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tunafruitt · 3 months

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--> || ❝ I’m The Favorite! ❞

Reverse! Isekai/SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, some crack :3, gender neutral reader

[ Reverse Isekai with the genshin boys !! A day out for the first time since they were somehow transported into your world… ] [word count: 1.9k]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, ITTO, KAEYA, DILUC, CHILDE, KAVEH, XIAO, AL HAITHAM

“Your Grace, with all due respect… THIS ISN’T FAIR AT ALL!”

“I understand what you’re saying Venti but I can’t bring all 20-something of you outside… 8 people is already too much! An average friend group has around 3-4 people and I’m bringing double that! I promise I’ll take the rest of you out some other day.”

Hearing consecutive sighs of disappointment, you turn to look at the rest of the men. They were visibly upset. It’s not that you DON’T want to bring them all outside! Really! It’s just that some… or, most, of them have features that would stand out in a public setting. Take Gorou and Tighnari for example! Their ears could maybe be hidden for some minutes at a time using a hood or beanie, but what about their tails? Not to mention ITTO. He literally has the most red, obvious horns.

You did your best to make them look somewhat normal. Kaveh and Wanderer could pass as a normal citizen if you removed some accessories, but characters like Diluc and Neuvillette couldn’t. So it was up to you to dress them up! Yayyy!!!

No. This was NOT an easy job. Diluc’s bright red hair couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard you tried. Neuvillette’s long hair could maybe pass as normal... maybe. His horns though? I guess you’ll have to go with the “Oh! Why are they dressed like that? Well you see, my friends just left a cosplay convention a while ago. They look cool right? Yeah.” Excuse.

You gave them what you had left in your closet. What did fit them were sweats, loose pants, pajamas and some old shirts. It was odd not seeing them in their usual complex and pretty outfits. The buffer and more muscular characters looked (not surprisingly) attractive in your shirts… they were tight just around the right spots. They noticed your eyes in their direction with your face ever so slightly flushed, but decided to not say anything about it. ( THEY KNOW.)

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

With the boys dressed up and ready, it was finally time to head out! The people you brought with you were: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Kaveh, Xiao and Al Haitham.

Xiao insisted on being the one to “protect you”. Denying his request felt awkward for some reason…

Kaveh had been interested in the simple and strangely large buildings cramped next to each other. You wouldn’t be so mean to deny his request to go see some of them in person right?

Al Haitham was interested about your world and wanted to learn more about it, maybe he’d find some books that weren’t all fiction and romance.

You’d feel bad if you only brought one Ragnvindr brother.. so you brought both. You also didn’t want to hear Kaeya bickering with Diluc about him going out on a “date” (it wasn’t.) with the Creator.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley look a bit intimidating so maybe they’d scare people off. Who would’ve known you’d have two scary looking men protecting and looking after you?

And Childe….. well he’s Childe. He was stuck to your hip.

You didn’t really know where to go.. The park? A restaurant? A supermarket? All of these options were a bit difficult since they’re usually filled with people. Of course, no matter where you go there’s likely to be people, but it’d be easier to not have to be completely and utterly aware of every stranger around you in fear that they might find out who the men you brought with you actually are. Your only option was to ask them if they had an idea or if they wanted to visit an area.

“Oh! Can we go to one of those food places you’ve talked about before? What is it called.. uh.. curly… curly fries..?”

“Jack in the Box. The name is Jack in the Box, Childe.” Wriothesley remembers every little thing you talked to yourself about when the only way they were able to feel you was through a screen. All of them would listen to you talk about a movie you watched, something funny that happened, or gossip that was spreading around your school or workplace. Anything.

You let out a small chuckle at their conversation. Their recommendation isn’t bad you think. All they’ve been eating is whatever you had back at home, since ordering takeout for more than 20 people would be wayyyyy too expensive.

So a fast food restaurant it is!

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

The walk there was…. tedious. Childe was trying his best to not wander off, he really was! But there was so many new things he’d never seen before, so it’s not his fault. Neuvillette was probably the calmest out of everyone. He was right by your side following your lead. Maybe holding onto your arm once or twice.. on accident! (it wasn’t) Xiao was observing his surroundings a little too hard.. yeah this is all new to him, but I guess he was serious about protecting you. Though you didn’t really need it with 7 tall men around you.

“Mortals… The need for human interaction is what makes them weak.”

Diluc and Kaeya would not SHUT UP. If you passed by a bar, Kaeya would ask if he could go in, just for a second! He just wants to see how different they are from the ones in Mondstadt, really. Diluc would follow up with “You’re no better than that… that drunkard Venti.”

Kaveh would stop mid-street to look at the buildings...

“These buildings are so… long. How do they hold up so much weight? It’s impressive! What would they need so many floors for though… Why is there a man’s face as the logo in that restaurant? Oh! He’s glowing?”

“If you get ran over by one of those vehicles it’ll be your fault.”

“Huh? Al Haitham! YOUR GRACE! Wait for me!”

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

The next problem was choosing what to eat. Ordering food for 8 people, not including yourself, was expensive. You knew that! But you didn’t mentally prepare for the bill.

“Oh god…”

“Your Grace? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Eat up! We can go somewhere else after this if you want.”

You had realized that a woman had passed by your table countless times. She was very obviously staring at the men, looking almost flustered? Oh, she must think they’re attractive.

……

SHE THINKS THEYRE ATTRACTIVE??!

Okay. Thats okay. As long as she doesn’t ask for their numb—

“Uh-uhm.. excuse me, sir. Can I have your number? Or.. just Instagram is fine too.” She was staring directly at Wriothesley. You should’ve known letting him go out in a tight shirt and loose pants would’ve attracted more people.

“Uhh.. Pardon me, ma’am. Number…? As in… prisoner number..?” The Duke had an obvious confused and conflicted look on his face.

“Huh?”

“Aha.. ha… forgive him. He’s taken! So he can’t give out his number to just anyone.”

“Oh.. S-sorry. Forgive me I’ll just— I’ll get going.“ She was very obviously embarrassed over this whole ordeal.

“What did she mean by number, your grace?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it…”

The group of men began to eat. (Neuvillette ordered a cup of iced water and Xiao didn’t eat anything.)

“Your Grace, there’s some food on the corner of your mouth.. Here. Let me help.” As Kaeya was about to reach his hand and wipe off the food with his thumb, there was thud on the window next to your table. Huh? It’s Itto.

It’s Itto?

“WHAT THE HELL. HOW DID HE GET HERE!?” You whispered screamed as turned to Itto. Did he follow you here? Was he here this whole time????

Through the glass Itto was saying something. His voice was muffled but you could make some things out.

“Your Grace! Don’t let this… this BUFFOON touch you! I, Arataki Itto will volunteer instead!”

You let out a loud sigh. You had to go get him… imagine seeing a tall, buff man with white hair and what looks like horns with a black hoodie up against a restaurants window…

Yeah that looks weird from an outsiders view.

You signal to the rest of the men to follow you out. When you got outside you wanted to tell Itto to never do something like that again… but he looked so sad, almost like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry Your Grace… I just wanted to accompany you! I might have gotten a teenyyy tinyyyy bit distracted on the way. You never told me there was so many cool lookin’ beetles in your world! There was one that that was very small and red with black spots, probably not useful for beetle fighting though. And I also saw some… uh.. not to disrespect anyone but there was a really weird lookin’ dog..”

SIGHHHHHH. You started to wonder what would have happened if he really had gotten lost, or what if someone recognized him? The thought of losing one of the men scared you. Would you be to blame if one of them never made it back to Teyvat?

“Itto… I love you and everything, but never do something like this again. What if we never found you? What would have happened then? I think we should head back home..”

Itto was on the verge of tears. He’s had more beans thrown at him than he could count, but nothing ever hurt as much as this.

It took Itto a while to process that you had also said you loved him.

“M’ bad Your Grace.. I won’t follow you next time… but, I love you too Your Grace!!”

The men turned to him SO FAST?? Xiao was about to take his spear out, Al Haitham looked DISGUSTED. Kaveh and Childe’s jaws were wide OPEN.

“DUDE YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

“Childe’s right, we all love Our Grace, not just you.” Diluc only said this because he wanted to be the one to say “I love you”, but you didn’t need to know that. If it was for anything else he would never agree with a harbinger.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Why can’t I love and appreciate our beloved Creator? You guys are all just mad that I, the Number One Oni, Arataki Itto, am Your Grace’s FAVORITE.”

“WHAT? NO! Your Grace is that true?”

How many sighs have you let out today? This must be a full time job because you just let out another sigh.

“No, it’s not. I love all of you equally! Don’t start any problems with each other in public, please… We should be heading home anyways. Look at the sky, the sun will set soon.”

Almost in synch, the men respond “Yes, Your Grace!”

Seeing them like this made you feel all happy and giddy… It was nice seeing them together with you in the picture. You smiled at them and they just stared. They waited for you to turn around before looking at each other almost competitively. It was clear that each and every one of them wanted you for themselves in some way.

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

It was finally time to head home!!! After one long and exhausting day, you finally made it back.

The rest of the men were waiting patiently for you (Venti, Wanderer, Lyney and Heizou had to be held back by Albedo, Dainsleif and Pierro.)

“*SNIFF* AUGH.. YOUR GRACE! *SNIFF* WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“Hi, Venti… I missed you all too..” Venti’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, while he cried onto your shoulder.

“Your Grace, you’re here!” Thoma looked.. tired. Just what happened while you were gone? You decided to ask just incase.

“Hi Thoma, and everyone else. Did anything happen while me and the others were gone?” You had a gut feeling that something happened… they were unusually quiet… too quiet.

“A fight broke out between The Puppet and Cyno.”

“WHAT??”

AAAAAHHHHHHH thank you so much for 200 notes on my last fic omg y’all got me giggling to myself and spinning in my bed stop.. First long fic!!1!1! I plan on making little comic based off of the “The Creator has a.. LOVER?!” fic with the Zhongli and Venti scene with reader!! Yayyy! I Hope u guys enjoy this AUGH it makes me so happy to see people liking my noob writing thats really just me writing my thought and daydreams ilyily

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #neuvillette #wriothesley #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #kaveh #xiao x reader #genshin #x reader #gender neutral reader #yayyy

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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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The text updates I was sending a friend while at the protest in Paris yesterday are kind of tragically funny, it goes from "the cops are staying away and as a result everything's going well, they clearly received better orders today, I'm glad" to "wait, no, forget that"

1. "Everything's going well, there are a couple of small fires but no one cares, the crowd calmly avoids them, some people stop to warm their hands over them, it's very civilised. I don't think the people who set stuff on fire are the problem, when the cops stay away everything goes smoothly"

2. "There are groups of CRS with batons and shields in the side streets but they stay very discreet compared with the other protests and weirdly enough this one is calmer!"

3. My friend : "Maybe they received different orders today"

Me "Yeah it's a miracle, someone made a sensible decision"

4. "We just passed another side street full of cops and I heard someone said "last time they started charging us, we had no idea why" so yeah they clearly received different instructions today"

Less than 10min later: "never mind we're being tear gassed"

Then: "Never mind they just charged us several times we have no idea why"

"I arrived at the end point of the march, looked back and there was a fresh new cloud of tear gas over the (very calm, many elderly people) groups in the middle of the march. More police cars + a water cannon are arriving"

Can't overstate how calm the protest was, just people (100K to 300K according to estimates) walking from point A to point B while holding signs. There were a few trash fires but if they'd sent firefighters to extinguish them people would have let them through... I had friends who walked in the middle of the march to avoid any trouble or gas and they still got tear gassed without knowing why. Even supposing there were people ahead of me I couldn't see who were being more antagonistic towards the CRS, surely the hundreds of cops present could have somehow dealt with that without charging and bludgeoning peaceful protesters and tear gassing thousands of people? Right now it's not possible for French citizens to peacefully assemble without getting systematically gassed by police.

Here's a video of when they first charged the front of the march, the people they're hitting can't move back any faster (I was somewhere in the compact crowd behind wondering (cause I'm not tall I couldn't see anything 😭) why we were suddenly being pushed back when things had been calm and fun until then. People who had been there before were coaching others like 'don't try to run, you'll make the people behind panic, just walk fast'). I counted five or six tear gas grenades going off

From what I've heard from people who were at the protest, the ones who didn't get gassed are the ones who were at the back of the march and left early without completing the march (some left because they saw the cloud of gas ahead). I've also seen people at other protests in various cities yesterday describing a similar situation : peaceful crowd getting separated in two by a charge, gassed and soaked with water cannons, most people having no idea why. If I had to describe this in terms of police strategy it would be, gas as many people as possible to dissuade your average peaceful protester from completing the march and showing up next time, and be aggressive towards the front of the march to rile them up and get nice images of youth burning things or throwing stuff at cops to show on the evening news and turn public opinion against protesters.

(Note that the society of journalists working for France Télévision (public TV, like the French BBC) have published a statement decrying the poor framing of the protests on the national news, saying too much emphasis was placed on the small amount of people destroying stuff and almost nothing on police brutality and the record numbers of (peaceful) protesters in the streets.) (Read this if you're French and have been wondering why some people around you still don't think the situation is worrying...)

Anyway, I'm glad I went. It was good to see so many people just as angry as I am about what's happening to this country and guillotine-chan was in attendance, and many people had very fun signs and I liked this angry flag:

#frpol #(les fautes d'ortho dans les sms c'est pas de ma faute mon tel arrêtait pas de m'autocorriger à tort...)#la situation continue d'être surréaliste je dois dire que #''au milieu d'une crise politique le Président répond aux questions de ses concitoyens dans Pif Gadget'' m'a prise par surprise

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destructive-path · 6 months

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Fan. - E.W.

a/n: Hi! This is the first one shot i have ever written so i would appreciate some feedback in the comments please! (but pls be nice) This is ur average ao3 coded fic with no proofread and bad grammar to ease you in to what i plan on posting if all goes well!

summary - jackson au where basically the entire pt.2 never happened, Ellie is older, Joel is alive. Instead of falling for Dina, Ellie has a fascination with a girl (you) that swims at the local creek near jackson.

( I imagine farm ellie looks here bc im a mullet enthusiast )

warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY mdni, smut, kissing, mentions of sex, fingering (r receiving), service top! ellie, sub! reader, oral (r receiving), pet names,

word count : 8.5K (I KNOW SHE’S A BIT HEFTY BUT ITS WORTH IT IMO)

Jackson summers were painfully hot. Maybe it was the effects of the extensive bombing that took place when everything went to shit. Or maybe it was just living in the apocalypse that made everything unbearable. Everything was out to kill you, including the heat. Great.

You could cut the air with a knife. In this time of scarce recourses there wasn’t a lot of remedies people could access to alleviate the sheer heat that surrounded them. There was an occasional establishment in city limits that was graced with a limited amount of air conditioning. (In summers jackson preserved the generators for more important things) Although it never really stayed cool for long anyways because every citizen that wasn’t on patrol or working an assigned shift could be found in one of these buildings.

Fans were like gold during these times. If you were lucky to have one it was most likely scored on patrol, which was rare. So whatever chance you got, you found yourself at a creek just outside of jacksons walls to cool down. It was a flowing stream that kept cool year round, surrounded with trees and engulfed in shade from the sun.

Lots of people your age could be found there during these excruciating summer days. Mostly young adults, those old enough to be assigned on patrol with the exception of the occasional teenager. It was a safe space for younger people to get away from the effects that summer had on authority figures of jackson. To be fair the heat made everyone a little irritable, but you could only take so much.

You had almost made it to your sacred spot before a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey there little minnow” A soft but somewhat gruff voice states behind you.

You must have been so consumed with getting to your destination that you had failed to hear the footsteps of your fairly recently acquainted swimming partner close behind you.

It wasn’t an intentional initial meet cute, one day while you were enjoying your solitude she emerged from the trees. Her eyes were wondering in search of something but when they landed on you in the water, the curious stare faded and she asked if she could join you. You Accepted.

She wasn’t always there when you were but you had begun to notice that she has been attending the spot more frequently the past few weeks. You never said many words to each other, both using this time as more of a solitary escape than a social vacation. You couldn’t deny though, she had a presence that felt intimidating…yet comforting? So you never dismissed her. Maybe just admired observed her unique demeanor from a distance. Only ever exchanging words on occasion.

You slowly spun around to face her, taken aback by the new nickname that left her lips.

“Minnow?” You state teasingly, your raised brow coaxing a chuckle out of the girl.

“Ive seen you out here almost everyday.”

She looks down in a sort of bashful way. Clutching the strings of her bag on her shoulders in a fidgety manner.

“Like this creek is your home or something…honestly now that im thinking about it I dont know if Ive ever seen you anywhere in jackson but here.” She scratches the back of her neck and repositions upright. The bottom of her shirt lifts at the tug of her elbow upwards to gain better access to her neck. This action exposes her slightly tanned stomach and a v line practically begging you to stare at it.

