open a door into the Infinite Corridor, multiple mortal lives were required. That is why most alchemists weren’t brave enough to do it.

Khalil wouldn’t be brave enough to do it too if he knew what it’d cost. That is why Drolta lured him into it and made the preparations behind his back.

Drolta chuckled. How he must had been feeling at that moment, knowing he sacrificed hundreds of lives of his fellow villagers in the hopes of sticking his tiny penis inside of her?

“I told you to keep reading,” she repeated, and this time her voice sounded like a dangerous hiss.

Khalil’s hands trembled. He gulped. His voice wasn’t as confident anymore, but he had already initiated the ritual; there was no coming back from there.

The floor shook as more souls were reaped into the spell. Suddenly, the windows opened all at once; the ceiling cracked and was swiped away by a violent gush of wind. Drolta looked up in time to see a funnel of souls converging into a single streak of red light, being attracted by the symbol of Osiris on the floor; they made a twister within the circle of candles that were somehow still lit despite everything.

Wind and rain whipped Drolta and Khalil, made his books fly in all directions. None of that bothered Drolta. She had a maniacal grin on her lips, eyes locked in the chaos unveiling in front of her eyes.

Finally, finally, finally, a white crack slashed the air inside the candle ring. A crack in reality itself.

Freezing cold wind came out of it. The crack was slowly but surely getting wider. It made Drolta’s eyes widen, shivers run her body; few times in her life did she witness magic so powerful, so strong, so chilling.

It was working. It was finally working.

She stepped aside from a shell-shocked Khalil and extended her arms in a wide movement, the smile never vanishing from her lips.

A door to the Infinite Corridor, opened right in front of her eyes.

And yet – her work wasn’t done. This door needed to be redirected; it needed to be aimed at the right place.

“Oh Sekhmet, Eye or Ra, Lady of Terror, Mistress of Dread, She Who Mauls; hear mine calling, let thou be guided by the voice of thy loyal servant!” Drolta chanted with all her might, raising her voice as to be heard beyond the storm and the magic and the weeping souls.

The crack got a bit wider. Insurmountable amount of energy escaped from inside. Drolta didn’t even know if Khalil could stand in front of it much longer, given how weak he was, so she needed to rush.

“Hear mine call, Your Magnificence!” Drolta continued, gesticulating in wide movements. “Let mine voice guide thee through the waters of the primordial abyss; let thy Akh resurface in the land of the living. Oh Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, She of Ten Thousand Names; walk back into thy rightful realm, retake the throne unfairly taken from thee, wear thy rightful crown once more!”

The crack got wider, wider, wider. It was difficult to understand what could be seen inside of it; it looked like a confusing kaleidoscope. Different images jumped in the blink of an eye, landscapes not even Drolta could understand. And yet, she kept chanting, hoping her energy would be the necessary guide. The mark of Osiris burned in bright red.

Finally – the image within the crack seemed to stabilize itself.

Drolta’s eyes widened.

She saw a… calm river. A temple made of gold in the distance, sitting atop of an island. A pyramid. Purple trees adorned it; the tip of the pyramid shone with a blinding light. The most beautiful sky she had ever seen.

That was it. It was the duat.

Drolta got even more passionate in her speech; her throat ached from screaming.

“Hear mine voice, Lady Sekhmet! Hear mine voice! Come to me!” She begged. Finally, finally, finally, her goddess was right there; after years and years of searching and fighting for her and protecting her legacy and trying to find ways to revive her, after so many frustrated attempts of retrieving her mummy... Finally, Sekhmet’s Akh was right there in front of her eyes.

Finally, Drolta had succeeded.

All she needed to do was cross the door. Drolta couldn’t enter the duat, but Sekhmet could cross it towards the land of the living. Drolta held a small shabti made of pure gold in her hand, the holy object in which she could safely store the third part of Sekhmet’s soul. From there, Erzsebet would only need to incorporate it.

Come to me, Sekhmet; come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me–

Something happened.

The image twisted.

“What?” Drolta gasped.

The sight of the duat blurred.

Suddenly, the winds that whipped the house got stronger, more violent. The soul twister got more chaotic. Now, everything that could be seen within the door was the kaleidoscope of colors again, passing rapidly.

It… started to get black.

“No! No! What are you doing?!” Drolta turned to Khalil, her wrath so big that made him tremble. But the man was frozen in place, tears falling down his cheeks mixed with the rain.

“I-I-I’m not doing anything!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t me!”

Drolta turned to the door again.

The air was getting even colder. Colder, colder, colder… freezing. The Osiris symbol suddenly started to burn in black – and then everything else was black. The souls, the flames of the candles, the energy rays that poured from the door.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Drolta yelled at whatever was interfering with the ritual. “I don’t want you here. I didn’t call you!”

But it was too late.

A second before the explosion, Drolta saw a dark figure walk out of the door.

She had time to protect her face with her arms. She did not care about Khalil.

Boom.

The shockwave destroyed what remained of Khalil’s house; he was sent back flying meters away. The reaped souls let their final, painful yell before dissipating in the air. The candles were extinguished in a gush of wind.

Drolta was the only thing to remain standing in place.

She lowered her arms slowly. It seemed that even the heavy storm got timid after such an unnatural occurrence. The neighbor houses still burned; the fires spread down the hill. As it wasn’t magical fire anymore, the rain started to quiet them down. No voices were heard. No more screams. No live witnesses anymore. The village of Jerash became nothing but a burning cemetery.

Drolta fell to her knees.

A shrilling scream of pure anger crossed the air.

She had failed. She got so fucking close and failed yet again. The duat was right there in front of her and she failed.

She turned around to see Khalil’s body on the floor.

Drolta got up, red anger clouding her gaze. He was still alive – hurt, bleeding and crying, but still alive.

“You stupid piece of shit!” She kicked his stomach so hard that the men rolled a few more meters away. “Useless little man. I submitted myself to your disgusting presence for days and you still didn’t serve me anything!”

Khalil coughed blood. He refused to look at her, shrinking into his own body, crying like a child.

She should skin him alive. This, at least, would serve as a way to calm down.

And yet – she stopped in her tracks.

Rain still fell over her head. She was entirely drenched. Drolta stopped and inhaled, letting her anger quiet down.

There was someone talking to her.

Something.

The air still smelled of coal and sulfur. It had nothing to do with the burning houses.

Slowly, she turned back to the circle of candles.

Her eyes widened.

There was someone laying on the floor inside the circle. She rushed towards it.

It was… it was a woman.

For a moment, overwhelming joy and excitement rushed through her veins. Could it be who she thought it was? What if she had actually succeeded, but in a different way than she first expected?

What if that was Sekhmet incarnate?!

Drolta knelt down beside the woman. She was unconscious, laid on her side, completely naked. With care – even hesitancy – Drolta turned her body around, making the woman lay on her back. She took some strands of drenched hair away from her face.

It was a young woman. Her chest moved slowly, as if she was simply asleep.

Drolta frowned.

She pressed two fingers over her neck. A regular pulse. The scent of… regular mortal blood.

Her frown deepened.

“This is no Sekhmet,” Drolta said through gritted teeth. “This is just human woman.”

Then, she lifted her gaze – and finally noticed what was talking to her.

It was nothing but a strange, tall shadow; Drolta could barely make sense of what she was looking at. But yet, that grin was very much recognizable. The entity seemed weak, vibrating in a low frequency, making the entire area around it even colder.

“Did you bring her with you?” She asked. The entity answered. It didn’t use… words. It spoke into her mind with intentions instead. Perhaps, it was way too weak to vocalize.

Drolta huffed with disdain. “And what use would this mortal have?”

The entity moved slowly, circling around them.

Drolta froze in place.

“How do you know this?” She asked in a cautious hiss.

The entity’s grin seemed to get even wider, now knowing that it had Drolta’s full attention.

It continued sliding around Drolta. The vampire lowered her head, looking at the human woman once again.

She looked and looked and looked and looked and…

She remembered.

Slowly, Drolta’s eyes widened as realization hit her.

This… wouldn’t solve all of her problems. She still needed to find the other half of Sekhmet’s soul. And yet… it could also serve her plans, in a way.

Drolta once again lifted her gaze towards the grinning shadow.

“I know you wouldn’t be offering me this out of the goodness of your heart,” she started with suspicion. “What do you want of me in return?”

The entity trembled. Drolta leaned her head slightly.

“An easy task. And if I fail?”

The entity grinned at her quietly. Drolta chuckled.

“You won’t have it, for I won’t fail.” She got up to her feet again. “But this sounds like a fair deal.”

A fair pact, in fact.

Drolta extended her arm towards the entity. It approached her; the shadow extended too in what resembled an arm. It revolved around her hand with a chilling touch.

When the shadow retreated, there was an icy object over Drolta’s palm.

A ruby necklace.

Drolta nodded at the entity; it sent her a last eerie grin before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

It was done.

Drolta looked down.

She took the cloak off her shoulders and covered the woman’s naked body with it. She leaned down, taking her into her arms, before straightening her posture again.

It… wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

Her Goddess never left her without a way out. She was always kind to send Drolta another option, another strategy, and that’s why Drolta managed to survive and move on after every problem.

“For every suffering, a wisdom is gained,” she said quietly. The mantra that had been keeping her sane for centuries.

Khalil was still weeping some meters away from her. Drolta paid him no mind. He wasn’t totally useless in the end, which meant he gained the right to keep living.

Drolta walked away from the burning cemetery of Jerash with the unconscious woman in her arms, the ruby necklace safely tangled around her palm.

The heavy storm clouds opened a small breach for the first time; the moon peeked through, being the only witness of the horrors that had unveiled that night.

Present time

Paris, France

The sun had hidden behind the horizon at least three hours ago.