You inhale. As you think about the times you have laid eyes on her you realize its always been the way she looks now. A slightly grown out mullet pushed back with a thin black headband, some sort of sports bra underneath a slightly cropped muscle tee, with short swimming trunks that stop a little less than halfway on her thighs. She always had slightly sun kissed cheeks and freckles that decorate her entire face in various places. Exhale. Maybe you do come here too much.

“I could say the same for you too, you know. This was my spot first.” You rebuttal in a playful tone, crossing your arms.

The young woman throws her hands up in defense and steps a little closer to you. You can see a layer of sweat rolling off her now.

“Fair, fair…you dont mind do you? Every other corner of this stream but this one is overrun by like- loud jackson youths. I just need somewhere I can cool down and relax. Away from the noise you know? If im honest the only reason I found this place is because I saw you sneaking away from the usual crowded section.”

Her eyes meet yours in search of something. Acceptance? Maybe just a sign that you dont think shes a creep? You cant help but blush at the thought of her eyes following you, curious of your endeavors.

She notices this.

“Its fine.” You state calmly. Genuinely. Which makes her smile as she watches you turn on your heels to continue to the stream.

“Just as long as you dont call me a minnow anymore…” You pause. In search of her name. You remember she told you the first time she swam with you.

“…Ellie. Right?” You keep walking ahead listening to her steps slightly behind you.

“Right. And got it, no more fish related nicknames. I like swimming here with you. Id hate to fuck it up.” You can hear the smirk in her tone. You try to shake it off but you cant. She enjoys your time together…Noted.

—

You make it to the edge of the stream and stop at a patch of grass where you normally put your things. This time Ellie settles next to you instead of her usual spot a few patches over.

“Can I ask why you come here so much? I feel like you have to be half fish.” You laugh at this, taking a liking to her humorous side as opposed to the usual quietness you are used to.

“Pretty much the same reason you do. That, and I dont have a fan in my room, so this is the only way I can stay cool in summer. ” You reply as you began to remove the clothes that served as a sort of practical cover up from the journey from your house to the stream.

Ellie hums in response and watches as you peel of the top that was clinging you your body on the walk here. Revealing the only bikini u had the luck of finding in this current state of the world. You were now only in your swim suit peering down at your own reflection in the water. Ellie stands up behind you, motivated by your new state and removes her black headband and muscle tee then tosses them ontop of her own belongings as she makes her way to stand next to you by the stream.

She is close. Closer than shes ever been before, which isnt even really THAT close. But for some reason its enough for you to notice. You can smell her now. The need to sneak a look at her state from this distance overcomes you. You can see some scars on her face you didnt notice before. A small pit in your stomach begins to form and u turn to look back at your own reflection in the water. Her gaze averts away from the stream and towards your direction. You shift your eyes to look at her reflection in the water until you muster enough strength to meet her gaze next to you. Ellies mullet has now fallen around her face and is stuck to her temples and forehead due to the heat. The green in her eyes impossible to ignore, almost as if they were daring you to swim in them and not the water next to you. The pit in your stomach grows a little larger but you cant think of anything to say. Luckily (as if she read your mind) she speaks up.

“Jump in on three?” She asks. You Nod.

“One” says ellie

“Twooo” You drag

“THREE!” You both shout and finally break eye-contact to jump into the cold water.

This day was different than the others, you both knew it.

—

After swimming for what felt like no time at all, (but both of you determined had been several hours due to the sun’s dramatic new position) you decided to leave the coldness of the water and return back to jackson city limits.

The walk back was silent. A juxtaposition to the time you two had spent together in the water. Maybe you were silently soaking in all the information you had learned about Ellie or maybe it was because your time together was almost over. This swim session was filled with questions about each other, statements about jackson and various basic getting to know each other things. Ellies questions were unique. She asked you things no one had before. It was as if she was desperate to know you, like she had already had an arsenal of questions ready for the moment you two had finally decided to get to know each other. Your questions came naturally, but still revealed a side to her that you could never predict yourself.

She was an artist. She was a killer, of man and monster alike. Mostly everyone was these days. Although, her stories and the journey it took to get Jackson was something you would never forget. Ellie loved jokes and comics and space. Nerd. She asked you lots (lots) of questions about your own theories of how the universe worked. You could tell your perspective was as interesting to her as the subject itself. You told her about your own interests which also seemed to dazzle her in a way even you couldn’t explain. Getting to know each other reminded you of reading a really good book, or traveling to somewhere new. Theres was so much to learn. So much to still unravel, details to notice. You didn’t want to stop getting to know Ellie. And she didn’t want to stop talking to you.

So the silent walk back was interrupted by Ellies voice.

“Um-you mentioned you dont have a fan in your room?” She asks, already knowing the answer but mostly seeing if you would fall into the trap she had been asking herself the entire walk back to jackson if she should set. You shake your head and respond.

“I do not unfortunately. Never got lucky enough on patrol to find one. I look every time though, and nothing. My guess is all of the ones within our patrol areas got taken by jackson citizens. If I wanted to find one these days I would probably have to journey for miles.” You state plainly. Curious why she asked, so you ask.

“Why?”

She looks up from her shifting feet.

“Well, I uh- have one. In my room…A fan. If you were still feeling hot.”

She steps closer.

“We could go there and continue to cool down...” Shes looking directly at you again. Her green eyes are begging for you to accept her seemingly gracious (but really somewhat selfish) offer. You cant help but swallow, hard.

You accept and she leads you to her place.

—

As you enter Ellies home everything she had told you at the creek before makes more sense. Its almost as if her personality had been stripped from her and placed on the walls and shelves around you. You had never seen a room with so much stuff. A part of you was curious on how she had collected so many items over the years. These days you had forgotten that was an option, you had become too consumed by other things to remember to have a personality of your own to decorate your home with.

You liked it in her room. Well liked was an understatement. You silently paced around the space taking note of everything you saw. Posters, figurines, lots of books and comics. You began to notice her art that was sprawled all over the room in various corners. She was talented. You noticed a guitar and a record player with lots of vinyls next to it. She had mentioned a guardian of hers had a large influence on her love for music. You made a mental note to make sure she showed you her appreciation for music sometime. As you continued to take in everything in silence, Ellie couldn’t take her eyes off you. She watched the way you hesitantly touched the occasional item. Her stomach did flips each time you stared a little longer than normal at a sketch or painting you had discovered around the space. Each little hmm or ah that exited your mouth left her with a mountain of curiosity. She wanted to know every thought behind every item you saw. She was overwhelmed by your presence in her space. You were here. Admiring her things, in her room, alone with her.

“So, what do you think?” Ellies asks.

“Of your room?”

“No of the fan.” She gestures to a grey fan slowly moving side to side placed near the corner of her bed.

“Oh. Its nice.”

“Im joking. Just nice?”

“Jerk. Your room is cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. I like your art.”

Ellie gestures to the art you have been observing for the last few minutes.

“Oh you mean this art?” She asks in a playfully sarcastic tone. You catch her smirking this time, not wanting to give her the full satisfaction so you decide to continue with the playful dialogue she has struck.

“Mmmhm, Id like to meet the artist someday. Do you think you could introduce me?” You ask. Now mirroring Ellie’s smirk.

“Woooooow.” She scoffs in response only making your smirk turn into a much wider grin.

“Ohhh!” You continue your game. Ellie continues to laugh whilst matching the increasing smile now on both of your faces.

“Is this? This cant be your art? I mean its actually good. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a young van gogh.” You tease. Hoping you didn’t offend her with the comparison to the only artist you could remember. Now you are both laughing.

“Oh come on.” She rolls her eyes.

“Im no Van gogh.” She states boldly. Your laughter dies down slightly as you both continue to stare at a painting she had been working on. She turned her gaze back to you.

“You know Van goh was like, criminally underrated in his prime? He was deemed untalented by those who viewed his work when he was alive.” You smiled at the knowledge she decided to share with you.

“Ah so you do have something in common.” you turn to face her fighting a smile, wanting to see her reaction.

“Ohhh okay… whos the jerk now?” She asks as her head tilts slightly to the side, lips back in smirk position.

You dont respond immediately. Soaking in the effortlessness of you and Ellies rebuttal. You search for words to change the subject, but, in this moment you cant help but notice her current state. Shes in diffferent clothes now. The change must have happened as you were distracted admiring ellies room. She was dressed in dark blue boxers and a white longsleeve sleep shirt with the top two silver buttons left unclasped. The longsleeve was slightly oversized and stopped just above her waist with the sleeves pushed to her elbows. Her boxers were slightly shorter than the swimming trunks you were used to. The pit in your stomach had reappeared again. Noticing her now dry hair didnt help much either. It was very much disheveled sticking out every which way. Ellies fringe framed her face in a way that made your cheeks turn red. It was only then, when the heat on your face was significantly more prominent did you realize how long you had been staring.

Your gaze returns to Ellies eyes and the playful demeanor she once had was gone. Instead it was replaced with something much more. Her eyebrows were knit and her bottom lip was now under them punishment of her teeth. She looked at you as if you were a painting. Not one in a museum, more like one of her own. A piece of art she could only imagine in her head. A blank canvas she needed to decorate. Afraid one wrong stroke could ruin you. She looked at your arms, legs, stomach, chest. Ellie studied you with such intensity you thought you would dissolve under her stare. Your breathing increased. You swallow hard.

“Ellie.” You say, hoping to ease her piercing stare. Its no use. Shes lost in the observation of you.

She stands from her sitting position and slowly walks towards your direction, still saying nothing. Ellie still hadnt made direct eye contact for a while, so you took this moment to look at her face. You wanted to notice every facial expression she made whilst discovering your body. You watched her mouth part to support the fact that she was now breathing as hard as you were. With every step ellie inched closer you spotted something new. A freckle or scar, the slight pink of her lips, the twinge of brown in her astonishingly green irises.

She was inches away from you now, still refusing to acknowledge your eyes. Your instincts made u step away from her like two negative sides of a magnet. The more she moved into you the more you moved away. There wasnt much room for you to avert her. You continued this dance until you were met with the hardness of her desk behind you. The solid surface made contact with the lower half of your behind, leaving you no choice but to seize your movements away from ellies unwavering advances.

She stops and places her hands on either side of you. Your trapped now. Ellie is gripping her desk like she would fall over if she didn’t. Shes so close yet not touching you at all. Your breaths are now synched. You look at ellies neck and see her swallow hard. When you look at her face she still hasn’t gained the bravery to look you in the eye. Instead she has her eyes fixed on your slightly parted lips. She looks at them as if they were a cold glass of water just out of reach. A perfectly good dessert thrown in the trash. She looked at your lips as if she needed them to stay alive. Like it was painful.

How did you get here? One moment you two had been playful and lighthearted and now the room was filled with tension as thick as the hot air outside. The pit in your stomach returned with a great force.

Noticing this, you decided to be brave. You allowed your tongue to swipe itself through the part of your lips, wetting them for whatever was to come next. Ellie let out a shakey sigh of relief. Followed by a soft hum. Her head lowered in order to get a closer look at your newly damp lips, her eyebrows knit even more at the sight of them from this new angle.

Slowly but steadily her hand began to rise from its grip on the desk behind you. Her palm inched closer and closer to your face. Only until her hand had risen past your shoulders did you notice its presence, distracted by the concentration in her eyes. She froze for a moment molding her hand into a lazy cuping formation mere centimeters from your cheek.

She was shaking. Ellies breathing had picked up slightly. You took this opportunity to look away from her hand and back to her eyes, still not on yours. The painful yearning look was still painted on her face. As if she ran a marathon in order to connect with you but couldnt go the last mile, like she needed your permission to cross the finish line. So you moved your head forward and slowly wiggled into the crescent her long and slender fingers had formed so close to your face. As if you were begging her to become your own personal champion. You wanted to be her prize. Ellies breathing stopped.

For a moment there was pure silence. Every sound around you from the fan by the corner of her bed to the hum of jackson civilization became muffled. Everything in you ached for her finish what you two had started, whatever it was.

You leaned into the warmth her fingers provided biting back a whine for something more. Only then, when Ellie noticed you dripping with desperation did the first words in several minutes get uttered.

“Can I kiss you?” Ellie whispers in a low tone. You were sure you wouldnt have been able to hear it if she hadnt been so close. The heat emitting from her hand on your flushed cheek had become scalding. Unable to utter a word because you were afraid your voice might crack, you nod.

Ellie mirrors your prior actions and licks her own lips to alleviate the dryness her heavy breathing had caused. Green eyes still trained on your parted lips.

You feel the soft grasp she has on your cheek shift slightly. Her thumb strokes your cheek unbearably slow, inching closer and closer until it finds its place at the corner of your mouth. She pauses for a second, inhales-then swipes the digit slowly across your lower lip. This causes you to inhale deeply. Ellie had barely touched you at all, her intimate gesture crumbled what ever composure you thought you had left. You were going mad and extremely needy. Heart racing faster than ever. Then once she was done with the first touch your bottom lip, she swipes her finger even slower back across your top one. You swear the roughness of her finger tip is stained in your memory forever.

This causes you to become weak.

You sink into the desk behind you slightly leaning on it due to the fact that your knees no longer seemed to function. Ellie becomes the support of your head as your neck becomes limp after she had taken whatever strength you had at the delicate touch of your lips. Fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

You start to think its impossible for Ellie to look you in the eye. She had become entranced by your lips. You have yet to look away from her eyes which were still focused on the one place you wanted her most. It was evil that she has yet to meet your stare.

“Ellie..” You whispered once more. Yearning for something, anything. Then, as if she could hear your thoughts before they left your mouth for the second time today (at this point you were convinced) she began to grant you your wish.

Ellie pressed her head against yours for a moment and exhaled. “What are you doing to me?” She asks, in that painful tone you saw oozing out of her demeanor earlier. You cant find the words because you honestly dont know what you have done to make her want you this way. All you can think, see, hear is Ellie, ellieellieellieellieellie. So instead you plead for her. “Please look at me Ellie.”

She becomes more malleable each time you utter her name.

Ellies eyes rose to meet yours. Finally. Then your lips meet. It was as if your stare had pulled her in. When eye contact had been made she couldn’t stay away anymore. You thought that was maybe why it took her so long to return her gaze to yours. If she did, she couldn’t stop herself from doing whatever she wanted with you. But you didn’t care. You needed Ellie.

You both sigh into the kiss, eye contact unbroken for a moment. Sure most people would consider open eyes during this moment strange, it didn’t bother you though. It had felt like eons since she had graced you with direct eye contact. You needed it so desperately you refused to look away. So did she. So you kissed like this for a moment.

Her eyebrows had scrunched together again at the sight of your own eyes trained on hers, matching desperation. This made you sink even further into her grasp. Finally finding the courage to reach out and grab onto her, you placed your hands on either side of her waist pulling her into you. This new closeness made both of your eyes snap shut. You swam in the feeling of her lips on yours. She was as comforting as the stream that had brought you together.

Ellie was remarkably soft. Images of her once rugged state appeared in your head furthering the intensity you were feeling. How could someone who appeared so tough, be so malleable? So gentle? The curiosity made you whine for more. More and so much more. Her lips belonged on yours. Each slip and slide of your swollen pink lips on each other further ignited what you both thought was long gone. You couldn’t stay silent, moans and whimpers escaping from you left and right. This only made Ellie hold you tighter. Kiss you harder.

She ran her hands to the underside of your exposed thighs until her hands were where she wanted them. Her grip tightened on your skin as she lifted you onto her desk. Painting materials shifted behind you due to your presence. This action caused you to squeal slightly, which drove Ellie mad. She grabbed your waist and brought your clothed core against her own. This new position made Ellie moan into your mouth.

It was a sound that made your whole body become hot. The once soft kiss had turned into a dance for dominance. Your hands traveled from her waist to the back of her mullet due to the new position. You tugged on Ellies hair as if it would bring you closer in her already impossibly tight embrace. This action coaxed another moan out of her mouth against your lips and she broke contact for the first time in what felt like hours. Ellie left her forehead connected with yours and suddenly she was back to her harsh breathing state.

“Shit.” She curses and breaks her gaze on your swollen lips to meet eyes that are already trained on her. “Your driving me crazy” She pecks your lips. “Those pretty fucking noises you make are driving me crazy baby.” Ellie states in that dangerously intoxicating tone. You both breathe harshly. You can still feel her hands on the small of your back underneath your shirt.

A devilish grin forms on your lips which turns into a breathy laugh coming from both parties. She interrupts your laughter with another peck on your lips. and another. and another. You are both still laughing. You cant tell if its because everything was moving so fast or because how good you feel in this moment. Thats a conversation for later.

“You taste-“ Ellie starts in a whisper.

“Like the lake?” You cut her off.

She laughs at your answer and deepens the kiss once more. “Mhhmm” She hums into your mouth. Then pulls away.

“Wait how did you know?”