You looked out the window at the full moon reigning sovereign in the sky from the tiny inn bedroom. There were barely any clouds to hinder its view. Stars adorned the space around her, creating a breathtaking view.

And yet, the air was… eerie.

Maybe because you knew what was about to come, and the fact that the rest of the city didn’t know yet made the situation horrifying. So many people were probably having dinner with their families, resting their heads over their pillows, having no idea of the hell that was about to burst upon them.

What made the situation even more difficult was that you were, well, useless in the middle of it all.

Richter and Annette were hunting nests of vampires. Alucard was about to leave to talk to the leaderships of Paris in order to organize the defensive lines. The three of them, much obviously, were ready to fight.

And you? All you had was a useless golden scepter.

Maybe you had your hopes way too high after what happened at the Louvre. You remembered what Annette told you when you first met – you might be a witch, Ruby; you just don’t remember it. You thought that, the moment you put your hands over the artifact again, you’d have some sort of epiphany. Your past would unveil itself in your head, you’d finally understand Erzsebet and Drolta’s interest in you, you’d know why you were needed to summon eclipses…

But nothing happened.

The scepter was just heavy and very impractical to carry around.

Alucard had no idea what language the inscriptions were. He advised you to not read them out loud, as it wasn’t clear the effect it could cause. You also didn’t magically understand what these words meant. So… just another frustration to add onto the pile.

“Ruby, I’m talking to you.”

You jumped and turned your head around. Alucard was standing in front of the door, searching for something in the inside pocket of his coat and eyeing you with curiosity. You adjusted your posture where you were sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I… wasn’t paying attention.” You said sheepishly.

The white-haired vampire paused for a moment.

“Are you scared of being on your own?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No! Not at all. I’ll be fine.” You reassured.

To be honest, being alone wasn’t exactly an idea you liked. The last three days were the safest you’d ever felt in your life, and that was because you were around them. You tried to avoid picturing the horrifying image of Drolta in her new night creature form breaking through that window and dragging you back to the chateau. There’s no way this is going to happen, not now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… I’m not needed anymore.

But the idea you liked even less was of being a burden, and you knew you’d be a burden if you kept hanging around uselessly while they fought. Annette almost died due to your mere presence. You were sure everyone would’ve handled the fight much better if you simply weren’t there. So… it’d be better if you just stayed hidden at the inn for the time being.

Alucard shrugged slightly and approached, finally revealing what he was searching for in his coat: a… red string?

He sat by your side on the bed, eyes glued on it. The only source of light came from the moon outside and a single candle holder over the desk. The light of the timid flame created a golden silhouette on his delicate features.

“The Revolutionary Commune is reunited some blocks away from here at this moment,” Alucard explained while his fingers worked on measuring the string. You watched him in silent confusion. His voice always dropped even quieter when he was close to you like that. It was… comforting. He was so close that his arm brushed on yours. “I must go warn them about the incoming fight. There will most definitely be vampires roaming the streets right now, hence why you must stay hidden for the time being.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

You watched as Alucard tied the red string around his own left wrist skillfully. How did he even manage to tie something with a single hand? That was quite impressive. “I won’t take more than two hours, however. After I assure your safety within the Revolutionary Commune, I will come to pick you up.”

Then, he brought his wrist close to his mouth; he put the remaining length of the string between his teeth and cut it using his sharp fangs.

Oh.

You couldn’t help but feel shivers run your spine whenever you remembered that Alucard had vampire fangs. He was half vampire, in fact. It was a bit strange how, as you grew comfortable around him, this “detail” became less and less relevant; you always associated vampires with the worst things possible, while Alucard was much the opposite. Perhaps that’s why it was a bit surprising to remember part of him was one.

You also had noticed that Alucard didn’t open much of his mouth when he talked… and it seemed to be a very conscious act when he was in public. You payed attention to how he talked to those boys earlier. Was it an attempt to make his fangs less obvious?

“Give me your left wrist.” He asked. You promptly obeyed. Alucard tied the remaining string around yours this time. “If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.”

You nodded, a bit surprised. “This is impressive.”

Alucard chuckled and tilted his head slightly. “You were effortlessly summoning eclipses and this is what surprises you about magic?”

The words got caught in your throat.

“Well– it is impressive.” He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, which did not help you organize your thoughts better. “A-And I wasn’t summoning them, not exactly.”

“You’re not sure about that, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

Your shoulders dropped. Alucard chuckled again.

He finally let go of your wrist and a tiny part of you immediately missed his touch.

“Remember. Two hours. No more, no less.” He got up from the bed again and walked towards the door. “I might be asking too much from you, but I’d advise you against sleeping, too.”

“As if I’d be able to close my eyes at all,” you whined quietly to yourself.

Alucard opened the door and looked at you.

Once again, it seemed that he was about to say something. He looked… hesitant. His expression wasn’t as nonchalant as usual, but you couldn’t tell exactly why. You looked at him expectantly.

Then – this small glimpse dissolved in seconds.

“Lock the door,” he said, pointing at it with his head.

Oh.

You got up in a jump. At last, he left. You safely locked it and kept the key in the pocket of your vest.

Then, you were alone.

For the first time in your life, being alone didn’t bring you relief. You’d usually look forward to the moments you’d be locked inside your quarters again, recovering from your wounds; despite the pain, it were the only times when you had some peace. Now, however, you’d wish someone was here. You hoped Annette and Richter were safe, wherever they were…

You laid on the bed and faced the ceiling. The scepter was also over the bed, right beside you.

And you just… stayed there.

Your fingers fiddled with the red string on your left wrist mindlessly. Alucard didn’t make a complicated tie as to keep it easy to undo, so you took care to not untie it by accident. This little piece of braided wool had magic in it… but you didn’t feel anything strange while touching it.

You remembered how Alucard felt that the scepter was magic just by touching it, while for you it was just a normal object. You remembered how Richter could summon elements with his bare hands and Annette could see spirits as easily as people…. Perhaps you had no aptitude for magic at all. Perhaps they made you read that book because they needed a human to complete the summoning of an eclipse, not because you had some sort of hidden power.

You touched the scepter again without bothering to look at it. Cold and lifeless as usual.

Maybe it had that reaction – shining, the rust disappearing – because it needed someone to… awaken it. Anyone. Not you specifically.

But it must had been touched by someone before, isn’t it? Of course it was. It didn’t walk into that crate. Someone put it there.

You groaned and turned to your right side.

Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. You were on high alert, so your eyelids didn’t feel heavy with sleep.

You laid on your stomach and brought the scepter close to your face.

These characters… you recognized them.

Alucard told you to not read them out loud, but he didn’t say anything about writing them.

You got up and rushed to the desk. There was a small drawer there with a piece of paper and some charcoal. You laid on your stomach again and started to translate the characters into the common Latin alphabet. Alucard might not recognize the characters, but what if he saw the syllables in a language he could read and the words made sense to him?

As the scepter had a lot of text and you didn’t have much paper, you tried to keep the letters as tiny as possible. You broke the charcoal a bit to make a sharper point. Your hands and the sheets got dirty with the black of the charcoal, but you couldn’t care less.

You didn’t pay attention to the time now that you had something to busy yourself with. Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. An hour. Half an hour.

You had little free paper left and a lot to translate still when a sound out there immediately brought you back to your senses.

You froze and looked towards the window.

The street was very quiet up until that point – you even wondered if nights in Paris were always so peaceful. That sound, however, was impossible to ignore; was impossible to not make your heart immediately race.

A scream.

You got up in a jump and approached the window slowly, peeking at it with caution.

The scream came from a nearby street, followed by fast steps. Another scream. It sounded female.

No… it sounded childish.

Maybe it’s nothing. Just a kid spooked by a dog or a rat. Nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t get on your nerves every time you hear a scream.

You stood by the window for some more minutes, your heart thundering nonstop… and nothing appeared. You sighed, tried to calm your already irregular breathing. Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to muffle everything else–

Someone running down there on the street.

You eyes widened. Your breath got completely caught in your throat.

It was a kid. A small kid, desperately running away from something. A boy. You recognized the worn out clothes and the curly black hair.

The lily in the pocket of your vest seemed to get hot.

It was Oliver.

When he disappeared from your sight, you saw what he was running from: three men. They laughed as they pursued him.

Three vampires.

You grabbed the scepter, the piece of paper and without taking a single second to think, you were already running out of the room.

The only things you could hear were your deep breathing, your thundering heartbeat and your boots rushing on the wooden pavement, then on the stone street as you rushed out of the inn. You almost fell when taking a sudden turn in the direction you saw Oliver running to. The street was completely empty and cold, but your body already felt hot from adrenaline.

You ran as fast as your legs could take. Please let me not be too late please please please please please please please please please–

Another strangled scream followed by more voices coming from an alley nearby.

You didn’t take a second to consider what you were going to do, how you were going to save him from this situation.

You just rushed into it.

“Oliver!” You screamed, stopping on your tracks.

The scene unfolding in front of you made your blood boil in a mix of anger and fright.

Oliver, the little boy, had fallen; his back was pressed against the wall. It was a dead end. His knee bled – he had probably fallen –, tears streamed down his cheeks, his pants were wet. He was shaking; his eyes, the most widened you’d ever seen.

The three vampires cornered him. They wore simple clothes, but all of them shared a similar trait: the symbol of an eclipse burned into the skin of their foreheads.

They immediately turned around at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, everyone was shocked – you, Oliver, the vampires. They were the first ones to recover.

“M-Madame!” Oliver stuttered in a strangled, horrified voice.

The vampire in the middle smirked.

“What do we have here?”

“This is even better than that bastard,” the one on the right laughed. “No one told you to not walk around at night by yourself, sweetie?”