“Because you taste like the lake.” You moan back pulling her in to kiss you again. She pulls away.

“Shit, is it bad?” She inquires in a concerning voice.

“Do I taste bad?” You ask.

“No, you taste like fresh water and the feeling of outside? Its like oddly addicting.” Shes scratching your back now and it’s making your head spin.

“Good. You dont taste bad either. You taste really good actually.” You say shakily. Your brain has become foggy due to Ellies-well everything. Her smell, her voice, her hands on your body.

“Yeah?” She asks and leans back to observe the effect she has on you. Ellie loves how out of it you are. She needs more.

You nod slowly and hum whilst wrapping your hands around her neck again to pull her head closer to yours. Before she can enclose the space between you, she whispers something against your lips.

“Can I lay you down on my bed pretty baby?” Shes begging you now. Ellie is drunk on your touch and reassurance. You mistake her desperation for confidence at the new nickname for you that leaves her lips. You cant do any thing but whine and wrap yourself around her. Legs surround her waist and arms settled on her broad shoulders. You crane your head against her neck and whisper your response in her ear.

“Please Ellie.” You drag out slowly. She shivers at the feeling of your breath against her neck. Ellie runs her hands over your legs making sure you are securely wrapped around her. Then she grasps your butt to lift you off her cluttered desk. The grip she has on you there sends a shock to your core. You cant help but moan and sink further into the crook of her neck. She chuckles at your sensitivity to her touch. Which only sends you further into bliss. Theres something so tantalizing about the fact that you were falling apart so easily and you had barely been touched. You both could feel it. Ellie holds you close until she reaches her bed and gently places you on her dark green covers.

Almost as soon as you hit the mattress she was on you again. Ellie had one hand on the side of your stomach just above your waist. She had slipped that hand under the shirt you had on and was touching your skin directly. Her other hand was propped in a way that help her upper body stay upright, but her lower half was slotted in between you. You continued making out like this.

The friction of your bodies was becoming more and more intense. The hand that was touching you began exploring your body. From caressing your stomach to your back and down to your butt to pull you closer into her lower half. “So soft.” Ellie barely whispers just loud enough for you to hear.

Your hands had found their way underneath ellies shirt and clawed at her back desperately. You tried to mirror her caresses of you on her back, but her touch and kiss was so overwhelming all you could do was grasp at nothing but skin. Leaving scratches she would sport proudly at a later time.

“Your body feels so good against mine.” She says against your ear making your hips buck up to hers. The slotted position makes your core connect with her thigh. And your thigh to her core. Ellie hissies and grips your hips in that position so you cant move as she rolls her own hips into yours. This action elicits a moan from you both. Foreheads connect as Ellie swears against your mouth. “Fuuuuck.” She continues the movement of her hips in an achingly slow manner. You both cant believe how good it feels and you tell her that you need-

“More. I need more.”

“Yeah?” She moans. This is when Ellie realizes you both are fully clothed. She moves her hands from your hips to your back and sits you both up. You pull back from your closeness to look at her for a moment, wondering what her actions would lead to next.

You take her current state in. Ellie is completely disheveled. She looks so fucked out in-front of you. You blush at the thought that its because of you. The mess of her mullet, the sweat on her temples, her flushed cheeks and glossed puffy lips. All your doing. If she looks this good now you were definitely a goner for whatever she had in store.

Ellie maneuvers herself so she can sit in between your legs. She takes in your spread out position on display for her, then looks at you.

“Im getting hot in these clothes.” She says as her hands move back to their place under your shirt. You exhale at the feeling of her fingers tracing your sides.

“M-Me too.” You whisper.

The heat building in you as she moves her hands up your sides as your top bunches at her wrists the higher they venture up your body. When her hands find their place just below the pits of your arms you lift them above your head and let her remove the damp fabric from your body. Ellie hooks her fingers into your shorts and states-

“Lift your hips baby.” You should’ve known to do this. But you were far too distracted by the way she looked undressing you. That same sort of nervousness from earlier (when she refused to look you in the eye) filled her demeanor. So when she snapped you back to earth with her voice you had to ask her to repeat herself. Instead of vocalizing her needs she took matters into her own hands. Ellie leaned over you and grasped your hips to lift upward. This caused you to fall on your back and gasp as she shimmied your shorts down your legs. When she pulled them off you completely, her hands dragged back up your legs to spread you open and move them back in their position on either side of her. She pulled you closer so that she could move her hands up and down your thighs and take you in for a moment.

Her eyes on you in this position made you grow wet. You have nothing but your swimsuit on now. Which was in a different type of way than what she saw you in earlier. This was 10x more intimate, you feel exposed. Dirty.

You are nearly naked with your legs open due to Ellie putting them there. Now it was your turn to look a mess. Fucked and blushing without even being touched in your leaking center.

Her bottom lip is pushed out into a pout and her head cocked to the side. Ellie sighed deeply like she pitied you. Like you were a toy left at her dispense to play with for as long as she wanted.

The darkness that slowly seeped into her eyes made you embarrassed at your exposed state. You didn’t want her to think you had abandoned all of your composure and willpower. You wanted to surprise her. You brought your hand behind your neck and lifted it slightly so you could untie the swim suit top you had on. As the strings fell apart on either side of your head Ellies breath hitched. Then you lifted your back and pulled the bow placed there loose. You never broke eye contact with her. There was no support on your chest now. This left the swimsuit to act as a mere barrier between your breasts being fully exposed to Ellie. Instead of removing the piece yourself you asked-

“Will you touch me Ellie?”

The way her name exited your lips drove Ellie insane. She let out a shakey breath and brought her hands to your ribcage. Each time her fingers met your skin its like the first. Your stomach flips and the temperature rises in your head fogging your brain. Ellies touch had you reeling. Slowly she raises her hands up your sides until she is grasping your fully exposed chest in her palms. Shes shaking.

“God.” She breaths out.

You cant help but whine at the contact. Instinctively your chest rises with her grasp causing your back to lift off the bed making Ellie bite her lip as her chest rises and falls. She kneads the soft skin and you squirm under her touch. Her hands are impossibly hot against your skin. The sounds coming from you only encouraging her more.

“Fuck baby.” She whispers to herself again. “Look at you.”

She spreads her hands to reveal your perky nipples. Painfully hard from her touch. Shes salivating now. Her mouth remains parted as she inhales harshly, tongue constantly swiping and swirling around her lips to keep from drooling. Ellie runs her thumbs over your sensitive buds, taking you back to moments earlier when she did the same to your lips. The roughness of them still not lost on you, you sigh from her touch.

She playes with you like this until you cant take anymore. With every knead and tug on your breasts, your pussy became more wet. The puddle forming underneath you was not ignored by Ellie. She simply wanted to take her time with you. But you were growing impatient, you needed relief.

“Mmmno more.” You grabbed her wrists to stop her movements. She tried to continue but your grasp was so strong she had no luck. So instead she leaned down to your chest and blew cool air on your right nipple causing you to bite back a moan.

“You all done baby? Cant take anymore?” She continued to blow on your chest. Your whole body shivered. She moved to the left nipple.

“I havent even kissed you here yet…” Her tone had you spinning. She sounded sad. Deprived. Shit.

“Mmmfine. Y-You can keep going. But not for too long, I need you Ellie.” You managed to get out. She gave you a look of affection and relief. Like you gave Ellie her life back. She nodded and reassured you.

“I promise I wont tease you for too much longer, I just want to savor you. You are just sooo pretty baby.”

Your head fell back against the mattress at her words. You have never heard something so intoxicating to your ear drums. Ellie sounding desperate to have you sent you even further into bliss. Then she brought you a new wave of pleasure when her soft lips came in contact with your raw nipples, sensitive and red from her teasing. She sucked the pain of her previous actions away. Ellies tongue swirled around your areolas and flicked across your aching buds. You could no longer stay silent. Your hands flew to Ellies Mullet and scratched at her scalp at her undying progressions on your body. You were a mess of “Ohs and Ahs” urging her to continue as she switched to your neglected breast causing you to go through the motions once more. This went on for what felt like forever, then Ellie finally detached.

“Wait-“ You whined at the loss.

“Shh shh. Im going to take care of you now.” She says against your lips before kissing you again.

You dissolve into her kiss. Its wetter now, the saliva from making a mess of your tits had coated her lips. Everthing had become sloppy. Ellie kissed you as she fumbled out of her boxers and white sleep shirt. Leaving her more exposed than you were, seeing as all you had left to reveal to her was your soaked cunt hidden by your bikini bottoms.

But first you admired her. She was beautiful. Lean and strong. Her frame was small but she somehow had muscle everywhere you looked. The longer you stared the hazier your mind became.

“You’re beautiful.” It comes out of your mouth like a waterfall, so fast you couldn’t stop yourself. You inhale a sharp breath and blush from embarrassment.

“Thank you pretty.” She says in a slight chuckle. When she had enough of the attention on her she began to slot herself against you once more. Bringing together your two hot, now exposed bodies.

“Oh my god.” She breathed.

The feeling on skin to skin contact was a drug. She lay barely ontop of you as you collided. Her exposed cunt was moving and grinding on your thigh messily with no rhythm. Ellie was using your body. Hands exploring each other like it was your job. You were drunk on the feeling of her body on yours. You were jealous at the relief she was getting from you, but it had also sparked something deep inside you. You kissed like this until Ellie had moved her lips to your neck. She sucked there for a moment, making sure to leave a mark. Her hips had lifted as she moved lower down your body. She kissed your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, stomach, belly button. Until she kissed you at the center of your swimming bottoms. Then she moved lower and finally kissed you right on your clothed core ontop of your puffy clit.

“Oh shit” You breathed. You were incredibly sensitive.

She looked up at you from her new spot settled between your legs. Ellie gave u a pleading look. Laced with lust and desperation. She needed to taste you. Now. You gave her a nod of approval and moved to remove your swim bottoms before she stopped you.

“Keep them on.”

There it was again, that tone that drove u crazy. How could you deny her? You wanted to tell her that it wasn’t fair because she was more undressed than you were. But when she sounded like that, and looked like that, between your legs no less…all you could do was nod and watch. Ellie hooked her finger into the side of your suit and tugged them upward creating friction between you and the fabric on your clit. The sensation made u grasp at the comforter underneath you. You tried to hard not to rock your hips, at least not yet. You were sure if you moved any more than what ellie was already doing you would snap. Ellie brought her free hand to her mouth and spat. The sound caused you to twitch. Which she noticed.

“How does this feel baby? Do my fingers feel good? They making u wet baby? Hmm?” It wasn’t a condescending tone. She wanted to make sure you felt good. Really.

Ellie had began to circle her slick digits around your sensitive mound. She would occasionally drag her fingers up and down the sides of your exposed lips. Sending you into a frenzy.

“Y-Yeah…” Your overwhelmed shy tone wasn’t enough to convince her that she should continue.

“Yeah? You sure?” her expression is almost teasing now. Eyebrow raised and grin apparent. You were under her spell.

“Yes! Yes…Feels too good Ellie.” You almost shout. Your voice is tinged with pain and pleasure. The good kind of pain. The you needed release and you needed it now, pain. Finally satisfied with your response Ellie massages you harder, tugs at your swimsuit harsher. The sight of your arched back and agape mouth only made the need to taste the continuous slick pouring out of you unbearable. Ellie needed to take action. Now.

You yelp as Ellie unexpectedly tears your swimsuit down your legs and wets her fingers in your slick. Then she is face to face with your dripping cunt.

“Im gonna kiss you down here now okay? I cant wait anymore…you look too delicious, soo beautiful.” The words ooze out of her perfect mouth.

You sit up to watch as Ellie places a delicate kiss on your clit. You’re shaking now. She repeats this up and down your pussy a few times never breaking eye contact. Each kiss sends you deeper and deeper into the pit of pure euphoria.

“Ohhh fuckk Ellie—.”

You think it cant get any better until Ellie flattens her tongue and begins to lap at the pool of slick pouring out of you. She sinks her tongue into your folds sucking, kissing and licking every surface of your overstimulated core. You are nearly screaming now. You hadn’t even come yet. It was approaching fast, you were trying so desperately to release, you were just so damn hot. Too hot. You pat the soft top of ellies hair and she stops her antics to meet your gaze.

“You dont like it?”

You shake your head harshly and tell her that you’ve never felt so good.

“Whats wrong then baby?” She gives you a look of genuine concern.

“M-Hot Ellie, I feel like im going to pass out.”

Ellie gives u those pitty eyes again and your weak. “Oh babyyy.” You hear her pout. She lays u flat on your back once more and pushes your body to the corner of the bed. At first you question her methods but then remember the savior device that persuaded you to come here in the first place.

Ellie leans over u to halt the rotation function of her fan and dials the speed up to 3. Now cool air is flooding your senses and bringing you back to earth. Ellie finds her position back in between your legs and continues her earlier routine. Instantly your brought back to your breaking point. Something about the heat between your legs and the cool air at your front was driving you insane.

“Better?” Ellie questions as she continues to suck hard on your clit. Already knowing the answer based on the way your body is reacting. You cant even answer you are so consumed in the pleasure of the movement of her fingers and the breeze of the fan. The cool air has made you dumb. Ellie had made you weak. Still, she needed to hear you say it. So she teases her middle finger at your entrance to get an answer out of you.

“I need you to tell me if you feel better pretty girl, or Im going to have to stop.”

That was the last thing you wanted. Your hands left the sheets and found their way to her hair, eyes meeting hers. You hum and whine shaking your head in protest.

“Better Ellie, So much better. Please dont stop.” You almost cry. Its all too much.

“Good girl.” Ellie Coos, then inserts her finger inside of you. With every centimeter entering u deeper and deeper your back arches higher and your mouth falls more open. When shes fully in you, she begins thrusting her long digit in and out curving the tip of her finger prodding where it feels the best.

“Shit your tight.” Ellie spits.

You become limp at her actions and your hands grip her auburn hair tight. You cant help but moan loudly at her actions. The feeling of her inside of you was heaven. Ellie couldn’t take seeing you like this, she had to give you more. So she brought her mouth down to your shaking legs and placed wet kisses on your thighs and all around your pussy until her mouth sucked where you wanted her most. You were a wreck. Exactly how she wanted you. She continued moving her longest digit in and out of you in that curling motion loving the way you clenched around her finger. When she thought you could handle it she detached her lips from your pussy and slipped in another finger.

“I need you to take this finger too baby, it’s going to feel so good okay?” Shes talking you through it like it’s your first time. Obviously you have touched yourself before. Sex wasn’t foreign to you, just rare. But something about this moment made it feel like you were discovering the act all over again, with Ellie as your guide.

This full sensation brought you back to a sitting up position so you could make eye contact as she exited and entered you over and over. It was a filthy sight. Her hair was completely stuck to her head and her mouth formed and ‘o’ shape. Ellies string of curses and moans were borderline pornographic.

“Yeah Hmm? Shit listen to how well your- fuck-fucking taking my fingers in baby.”

She was turned on just by the sight of her effect on you. Ellie was getting off on it. The sounds coming from your cunt drove her mad. She wouldn’t let up, she moved back down to taste you again. You began to move your hips chasing that same need you saw from the girl below you. You could feel the fuse about to blow inside of you as you humped Ellies fingers and face.

“Els Im gonna-“ your voice had reached an impossibly high pitch.

“Please please come for me baby let me taste you.”

Remembering how good the cool air made you feel earlier, she pushed you closer to the edge of the bed until you were almost hanging off. Your body was so close to the fan you could feel the fast blowing air everywhere now. On your nipples, stomach, and even through the hair on top of your pussy. You focus on the feeling of the cool from the fan for a moment to long that u see water. You saw the beloved stream you swam in just today. Your own heaven. You see Ellie. You had reached your climax and you didn’t even know it until you were coming all over Ellies hands and face.

“Shit-Ellie!” The speed of her fingers had doubled. You saw flashes of the creek and you swimming in it. Ellie had made you come so hard you were seeing things.

“Mmhmm baby you’re doing so good. So pretty like this.” She kept you like this until the pitch in your voice had become so high it was silent. Until you were a writhing panting mess chanting Ellies name over and over. Only when your hands loosened their tight grip on her hair did she slow the movement of her fingers inside of you.

Ellie helped you ride your high for a moment before retracting her fingers from you and kissing your swollen cunt one more time.

“You taste amazing.”

She smoothes her hands over your body making you shiver under her touch. She couldn’t help but stare at your fucked out state.

“You are so beautiful.”

You don’t even have words to respond to her compliments. Your sex drunk more than ever and completely non verbal. Instead u hum in acceptance. Which she laughs at.

After moments of admiring you she grabs her discarded boxers and begins to clean you up with them, too lazy to move up from the bed. This was fine to you because while u were nonverbal, you also couldn’t move.

The fan was still on full blast and Ellie craved to share the cool air with you. You had gone completely limp. Exhausted from Ellie having her way with you. So Ellie laid next you and pulled your body against hers. Skin to skin contact making you hum. Your face had gone to that perfect place in her neck. You took in her smell before she turned her head to look at you. Her eyes were lidded and sleepy, but also in awe of your state and her affect on you. She smirked slightly and placed a slow breathy kiss on your lips. When you broke apart your eyes were too heavy to open them again for the night. Ellie took one last look at you before sleep over came her.

“Thank youu, fan.” She whispered before pulling you closer and falling into deep sleep.

Thank god for fans. Thank god for the creek. Thank god for Ellie. (and her fingers) You thought and snuggled into her before dozing off completely.

Maybe this summer won’t be too unbearable.

🌿

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams smut #ellie williams oneshot #wlw #lesbian #wlw ns/fw #top!ellie

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justpoliteconversations · 1 month

Text

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 4)

Link learns some things. And so do you.

Yet another for the ever growing pile of self-indulgent garbage refuse. Enjoy the process of decomposition with me for a while.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

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The yiga. A faction of Ganon worshipping traitors formerly of the Sheikah clan, whose main objective is to kill the Hero known as Link (in other words, himself). Known for their distinctive red body suits and white masks. And, strangely enough, their love of bananas.

They were also currently at the very top of Link's (until recently non-existent) shit list, because AM had deemed their threat level too great to allow them to meet each other freely. As Blue had told him, AM's profession placed them at greater danger than the average citizen to the assassins' blades. What that profession was, Link was not told (despite his pleading and intense stares and even one memorable attempt to bargain for the information), but it was deemed necessary to maintain distance because of this.

There were plenty of other useful things in the book too. Not a letter or a note or even a small bundle of documents. A book. An honest to Goddess book. Because there was nothing else the ridiculously thick, neatly piled collection of leather bound miscellaneous papers, maps, diagrams, notes and documents could be. It was the thickness of Link's hand for goodness sakes.

Thankfully, Blue had taken mercy on him (and his desire to get moving as soon as possible) and bookmarked the pages and maps that would be most useful to him. All while giving him that bland, graceful smile of hers and explaining that AM was a very proactive information gatherer, but that they didn't always consider that not everyone wanted to know the exact region Sneaky snails bred in or where the highest priced wheat could be found.

Link very deliberately didn't tell her that he did, in fact, find those very interesting topics to learn about (and that he would be reading through the entire book when he got the chance. later). Because he was still stung that she'd given him a condescending little smile (smirk, it was a damned smirk and Link knew it) when he'd tried to bargain with her for more information on AM.

In total, he'd spent three days in Hateno, gathering information (as though the book wasn't enough), gathering supplies (because as many as were in the slate, it didn't have everything a warrior would need to maintain his gear. Blue's words, not his) and getting to know the people around the area.

Also, armor. Costume fitted (Link didn't think too hard about how Blue had gotten his measurements) as to AM's specifications before they'd left town. The order arrived a little later due to his (apparently) small size causing complications with some of the straps.

Honestly, it felt good. It felt familiar with a hazy kind of comfort that spoke of his body's remembrance of such armor resting upon it often. And suddenly, in that moment, the thought that he had once been a knight didn't feel so far off, despite having no memory of it and very little desire to become as such again.

Ready to go (finally) he put on his boots, tightened the straps of his new (fitted. maybe he'd see about getting his Sheikah armor fitted as well if he was in the area) hyrulian armor set, and took one last shot before departing.

"Where can I get more bananas?" Link tried, going for casual but coming off far too intense for it to be anything but prying. "For the Yiga problem."

Blue just smiled (small and condescending, and so frustrating) before replying evenly. "AM has that well in hand I'd imagine." The knowing glint in Blue's eyes put a pout on Link's face. "It's best you focus on your mission, Courageous One." Then she smiled genuinely. Just a bit, but enough to ease Link's heart as she continued. "Fear naught for your beloved AM. No harm shall befall them while my sister haunts their shadow."

Link believed her. And with that little bit of reassurance, the Hero of Hyrule set out into the world once more. With courage in his heart and his goal ever at the forefront of his mind.

Defeat the Calamity guy. Meet AM. Travel this vast, wondrous world with them for the rest of their days. Or, maybe one day settle down more permanently in Hateno and open a food stand.

Anywhere life took them. Whatever you wanted. This was the beginning of his new life after all, and he was so eager to spend it with you.

---

You stared up at the quickly growing pile of bright yellow fruit with something like regret stabbing at your heart. Just thinking about how much rupees you were about to drop on this one purchase alone was enough to put a hitch in your throat. It was enough to have you contemplating a long walk off that equally long (absurdly long) wooden bridge just next to the stable.

When you'd stopped at Lakeside Stable for the night and told Adino you'd pay him market price for any bananas he brought back to you before you left. You hadn't expected him to take that as a challenge. You hadn't expected Skims to get involved in it as well. And you most certainly had not expected Red to show up out of nowhere with a pile rivaling (and maybe even surpassing) Adino's.

And thus, within the span of a few short hours, you were suddenly several thousand rupees poorer (not that that pantry amount even scratched the surface of your accumulated wealth, but you digress) and many, many bananas richer.

At least they tasted good.

"Not that I'm against your presence. But why are you here, Red?" You asked the red clad woman after (with a heavy heart) passing out everyone's pay for the bananas they'd brought you. (Skims and Red didn't even have the grace to look ashamed for muscling in on the quick profit either, the jerks.)

She didn't even pause from where she'd been fingering through her newly acquired (ill gotten) gains when she hummed playfully. "Oh. Gran thought it'd be wise to send along a little extra protection to ensure The Hero's benefactor remained unmolested during these most crucial of times."

The look on your face must have been confused enough to spur Red to explain. "Gran told us to keep you in the dark about our motivations, but I like you. So I'll tell you the truth, since you seem like the reasonable sort." She finally put the rupees down and turned to face you, eyes hardening into a serious shade of near black as she explained.

"The Hero is without his memory, and until recently, was without motivation to see his mission through with the urgency it requires. Had he been as he was before, just the mention of the Princess would have been enough to send the guy running, if you believe the rambling of nostalgic old gossip crows." Her lips twisted into something too complicated to decipher before it was neutral again.

"But he's not the man he used to be. He's not the princess's knight anymore for all his destiny would push him to be. And so, he needed a new motivation to get him moving." She gave you a smile, but it wasn't a nice one (it was one full of spite and pity, though only the pitying part was directed at you). "That's you. The guy loves you already. Call it situational stockholm or just that damned knightly instincts of his, but you are the apple of his eye." She tried to soften her smile into something humorous, but it fell short.

"Bottom line. You're the replacement motivation. Just until he gets enough of his memories back to get invested in the Princess' wellbeing." She flicked a rupee off the stump she'd gathered them on, expression very closed off as she continued.

"Whenever Mr. hero gets a little too comfortable playing house, we're supposed to dangle you in his face and get him interested again. That you seem invested in his success was just a bonus. Be it the Will of Hylia or just simple coincidence, doesn't matter. You're useful, and if it gets the Princess out of that Hell, we're willing to use that."

Another smile, sharp but honest. "It's our duty after all, to serve the royal family. I'm sure you understand." Despite the way the information settled sourly in your stomach you nodded, keeping your expression as even as possible.

She noticed though, and suddenly her hand was on yours (you hadn't noticed it tightening into a fist). "Don't fret, Apples." She smiled again, softer this time. Eyes lighted with a compassion that held such raw honesty despite her earlier words. "My sister and I are not going to let the elders use you like that. You might have asked yourself why Bluey isn't here instead, since, you know-" She smirked, side-eyeing Adino who'd gone some distance off to try to find more bananas (to take more of your rupees, the little bastard).

"We will fulfill our duties. For the protection of Hyrule and everything we love. But not at your's or your dear Hero's expense. At least, not like that. You see, Bluey has something I do not, and that is a gentle touch. She'll take care of the Hero in the way he needs, not the way that'll get the fastest results." Her smirk widened. "And she's got more of a rebellious streak than me too. Trust in her. She'll protect your dear Hero. Even if she has to spit in the elders' eyes to do it. She never could put her heart aside for the sake of duty."

You were silent for a time, digesting her words with the weight and attention they deserved, before looking back to her. A smile on your lips, and your hand out before her in the gesture of a shake.

"I look forward to doing business with you then, Red." You began, letting the edge of your resolve sharpen your eyes and embolden your words. "Let's do our best to protect Link and save Zelda. We'll give it everything we've got."

Red grinned, full and bright and smug (so unbearably smug, like she had won the lottery. which they didn't have here, and you were not interested in introducing any time soon either). "I knew you were gonna understand. The Goddess wouldn't choose just anyone to guard her chosen's heart."

You blinked. "What?"

Red picked up another rupee, flicking it at you. "What~?"

---

Now, off to work! And then the shadows to rest.

#botw link #botw x reader #link x you #link x reader #isekai reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

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Astarion Pre-Vampirism Headcanons

Our collaboration with @themadlu

Masterlist

Headcanons

I have a very weird idea about Astarion's origin but bear with me.

What if Astarion, a High Elf himself, was born to half-elven parents?

Look, he doesn't look like a Forgotten Realms elf. He is pretty tall - 5.9 is above average for a Tel'Quessira. His body type is also too masculine since male elves tend to be very slender. His name is "baby" meaning ("Little Star") but adult in form (elven baby names are usually monosyllabic). Besides, there are almost no elves in Baldur's Gate, let alone, upper-class ones.

But there are plenty of half-elves.

Let's say, genetics work in Forgotten Realms the same way it works in the real world.

Half elves are of mixed race - so, a pair of half elves can have a human or an elf. And this is a very sad scenario, given the difference in life expectancy. Humans born to half elves grow old and die while their parents are still relatively young, and the elf is completely cut out of elven culture and never fits in with their kin.

And it explains why no one was looking for Astarion. Because his family is long-dead.

Two hundred years ago the Ancunins became parents.

They are half-elves in their third generation and none of them have ever seen a pure-blood Tel'Quessira let alone knowing details about their culture.

They name the newborn boy Astarion - the name elven in form but human in meaning.

He is indeed their "little star" - half-elves inherit their ancestors' low fertility and children are seen as gifts from gods rather than a burden.

The Ancunins notice their son has long ears and it seems like he doesn't sleep - instead, Astarion lies motionless for a few hours and then starts talking about places and people his family has no idea about.

Astarion is a High Elf.

The human ancestry doesn't manifest in him - though, he still grows taller than elves are supposed to.

And hells, he is ambitious.

He knows he has centuries of life ahead - and he doesn't want to spend them in his hometown.

Astarion dreams of Baldur's Gate - a huge city on the Sword Coast.

His parents reluctantly let him go. They are 150 years old and don't have much time left.

Besides, if he spends thirty or forty years beside them it will change nothing. He is an elf. He has all the time in the world.

But Astarion can't even make himself spend another day in that wretched hole of a place.

He leaves to never return.

Despite the lack of money and connections, he manages to become a magistrate.

Unfortunately, you can't make a career like that without making enemies.

The Gurs, a nomadic tribe, are notorious trouble makers and the citizens demand the authorities to get rid of them.

Astarion doesn't pay much attention to the matter and he fails to realize other magistrates want him to do the dirty job.

The Gurs live up to their traditions. Whoever makes them go will become their enemy.

Astarion becomes one in their eyes.

Lying in the empty street, bleeding to death, he remembers his hometown and his elderly parents.

He would do everything to return, to survive, to live.

And when a dark figure approaches him and makes an offer, Astarion agrees.

He doesn't know the price of his survival yet.

And what is yours HCs on Astarion's origin? Reblog and write your own ideas!

#astarion #astarion headcanon #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #spacebarbarian headcanon #half elf Astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion headcanons #astarion ancunin #astarion brainrot #astarion origin

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ageofevermore · 10 months

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ITS BRIGHTER NOW

SUMMARY — until you met your girls, you once believed love would be burning red, but it turns out, it’s everything in between, and that couldn’t be more golden. i wanna be defined by the things that i love, not the things i hate, not the things that i’m afraid of, not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night, i just think that you are what you love

PROMPTS — “sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you” & “will you stay with me?”

WARNINGS — mentions of battle, injury, anxiety, overall just fluff and comfort for arguably the best avengers and their girlfriend

Like every relationship, yours has its ups and downs. Although most times, you’re met with nothing but outstanding partners who try their absolute hardest to maintain open communication and boundaries, they’re still human, and Avengers, and while some consider that a fairytale circumstance, not many stop to think about how challenging it can be at its worst moments. Not many people, or any at all who aren’t in the lifestyle or one similar, think about how they’re gone for days at a time, sometimes weeks or months if it’s an undercover mission, and how when they finally do get back, they’re never the same as how they left. But honestly, how could they be? They’ve done things no average citizen would ever be expected to do, seen things and handled situations that are dangerous and traumatizing, and just like anyone else, those things haunt them. Wanda is better about unpacking those skeletons in her closet then Natasha is, but the both of them take things personally, and if things go south, it’s never good.

Both of your girlfriends had been gone from the compound for days. They’d been called out to an active Hydra base in Russia, and three days later, things had gone south and they’d been in active combat since. You didn’t talk to them much, with battles and timezones and everything else that got in your way, but you had heard through the grapevine that Wanda was pretty banged up and Natasha had been left with no choice but to shoot to kill after a particularly gruesome fight. Hearing that never got any easier, especially when they were halfway across the world and had no idea when they’d return. It was missions like these that made you yearn for a simpler life. One where Wanda was an artist, Natasha probably took up something flexible like tattooing, and you did literally anything else to just have some peace and quiet and promised safety.

You had met Natasha first, after Maria recruited you to join Shield. She had been skeptical of you, as she was of everyone, but you broke down her walls as easily as you’d picked the lock to Clint’s farm the one time you were placed on a strike mission together. She had been hurt pretty badly, and his farm was the closest place to land. That had been an interesting day, no thanks to your girlfriend who was draped across your arm with a shallow bullet wound and a startled Laura who was screeching about blood on her new couch. Things with Clint were still chaotic as ever, but he eventually got over you busting his brand new lock, and the two of you joked about it now, although now you had a key so no locks had to be busted in the event of an unplanned visit happening again. When you met Wanda, she fell into your dynamic easily, and at first, neither you nor Natasha had realized that you’d kind of adopted her as a third girlfriend until a drunken night when she ended up in your bed and never left. Now, sleeping without them is hard, but you’re forced to manage as best as you can, seeing as you don't really have much of a choice.

It was going onto the sixth night without them home when you finally retired from the couch, and decided to head to bed, figuring that at two in the morning there was no chance of them coming back until the next morning at the earliest. It was hard enough when one of them was on an active mission with no return date, but when both of them were gone, it truly felt like your heart was missing from your chest and you were just going through the motions and holding your breath until they got back. Most people only had one person to worry about, but having two people to lose, with jobs in this line of work, you felt like you were always looking over your shoulder and expecting the worst. As often as they could, your girlfriends declined missions together, even though they felt comfortable on the battlefield together and it was a comfort to not be alone, but neither one of them wanted to risk not coming home to you. They didn’t have a choice this time, so reluctantly they packed up their duffles and headed for the quinjet, with a kiss on your head and a promise that they would fight to come home to you, that they would try to make it back. There were still two mugs of tea on the countertop in the mini kitchen, and although it was disgusting and the tea had gone bad, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean them up. If that was the last thing they ever touched with you, when they were just Wanda and Natasha and not Avengers, you wanted the picture of mismatched mugs burned into your eyelids for the rest of your life. They deserved to be remembered as real, genuine, soft and stubborn, sometimes infuriating but lovable and loved people, not just heroes who had a cause when things went south.

You tossed and turned for probably an hour, groaning in annoyance for how empty your bed felt without them. How had you gotten so attached? That was the one thing you’d tried your hardest not to do when you got into this, and yet here you are, in Natasha’s t-shirt and Wanda’s panties, unable to sleep because the bed feels too cold and the walls feel too big and the room feels too empty and your heart feels misplaced. You’d heard somebody say love is golden once, not burning red, and you’d never understood that until a moment like this a few years ago, when Natasha left for the first time and you were utterly alone in the tower. They were golden, they were light, they were pouring rain in the middle of the day with the sun shining and not a cloud in sight, and they are the best moments of your life that you wish you could frame in a moving picture, because no, a picture can’t say a million words when it’s them. You need every word in the dictionary and then some. You will never be able to elaborate on how much you love them without falling short, and feeling like there's still so much you could’ve said. Everything felt so gray without them. It had to be after three in the morning when you finally fell asleep, probably closer to four, but you didn’t think about how long you’d been waiting up for them, just flopped onto your back and sprawled out like a starfish, and let sleep take over so you could have a few hours without consciously missing them. Missing them was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’re pulled from your sleep by hushed voices and a door closing, convinced that the hinges are louder at inappropriate times just to spite you. You try to ignore it at first, finally in a comfortable position and getting some rest after a long day of running trials with Cho, but the noises persist despite your displeasure. A sound between a groan and a whine is extracted from your chest when something bumps into the bed, and any thought of going back to sleep leaves your mind. Unlike your girlfriends who can sleep through a natural disaster and fall asleep again if god forbid it wakes them up, once your eyes open you’re awake for the day, and it seems like this is where your day starts.