“Leave him alone,” you blurted out. You didn’t sound that frightened, at least, because your body hadn’t properly processed what the hell you had gotten yourself into yet.

“Oh, we might now that you’re here.” One of them said with a disgusting smirk. “And what is it that you’re carrying with you? Looks interesting.”

They started to approach at slow steps.

You knew how vampires acted. They didn’t see you as a threat, so they would not use their inhuman speed. No; they wanted to savor your panic, to make you think you’d have a way out the way they did with Oliver. Vampires acted as cruel hunters, not as animal predators that acted purely on instinct and hunger.

That’s why they didn’t notice when you put your left wrist behind your back and swiftly untied the string.

I’m sorry, Alucard, you thought as the reality of that moment finally hit you. You… you did it again. You put yourself in danger again, exactly the opposite of what Alucard told you to do. But if you had waited for him, if you had untied the string at the inn and then explained what happened and then hoped that Alucard caught the vampires in time, would Oliver still be alive? Would he have an extra minute of luck?

Whatever these vampires were about to do with you – it didn’t matter. You could take it. Oliver couldn’t. The same way Annette wouldn’t have taken the night creature’s bite.

“M-Madame, run!”

His voice caught your attention again.

That little boy had wet himself in fear. He could barely stand. And yet, he was telling you to run. He was worried about your safety.

That little boy.

So small and so fragile and wearing those worn out clothes and shaking and hurt.

It brought forward an instinct within you. Perhaps that same instinct you felt when you looked at Richter’s sad expression. A will to take care. To protect. Something that run deep into your soul, something very familiar in ways you couldn’t explain, as if you had been in a similar situation in the past, as if you had felt this desperate need to protect someone small and fragile and dear to you.

These men were going to kill that little boy and he wouldn’t even be able to fight back.

This strange instinct to protect and the anger towards these men and the revolt because you had been in similar situations too, countless times, and you couldn’t do anything to fight back against a force tenfold stronger than you made your mind go blank.

Blank, blank, blank, devoid of any thought. Any fear. Any hesitance. At that moment, there wasn’t anxiety anymore. Your fingers didn’t shake. You didn’t think of any consequence.

All that existed was the need to protect that little boy.

One of the vampires approached and grabbed the scepter roughly. Instinctively, you held it with both hands, trying to pull it back.

And then – the vampire screamed.

A sizzling noise filled the alley.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He screamed.

The scepter was burning his hands. He couldn’t take them off.

Your mind didn’t register well everything that happened in the following seconds.

The moment you held it with both hands, it started to glow again – but in a different way than before.

The inscriptions started to glow. That same glow traveled from one end to the other – to the tip of the scepter; the image of the sun.

It started to shine.

The light was blinding. You had to tighten your eyes. It was hot hot hot hot, you almost dropped it on the floor, but something told you to keep holding it. So you held it with all your might. You felt a strange wave of energy flow from your body towards the scepter.

The little sun of the scepter shone, brightening the entire alley as if day turned to night–

And the three vampires yelled in agony.

They tried to cover their faces, tried to run away – but it was already too late. Their skin began to burn as if they were set on fire. Their muscle, their clothes, their scalp, their bones, everything was burning. The vampire that tried to grab it was the first to fall on the floor, agonizing, until he finally stopped moving. The other two screamed, yelled with nowhere to run. Their limbs were way too damaged to move.

You felt that your heart was burning, too.

Finally, the burning was too much for you to take. With a scream of effort, you dropped the scepter with a loud metallic noise and fell back on the floor.

The light extinguished.

You panted. You supported your body on your arms. Finally, the screaming stopped.

There were three dead vampires on your feet.

Their carcasses completely burned, unrecognizable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Smoke clouded the alley.

You started shaking again.

What– What just happened?!

But then, you heard another tiny voice besides yours and you remembered that there was someone you still needed to take care of. You got up from the floor, not daring to touch the scepter again, tip toeing to avoid stepping over the bodies.

You knelt in front of Oliver and held him by both arms.

“What are you doing here at this hour?!” You lashed out. “Alucard told you to not get out at night!”

The boy sobbed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, m-madame,” he stuttered between his cries. “I-I-I was t-trying to help. I-I was t-telling people to g-get into their houses. I was already g-going back home…”

You wiped his tears with the sleeve of your blouse before hugging him. Tight. Oliver cried on your shoulder, his little body shaking against yours.

A hand touched your shoulder from behind – which caused you to gasp loudly.

Alucard had the most shocked, confused expression you’d ever seen. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t being subtle.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, but it sounded like a demand.

No no no that’s not what you should ask right now. Oliver is the priority.

The boy leaned away from you and you held his shoulders again. “Where do you live?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. His little face was all puffy and wet. “T-Two streets away from here.”

You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Ruby–“

“Let’s go,” you interrupted Alucard. “I need to take him home.”

Take him home take him home take him home. Yes, this is what I need to do. This is all that matters.

You walked on a beeline with a rushed pace towards the exit of the alley – both the scepter and the piece of paper with your translations completely forgotten on the floor. Alucard followed you closely, but in silence. Oliver’s little hand was still shaking. You held it tightly.

After no more than five minutes of walking, he pointed towards his house. You leaned down and hugged him again.

“Don’t leave your house. Did you understand? Do not walk out under any circumstance. Tell your parents about it.” You repeated in a serious authoritarian tone you didn’t recognize yourself. Have you ever spoken that way before?

Oliver nodded and apologized again. Finally, he waved a last goodbye and entered the house.

It seems that you just started to breathe again when you heard the sound of the door locking.

A few seconds of silence went by.

“Ruby.”

You shivered and turned around.

Alucard looked down at you with frowned eyebrows. Was he angry? Oh fuck, of course he was angry. You put yourself in danger again. You did what you shouldn’t. You got out of the inn without his permission.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your mission. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you started while avoiding his gaze vehemently. Your fingers were trembling again; you hid them behind your back.

“Can you tell me what–“

“Oliver was being chased by vampires. I saw them running through the window and I couldn’t hold myself back. I’m sorry, I know you told me to not put myself in danger. B-But I couldn’t just stay still, you see?” You couldn’t shut up. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why was your voice shaking? “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“And then– the scepter– it did that thing again. I don’t know how that happened. It– it got so hot out of sudden, and then the vampires were burning too. I d-don’t know if I was the one to do it. I just didn’t want Oliver to die. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t, Ruby.”

“Oh– I left if on the floor, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I put you through all the trouble of going back to the Louvre only to drop it at the alley. I s-should take it back. Oh! And I was translating the writings too. I think I dropped the paper… well, I wasn’t translating anything, I was just writing the words in our alphabet, and I don’t know it’ll be useful at all but I wanted to help somehow–“

“Ruby.”

The words got stuck in your throat.

Alucard cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him and nothing else.

He frowned. “You’re burning.”

You blinked rapidly. “What? N-No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it through the gloves.” Alucard used his teeth to take the glove off his right hand; he pressed it over your forehead. He was probably trying to help, but that action made you feel even hotter on the inside. “We need to do something about it.”

“No!” You blurted out. “No, there’s no need. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. I always do.”

“Ruby.” He called again.

Alucard shoved the glove inside his coat and held your face with both hands again; he lowered himself slightly to get closer to your eye level.

“I am not angry at you.” He started in a slow and quiet voice. “You didn’t interrupt me. You did nothing wrong. But I need you to understand that you are spiraling, and I need you to calm down first.”

S… Spiraling? You were spiraling?

You gulped and nodded.

“Breathe with me.” He instructed patiently.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. You followed his slow pace.

Adrenaline dissipated in your bloodstream; your head got quieter again. Your heart stopped running and went back to walking. Your hands, however, were still shaking.

You lowered your head, desperately trying to avoid his gaze, when you felt tears well up your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a weak tone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Alucard’s voice was even quieter than usual… even gentler. He didn’t step away. His thumb caressed your cheek with care.

“I got so scared. I thought Oliver was going to die.”

Why did you even confess that? You weren’t sure; your brain wasn’t working properly anymore. But yes, that was true. You were scared of getting hurt – you were just used to pain, you didn’t like it – but you were even more scared of seeing that boy die in front of you. So small and so innocent and so familiar for some reason.

Why was that familiar? Why were you so confused? What the hell just happened?

You had no answer to any of these questions. All you wanted to do was cry at that moment – but not in front of him. Never in front of him; it’d be too humiliating. You wanted to step away, to have some space to recover. You wanted to hide from him.

Alucard had other plans.

When the first stubborn tear streamed down your cheek, Alucard pulled you closer to his body. His hands let go of your face; instead, he wrapped his arms around you. He was delicate. Hesitant, even.

Your face was then hidden in his chest.

Alucard didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was nothing he could’ve said at that moment, so he decided to act.

You froze at first. This… this was the closest you’ve ever been to him – at least while fully conscious, a proximity Alucard established willingly. You didn’t even know you had the right to stand that close to him.

When was the last time someone offered you comfort like that?

If it had happened before, you didn’t remember.

Slowly, your body melted under his. Your tense members softened. His sweet scent enveloped you. With much hesitance, you wrapped your arms around his body too, under his cape – and in the moment Alucard realized you accepted his embrace, he held you just a little tighter, a little more comfortable. One of his hands caressed your hair, while the other wrapped around your back.

You did your best to swallow any incoming sobs, forcing yourself to cry in silence. If Alucard even noticed you were crying, he didn’t show it. He just kept his arms around you protectively… affectionately. It made your insides feel warm in a way not even that strange scepter could.

None of you said a word, though there was much to be said. Both of you understood the gravity of what just happened. The three burnt carcasses were there at the alley, waiting to be inspected.

But that could wait for now. Nothing had the right to pierce through the small bubble of peace you shared.