Although with blurred vision from the very few hours of sleep in your eyes, you’re able make out Wanda hunched over the bed, grasping at her side that is noticeably bloody, while Natasha is digging through the drawers to your left probably attempting to find a loose fitting top for Wanda to change into. All exhaustion leaves your body at the sight of them, and you spring up, rubbing your eyes with a wince as they burn in disagreement with your current state of consciousness. Wanda’s head snaps up, on high alert, but she forces her shoulders to relax when she realizes that it’s just you and not a threat.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to wake you.” She apologizes weakly, through clenched teeth and apparent sleepiness. You wonder when the last time they got a decent amount of rest, when they weren’t looking over their shoulders in paranoia or tossing and turning in pain from an injury that couldn’t be properly treated, but you force yourself to not dwell on it too much. You can’t change the past, and neither can they, all that matters is how they recover, and how they need you to help them heal from everything they were exposed to while in Russia. You’re the clean up, another factor that nobody considers while talking about how romantic and protected you must feel having two superheroes as partners. If anything, you feel more exposed. Like all eyes are on you and a monster is always lurking in the room over.

“No, no that’s okay. I only went to sleep a few hours ago, anyway. Here.” You know that the shirt Natasha is probably looking for is the one currently on your body, and you offer it to Wanda with no hesitation, already making a b-line for her when she just barely has the strength to reach for it herself. You pull the bloodied top over her head gently, thankful that the blood it’s soaked with is dry, and her wound is covered in gauze, meaning they’d probably stopped by the medbay before they made their way in here. “A little banged up, aren’t you?” You comment, although it's rhetorical and you know she won’t tell you how it happened just yet. That usually comes a few days after the mission, when the trauma isn’t so fresh and they’re not still on edge that something else is coming for them. You help her out of her pants as well, thanking Natasha when she hands you a fresh pair of undergarments to pull up Wanda’s legs before you even have to ask.

“We’re still in one piece.” Natasha promises, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. She’s tense all over, but she does her best to relax as she holds you, grounding herself in the moment and not the nightmares that have been going around in circles in her mind since getting on the quinjet to come home. “We missed you.” She kisses the skin beneath your ear, lingering for a few seconds before she untangles herself completely and gets ready for bed herself.

“That’s all that matters.” You reassure her, pecking Wanda’s lips gently, knowing she doesn’t have the energy or the strength to match any moment of passion right now. It’s not something that bothers you, maybe it used to, just the slightest bit, but it’s a routine you’re used to now. “I missed you too.”

“I told Steve we’re not taking any missions for a while. Especially not together.” Natasha hands you another one of her tops to slip into, and watches you throw Wanda’s bloodied one into the garbage beside your vanity. She won’t wear it again, not when it’s got so much history now, even if you could get the blood stain out. Again, it’s a routine you’ve found comfort in. The clothes they return home in almost always end up in the garbage, no time for working through PTSD that’s stitched into the fabric when you can just get something new to start fresh in.

“That’s good. I heard from Maria how tough this one was. I don’t know if I slept much the first few days.” You hate to worry them, or make them feel bad, but they hate when you’re not honest with them, and there’s nothing any of you can do about them being sent out on missions, so it’s not like you’re haroboring negative feelings toward them directly, which they understand, but your girlfriends do a great job of beating themselves up about certain things out of their control, this being one of them.

“Or at all. We still have cameras, you know.” Natasha muses, thoroughly amused when you turn a deep shade of crimson and kick Wanda’s discarded pants up toward her. Your other girlfriend, who has been noticeably quiet through the entire exchange, is curled up in bed, looking unbothered by the conversation but intent on finally getting some sleep in her own bed without the possibility of being blown to bits by the enemy.

“Spying on me, are you Romanoff?” You tease, shutting all the drawers Natasha left open and picking up all of her discarded clothes to throw them in the bin as well. She thanks you silently with her eyes that are practically bleeding with pain and adoration, but you don’t say anything. This is the least you can do for them right now.

“Gotta keep an eye on my girl.” Although it’s an easy statement, you know that it’s riddled with nothing but genuine anxiety. Both of your girlfriends are worrywarts when it comes to leaving you alone, for any amount of time but especially undetermined chunks like this mission, and although its heartwarming to be so cared for, it breaks your heart to know that they have valid reasons to be afraid. Another thing nobody even considers when they make comments toward your relationship. Wanda makes a huffing sound beside Natasha and both of your lips twitch in amusement, “On one of my girls, sorry, malysh.”

“You both should get some rest.” You comment, seeing that almost an hour has passed since they stumbled in. You won’t be able to fall asleep again, and even if you could, you’re apprehensive to crawl into bed with Wanda and accidentally hurt her more, so you have all intentions of wishing them a goodnight and going to finally clean up the mugs of tea that are resting on the counter.

“Where are you going?” Natasha wonders, watching you closely, like she’s scared that you’re going to fall apart right in front of her. You hate these moments, when they’re first getting back and they still feel like they’re stranded in a battlefield. It takes days to get back to some kind of normalcy without walking on eggshells, and by that time, they’re usually cleared to start training again and working their strength up for the next mission. One day, you just want to be done, but they’re not ready yet and that's okay.

“To clean up the tea mugs you left before you went. I didn’t have the heart to clean them up, in case…” You train off, but Natasha knows what you’re going to say and her face sinks even deeper.

“In case we didn’t come back.” She finishes your thought, hand rubbing Wanda’s back now that the woman is on her belly, seeking pressure against her wound that’s probably aching beneath the gauze. She shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it, but you’re not about to scold her right now. She needs to be comfortable, any torn stitches can easily be mended tomorrow morning when she’s well rested.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, releasing the tension that gathered in your shoulders at the simple thought of losing them. They’re okay this time, you can let go of all that pent up anxiety and dread for the time being. But it crosses your mind that there's always next time, and they might not get so lucky.

“Will you stay with me? Please?” Wanda asks, voice muffled by the pillow her face is pressed into, her arms beneath her head as she gives Natasha full access to her back, and the aching muscles that have probably been pulled a couple thousand times since leaving. Natasha works harder at releasing some of that tension, looking at you with broken eyes that you can’t say no too. Your worries are squandered when Wanda speaks again, lifting her head just enough to be able to see your face, peering into your eyes with a passion and seriousness that burns you inside. “You won’t hurt me, stop thinking that. I just want to hold my girl.”

“Ahem.” Natasha clears her throat, and Wanda lets the slightest smile pull her tired lips upward.

“One of my girls, sorry, detka.” She apologies before dropping her face back into the pillow, tightening her grip on it when Natasha hits a sore spot in her back. The redhead keeps at it, knowing how easily the Sokovian can pull her muscles when she’s lifting heavy things with just her tendrils.

“Are my thoughts that loud?” You ask meekly, abandoning your intention of straightening up the kitchen and instead coming closer to the end bed, still without pants and just Natasha’s shirt that hangs to your mid thigh.

Natasha stops rubbing Wanda’s back in order to grab at your thighs and pull you closer, rubbing the skin of your legs the same way she had been rubbing Wanda’s back. Though she’ll never admit it, you and Wanda have a sneaking suspicion her love language is physical touch, and that just maybe, physically feeling you both silences her anxieties over you just disappearing from her. Whatever her reason, neither of you protest, and admittedly crave her touch by the end of the night when you crawl into bed.

“Mhmm, I promise I’m okay. Doesn’t really hurt anymore, s’just sore.” She promised, sounding half asleep the longer she lays, adjusting her head so her neck is turned toward both you and Natasha, but her eyes are closed, a content smirk on her lips that only grows bigger when she hears you sigh your agreeance and then feels the bed dip with your weight as you climb into bed.

“Lay your ass down, or I’m gonna fall asleep sitting up.” Natasha scolds, playfully slapping your ass as you crawl over her and into the center of the bed, which is no longer warm from your body. You settle in between them, humming contently when Wanda loops an arm around your waist and then Natasha pulled you into her chest, your legs intertangling messily beneath the sheets.

“I missed this. I can’t sleep when you’re gone, everything feels so empty.” You admit, letting your eyes close even if you’re going to have a few hours of painful silence and stillness before you can even consider actually falling asleep.

Natasha presses her lips into your head and Wanda tightens her arm around your middle, neither saying anything, but not having to as their words and their presence says it all. Surprisingly, you fall asleep in minutes, and not a single one of you wakes up for the next ten hours, desperately needing the rest all together again.

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat fluff #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #wanda maximoff hurt/comfort #wandanat hurt/comfort #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff oneshot #wanda maximoff oneshot #wandanat oneshot

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aquilaofarkham · 6 months

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Dying Has Never Frightened Us: Intergenerational Trauma, Healing, & the Burden of Legacy in Castlevania

An analytical and interpretation essay that discusses how the concept of family legacy and duty can lead to intergenerational trauma in the Castlevania franchise. Focuses primarily on the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

☽ Read the full piece here or click the read more for the text only version ☽

THE BURNING NEED FOR RETRIBUTION: INTRODUCTION

The world has trauma. It is deep, collective, spanning its roots over centuries and territories dating back to when the borders of today never existed, and it has largely gone untreated—but not undiscussed.

From children’s cartoons to award winning dramas, trauma has become one of the most common topics for media to discuss, depict, and dissect. It makes sense given the sort of physical and mental gauntlet which society has been through in the past five years. Sometimes even in just the past twenty-four hours. From an uptick in disasters stemming from climate change, the rise of publicised policy brutality, genocide as a result of settler colonisation, new developments coming to light after decades of denial regarding the residential school system in Canada, and of course a global pandemic which is still making ripples. Then there is the recent examination of generational trauma which differs from culture to culture. The open wounds we’ve already left and will be leaving for future age groups.

Seeing how fiction reflects reality and vice versa, it isn’t any wonder that movies, television shows, and video games find ways of processing this worldwide sensation of frustrated ennui along with the need to find answers as to how regular citizens can fix things, including ourselves, when politicians and world leaders cannot. When reality cannot provide satisfying resolutions, when we are left confused and even angrier than before due to the apparent shortcomings of institutions meant to provide relief towards the average person, it’s natural to look towards specific media. Whether for coping mechanisms, validation for this collective and personal trauma, or simply for cathartic release so the emotions don’t have to remain bottled up.

Castlevania , both its original 2017 series and the most recent entry of Castlevania: Nocturne (as well as the video games which the show is inspired by), is no stranger to this popular trend of storytelling and characterisation. Yet this trend also comes with its own controversy. When done with a deft writer’s hand and a layer of empathetic critical thinking, trauma in fiction and how we heal from its intergenerational effects can be a powerful tool in raising awareness in regards to something left forgotten by the larger public or it can allow viewers to look inwards at themselves. Done poorly or with a lack of empathy and taste, then the floodgates open.

But beyond the usual discourse surrounding trauma in fiction (how to portray a “realistic” panic attack, what makes a “good” victim, the problematic connotations of forgiving one’s abuser, etc.), Castlevania has its own things to say about the lingering effects of grief, guilt, and pain over the course of thirty-two episodes (now a fourty episode runtime with the inclusion of Castlevania: Nocturne season one). The series—particularly the first which ran from 2017 to 2021—has now gained a reputation for being one of the darker animated ventures tackling themes of religious corruption, abuse, sexual manipulation, and injustice among many others. The value and thoughtfulness of each depicted theme ranges from being genuinely compelling to delving into mere shock value yet the series is also known for its uplifting ending and cathartic release from such dark themes.

One could write entire dissertations on each complicated character and their developments. From Dracula’s suicidal tendencies as a result of unchecked grief to Isaac’s conflicted redemptive journey beginning with his unflinching loyalty to the king of vampires and ending with him forging down his own path in life. How characters such as Carmilla, consumed by her inner agonies and burning hatred towards the world to the bitter end, was left isolated from her sisters until she was forced to choose the terms of her own death, while others like Alucard, Sypha, and to an extent Hector rose above their individual torments in favour of hope and survival. However, this examination will focus on the series’ titular family of vampire hunters. Namely, the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

Note: this essay will delve into speculations and purely interpretative hypotheses stemming from the author’s own opinions in regards to how they personally read the presented text. It will also discuss heavy spoilers for the majority of Castlevania games and the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne.

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WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT FOR A CURSE: THE CYCLE OF TRAGEDY IN THE CASTLEVANIA GAMES

This examination begins in the exact same place as the show began with its inspirations and references: the original video games developed and distributed by Konami Group Corporations. It’s easy to get swept up in the notion that because of the technological limitations with video games at the time, the Castlevania games are devoid of story or characterization. Yet even the most bare bones of a story found in the games can still have something to say about the burden of legacy and how trauma left unconfronted has the possibility of tearing down that legacy. The most prominent example being Castlevania: Symphony of the Night , arguably the first game to begin delving into a deeper story and character driven narrative. It follows the events of Castlevania: Rondo of Blood , a game which portrayed its protagonist Richter Belmont as a force of nature in the face of evil, always knowing what to do, what to say, and emerging victorious without so much as breaking a sweat (or candelabra).

In keeping with the time of its release and the landscape of popular media particularly in Japan, Rondo of Blood feels like a traditional 1990s action anime complete with brightly coloured cutscenes and character designs reminiscent of Rumiko Takahashi and Rui Araizumi (despite the usual classic horror elements present in every Castlevania game). This is most evident with Maria Renard, the second playable protagonist who attacks with her own arsenal of magical animals and even has her own upbeat theme music during the credits when players complete the main story in “Maria mode”. Richter also shares many similar personality traits with his counterpart, namely his optimism in the face of danger and the confidence that he will be the hero of this narrative.

Of course all this changed in the direct follow-up to Rondo of Blood , the aforementioned Symphony of the Night . Arguably the new staple of future Castlevania games to come, not only did it change the gameplay and aesthetic, it changed the very core of the characters as well. The game even begins with the same ending as Rondo of Blood where Richter fights and defeats Dracula with the help of Maria. Then during the opening crawl, we discover that during a time skip, Richter has vanished and Maria is searching for him. Surely this will be nothing less than a heroic rescue and the most powerful Belmont of his century will be restored to his rightful pedestal.

Yet for the first half of Symphony of the Night , the player is faced with a sobering realisation—the villain we’re supposed to be fighting, the one responsible for conjuring Dracula’s castle back into existence, is Richter himself. No longer the hero we’ve come to adore and look up to from the previous game. Of course, the player along with new protagonist Alucard both know that something isn’t right; perhaps Richter isn’t in his sound mind or some nefarious force is possessing him to commit evil deeds. But unless the player solves the right puzzles and find the right in-game items, Symphony ends with Alucard putting down Richter like a rabid dog. However, this ending can be avoided and a whole second half of the game is revealed.

Richter’s canonical ending is left ambiguous at best, tragic at worst. He laments over his moment of weakness, claiming the events of the game were his fault despite Alucard’s insistence that confronting Dracula was always going to be inevitable. Still, the tragedy of Richter’s fate and how he is portrayed in Symphony of the Night comes much later, when it’s implied the Belmonts are no longer capable of wielding the fabled Vampire Killer, a leather whip imbued with supernatural properties that has been passed down generation after generation. One mistake and misjudgment left the Belmont legacy in a perpetual long lasting limbo with the titular hunters themselves seemingly disappearing from history as well, leaving others such as the Order of Ecclesia to pick up the fight against Dracula’s eventual resurgence. It isn’t until the height of World War II (the setting of Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin ) when the whip’s true potential is finally set free thanks to the actions of Jonathan Morris, a distant relative of the infamous vampire slaying family. However, the only way in which Jonathan can reawaken the Vampire Killer is by defeating a manifestation of the person who last wielded it and also whom the whip abandoned nearly two hundred years prior—Richter Belmont.

Yet players and fans don’t get to see it in the hands of another Belmont until the events of 1999 when Julius Belmont defeats the latest incarnation of Dracula and seals his castle away in a solar eclipse. Even then, he loses his memory until thirty years pass and he’s forced to do battle with Soma Cruz, an innocent transfer student who is also the reincarnation of Dracula. If the protagonist of Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow succeeds in defeating the cosmic threat that has awakened his supposed “evil” destiny, then Julius can finally lay down the Vampire Killer in peace (until the sequel Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow , of course). If not, the game ends with Julius keeping his promise to Soma should he lose sight of his human side and let Dracula be reborn once again. In a scene that directly mirrors the beginning of Symphony , Julius enters the castle throne room, Soma throws down his wine goblet, and the screen goes black. The cycle continues anew. Julius has upheld the duty of his family name but at what cost.