You just stayed there in each other’s embrace for longer than your confused brain could register.

The bright full moon, reining sovereign in the sky, was your only witness.

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry! First of all thank you for your work, your writing has permanently altered my brain chemistry 😳😳 I was wondering if u could write something where Miguel and his ex reunite after a bad breakup, perhaps a few months after (maybe they bump into each other during a party or smth) and as they finally talk both admit that they never managed to move on (like reader went on a few unsuccessful dates, since shes still obsessed with Miguel it has been pointless) they are still in love and they want to make it work this time!!! And since they are back together reader is rlly needy and touchstarved 🥴🥴 she missed him so so much and all,,,,

thx again for feeding my miguel’s hyperfixation!! you are one of my fave authors here ❤️❤️ you deserve the world!!

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Squirting

A/N: Hello and thank you, love 🫶🏼! Enjoy!!

Unedited

Well, this was another disaster.

You’re practically moping at your reflection in the bar’s bathroom. You’ve been hiding in there for more than ten minutes, but you would be surprised if your date- even if he’s not worthy of the small title- has even noticed your absence.

The whole night had been a disaster, right from the very start. Not only had your date been twenty minutes late, but he also failed to so much as greet you for more than 5 seconds before ordering himself a beer and turning his eyes to the small bar TV to watch the old sports rerun from the night before. You would cringe when he loudly reacted to the events on the screen as if it were happening in real time, making the people around you turn to him with perplexed and judgmental looks that made you want to crawl under the bar and out the door. Your attempts to distract him from the game with small talk only turned to him giving half-assed information about himself and him asking if you’re covering the tab for his beers.

What a stellar experience!

You stall in the bathroom a bit longer by being extra delicate in your lip reapplication, all the while whining to yourself in your head about how you could have saved your outfit for a better occasion. With another sigh and a planned excuse to end the night early, you hype yourself up to leave the bathroom and return to your date.

When you open the door, you almost stumble into someone’s chest. You blink in surprise, an apology forming on your lips as you slowly lift your head up. The words instantly shrivel up and die when you meet familiar red tinted eyes, the air in your lungs suspending.

Miguel, sporting his usual grumpy look, instantly softens as he meets your eyes. He seems to take you in, like your the first sign of water since taking a cruel journey through the desert. The look alone is enough for your heart to go into overdrive

Despite the sudden dryness in your throat, you manage a small smile, “Hi.”

The one word is soft, almost tentative. It makes something in Miguel crave more. He’s been wanting more the moment the two of you broke up, the reason stupid after a few months apart.

He returns the smile, hands going to his pockets to fight off the temptation to grab you and never let you go, “Hi, I like the dress.”

Your eyes instantly fall down to take in your outfit, cheeks blazing from the compliment. Your fingers play with the hem of the skirt, a bashful thank you bubbling from your lips. It makes Miguel’s smile just slightly larger as your eyes hesitantly meet his again.

A silence fills the space, both of you caught up on things you could- should- say to each other. The silence begins to grow awkward, and Miguel finds it to be the perfect opportunity to slowly reach his hand out.

He means to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but the pounding in his chest makes him miscalculate slightly and instead skims the apple of your cheek. The touch shoots rapid jolts of electricity down your spine, awakening your nerves from a long hibernation. Your hand desperately grabs at his wrist, trying to keep his hand in place. Then suddenly, everything is fast forwarded.

Your lips crash together in a hungry, desperate urge to be closer. Your bodies pushing against each other until your smaller body is pushed back through the bathroom door, the lock faintly clicking behind the two of you as you’re lifted up and placed onto the counter. Your hands exploring inches of skin that you still know like it’s your own. Refamilarising yourself with every bulge of muscle and every dip.

Despite the vicious need to have you naked against him, for your skin to press against his and swap a cycle of warmth, Miguel grits his teeth and restrains for ripping clothes off of your body. This place is filthy, and he doesn’t want to tarnish your skin. Instead, his hand slips under the hem of your dress, pressing into the soaked spot growing in the fabric of your panties.

Your body bristles from the contact, your sex burning hot and throbbing. You squirm, your body already begging for more. Miguel reads you instantly, slipping his fingers under the fabric until he grazes your twitchy clit and reaches your leaking hole. He circles his fingers around the wet entrance, lubricating his fingers with your arousal before slowly pushing them in.

A low whine escapes you, your walls clamping down hard around his fingers. Miguel hisses at the vice grip you have on him, his thumb attempting to relax you by circling your clit. It makes you whine more, practically squirming on his hand.

Miguel buries his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at the column of skin, “Fuck baby, you’re so sensitive.”

You can only sniffle in response, your mind zeroing in on the slow curling of Miguel’s fingers. Your eyes are half lidded and hazy, small moans leaving your lips as the tips of his fingers press into the gummy spot inside of you. The pleasure grows quickly, pent up sexual frustration from dates you wouldn’t even let into your home and late nights at work to distract yourself from the ache in your heart unleashing and flowing down Miguel’s wrist.

With a combination of thrusting and curling, your body spasms with a choked moan as you collapse against him. He can feel the gush of your release spray against his hand, creating wet squelches as he continues to work you through it. Clear drops landing on the counter eventually begin to form a small puddle under you as your panties become completely soaked through.

You’re fighting for breath once you come down from your high, mind foggy and stuck in a state of bliss. Miguel slowly pulls his fingers out, his entire palm soaked with clear arousal. A stray drop runs down his arm, and he’s quick to catch it with his tongue. He almost comes in his pants as the sweet taste explodes in his mouth, making him hungry for more. He fights the urge for now, promising himself it’ll come with time before grabbing napkins from the dispenser and cleaning the inside of your thighs and the puddle under you.

He slowly pulls your soaked underwear down, recognizing the flash of discomfort that comes over your face as you come back to earth, stuffing the fabric in his pocket before helping you down onto your shaky feet. You hold onto his arm tightly feeling as if you’re trying to balance on jello, and Miguel wraps an arm around your waist to stabilize you. Your breath is still slightly irregular, and you take the moment to close your eyes and lean your head against his chest. You can hear the pace of his heart, not a bit surprised that it mimics yours.

“Come home with me.”

You smile into his chest, humming.

Like he even had to ask.

[ningningsplushie]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა This is How it Feels - OT5 txt's first admissions of love ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

warnings: mentions of food, micro-angst in tae and gyu's parts but all is well <3 kissing, swearing, established relationship for taehyun and soobin. not proofread lmao. fem reader in hueningkai's part. a/n: oh hi...long time no see. I hope to post more often but university is time consuming but i'm also currently hyperfixated on txt and they're my emotional outlet so i'll post when I can!! i'm also taking fluff requests so please come on by :) masterlist

choi yeonjun:

Hmmmm he’d definitely realize he’s in love with you after a particularly harrowing day while practicing for a comeback or recording an album.

Having been friends with him for almost a year now and meeting him after he was filming a TO DO episode with his members at the cafe you worked at, you’ve kind of picked up on every little thing about him.

Lately, what with his upcoming solo comeback, he’s been unintentionally distant with you.

Normally, you guys text back and forth about your guys’ day, facetime, or meet up just to chill but for the past two weeks, you really only hear about him through the other members and so you decide to pay him a visit.

But now without preparing some homemade food for your guy, who you don’t really want to tell you have a crush on because he’s an idol and you think he’s out of your league.

You lowkey go all out: tteokbokki, some soup, fishcakes, and a bag full of his favourite sweets and you lug all of that to the dorms, knocking on the door and waiting patiently for an answer. 

The door swings open and it’s no one other than Yeonjun, you stares at you, the deep bags beneath his eyes and dry lips shifting from exhaustion to surprise to contained elation.

“y/n??? What are you doing here?” he asks, pushing you inside.

“Oh, well…it’s been a while since I’ve seen you last.” you begin, scurrying into the kitchen as you begin to unpack the food, commandeering his stove to heat up the food. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. I know how you get during comebacks because I know you’re stressed but you usually tend to retreat back into yourself due to overthinking and stuff.”

He’s watching you as your floating around the kitchen, pouring this into that and plating all the foods you brought over for him, his head feeling the lightest it’s been in a while since you walked through the door. 

“And you don’t really need to worry cuz you absolutely crushed it when Ggum came out and you’re gonna do even better with this upcoming release, if that’s even possible. You’re the hip-popping king and the 4th-gen it boy for a reason! The people love you and you’re gonna deliver. As. You. Usually. Do!” you enunciate the last words by poking his nose.

You then nudge him towards the couch, getting him to sit down while you place his food in front of him on the table and at this point, Yeonjun is looking at you with googoo eyes and pouty lips, his heart pounding as you try to make light of the situation to cheer him up but your face giving your worry away as you chew on your bottom lip and the lines between your brows deepening. 

Yeonjun thinks back on his friendship with you: how you’re a steady weight for him throughout tumultuous storms within his life. How you always put his interests before yours. How you’re perhaps his biggest supporter, always ready to reassure and celebrate with him. How he’s able to be himself around you and let go for once as an idol and he suddenly thinks, ‘This is a person I want to stand by me for as long as possible and who I want to be with…’

You turn to get a drink for him before he latches a soft grip on your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Junnie, what is it?” you ask, cocking your head to the side and Yeonjun can’t help but think that you look positively adorable with the way you’re pouting and looking down at him concerned. 

“Thank you, y/n. This means a lot to me- you mean a lot to me…I love you, you know?”

You coo, sitting down next to him as you push back his hair, thinking he means it in a platonic way. “Aweeeee, I love you too!”

The way you say it so casually has him shaking his head. “No, y/n,” he says softly. “I mean that I’m in love with you.”