The theme of tragedy getting passed down through different generations, permeating from person to person even with those who are not Belmonts, is a staple of later Castlevania games following Symphony of the Night . In some instances, pain and trauma is what jumpstarts the story moving forward. Castlevania: Curse of Darkness begins with its protagonist Hector in a direct parallel to Dracula swearing revenge on the one responsible for the murder of his wife; an ultimatum that follows him every step of the way, fuelling his rage and determination up until the penultimate moment when his goal is within reach. Yet even then he cries out, claiming this “murderous impulse” isn’t truly him—it’s the result of an outside force he himself once aided before defecting before the events of the game.

Something similar occurs in Castlevania: Lords of Shadow , an alternative reimagining of the franchise that while still a topic of division amongst most die hard fans has also seen a resurgence of popularity and reevaluation. It begins with Gabriel Belmont grieving over the death of his own wife (a trope which is unfortunately common amongst the majority of Castlevania titles). This is a wound that follows him throughout his journey until an even more painful and shattering twist regarding Marie Belmont’s demise is revealed to Gabriel later in the game.

However, there is one example from the games that stands above the rest in regards to the sort of damage which generational trauma as a result of familial duty and legacy, upheld to an almost religious degree, can inflict. So much so that even a declaration of retribution can evolve into a generational curse.

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HUNT THE NIGHT: LEON BELMONT & THE MYTH OF FREE WILL

The Castlevania timeline didn’t always have a set beginning. An inciting incident by which all future stories, characters, and inevitable calamities could base themselves off of. Rather it changed from game to game until a definitive origin was settled in 2003 with the release of Castlevania: Lament of Innocence . For at least two games, the starting point was supposed to be with Simon Belmont, making his way through a labyrinth of dark forests and cursed towns, before finally traversing the ever changing fortress in Transylvania to defeat Dracula. He even went as far as to gather the remains and resurrect the eponymous lord of his own choice just to rid himself of another curse entirely.

Castlevania protagonists are always cursed by something. Whether it be the cause of Dracula’s influence, their own actions as seen in Lords of Shadow , a curse of the flesh like how Simon had to tackle his own ailment in Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest , or something else just as common as Dracula’s curse: the burden of honouring a family duty.

A basic yet iconic 1986 entry followed by a sequel that had potential especially with the first appearance of the now famous “Bloody Tears” track but suffered from a rather confusing and lacklustre end product. Then suddenly the starting point for the franchise timeline changed drastically. Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse despite the numerical inclusion in its title stands as more of a prequel, detailing the exploits of the Belmont who came before Simon. Not much was altered in the grand scheme of things; the titular vampire hunter still essentially slays Dracula with the help of three other playable characters, said final boss having been driven mad and more violent than ever by humanity’s slight against him. However, not only were the methods by which Dracula is defeated changed but players were given more insight into the sort of burden placed upon the Belmont family name.

When the story of Dracula’s Curse begins, protagonist Trevor Belmont isn’t revered as a legend or hero but rather a blight on larger society who the people only turn to as a last ditch effort against rising evil. The regular god-fearing people of Wallachia now fear the Belmonts and their power (it is also implied that some still feared the barbarian-esque Simon despite his legendary status) so the family is excommunicated. Trevor is forced to enlist three other outcasts—or simply two other fighters, depending on which version of the story you examine—in order to carry out the family business. Even when the rest of the world has shunned them and there are plenty of others just as capable of stopping the forces of evil, a Belmont still has a destiny to fulfil.

Yet once a series has gone on for long enough, things within the established canon are bound to change—again and again. Whether through re-examination in order to line it up better with present day morals and sensibilities, or through good old fashioned retconning in favour of something more interesting, more thought out, or less convoluted. Other times, it’s simply because either the creator or viewers wanted it to happen. In 1997, this occurred with the release of Castlevania Legends on the GameBoy, a prequel to Dracula’s Curse that was meant to serve as the actual origin for the Belmonts, Dracula, and even his son Alucard. Instead of Trevor, the very first Belmont to fight Dracula is now his mother, Sonia Belmont, seventeen years old and already burdened with the glorious purpose of her bloodline.

Sonia is undoubtedly the protagonist of her own story with agency and drive. However, the game ends with a stark reminder of why the Belmonts have a place in the Castlevania universe. The last we see of Sonia in Legends is in the form of an epilogue where she holds her newborn child and states that one day when he’s grown, he will “be praised by all the people as a hero”. Despite her triumph over Dracula—a monumental feat itself—it seems that her purpose in the end (the purpose of most Belmonts other than to forever fight evil in fact) was to merely continue the bloodline so that descendants can carry out a promise made centuries before by another Belmont—someone that neither Simon, Trevor, Julius, or Richter ever knew.

The inevitability of sudden retcons within long-running media was not as kind to Legends as it was to Dracula’s Curse . Because of how the in-game events conflicted with subsequent entries (for example the implication that Trevor is actually the son of Alucard, thus further tying the Belmonts to Dracula through blood as well as duty), both Legends and Sonia were completely removed from the canon timeline. This is merely one reason why the next attempt at creating the definitive origin for the franchise, now a cult favourite among certain subsections of the fan community, was regarded with some animosity. However, twenty years after its release, Castlevania: Lament of Innocence is considered by many as an underrated entry. It is certainly the darker title where both the hero and villain stumble through their own hardships yet neither emerges completely victorious by the end.

The opening narration crawl of Lament of Innocence describes the lives of Leon Belmont and Mathias Cronqvist. They spend most of their lives as reflections of each other; one grows into more of a fighter while the second is coveted for his intellect and ambition. Both are valorous, honourable, and products of their own respective plights. Despite his service to the church, Leon is soon systematically stripped of everything save for the clothes on his back because he wouldn’t follow their orders blindly. While Mathias is forced to watch as an uncaring god (the very same god he serves) takes away a figure of pure virtue and love. This figure, Elisabeta Cronqvist who appears to be a splitting image of Dracula’s next deceased wife Lisa Tepes, was the last remaining tie Mathias still had to whatever bit of morality he still feels, which he eventually throws away when deciding to drag his only friend and everything he holds dear into hell alongside him.

The difference is how both men react to those personal horrors and how they let it govern their pasts, presents, and futures not just for themselves but for others who follow after the dust has supposedly settled. Two men, two best friends turned hateful enemies because of an interlinked tragedy. Not only that, but also because of their perspectives, morals, and the way they view a world that is unkind to them. Both were spurred by the death of loved ones, both used it as a conduit, or rather a catalyst for the radically opposing directions in which their choices take them and their families. Leon chooses to struggle onwards towards a world free from darkness and horror despite his pain. Mathias chooses to revel in that very same darkness and pain with a fire that would burn for aeons. In the end, one thing is absolute. A single thing the two men can agree upon as they flee down adverse paths: one of them will destroy the other.

Yet the timeline of Castlevania proves that this choice comes at a great cost for the Belmonts in particular. By the end of Lament of Innocence , Mathias has revealed himself to be the great manipulator pulling the strings behind the scenes. Due to the immense grief he felt over losing Elisabeta to a presumably common illness made untreatable because of the time period’s medical limitations (coupled with his own arrogance and narcissism), Mathias finally becomes Dracula. Dominion over death and even god by has been achieved by doing what Leon’s righteously moral mind cannot comprehend: transforming himself into an immortal creature driven by bloodlust. All he had to do was lie, cheat, and cruelly outsmart everyone else around him. That of course includes Leon as Mathias’ manipulation tactics were also the cause of the mercy killing of Sara Tarantoul, Leon’s fiance, to stop her from turning into a vampire herself. After watching his former friend escape before the sun can rise and disposing of Dracula’s constant right hand man Death, Leon finally feels his anger over such a betrayal boil over. He gives one final message to Mathias, now the new king of the vampires: “This whip and my kinsmen will destroy you someday. From this day on, the Belmont Clan will hunt the night.”

This is how Castlevania: Lament of Innocence ends. Unlike other entries like Symphony of the Night, Aria of Sorrow, or Harmony of Dissonance , there is no good, neutral, or bad ending that can be achieved if the player is aware of certain secrets and tricks. There is only one for Leon and Mathias. The inclusion of multiple endings in some Castlevania games versus a singular set ending in others may seem like a small coincidental narrative choice in conjunction with evolving gameplay, but it matters in the case of Lament of Innocence. From the moment Leon enters the castle to rescue his fiance, the wheel has already started turning and his fate is sealed. Mathias has already won and Sara, along with future Belmonts, are already doomed. And Leon’s ultimatum made in the heat of the moment would go on to have repercussions centuries later. “Hunting the night” gave the Belmonts purpose but it also burdened them with that exact purpose. While Dracula deals in curses, so does the Belmont family—a curse of duty that gets passed down throughout the bloodline.

Leon Belmont was of course never malicious or cruel like Mathias was. He never wanted to deliberately curse his family because he suffered and so should they. His choice was made out of anger and retribution. Still, it goes on to affect Simon, Sonia, Julius, and others in drastic yet different ways. Yet in the case of specific Belmonts like Trevor and Richter, we see how this family legacy can have varied consequences in far more detail through the introduction of animation and serialised writing into the Castlevania franchise.

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SOMETHING BETTER THAN A PILE OF RUINS: TREVOR BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LEGACY

If there’s one thing that Castlevania makes abundantly clear with its four season runtime, it is that trauma does not inherently make people better or more virtuous. We of course see this from the games with Mathias and his personal crusade against god which leads to the complete dissolvement of his closest friendship. Or with Hector and the rage he feels towards his wife’s murderer, who also happens to be his former comrade under Dracula’s employment. Even Leon’s promise to both his friend, now his most despised enemy, and future descendants can also be an example of how gut reactions to pain, grief, and betrayal can have damaging consequences in the long run. This particular dissection of trauma when it affects a survivor negatively and in almost life-altering ways while still giving them a chance at achieving their own method of healing is most apparent with the animated representation of Trevor Belmont.

At its core, the first season of Castlevania airing in July of 2017 with four episodes in total is inspired by the events of Dracula’s Curse with the following seasons taking more from Curse of Darkness along with original story elements. It begins with the brutal execution of Lisa Tepes after she is falsely accused of being a witch. Shortly afterwards, Dracula declares war on all of humanity in an explosion of grief-riddled vengeance (a declaration that is not dissimilar to Mathias’ cursing of god after Elisabeta’s admittedly more natural death). Hundreds of civilians are slaughtered in the capital city Targoviste and hoards of night creatures descend upon more townships across Wallachia.

This would be the perfect opportunity for a Belmont to stand up and fight back except there is one problem: the Belmonts have been eradicated from this world on false grounds of black magic and aiding the vampire lords instead of hunting them—much like how Lisa was slandered and paid the price with her own life.

The only Belmont left surviving is Trevor himself and his introduction does not paint him in the most optimistic or even heroic light. In the midst of being excommunicated by the church, he’s been wandering aimlessly for the past few years while languishing in whatever tavern he stumbles upon. In one particular bar Trevor finds himself in, he overhears the other patrons cursing the Belmonts and blaming them for Dracula’s siege upon humanity. He tries to stay out of it and not bring too much attention to himself until one glance at the family emblem stitched into his shirt breast is enough to ignite an all out skirmish.

Trevor hides his true identity not because he’s ashamed of it, but for his own safety and self preservation. In fact, the opinion he holds of his family is the total opposite from disdain for the sort of legacy they have saddled him with even in death. He reacts strongly to false accusations directed towards the Belmonts, angrily correcting the bar patrons by stating that his family fought monsters. However, he quickly realises he’s said too much and tries saving face by once again detaching himself from possibly being connected to the aforementioned Belmonts.

It’s only when Trevor is backed into a corner and is fresh out of snappy drunk retorts (thanks to a few hard hits to his nether regions) does he finally admit to his real lineage. As mentioned earlier, Trevor finds himself caught up in the first real brawl of the series not because of the pride he feels in himself but the immense pride he feels for his bloodline. All the while, he’s given up trying to hide what he is—a Belmont—and what he was born to do—fight fucking vampires.

Every time Trevor has the opportunity to bring up his bloodline whether in a fight or in conversation, it’s usually spoken with some bravado and weight even when he’s inebriated. However, when visiting the ruins of the Belmont ancestral home in season two and thus directly confronted with what little remains of his family legacy, Trevor loses all that previous bluster and becomes far more contemplative. He doesn’t reveal much of what it was like to actually live as a Belmont, only that it was “fine” and “no one was lonely in this house”. Even when staring up at the portrait of Leon Belmont, he says nothing and instead firmly grips the very weapons which his ancestor must have also wielded.

It’s clear that Trevor feels no shame, bitterness, or lack of respect towards his family history despite the hardships that have come with it. Still, it’s difficult for him to truly accept the duty of being a Belmont and Trevor continually struggles with it over the course of two full seasons. Upon arriving at the ruined city of Gresit which is under constant threat of night creature attacks, Trevor doesn’t seem particularly concerned with the people’s plight or with helping them. He inquires about what’s been happening by speaking with a few local merchants but it’s only in order for him to gain a better picture of the situation that Gresit finds itself in. Otherwise, he’s simply passing through on his way to another tavern, fist fight, sleeping spot, or all three. Until he puts aside his own needs for self-protection in favour of saving an elder Speaker (a fictionalised group of nomads original to the Castlevania show who have made it their mission to help less fortunate communities and pass on their histories via oral tradition) from a potential hate crime committed by two supposed men of the cloth.

This moment acts as a representation of the first chip in Trevor’s carefully maintained armour. During the bar fight, he claimed over and over again that he was a Belmont in both skill and purpose. However, Trevor hasn’t done much to prove such a proclamation. Because of his ennui and poor coping mechanisms due to lingering trauma, he’s been all talk and not a lot of action—until this point. At first he tells himself to walk away, this sort of confrontation doesn’t concern him. Then he remembers where he comes from and uses the very same family heirloom to help someone physically weaker than himself.

Yet when he accompanies the elder back to where the other Speakers have found shelter from the monsters repeatedly demanding their heads as well as future night creature attacks, Trevor’s metaphorical walls are erected back up. He won’t take any part in this eradication of humanity whether as a victim or perpetrator and especially not to stop it. The people of Wallachia made their choice in the unjust murder of Dracula’s innocent wife, they made their choice when they decided to massacre what was left of his family, and the church made their choice when they decided to fight Dracula’s armies themselves without the Belmonts. Why should he lift a finger (or whip) to save the masses?

Despite this nihilistic attitude, Trevor proves to be a poor defeatist. He still desperately wants to protect the Speakers and warns them of an oncoming pogrom planned for them. A massive hate crime fueled by superstition and facilitated by the corrupt Bishop of Gresit which will supposedly save the city from night creature ambushes (this can be interpreted as a direct allegory meant to comment on how minority groups such as Jewish and Romani communities were used as scapegoats during the Mediaeval period). However, the Speakers refuse to budge and decide to face the angry and misled crowds head-on. They instead tell Trevor to leave in their place which, in a burst of frustration, spurs him to finally act like a member of his clan should.

What follows next is one of the most defining moments of the series for Trevor, cementing his place as a Belmont. Another corrupt member of the church demands to know what he could possibly stand to gain from fighting back considering his downtrodden state and the fact that he’s entirely outnumbered. Trevor’s answer is simple: nothing. The Belmonts don’t protect everyday people for any great reward or because of any strong personal ties. They do it because it’s their duty and the right thing to do. Trevor even mirrors something which the elder Speaker told him; a family mantra that encompasses the very purpose of the Belmonts, dating back to Leon: “It’s not the dying that frightens us. It’s never having stood up and fought for you.”

Trevor’s healing journey does not end at this moment. He still has moments of hesitation where someone like Alucard has to forcibly remind him of his place as Belmont, saying he needs to choose whether he’s really the last of a long line of hunters or a drunkard. This leads to a fight sequence that nearly spans the length of an entire episode where Trevor further proves himself by taking on at least three different creatures all with varying degrees of strength, skill, and fortitude. Episode six of season two is the ideal example of not only Trevor’s determination but also his quick thinking. Moments such as him wrapping his cloak around his hand so that it doesn’t get cut while his sword slices through the throat of a minotaur or using a set of sticks to beat against an adversary when his whip is knocked away. Being a Belmont means using one’s intellect (no matter how unconventional it may seem) as well as one’s muscles.

There is also another albeit less violent instance at the start of season three where he still feels the need to hide his surname while in an unfamiliar village. Then there is the revelation that malicious stories about the Belmonts and their supposed demise still circulate amongst rural Wallachian communities. Yet despite coming from a family of old killers (a term Trevor uses before facing off against Death in the final season) his family name remains his strength and the weight of both the Vampire Killer and Morningstar whip keep him grounded rather than burden him. The Belmont name carries such weight throughout the series that by the end, there is strong consideration from Alucard of naming a new township nestled in the shadow of Dracula’s castle after that family.