You gasp, bringing a hand up to your mouth as the tips of your fingers hide your lips. “You-you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” The way he says those two simple words is so determined and the way he gazes at you intensely, his mouth slightly agape…yeah, you don’t think he’s pulling your leg anymore.

“Where’s all this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I don’t…I just realized this. Like just now but I think I’ve always had this feeling lingering at the back of my mind. I just didn’t let it come forward in fear of ruining our friendship.” He admits, wringing his hands in anxiety.

“Junnie, can I be honest?”

“Please.” He’s desperate to hear your response but at the same time he’s damn near shitting his pants cuz he’s so certain you’re about to reject him.

“I think I’ve like you since I first met you but… Junnie, you’re an idol and i’m just-I’m just me. I thought there was no way you could like me back…but I guess I was wrong.” you smile slightly, biting your lip so you don’t straight up grin like an idiot. 

Now that the tension is gone, Yeonjun joins you in embrace the giddy feelings that envelope the two of you. “Dead wrong. Soooo…y/n, will you be mine?” He asks lowkey awkwardly, raising his shoulders while tilting his head to the side.

You lean back into the couch, cackling. “You’re such a dork!” When your laughter dies down, you look back at him, your eyes sparkling. “But yeah, Junnie, I’m yours so you’re my dork.”

He truly can’t hold himself back anymore so he pulls you closer to him, nearly onto his lap and clings onto you, leaving no space between you and him as he rocks you back and forth. Kissing the top of your head, his heart swells as he hears you hum in contentment, wanting to be nowhere else but his arms.

choi soobin

I don’t think it’s a moment that’s particularly special because I think Soobin’s all about the small, meaningful, and intimate parts of life that you get to share with him.

And it’s not a moment that springs in his mind suddenly, like an ‘aha!’ but it’s something that slowly unfolds and grows into something more as time passes.

You’ve been dating Soobin for about three months and you’ve known him way longer…like since pre-debut when he was still in high school. So I guess in a way you’re high school sweethearts :)) 

Comeback season has died down and the boys are now taking it slower, recording random content like TO DO and other interviews, meaning that you get to spend much more time with your boyfriend!

He’s come over to your apartment in the evening and you shared takeout with him, sitting on the floor around your coffee table as you listened to him yap about whatever anime he’s been watching. As the night progresses, he helps you clean the apartment up, connecting his phone to your speakers as he puts your favourite songs on a low volume, existing together in your own little bubble with him.

The two of you then do your own things but together!

You’re sharing the couch with him, with Soob curled up in one side and you with your back against one of the arms, your legs resting on his lap. He’s playing a game on his switch, his lips jutting in concentration as his fingers work at a rapid pace while you’re reading your book silently, occasionally underlining and tabbing your favourite parts.

It’s silent throughout your apartment, save for Soobin’s periodic groans of frustration or the flipping of pages. 

You’re so engrossed in your book you fail to notice when Soobin turns off his switch, placing it on the coffee table to lean back comfortably and trace patterns on your calf.

He lives for the intimacy of sharing each other’s spaces, of existing separately but together, always reaching out for one another through soft touches. He finds comfort in being his own person around you, of watching you do your own thing, and knowing you feel comfortable sharing silence with him.

However, he feels compelled to break that silence right now. 

“Whatcha reading right now, bunny?” He asks, sitting up to rest closer to you, peering over your shoulder to read alongside you.

Looking up from your book, your face glows with adoration as his pouty lips mouths out the words to himself and you close the book to show him the cover. “The Lady of the Camellias,” you reply, reaching a hand up to play with his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh? I haven’t heard of that one.”

“Yeah, it’s an older one from the late 1800s from France,” you explain, Soobin nodding along to your words.

“What’s it about?”

One thing about Soobin is that he loves to read and if it’s not a book he’s interested in reading, he still loves to learn about it, especially from you!

“It’s a love affair between a courtesan and well to do man. She eventually contracts tuberculosis and dies and there’s this whole thing of him thinking she left him for another man because she’s a courtesan and they part ways but then he returns to her but it’s too late, she dies in the end…it’s actually quite beautifully sad. This is just a reread for me.”

Aweeee now it’s your turn to yap about your interests and whenever you do this, Soobin listens, literally entranced. He listens intently, never missing a word and humming along while his eyes rove over your features, the way your brows furrow then you think about how sad the book is or the way your eyes light up talking about it.

“So she never got to hear that he loved her?”

You shake your head, putting the book away. “She knows it, she hears it but it’s kind of too late cuz they can’t properly be together because of her dying…he pledges to love her even after her death.”

Soobin frowns, getting lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t know why but it makes him think of his relationship with you even though your situation is vastly different of that from the book.

He’s starting to get in his feels because he’s lowkey scared for the same thing to happen. For you to go on without hearing he loves you because he does, terribly so, he just hasn’t said it yet.

Taking your hand in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles as he remains silent, thinking, eventually bringing your hand to his lips to press a lingering kiss against the skin his thumb brushed over. “You know that-that I love you, right?”

You nod, eyes filling up with tears as Soobin doesn’t break eye contact with you because he’s serious, oh so serious with this confession. “Of course I do, Binnie. You didn’t have to say it…I mean it’s nice that you did but I already knew through your actions.” Leaning forward, you brush back the bangs that fall over his face and kiss both of his eyes. “I love you too.”

Ugh, it’s just a simple confession, nothing overtly grand but it just means so much to you and him. It’s so sickeningly intimate but you two have never felt more alive than now. 

Soobin blushes at this reciprocation, looking down at his lap before you hook two fingers under his chin to get him to redirect his attention to you. “I love you,” you say repeat, clinging onto him amidst the silence of the night. You say it so softly but to Soobin, it’s like you’re screaming it from the rooftops.

“Good, because you’re never leaving my side.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

choi beomgyu

I think when he realizes he can show you all the different sides of himself. 

You were part of the fashion team for Tomorrow x Together so you’ve always been assigned to work with Beomgyu and naturally, seeing him nearly every day, you’ve gotten rather close to him. Y’all exchange phone numbers and start hanging out as friends outside of company time, enjoying Beomgyu’s chaotic yet soothing nature. 

Sure, you’ve developed a little crush on him but you’ve never acted on it because you work for him. Wouldn’t it be a little weird? And shouldn’t Beomgyu like someone who’s also in his league. 

You really can’t help it though. There’s no one else who makes you laugh as hard as he does, who notices your dip in energy takes the time to talk you through it, reassuring you, or who you could confide your deepest worries, and vice versa. 

You’ve also noticed how buff he’s gotten and of course, as his stylist, you use that to your advantage to show off his arms for MOAs. 

Beomgyu’s standing in front of you as you hold up different shirts on hangers over his chest, seeing which one would suit him best before nodding to yourself, thrusting an outfit into his arms and ordering him to go try it on. 

He returns, looking down at the clothes with a smirk on his face as he starts flexing, holding up his arms to show off his muscles. “Oh hell yeah, all my hard work’s paying off. What do you think?”

Your eyes trail over his body, admiring him and lowkey working yourself up. “You, sir, look really good. I think MOAs are gonna lose their minds when you walk onto the stage in this outfit.”

Again, he smirk, crossing his arms as he rests on a table. “Be honest. If you were a MOA, would you lose your mind too.”

You roll your eyes at his subtle teasing. “I’m already a MOA but sure, I’d go crazy, probably more so for Yeonjun,” you lie, noticing how he looks down, pouting. 

Yeah no, he’s your bias but you won’t admit it in fear of him finding out your feelings for him.

“Yeah…Yeonjun’s pretty cool so I can’t blame you.” He can’t hide his disappointment at your admission, his mood shifting as his teasing disappears and is replaced with a calmer demeanour. 

He pulls out a chair, sitting down while he begins to pick at the skin around his nails. You approach him, kneeling in front of him as you place your hand over his to stop him from tearing off the skin. 

“Hey,” you say gingerly, looking up at him. “You’re cool too, gyu. I was just pulling your leg.” Genuinely this whole time you’ve told him Yeonjun was your bias so you take a shaky breath, ready to admit the truth. “You’re my bias…you kind of always have been.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m all sad and pouty,” he sighs.

Shaking your head, you give him a small smile. “That’s not true. Look.” Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you show him the case, how there’s a decorated photocard of him nestled inside.

At this, Beomgyu sits up straight, getting excited like a puppy. “So that’s why you never wanted me to see your phone!”

Blushing, you nod without saying anything and put your phone away. “See? You don’t have to worry about anything. Plus, you have a shit tonne of MOAs who also bias and love you.”

“No, i know…it’s just different when it’s you.” He looks off to the side, embarrassment eating him alive. 

“Why’s it different?”

“Because I want you to think I’m cool. I want to impress you and stuff. I mean like, we’re friends. We’re always goofing off together and I want you to acknowledge my more determined and passionate side.”

You coo, rising up to your full length as you begin to play with his hair. “Oh gyu, I already think that. You think I don’t notice when you give your all for performances or how sucked into song-writing you get? How you break off from your silly self to be an anchor for your members and your friends? I notice every side of you and I love them all equally.”

Poor gyu looks like a fish, at a loss for words, looking up at you with a hopeful look. “Really?”

“Really! Ever since we’ve become close I’ve gotten to know the real you, all of you.”

Beomgyu gets up from the chair and puts his hands in his pockets, biting his lips as he debates on whether he should say what he wants to say.

“At first…I didn’t like getting all serious on you. I wanted to seem easy-going to you but you make it so easy cuz you never make me feel ashamed for feeling the things that I feel. But now…” he shrugs, trailing off. “Now I don’t mind, I think I just fully accepted that but that’s because-” he shakes his head, turning around.

Walking around him, you place a hand on his arm. “Because?”

“Because I love you.” He simply admits, biting the bullet. 

You really can’t reply right away cuz you can’t believe it so he clenches his eyes shut, groaning. “Sorry, forget I ever said that.”

“No! I love you too!”

Beomgyu whips his head towards you, eyes wide. “No, you don’t,”

“I do! Why do you think I kept letting you think Yeonjun was my bias? I didn’t want you finding out I have feelings for you because I was scared you’d push me away or we’d grow distant.”

He places both palms over his eyes, chuckling deliriously. “Seriously? You’re such a dummy sometimes but I shouldn’t be complaining now that we’re a thing.”

“Bold assumption for you to make,” you state, raising your brow.

“Oh, okay. Guess we’re not then. And here I was thinking I’d take you out for dinner.” he sasses, pulling you closer to him because he knows you’re joking. 

“You still can.”

“Trust me, I will. I’m not letting go of you know.”

kang taehyun

I feel like he’s a pretty chill guy fr. he doesn’t get jealous often nor inappropriately passionate. He just feels secure in his relationship with you!

But when he is passionate and protective…boy oh boy.

Like, he’s comfortable with having you be besties with the rest of his members, he goes out to clubs with you, let’s you do whatever because he trusts you so there’s really no reason for him to go all possessive and jealous on you.

But it isn’t until today, after seeing an old childhood friend of your try and flirt with you that something switches in him.

You went out to brunch with him, having a pleasant morning while he spoils you with food and his steady and comforting company.

By the end of brunch, while you’re finishing up your plate, you hear a familiar voice you haven’t heard in a few years call out your name. “y/n?? Is that really you?”

You turn your head around, searching around the restaurant as your eyes finally land on your old friend, his figure sauntering up to the table. 

“Oh my God, Juwon! How’ve you been?” you ask, getting up from your seat to hug him.

“Not too bad, just been busy with work and stuff.”

You’re having a yap session with him while you sit back down and this man has the audacity to slide into the booth next to Taehyun without asking and completely ignoring your boyfriend???

The whole time he’s deadass flirting with you, making comments here and there and you brush them off, never feeding in to his delusions. This is kind of what ticks Taehyun off cuz why are you not telling him to stop? Why are you not explaining to him that you’re on a date with your boyfriend.

After what feels like an eternity, Juwon leaves, leaving his number with you and telling you to stay in touch but Taehyun pockets the slip of paper, getting up to pay while you sit there awkwardly.

He returns to fetch you out of the restaurant and the drive home is so quiet, you’re honestly too scared to say anything. But when you return to his apartment, he tosses his keys onto the table, pushing back his hair. “What the hell was that, y/n?” 

“What was what?” you ask in confusion.

Oh.

Taehyun furrows his brows, biting his lips as he thinks of what to say. “Well, let’s just start off with the fact that he literally inserted himself into our date. He completely ignored me, never even asking who I was or introducing himself to me. He was shamelessly flirting with you. And to top it all off, you never told him to stop nor did you tell him I was your boyfriend. You completely ignored me.”

What have you doneeee :((( he’s literally looking at you with watery eyes, though he’s quite pisses. He’s really hurt and confused right now. 

“I-I’m sorry, Tae. I got too caught up seeing him again, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No. you shouldn’t have. I can’t help but feel like he’s gonna swoop down and take my place.”

You stand there with your mouth agape, not quite believing this confession because he’s normally so secure in your relationship. 

“That would never happen,” you reply. “I’m dating you, not him.”

“I know that but the thing that hurt me the most was you not even telling him that we’re dating!”

“You’re an idol, you’re not exactly vocal about our relationship either.”

“Nor do I keep you like some dirty secret.” His composure is honestly crumbling with each word, his voice raising with every reply but never getting to the point of yelling.

“Why do you care so much?”

He cups his hands together, almost beseeching you to understand as he cries out, “Because I love you, y/n!

You and Taehyun stand in stunned silence, staring at each other for about ten seconds. He continues with a hushed and shaky voice. “I don’t need you to go around telling everyone or make a big deal out of it but please, don’t ignore me.” Coming towards you, his fingers brush past your own. “I’m not usually this insecure, you know this but it doesn’t hurt knowing you’re proud to call me your boyfriend…I-I thought you were ashamed or something.”

You gasp, throwing your arms around him as you press your face into his neck, shaking your head. “No, Taehyun! Never! I love you too, Tae. I just got caught up in the moment but I swear, it won’t happen again!” You feel him shudder in your hold, his hands raking over your back. “You have no idea how much I love you, Taehyun. I sometimes don’t know what to do with myself because I love you so much. I’m sorry it had to get to this point for you to tell me that, though.”

Taehyun chuckles, breaking apart to kiss you softly. “Don’t apologize for that, honey. I probably would have went on not telling you for a while. I like to let my actions speak for me.”

Giggling, you lean forward to kiss him again, whispering a multitude of “I love you”s against his lips while he whispers them back.

hueningkai

I think he’d realize he loves you when he sees you interacting with his family!

I don’t know, like yeah all the members seem really family oriented to me but Hueningkai the most of all.

You met Hueningkai a little after debut and you’ve been attached to the hip as friends ever since!

Today, you went shopping with Hueningkai and his sisters Lea and Hiyyih and honestly, it was mostly girl time, plus Hueningkai, which he didn’t mind because he loves seeing you laugh and get it on with his sisters. 

You tried on outfits with Lea, tried makeup with Hiyyih, gossiped with the both of them and he can’t help but think you’re part of the family but not in a sisterly way?? Poor boy is confused at why his heart clenches when you walk out of the dressing room, doing a twirl for them and squealing in delight when his sisters tell you to get it before asking him for his opinion, giving you a curt nod because he’s starting to grow flustered. “You look really cute, y/nnie,” he whispers, blushing.

He’s confused as to why his throat runs dry when Hiyyih reveals she bought matching plushie keychains for the four of them and when you envelop all of them in a giant group hug. 

Sure, he’s always thought you were pretty but today he seems enchanted when you swipe your new gloss over your lips, never tearing his gaze away from your face and resisting all urges to launch himself at you to kiss you. Today, for the first time, he simply cannot keep his eyes off you as you strut around the mall in your new adorable outfit :(( 

You head back to the dorms and you start preparing ramen for everyone, balancing the bowls on a tray towards them, placing one in front of him and his sisters. “Eat up!” you chirp, bouncing to sit next to Hueningkai, your thighs brushing next to his.

You and his sisters have the bowls on your lap as you begin eating but poor Ning’s head is so clouded, too distracted by your close vicinity and your intoxicating perfume, he can’t find it in himself to eat.

Clearing his throat, Hueningkai rises from the couch and you look up at him with wide eyes, confused as you cock your head to the side. “Ning, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he croaks out, failing to meet your eyes. “I’ll be back in a second, I just have to use the bathroom.”

LMFAOOO blud literally rushes towards the direction of the bathroom but you notice how he actually dips into his bedroom, hoping you wouldn’t see that. 

After like two minutes, he still doesn’t come out and the giggles and yap session with Hiyyih and Lea die down as you too get up, telling them you’re gonna go check on Hueningkai. 

You knock on his door and you hear a muffled, “come in.” Hueningkai thinks it’s one of his sisters so when he sees you opening his door, he fumbles with his phone, dropping it onto the floor. Picking up his phone, you offer it to him and ask, “Are you sure you’re okay, Ning.”

“Yeah, sorry…I just needed a breather.”

You frown, sitting next to him on his bed while you play with the hem of your skirt. “Oh, we’re we being too loud?”

Hueningkai shakes his head, fingers itching to hold your hand. “No, no, it isn’t that. I just…Just got overwhelmed I guess.”

He’s being awfully quiet, which is unlike him and you keep this in mind. He’s normally never nervous, especially around you so you feel like you’ve done something to upset him. “Did-did I do anything?”

Hueningkai is silent for a while, hanging his head as he stares down at his feet. “Do you want me to be honest.

You gulp nervously but tell him to go ahead.

“I don’t know where it came from but I’m just so nervous around you…like everything you’re doing is driving me crazy. In a good way, though! We’ve been friends for so long and I don’t want my feelings to affect our friendship but-but- God, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize this but I think I’m in love with you.” 

You lean down, peering up at him and smile. “You think? Or you are?”

He huffs, leaning back to prop himself on his pillows and plushies. He purses his lips, the habit you think to be the most adorable. “Are you really teasing me right now? I’m honestly quite confused so-” 

You shut him up by planting your lips onto his, your hands gravitating to play with his hair as you feel him gasp into your mouth. You pull away after a few seconds and give him a coy smile. “Are you sure now-”

Now it’s his turn to interrupt you. He kisses you once more and this time it’s more hurried and he drinks you in, his lips dancing against yours while one hand cups your cheek and the other finds purchase on your thigh. 

Your little kissing session is broken apart from the gasp of of Lea, barging into the room and finding the two of you kissing. “Finally, Kai! Hiyyih and I knew you liked her way before you did and it was killing us!”

Hueningkai pants from the kiss, letting his breath catch up to him while he blushes furiously, the tips of his glowing red. “You couldn’t help me figure it out?”

Lea crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, we wanted it to happen organically, you know?”

Hueningkai throws one of his plushies at her, wanting her to leave. “Give us like 5 minutes, I need to process everything.”

Lea leaves, closing the door as she yells out, “more like so you can keep kissing her!” Hueningkai chuckles, squeezing your thigh before kissing you again, completely drunk off of you.