Trevor deals with his pain and trauma quietly, almost numbing it with the assistance of alcohol and dodging the harder questions regarding what his family was really like. He still finds strength in remembering what the Belmonts are here for despite the tribulations that come with the family name. Hardships that continue and evolve nearly three hundred years later.

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THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME WHO I AM: RICHTER BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LOVE

Depending on what sort of mood you might find the author of this essay in, their favourite Castlevania game will vary. At the moment, it’s a three way tie between Symphony of the Night for its artistry, Lament of Innocence for its story and characterisation, and Aria of Sorrow for its evolved gameplay. However, one personal decision remains relatively consistent no matter the mood or time of day: Richter Belmont is the author’s favourite Belmont and the inclusion of him in the latest animated adaptation Castlevania: Nocturne has only cemented that fact.

It makes sense from both a narrative and marketing standpoint as to why we’ve suddenly gone from the events of Dracula’s Curse/Curse of Darkness depicted in the previous series all the way three hundred years later to Rondo of Blood . Narratively, Richter and his companion Maria Renard already have a direct link to Alucard through the events of Symphony , which Nocturne will most likely cover and be inspired by in its second season. Marketing wise while also appealing to the largest demographic possible (even those less familiar with the games), amongst more recurring characters like Dracula and Alucard, Richter is arguably one of the most recognisable Castlevania figures right down to his design.

Certain traits and visual motifs of other Belmonts have changed drastically over the years and with each iteration. Meanwhile, from Rondo and Symphony , to Harmony of Despair and the mobile game Grimoire of Souls , to finally Nocturne and the inclusion of Richter as a playable character in the fighting game Super Smash Bros Ultimate , specific elements of Richter never waver. This includes his blue colour scheme, his tousled brown hair, and his iconic white headband. All of which carry over in the first season of Nocturne which not only expands upon Richter’s character first established in Rondo of Blood but also further examines said character.

For example, Richter’s true introduction directly following the downer cold opening is without a doubt the farest cry from Trevor’s. While Trevor’s first scene acted as a sobering depiction of what happens when physically/mentally damaging coping mechanisms mix with unacknowledged grief, Richter’s first fight gets the audience’s blood pumping, complete with a triumphant musical score and a showcase of his skill with the Vampire Killer. Richter is cocky, but not reckless. He’s sarcastic, but not sullen like Trevor was. Because of his upbringing after the death of his mother, filled with positive affirmations, he values the wellbeing of others along with their fighting experience. Yet his confidence does not overshadow his acknowledgement of the family burden. Richter is well aware of how heavy the Belmont legacy and duty can weigh upon an individual’s shoulders along with how closely it can tie itself around a person’s life and their death—a reminder as well as memory which haunts him for nine years.

When Nocturne begins, its first major fight sequence takes place between Richter’s mother Julia Belmont (an original character for the show) and the vampire Olrox, an enemy taken from Symphony of the Night now reimagined as a seductive, complex Indigenous vampire on his own path towards vengeance against the very person who took away the one he loved most in this world—just one of many thematic parallels to the first series, this time referencing Dracula’s motives and justification for his grief. Just when it seems like Julia has the upper hand thanks to her magical prowess, Olrox transforms and ends her life in a swift yet brutal manner. All of which happens right before ten-year-old Richter’s eyes.

Julia was simply doing her duty as a vampire hunter and her life as a Belmont ended the same as most of her ancestors did: in battle while fighting for the life of another. Why then did it hurt Richter most of all? Why does it haunt him well into his early adult years? And why was it seemingly more so than how Trevor’s trauma haunted him? There are two probable answers to this, one being that Richter was only a child, directly confronted by the cause for his mother’s sudden and graphic death with no way of fighting back despite being a Belmont.

In the case of Trevor, although he was a few years older than Richter when his entire family and ancestral home were burned in front of his eyes presumably by the same people they were supposed to be defending, the circumstances which followed them afterwards are vastly different. For nine years Richter was surrounded by those who loved and cared for him whereas Trevor only had himself and the hoards of average Wallachians who hated him because of superstitious rumours and the church’s condemnation. Trevor had over a decade’s worth of experience in becoming desensitised to his pain and trauma, masking it beneath self deprecation and numbing it with alcohol. He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was a deeply sad and lonely individual until Sypha pointed it out to him.

Despite his bravado and brighter personality than his ancestor, Richter is also an incredibly sad, hurt person who suffers somewhat from tunnel vision. He obviously has empathy and wants to protect people from monsters, vampires, and the like. More so than Trevor did during his introduction before his moment of self-made rehabilitation. However, he doesn’t seem to care much about the revolution itself or what it stands for. He attends Maria’s rally meetings but he doesn’t take active part in them, opting to stay back and keep a watch out for any vampire ambushes. He admits that he doesn’t really listen to Maria’s speeches about liberty, equality, and fraternity. And in the most prominent example of his disillusionment with fighting for a larger righteous cause, when given a revolutionary’s headband, he shoves it into his pocket and mumbles about how tired he is of everything.

This could be interpreted as defeatist if Richter wasn’t already trying so hard to uphold his family duty and maintain a level head. He needs to have a sense of control and almost achieves it until Olrox so casually confronts him in the middle of a battle which Richter and his friends seemed to be winning until they’re forced to flee close behind him. When Richter runs away and emotionally breaks down the moment he’s finally alone, it isn’t because he’s weak or cowardly. On a surface level, it was due to his fear and panic over not being able to face his mother’s killer (someone who has proven to be much, much stronger and more powerful than any Belmont). Yet it was also a form of harsh admission to himself. He couldn’t maintain that aforementioned sense of control and perhaps he never will, not where he is right now at least.

It isn’t until he’s reunited with his grandfather Juste Belmont (long thought to have died, leaving Richter as the final Belmont) that this negative mindset brought on by unresolved trauma begins to shift. In many ways, Juste is another callback to what happened with Trevor. He suffered an immense tragedy in the past and has since spent his entire life drifting from tavern to tavern, avoiding his own grandson and instead leaving him in the care of people far more capable of raising him and instilling better morals within the youngest Belmont.

Other mentor-esque characters appear in Nocturne such as Tera who raised Richter alongside her biological daughter Maria. There is also Cecile, the leader of a Maroon group which Annette joins after escaping slavery. Despite their individual pains, these two women maintain the hope that humanity can be changed and the evils of the world can be defeated. Meanwhile, Juste has thoroughly lost his own hope. He reveals to Richter that “evil will always win” because of how it permeates everything and is far stronger than any Belmont, even the most magically inclined members. No matter how many Draculas, Carmillas, or Lord Ruthvens are defeated, it will always find a way to creep back to the surface whether through the upper class of France or through the very colonisation that nearly wiped out Olrox’s people or enslaved Annette’s family.

One of the first things that Juste says to Richter directly references the sheer weight of the Belmont legacy, all of which culminates within the whip itself. This can also be a reference to the Vampire Killer carrying a living soul as Leon Belmont was only able to awaken its true power by sacrificing Sara Tarantoul. The whip has both a metaphorical and literal weight which the Belmonts must come to terms with.

Yet for Richter, family is maintained not through blood ties, which can easily die out or be abandoned because of generational trauma, but through the people we find and attach ourselves to. Under the immediate threat of losing his found family, all of Richter’s pain and anguish explodes when his magical powers violently return to him in one of the most visually impressive and cathartic moments of Nocturne season one, complete with an orchestral and operatic rendition of “Divine Bloodlines” taken straight from Rondo of Blood as he ties the same headband he nearly discarded earlier around his head. Then once the dust settles and Richter is asked by Juste how he managed to tap back into that great power, he simply responds with the most obvious answer he can come up with: there are people who love him and he loves them in return.

This is reiterated when Richter is reunited with Annette and describes the same revelation when she asks how he was able to regain his magic. Not just a mental revelation but for Richter, it was a physical sensation as well. Just when he believed he had lost everything, something reminded him of all the things worth protecting in his life and all the pain he’s had to endure.

Richter finally donning his iconic white headband is symbolic of not only his decision to actively join the French Revolution but also his revelation that the love he feels for Maria, Annette, and Tera is his own righteous cause. That, to him, is worth defending just as much if not more than the concept of a centuries old curse turned legacy.

—

SLAVES TO OUR FAMILIES' WISHES: CONCLUSION

Richter, both his game depiction and his recent Nocturne iteration, acts as a reflection and subversion of what a Belmont is along with what that family duty means to different members. Trevor found healing from his trauma through his duty. Richter found his healing through love. Of course Trevor loved Sypha and Alucard in his own way, but throughout the entire first series, from the moment he removed his cloak at the end of season one to standing up against Death in the finale, his driving motivation was always to preserve his family’s legacy despite his own shortcomings. The Belmonts were all but gone and Trevor had been exiled, excommunicated, and turned into a societal pariah. Had he given into despair and continued with his vagabond ways, who else would wield the Morningstar, the Vampire Killer, or any of the knowledge cultivated by previous Belmont generations?

But for Richter, family legacy is more of a nebulous concept. It gets mentioned in conversations and we see its varying effects on individuals, but even when Richter is reunited with Juste, the immediate priorities of his found family takes the place of his blood family. This, according to him, makes him a Belmont.

It is also important to consider that we are still only on the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne with season two having been renewed and in production merely a week after its initial premiere. With the reveal of Alucard as a last minute cliffhanger in the penultimate episode, it will be interesting to see how his own characterisation as well as his close tie with both the Belmonts and his own family burden will further develop especially after three hundred years within the show’s timeline. One of the biggest possibilities is that in contrast with his youthful brashness and instability that was the crux of his character in the first series, Alucard might serve as a sort of mentor figure or perhaps his own generational pain will bond him further to Richter and Maria, more so than he was in Symphony of the Night . Then there is the question of whether Richter in the midst of the apparent losses he suffered during the finale of season one will follow down the same path that his video game counterpart did.

In 2020, the author wrote another Castlevania -centric essay which detailed the visual, thematic, and aesthetical shifts of the franchise from its inception during the 1980s all the way to the 2017 adaptation through focusing on how these changes affected Alucard. By the end of that essay, it was mentioned that despite the show being renewed for at least one more season, the overall future of Castlevania remained unknown. This is still the case for now.

Though one can make educated assumptions and theories, there’s no way of knowing what sort of direction season two of Nocturne will take with its themes and characters. This is doubly true for the games themselves. Despite the anticipated releases of the Silent HIll 2 and Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater remakes, as of now Konami has not revealed any official decisions to remake, rerelease, or produce new Castlevania titles. One can hope that due to the success of both shows along with the anticipation for Silent Hill and Metal Gear Solid remakes that something new will be in store for Castlevania in the near future.

Castlevania , both its games and animation adaptations, prove that there is a place in this world for every kind of story. In the last episode of season one airing in July 2017, Alucard states what could very well be the thesis of the entire franchise: “We are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes”. Yet even if we cannot escape the narrative we’ve been latched onto or, for dramatic purposes, cursed with, there are ways in which we can combat it and forge our own healing process.

—

MEDIA REFERENCED

Castlevania (1986)

Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest (1987)

Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse (1989)

Castlevania: Rondo of Blood (1993)

Castlevania Legends (1997)

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (1997)

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow (2003)

Castlevania: Lament of Innocence (2003)

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness (2005)

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow (2011)

Castlevania (2017—2021)

Castlevania: Nocturne (2023—)

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #trevor belmont #richter belmont #leon belmont #castlevania symphony of the night #my writing #god its been so long since i wrote an actual essay pls be gentle with me.....

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howdoesagrapewrites · 10 months

Note

Could you do both yandere hobie and pavitr x reader? Platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter really

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙞 / 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣

Cw: lovesick!Hobie Brown x reader, lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x reader, murder, obsessive behavior

Notes: I didn't dive as deep in any of the scenarios because I didn't knew what you wanted, but you can always ask me to expand on a particular dynamic

>It's hard for me to see Hobie Brown as a yandere, he's a person that's against any form of control or unconsensual actions against someone, but it's not impossible

>We don't know what Hobie's canon event is, but his yandere nature could stem from it, being vulnerable and lost

>However, even as a yandere, he's extremely self aware and would prefer you never knew, he feels shameful about it, because even though his morals are a little fucked up in the eyes of the average citizen, he hates people who want to control others, who think they have some sort of authority over the people they love

>This goes harder if you're fem identifying because he feels the added layer of misogyny

>He has literally no problems killing people who wronged you, but he won't tell you. He won't deny it if you ask, but he doesn't go around bragging

>Most yanderes want to posses, protect or fuse with their darling, but Hobie just wants to have you close? He has all the characteristics of the previously mentioned, but his ultimate goal is uncertain, even to him, he's good having you around for now

>He's manipulative and certainly charming

>He's as equally as likely to become yandere for a platonic or a romantic bond, if you're close enough with him, it doesn't matter what kind of relationship you have

>I already touched on yandere Pavitr here, so I'll focus on how he'd work with Hobie

>In a poly relationship case, it's very confusing to you. On one hand you have cool, collected Hobie who seems to be always analyzing you, teasing you and wanting to see your flustered face

>And then there's clingy, desperate, sweet and openly whipped Pavitr, who who's always glued to you and whispering sweet nothings, also wanting to see your flustered face

>Pavitr is overly enthusiastic about both of you, but tends to go to you, since Hobie returns his affections lazily and prefers making out over cuddling

>Pavitr doesn't exactly agree with what Hobie does to people that mistreat you, but he loves him and accepts the violence as part of him, and if he's honest, sometimes he wants to do the same

>Hobie knows Pavitr can be a lot and sometimes you want personal space, but he's a sadistic little shit, so he encourages you to either voice what you want, or encourages Pavitr to keep doing it

>Your relationship with these two would be a roller coaster

>If they're both yandere in a platonic way, Pavitr wouldn't be as intense, but he'd still be pretty overbearing with protecting you, he may not be attached at your hip 25/8 but he's not letting you out of sight, why do you want that? You want to get hurt?

>He's like a worried mother hen

>If you get a partner or become close with someone, he's stalking them for some time before he can trust them

>Hobie is a like a cool older brother who's secretly a psycho

>It looks like he's just being nice and looking out for you, but you have no idea how many bodies he has left rotting in dark alleys the past few months

>If you get a partner or become close to someone, he never trusts them, but he doesn't interfere unless is serious, his signature style is making you think you actually have agency

> What you don't know, is that in a romantic setting, Pavitr is far more scary than Hobie at his worst

#atsv x reader #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere pavitr #yandere hobie brown #spiderpunk x reader #yandere spiderpunk #yandere Pavitr Prabhakar

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Burgeon

A chance encounter that barely lasted seconds plants curiosity into Chrollo's mind. After searching for you, Chrollo decides to keep himself entertained, but being called to a blood splattered scene causes his initial plan to derail.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Soulmate au where either person experiences the other's emotions prior to their name appearing on their body. Only Nen users are able to see those names.

>Warnings: blood, murder, someone being eaten alive, mentions of domestic abuse and suicide, premarital hand holding, Chrollo being a creep

>Word count: 10.5k (kind of a slow burn)

Part 2 I Part 3

Fear was not a familiar emotion to Chrollo. If anything, the closest he's acquainted with is excitement, thrill. It was the excitement in thievery that he looked forward to the most, that he relished the most.

Not even three skilled Nen users could make him bat an eye. One pen was all it took to end them, no Nen at all. So why was it that when you both locked eyes through the smoke he felt fear?

The way his heart pounded was a foreign feeling. You were just a passerby, someone who had to stop for cover because a car had exploded seemingly out of nowhere. The culprit, Chrollo, stood on the other side of the wreck as his spiders fled.

Clutching his heart, he imprinted the feeling in his memory, from the way his heart was beating out of his chest to how he was seemingly frozen in place. It was when your eyes widened in horror that he broke out of the trance and moved again.

The next time you blinked, he was gone.

As if the timing couldn't be more convenient, Chrollo couldn't sleep that night.

His troupe members had passed out after getting heavily intoxicated, and he was left alone with his thoughts. Another heist was successful, yet he felt incomplete. Is this another facet of himself he has to discover? To figure out?

No. It was the encounter he had. It was something about those eyes that deeply disturbed him. Could you be a Nen user? It's possible, but if you were, he would've known. You looked… normal.

Either way, it was just eye contact. He will never see you again, so there's no point in overthinking it. As Chrollo calms his mind to slip into slumber, the feeling from before returns. Dread and fear seeps into his being like water does a sponge. A few hours later, his mind finally allows him to rest.

Chrollo was wrong. He was so unmistakably, so horribly wrong.

It has been hardly three days since the heist, and he's already come across you again. Curse this. If you recognise him, it might prove to be a problem. Killing this many people in the library would be a hassle as the authorities would come to realise that the Phantom Troupe is still in the city.

No matter. He'll continue what he was doing. If you do have the gall to approach him, he'll quietly deal with you.