[s0phslibrary]

Thinking about domestic mornings with Xaden 🥲

content tidbits: GN reader, reader is also a rider, possible spoilers for IF/OS but very little, domestic fluff, reader and xaden are engaged :) and bonded, so are their dragons (let's imagine triple bonds were possible in this, so yours two dragons bonded romantically, and they bonded platonically with Tarin because we still love he and violet here), xaden teasing, xaden being so painfully in love, they go for a fly, non sexual intimacy, there's not as much war in this because i'm saving angst for later fics, stereotypical use of 'his onyx eyes' 💀

Word count: 606

A/N i would like to preface im still reading FW, but i've a. heard far too many spoilers and b. am HEAVILY hyperfixated so cut me slack :)

waking up to each other, no threat of battle or war to set the tone for the day, only the comfort of one another. Slowly getting out of bed after staying there for longer than anticipated, then heading to the kitchen (let’s say you have a house of your own at this point in time or for whatever reason, or riorson house if you like), and you start making breakfast. He comes up behind you, chin on your shoulder, warm hands trailing the skin under your shirt; trailing every scar, every stretch mark, every dimple, up to the relic that sat proud on your skin. He stayed like that the whole time, not moving away. Why would he retreat from his home in the first place? He places soft kisses along your neck and head, silently showing his devotion to you. The smell of frying breakfast and coffee exacerbated the warmth.

You ate outside in the garden, damp grass and warm sun settling in the air. You made small talk, but nothing boring. The occasional smart comment from him, and even more witty retort from you. Even after all this time, you kept each other on your toes. You sat outside for a while longer, enjoying the at last calm atmosphere. You didn’t miss the way Xaden looked at you- knees to your chest, head against them as you looked around the large space. Hair lightly whipping your face, sun reflecting your eyes. He was looking at you like you were a child of the gods. To him, you may as well have just been one.

After going back inside, you make the decision to put on your flight leathers, and call your dragons. They arrive shortly after, and you gather your things and take off. Your dragons fly side by side, the clouds trickling their scales. You land on a near cliff, and settle together. They sit intertwined, as do you both. Your back against his chest, and his hands in yours. Begrudging as he is with anyone else, with you, he let you feel every inch of him, like you were a sculpture, he the clay.

You flipped through the pages of your book, and eventually, he sighs, taking it from you wordlessly, dog earring the page, and looking at you.

"What?" You ask.

He doesn't respond, instead placing a soft kiss to your lips.

"What was that for?" "Do I need a reason?" He asks, arching a dark eyebrow, his onyx eyes shining with a mix of amusment and sunlight.

You chuckle, shaking your head, and he pulls you backwards, so you still lay back against his front, but now laid out on the ground together. You roll over, inching so your chin is just near his. You gaze at him, watching the flecks of gold in his iris catch the daylight. You wouldn’t want those eyes any other way.

"So, we still giving Violet and Tarin a visit later today? Think our ones are starting to get a bit moody without him. And you without her."

You snort, but nod. "Shut up, I'm allowed to miss her. But yeah, we are. Though we might be a little late. I'm comfy." You hear your dragon let out an annoyed huff, which makes Xaden laugh.

"Fine with me, but maybe not with them." He grins.

Sgayel rolls her eyes, which you both giggle at.

"I think they'll manage. Barely."

He nods, and pulls you close. You look up at the sky, the clouds dancing above you. But yet again, he only looks at you. You, even in this vast space, next to beasts with such ferocity and majesty, nothing would ever compare to you in his mind. You were bound by more than dragons. You were bound by soul.

[fernslivers]

MODERN MIZU THOUGHTS

Kicking off my Hyperfixation with some silly little thoughts about modern-day Mizu!

Just a mix of headcanons and imagines, maybe I'll write some of them out into proper imagines if there's any interest! I have some spicier movie imagines already partly written!

Let me know if you like them, I definitely have MANY more thoughts--

This is my first time attempting to post my writings like this, so apologies for any errors.

(TW: canon-typical mention of SA due to Mizu's backstory)

So, of course, in the modern day, she wouldn't be as immediately ostracized the same way, but...

The closest I could think of was that her father was one of four very rich men/CEOs and her mother/baby Mizu were targeted to try to keep the "affair" quiet.

Still believes herself to be the product of SA (I know there's speculation among some fans as to whether this will be true, but since it's what she knows in the show, I'll just say that's true as far as she knows here too)

This still left her with a similar huge complex about her self image, bc she knows she has her dad's eyes, and that he got her mother killed

Went into the system after her mother’s mysterious “death”, got adopted by Eiji after she just wouldn't stop sneaking away from foster care to bother him/stare at his swords

He's still a swordsmith because people DO still do that in modern day. It just would make him even more famous/special.

The whole thing with M*k*o did happen, they divorced, she is aware that that woman is not her biological mother and they are No-Contact

Since she knows that was a maid, she still has the belief that her mother was killed for the reason listed above and still wants revenge.

I debated SO HARD about what she would go to college for. Because her two biggest passions are the sword-making, and revenge, both of which are hard to translate to modern day by themselves, much less in a combination.

(I thought about business, like maybe she wanted to take down a CEO father by taking over his company, or about law enforcement/law school, but they all felt wrong for her character.)

Because let's be honest, those four men in modern days would be involved in organized crime, so Mizu would probably just go straight for that kind of situation as well in order to tail them.

She isn't one to play by the rules of ANY organization

So, she's involved in organized crime on the down-low while going to college.

She doesn't work for anyone in particular, but she does run in shady circles and knows certain names and places. Nobody knows much about her, though.

She's definitely made enemies.

She's only in university at all because Eiji demanded she do something good with her life, and she can't stand to disappoint him so she does try somewhat hard to balance both.

I saw someone else on here say she would pursue Materials Engineering, and I think that’s probably a great option for technical sword smithing. (Sorry, I can't remember who it was, but it was NOT my suggestion.) That or something involving Metalworking in art (my fav cuz it's what I do).

She does sword training privately. She's not in any clubs on campus because, similar to in canon, she prefers a mix of them and actually does use her skills when she's "working", not just for what she considers play-sparring.

She's an older student that went back to school after her divorce.

DON'T ask her about that.

You two meet because you're both looking for a roommate halfway through a semester.

You had a nasty cheating-related breakup that culminated in you kicking your ex AND old RM out, leaving you with an apartment you couldn't pay for alone.

She used to room with Ringo, but just simply could. not. stand. Ringo’s intensely social atmosphere. He's a culinary student who is very respected in classes, and constantly inviting people over for dinner. (Edit: This was also partially someone else's!)

She noticed your ad that specified looking for someone quiet, in an off-campus place that offered a small courtyard for her training.

Perfect.

Your first thought when you meet her is “god damn.”

A tall drink of water with gorgeous eyes and a voice like crushed silk.

Haha I'm in danger

But you keep that under wraps. You tell yourself that you don't need to be rebounding with the person that just moved in.

So much for a roommate that doesn't offer any distractions, though. Her training in the yard pretty much means you get zero work done in that time unless you close the curtains.

…She is very quiet, at least. Even if she keeps odd hours with her strange "job".

However, Ringo is going to be stopping by almost every day to make sure she eats, so expect a lot of humming and a LOT of friendly questions.

Ringo is actually responsible for the two of you getting to know each other initially, because he asks questions of you that Mizu won't ask, and subtly makes sure to do it when Mizu is around to hear the answers.

She pretends to ignore you both, but can't help but tune in a bit.

He also chats a bit about Mizu, as long as it isn't anything she's told him is a secret, and ignores her glaring at him.

She stays stoic about it, but secretly she's rather flustered when you seem interested in a positive way by what Ringo blabs to you about her.

She also appreciates that you don't bug her about it when Ringo isn't around even if she kind of wishes you did

He is Very Excited that Mizu now has TWO friends! :)

Mizu acts annoyed by him, but she is secretly pleased when you seem to like him.

She would not fw you if you didn't. He's like a beloved sibling; she gets to complain about him, but she'll fight anyone else that doesn't like him.

You finally get to ACTUALLY start becoming friends when you both happen to stay on campus over a break.

You aren't on good terms with your family, so you assume you'll have the place to yourself, but...

Walking by Mizu’s room you notice that she's still here.

Her door is open for once because she also assumed you would be gone.

After staring at each other in mutual surprise, you awkwardly ask her if she wanted to maybe hang out over dinner and watch a movie or something.

She would normally have said no, but with nothing else to do over break, she chose to focus on doing homework continually (She is perpetually behind because of those Extracurricular Revenge Activities of hers), and she is just so done with it

So she awkwardly agrees

And you learn the hard way why Mizu is not allowed in the kitchen EVER.

You try, you really do, to keep that first bite in your mouth, but…

She shamefacedly asks if you're alright while you're still coughing over the garbage can, but your coughing turns to giggling.

You joke to her that you're actually glad to know she isn't perfect at everything, and she seems surprised that you admire anything about her to begin with

You're willing to start over ON YOUR OWN, but she insists that would be unfair and orders you both takeout.

Since she bought dinner, you insist that she gets to pick the movie.

She kind of wants to put on that new slasher flick that just came out on streaming, but she isn't sure what you like and you seem like such a sweet little thing.

And after nearly killing you via spices, she didn't want you to think she was a TOTAL psycho.

(She doesn't want to talk about why she even cares what you think.)

So she chose a documentary on modern sword-smithing that she knew Eiji had been interviewed for.

(This surprised you, because you were EXPECTING her to choose a horror. She just seems like the type. And maybe you were hoping for an excuse to snuggle closer…)

But this is actually really interesting, and you find yourself fascinated. You never knew about the details and craftsmanship that went into this!

She tries to sit quietly, as usual, but she just can't resist the urge to point out Eiji when he appears.

She's just too proud of her sword-father. That pride is obvious in her voice and makes her seem almost soft for once.

This makes you feel ever so slightly brave, and leads to you pausing after his section (because you don't want to talk over him), and asking all sorts of questions.

Normally she wouldn't be thrilled about this, but she can't resist questions about Eiji the way she can about herself.

Somehow this leads her to ask some minor question about your major, related to something you told Ringo, and she's startled at the jolt that runs through her when you light up, just beaming at her.

“I didn’t know you listened to any of that!”

You start excitedly explaining, but she's distracted by the strange thrumming in her chest at the way you smiled at her.

(This is not going to be a problem for her. It's NOT. )

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

———————————

April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born. 

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him. 

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself. 

Well….she was hoping to. 

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.” 

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication. 

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.” 

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once. 

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year. 

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family. 

It was a lot to take in. 

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it. 

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind. 

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother. 

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.” 

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives. 

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank. 

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors. 

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through. 

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.” 

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n. 

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.” 

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.” 

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?” 

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.” 

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?” 

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.” 

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping. 

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?” 

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’ 

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting. 

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past. 

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day. 

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things? 

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning. 

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs. 

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.” 

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap. 

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.” 

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak. 

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips. 

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water. 

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.  

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.” 

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry. 

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort. 

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship. 

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.” 

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.” 

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color. 

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back. 

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea. 

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.” 

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding. 

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further. 

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin. 

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end. 

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours. 

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of. 

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked. 

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life. 

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her. 

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.” 

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.” 

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her. 

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment. 

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it. 

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life. 

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place. 

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear. 

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing. 

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank. 

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza. 

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close. 

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.” 

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens. 

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.” 

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive. 

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word. 

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.” 

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through. 

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived. 

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different. 

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile. 

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance. 

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.” 

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her. 

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.” 

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.” 

April 14th, 2012 

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway. 

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean. 

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea. 

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009. 

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her. 

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination. 

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds. 

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face. 

However it may come, they are always there. 

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears. 

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[reasonandfaithinharmony]

2024 Gif Round-Up

Thank you for tagging me @heartstringsduet @thisbuildinghasfeelings @paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo

@carlos-in-glasses @guardian-angle22 and @reyesstrand!!

I’m very late to this because the holidays didn’t leave me any time to myself. But @herefortarlos tells me there’s no deadline for these things. So here we go.😅

This year was the first time I watched 911 Lone Star live, and it was actually the first time I’d ever made gifs for *any show* as we got new episodes. It's been a lot of fun, even if it makes me even more aware of just how long it takes me to finish a set. 🙈

Here’s to everyone who puts lovely content on my dash, whether it’s your own work, reblogs, or funny/heartfelt commentary and tags. I would be so lost without all of it.

Please consider this an open tag for anyone who would still like to do their own round-up!

January

Carlos smiling into kisses Parallel set with scenes from Yee-Haw (1x02)

“You asked me to feel safe with you.” Flashback set with scenes from Friends With Benefits (2x04) and Push (3x04)

When a new hyperfixation takes hold Dan Levy reaction gifs

February

TK and Carlos comforting each other Parallel set with scenes from Friends With Benefits (2x04) and A House Divided (4x16)

March

“I'll keep going with you.” An emotional entry for incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

 “I am tryna be your home, your safe place, your go to person…” Back to the more humorous incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, with moments from Yee-Haw (1x02)

“there’s honestly a lot of things wrong with you but im kind of into it for some reason. Do you want to get married.” Incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, featuring the darts scene from Texas Proud (1x03)

April

Their last terrified moments in their first home. Their first brilliant and joyful moments in their new home. Parallel set with scenes from The Big Heat (2x12) and Push (3x04)

“Hey now those (your big brown eyes) are some dangerous weapons…” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif with a look at Carlos in Negative Space (3x12)

That lovely first tarlos scene in Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13), without the credits obstructing our view.

"just got diagnosed as your soulmate...". Incorrect quotes/text post–gif featuring scenes from Yee-Haw (1x02) and A House Divided (4x16)

Season 4: parallel statements of love and devotion Scenes from Abandoned (4x04), The New Hot Mess (4x02), Swipe Left (4x12), A House Divided (4x16), and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

May through December are below the cut because things got very out of hand very quickly:

May

Husband, husband, husband Every instance of “husband” from In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

When there are clues that date night has been interrupted Adding some visual aids to the conversation about the state of Carlos' shirt at the end of This Is Not a Drill (4x06)

“I think that both of them like to be the little spoon and the big spoon” – Rafael Silva For @carlos-in-glasses who shared her amazing Cameo video with us

“I missed it so much, I took a stab at writing fanfiction.” A relatable moment from Modern Family

June

If that moment in the fire was Carlos' last chance to say anything, he was going to say everything. A flashback set inspired by @doublel27's post that lives in my head, rent-free. Features scenes from The Big Heat (2x12) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

“He might not understand TK's fixation with a lizard, but… Um, you know, Carlos loves TK. And if Carlos loves TK, then that's all that matters.” – Rafael Silva For @thisbuildinghasfeelings who generously shared not one, but two Cameo videos with us

Just taking the opportunity to look at the details of some intense moments from the fire in The Big Heat (2x12)

“It’s a meal, not a marriage proposal, TK. || “So, the wedding. It’s coming up.” A flashback set with TK and Carlos sitting across from each other at the dinner table in Yee-Haw (1x02) and This Is Not a Drill (4x06)

wedding planning → wedding ceremony Parallel set with scenes from Control Freaks (4x08) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

July

“And when did you figure that out?” / “The day I met you.” How long have you thought that?“ / “Since the first night I took you home.” A flashback *and* parallel set with scenes from the pilot (1x01), Yee-Haw (1x02), The New Hot Mess (4x02), and A House Divided (4x16). Made in collaboration with @paperstorm. (Check out the accompanying fic here.)

That sounds sexual. 😏 A Rafael Silva reaction gif for various situations here on tumblr dot com

Andrea with her husband and her son, both in their tuxes for the wedding. Parallel set featuring scenes from  Best of Men (4x17) and In Sickness and in Health deleted scene (4x18). (I blame this one on @goldenskykaysani 😭)

August

My best attempt at zooming in on the final shot of the proposal scene in A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18)

September

No more wasted moments. A collection of scenes from A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18), Swipe Left (4x12), Both Sides Now (5x01), and the promo for Thunderstruck (5x05). (I still need to update that last one to the version used in the episode. Oops.)

Carlos on the outside, looking in  ->  Carlos surrounded by the love of his friends, family, and husband Not sure if I should call this a parallel or a flashback set. Either way, we have scenes from the pilot (1x01) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and I'm so very normal about it.

Sweet moments where Carlos is grabbing TK’s sweater/jacket Parallel set of still images from Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13) and the Thunderstruck promo (5x05)

Reaching across the table Parallel set of still images from Austin, We Have a Problem (1x10) and Both Sides, Now (5x01, season 5 promo)

TK and Carlos:  "husband" A collection of scenes from A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18),  Swipe Left (4x12), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and Both Sides Now (5x01)

The look on Carlos' face when his own love language is returned to him in kind Parallel set with scenes from Swipe Left (4x12) and Both Sides, Now (5x01)

October

“One of the most magical things about being in a committed relationship is learning to really open up your heart and hate one of your partner’s coworkers you’ve never met” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif  for Both Sides, Now (5x01)

The way Carlos walks into the 126 firehouse:  unwilling to move past the threshold -> strutting in with donuts for everyone, just because. A collection of scenes from Austin, We Have a Problem (1x10), Bad Call (2x08), Spring Cleaning (3x17), and Trainwrecks (5x02)

“You look like the night we met. Green t-shirt and short hair.” For @strandnreyes and @paperstorm, to accompany their coda for C12 (5x03), with parallel gifs from the pilot (1x01).  (Read the fic here.)

TK and Carlos are not on the same page Parallel set for Swipe Left (4x12) and the Thunderstruck promo (5x05)

kiss + hand + ✨ring✨ Parallel set of still images from In Sickness and in Health deleted scenes (4x18) and Thunderstruck promo photos (5x05)

I will never not be thinking about this kiss 🔥 Thunderstruck (5x05) sneak peek

Had to make a post with sexy scenes from three different episodes. As a treat. 🔥🔥🔥 Parallel set for Yee-Haw (1x02), The Big Heat (2x12), and Thunderstruck (5x05)

"…everybody has needs." Pairing moments from The Big Heat (2x12) and Thunderstruck (5x05) with Rafael Silva’s Cameo video (courtesy of @carlos-in-glasses)

November

TK, Carlos, and Jonah – with Gwyn and with Enzo Parallel set of still images from Push (3x04) and a Kiddos (5x07) promotional photo. A closer zoom of the Kiddos image can be found here.

“This is great. I’m going to get a good grade in therapy, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif for Carlos in Thunderstruck (5x05)

TK and Carlos moving in sync during couples therapy Thunderstruck (5x05)

Carlos in his troublemaker era, egging on Owen and Enzo Kiddos (5x07)

TK, Carlos, and Jonah at the firehouse Parallel set with scenes from  Push (3x04) and Kiddos (5x07)

“Hi, big brother.” / “Hi, little brother.” TK and Jonah reunited in Kiddos (5x07) A longer version of this gif set can be found here

Just the tiniest bit of slightly different footage from TK's birthday party Kiddos (5x07)

“Who’s gonna take him to dim sum?” || “Who’s gonna hug him?” Parallel set with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and The Quiet Ones (5x08)

A microsecond of behind-the-scenes footage from TK's party Kiddos (5x07)

December

TK and Carlos reaching for each other in their sleep Parallel set with scenes from Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and The Quiet Ones (5x08).

Our loved ones live on through us Parallel set with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and Fall From Grace (5x09)

“You were my dad." Flashback set with scenes from Best of Men (4x17), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and Fall From Grace (5x09)