As he mindlessly grabs a book from the shelf, he concentrates on your presence. You seem to be somewhere in the science section. Perhaps you're a student? That would explain why you're diligently looking all over. It must be something particular.

Chrollo stays out of sight and seats himself in a corner. The table fortunately has only one chair and from there, he can see the rest of the floor. If anything, his appearance reassures him. His hair is down, a cloth wrapped on his forehead and his clothing is just as normal as anyone else's.

Okay maybe it doesn't entirely fit the description of an average citizen. It leans towards the more 'pretentious' side as Phinks had once said. However, it doesn't stand out so nothing to worry about.

…

Why are you coming this way?!

Oh wait. Your belongings are on that table over there to the right. Great. Just great. You're sitting on the table to his right and facing him. Ah, at least you're looking into that book you have. Wait, what is he reading? Did he even bother to check what he grabbed?

It was in the literature section, so it ought to be something interesting. No matter. He'll just multitask. If he feels your eyes on him, it'll be likely that you recognise him. In case that does come to pass, he shall immediately exit the premises.

Chrollo immerses himself in the book. He didn't bother to read the title, satisfied at seeing Friedrich Nietzsche as the author, and started going through the words. The priority at the moment is to keep an eye on you, and keeping an eye on you he is because his book is now forgotten as he side eyes you at the disruption of aura.

Grey eyes carefully consider how you channel the flow of aura in your body. It's practised and genius how easily you've manipulated it to flow and concentrate under your palms. However, before Chrollo has a chance to even think about what sort of Nen user you may be, you abruptly stand up.

Grabbing the books and your bag in a hurry, you head for the librarian to check them out. Chrollo slowly keeps pace, hiding behind a bookshelf when you're waiting for the librarian to do her job.

He can see the way apprehension oozes out of you, and he feels more drawn into you. Akin to an unlike magnetic pole, he follows after you, attracted, getting closer and closer each time only to snap out of it when he's a few feet behind you on the sidewalk.

Your bag is now swung over your shoulder, books hugged closely to your chest and eyes constantly darting around like you're looking for something. When you move to cross the road, Chrollo doesn't follow.

There has to be something wrong. This must be some sort of joke. All that stuff was just a fairytale, not reality. So why? Why did he feel overwhelming anxiety and apprehension when he was standing behind you? Why did your tapping foot settle down at that same time?

Why is there now a name written on his forearm?

Hopelessly trying to scrub it off while showering, he realises that it's there to stay. The realisation does little to assist in comforting him. All the evidence points to what he had deduced to be a simple folktale to be reality.

It's alright. Chrollo is a thief after all. The most business he has is to steal whatever Nen ability you have, if it proves useful that is.

There it is again. Anxiety.

Just being within eight feet of you brings about that feeling, but considering how your posture just relaxed, Chrollo finds that being within a certain radius of your 'soulmate' causes both parties to feel what the other feels, which in your case is anxiousness.

So he wasn't feeling fear that day after all. He was feeling what you were.

Regardless, Chrollo puts on a smile and casually takes a seat opposite to you in the coffee shop. It has been a real hassle locating you, so he isn't going to throw in the towel anytime soon.

The sound of a chair being dragged against the floor causes you to flinch, but you don't bother glancing up from what you're reading. Perhaps you're not very outgoing and would like to keep to yourself. He doesn't find any problem with that, for he can quite easily make conversation for two.

Chrollo clears his throat once, carefully eyeing you for a reaction and simultaneously calming his beating heart. Over the somewhat quiet atmosphere of the shop and his calm demeanour being transitioned over to you, you would have easily heard him. He tries again, but you give no response.

He tries a third time, and leans forward as he starts conversation. "I can't help but notice that you've been reading about the quantum properties of light. Are you a physics student?"

Slowly, like how the most grand and most precious merchandise is unveiled at an auction, you raise your head to meet his eyes. In an instant, he feels his heart wildly pound against his chest before his usual calmness is back.

"I'm… not a physics student," you reply, voice meek.

"Ah, someone interested in the topic maybe?"

The most Chrollo is rewarded with is a nod, and you immediately bury your face back into the book. That reaction was more than what he was hoping for, thus he won't complain.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he decides to take his chances, using his gentlemanly exterior to smooth things over.

"Would you mind if I joined you this evening?" He smiles when you peer over the edge of your book. "I believe the book you're reading is of my interest. Do you want to talk about it over coffee?"

"Why?"

Playing hard, aren't you?

"Well, it would be nice to make friends in the city. Especially if they're like minded, right?"

Smile Chrollo. She might lower her guard.

You put down your book, watching him in consideration. Then, you call over a waiter and give your order, gesturing to Chrollo to do the same. A smile stretches on his face. Oddly enough, he hasn't felt any apprehension again, only mild nervousness at best.

Voice gentle, he starts conversing.

"Are you a college student?"

With narrowed eyes, you watch him carefully. "No. Far from it actually. What about you?"

Chrollo rests his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "I'm just here for business. I keep an eye on auctions and merchandise. My job is to keep tabs on such matters."

"Alright… then why are you interested in what I'm reading?"

"Science is fascinating, isn't it?"

"You're lying."

Silence.

Chrollo cannot say if the calmness he feels is from you or him. What he can say for sure is that you're not as innocent as you seem. The cold gaze you have is proof of it.

With the grace of a swan, he sits up straight, smile still present on his face as he tries conversing again.

"Why do you think that I'm lying?"

"It's obvious," you reply.

Shaking his head, he keeps his voice soft. "Well, I couldn't just let a beautiful girl like you sit alone like this. Why not converse if we have mutual interest?"

"You're lying again, sir."

Somehow, being called sir makes Chrollo feel… alienated but still good nonetheless.

"My name is Chrollo. What about you?"

You consider him for a moment before you close the book in front of you. "I'm [Name]."

It takes all the composure he has to not let his eyes widen. That's the same name that appeared on his forearm. Perhaps choosing to encounter you was the right decision. You may be able to aid him in one way or the other.

"Well, [Name], truth be told, I felt oddly drawn to you, and I don't say this to be flattering. I really did feel drawn. That's why I approached you."

The waiter returns with the drinks, and he closely watches how you thank him with a smile. An odd feeling stirs in his chest, but Chrollo brushes it off as your emotion.

"Alright," you interrupt. "I have to say… you're pretty weird."

"I do hear that a lot," he chuckles.

"Hm." You lean forward, eyeing him closely. Chrollo sits unbothered at your peculiar behaviour. If anything, he's amused. He's finally found an interesting person with Nen no less. He could even claim that he's ecstatic.

"Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head and return to your seat. The both of you start drinking your drink in silence. However, you keep eyeing him closely and it's rather bothersome. Suddenly, like how a water balloon bursts when too heavy, you speak.

"I was just messing with you earlier, Chrollo. No hard feelings?"

He smiles, "None at all."

Silence once again persists, but is quickly replaced with conversation when most of Chrollo's coffee is gone. He starts with asking about your hobbies and slowly manoeuvres the conversation to hunters. Disinterest is palpably written on your face at the topic, but he pushes through.

"I've heard that hunters are very odd people. It's almost as though they're a completely different breed."

Bored, you trace random patterns on the table with your finger. "Yeah. They're all a little crazy in the head if you ask me. The exam is even worse from what I've heard."

"Are you interested in taking the exam?"

For a split second, Chrollo sees your aura change, but it quickly disappears.

"No," you deadpan.

You're tracing something on the table again, but why has your aura disappeared? Taking advantage of the pause in conversation, he uses Gyo to see if you may have used In. The technique is used for hardly a second, just long enough to know that you did use In, but judging from your disinterested gaze on him, you may have caught him.

"You can do that?"

Chrollo blinks, attempting to act coy. "Do what?"

"Don't act dumb, Chrollo. I saw that."

Amazing. You weren't even looking at him when he did. Has he found a formidable Nen user? Hm. He wonders what your Nen ability is.

With a flirtatious smile, he leans in. "You're quite talented if you found me out so easily."

"Are you a hunter?"

"Not at all."

An expression of deep thought is present on your face, eyes boring into the empty cup that sits in front of you. Chrollo lets you stay under the assumption that you have the power in this conversation. He lets you think and consider your next words carefully, feeling almost giddy at seeing this encounter through to the end.

"Do you know… what Nen is?"

Bingo. Chrollo has finally found an opening and the world be damned if he doesn't use it to his advantage.

"Of course I do," he replies, voice smooth and gentle to lull into a sense of security. "I've actually taught people about it before."

For some reason, you raise a brow at that and he laughs.

"No really. I have taught people before. Mostly my friends. Are you looking to understand it better?"

Cautiously but almost desperately, you give in. "Yes! I don't know what this weird thing is. I thought I was going crazy."

"Well, you've met the right person."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Really?"

Your expression contorts into one of slight disgust mixed with overflowing annoyance. At the sight, Chrollo keeps his composure in case you may have recognised him or worse, seen through him. However, all panic goes down the drain when you bang your hand on the table.

"You look like you work a corporate nine to five! How are you supposed to be an expert?"

Relieved but still very, very confused, Chrollo slightly tilts his head, eyebrow raised under the bandana. "Are you… insulting me?"

"I'm stating the obvious." You settle down, slumping into your seat. "You better not be lying to me, Chrollo. Trust me, a lot of people already have."

"I promise. I will help you understand your ability better, and that's final."

For some reason, the way your eyes had lit up at that was kind of cute.

Chrollo is absolutely itching to confirm whether you're aware of the existence of his name on your body or not. It might be in some inconspicuous place like behind your knee that you don't look often, but the 'emotional exchange' should have been concerning if not completely odd.

Nonetheless, Chrollo marches on towards your apartment. Naive as you are, you had allowed him to come to your apartment just after a few days of being acquaintances. The credulous mentality you harbour is simply aiding him. Once he knows what your Nen ability is, he will steal it and be on his merry way, any soulmate talk be damned.

Before his finger could even meet the bell halfway, you've swung open the door. Chrollo stands there blinking at your haphazardness, and is immediately pulled inside by the wrist. You stand there in pitch black darkness, the main door stuck to your back like glue as all the curtains continue their purpose of blocking any light from the street.

Had this not been his first time here, he would have been able to navigate the place properly. Pushing aside his desire to eliminate the darkness a little bit, he calls out your name. Chrollo doesn't miss the way you flinch or the way your breathing gets worse.

"What's going on?"

His question further rattles you. Fisting your hair, you drop to your knees crying. What he can see of the sight makes Chrollo feel odd. Why aren't the emotions transferring back and forth between you both?

Being as frazzled as you are, wouldn't it be advantageous if your emotions were transferred to him instead? So why aren't they? Is there some sort of condition he isn't privy to?

You choke on your own wails, and out of something Chrollo brushes off as pity - totally ignoring the pang in his chest - he squats down and holds you. As though soothing a child, he keeps comforting you till your sobs turn into quiet weeping.

Half an hour later, the curtains are still drawn, a few of the lights have been turned on and freshly brewed cups of coffee are present in both your and Chrollo's hands. You make it a point to not look at him, obviously embarrassed at the earlier situation.

So, like always, Chrollo takes the lead and asks what happened.

"I did something," you reply. "I… I don't know how but it just did and then…and then all the light became too much."

This piques his interest. Could it be that you found your Nen ability after just hearing about the basic techniques from him?

"What do you mean by 'did something'?"

You wordlessly stand up and seat yourself on the floor right in front of the centre table. Palm flat on the table, you slowly raise it up, and Chrollo sees something forming beneath it.

Using Gyo is useless, for what you've conjured up is made of hardly any aura at all. It baffles him to see a little rabbit, white but almost translucent, sit there. It blinks up at you, puffy eyes looking back at it with what one can only describe as repugnance.

Slowly, the bunny hops towards you. Its translucent body and solely white colour scheme makes it seem eerily unnatural as it clings to you, climbing up your body and into the crook of your neck.

You pet the animal, but when Chrollo tries to do so while reaching forward, his hand goes through it and touches your neck instead. Oddly enough, when the rabbit bumps its head against his hand, he feels the impact.

"I think only I can touch this thing," you state.

This ability may mean that you're a conjurer, but then why is it not made of aura? Chrollo can't seem to see any even with Gyo, so what is that? When you clench your fist, the animal disappears into thin air.

As frivolous as this seems, if used correctly, it could be a deadly ability.

"Is that what scared you, [Name]?"

Perhaps you took his words to be infantilising, for you look away and furrow your brows. Not even now can Chrollo feel your emotions like he did before. Therefore, he's left to guess like he always does.

"It scared me because it's the light."

The light?

He leans forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that light is what's making these things."

Light? So your ability consists of shaping light to your will? It is in a sense just energy.

"How can you be sure," he challenges.

Your stare is cold, merciless and oozing with disdain when you reply. "Because I know it is."

Wow. That's a lot of confidence for someone who was previously overwhelmed. Resting his face on his hands, Chrollo studies the flow of aura in your body. There's no need for him to give away all Nen related information if you're doing this well without it, so maybe he should just withhold it and watch how this plays out.

Had he felt generous, he would've done the water divination test with you, but he's not here to teach. He's here to give a slight push, steal and leave. That's it.

"I created a dead person's head."

Chrollo blinks up at you. That's certainly… something interesting to conjure up.

"Whose head was it?"

This time, your expression is sad when you answer. "My old neighbour. She died recently."

Ah, perhaps it was an unconscious thing. As you put away the cups, Chrollo keeps a close eye on your movements. The reason why your aura has been awakened may stem from this person's death. They might have been close to you considering that you did unconsciously create a copy of their head.

Maybe he needs to do some digging.

As Chrollo lets the midnight breeze blow through his hair, he thinks over the earlier events and information. An abusive husband, a docile wife. You were good friends with the lady, and tried to gather evidence to report the man.

Unfortunately for you, evidence was hard to gather. Whenever you tried, it would backfire and the now dead wife would suffer instead. Thus, when she took her own life, you used the police investigation to your advantage and revealed everything. The man was jailed, but the wounds of your dead friend never healed.

It is highly likely that this event triggered your aura nodes. Extreme emotional turmoil, though rare, is a possible trigger in your situation.

Eyes scanning the view in front of him, he thinks over possible uses of your ability. It's better than what a conjurer can do because you've already proven its versatility with the two extremely distinct things you created.

Maybe he should wait it out, let it develop more. He did, after all, tell you to practise with different things. If in case a new facet of your ability is unveiled, he wouldn't be the first to experiment with it.

The sounds of the bustling city make up for the lack of conversation. Behind you, a mother scolds her son for fighting with his younger sister. Next to them, a group of friends who have supposedly not seen each other for a while drink in the afternoon sun of the park.

You look tired.

And Chrollo has the urge to bring up the topic of soulmates.

Have you really not found a name on your body yet? It's hard to believe. He goes to sleep every single night after staring at that thing on his forearm with as much scorn as he is able to muster. He is a thief. And thieves do not indulge in daft affairs such as romance… or maybe most of them do not.

Contrasting his urges, Chrollo does not know what he would do if you have actually seen his name on your body. Should he use it to gain more of your trust? Or act innocent and pretend he doesn’t know? Would it be appropriate to indulge? Why does he want to indulge? What is so charming about your smile that he is rendered frozen and unable to look away?

Chrollo figures that Shopenhauer was perhaps partly correct in his analysis of love. Infatuation can blind even the most intelligent of men.

Your lips finally part to speak and Chrollo's world momentarily goes silent, the only sound being your voice and his beating heart.

"He's out of jail."

A vivid image of a grinning man comes to his mind, and he entertains it as the silhouette sports a hammer in his hand.

"He's out and he's looking for me."

The desperation in your tone suffices to rouse curiosity in him. Though a restraining order is paltry in this situation, he still suggests it just to be turned down. When you explain that a measly piece of paper saying that he isn't allowed to be near you is useless, Chrollo is unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Then why don't you just deal with him yourself," he proposes. "You're strong, [Name]. An ordinary man like him will go running as soon as he sees your Nen."

Now that the seed has been planted, Chrollo sits back and watches it grow.

Blood has never looked this good on any human being than it does on you. Oh if only he was able to witness it. The dead body of the man lies mangled in the living room, limbs separated, but your eyes seem to be more lifeless.

Intentionally feeding the enraged man information about your whereabouts was supposed to lead to a conflict where you flee home and purposely seek out Chrollo. During the panic, he would take advantage of your trust and steal your ability, take care of the man and be on his merry way.

Cleanup duty was not what he had expected. Well, neither was the possibility of you killing him considering how cowardly and timid you are. You must truly be his soulmate if you've done this.

Chrollo ushers you to your bedroom and asks you to stay inside till he comes for you himself. Summoning Bandit's Secret, he gets to work and once the mess is cleaned, he finds you seated on your bed in the same spot he had left you in an hour ago.

It's almost as though he's looking at a corpse.

Unmoving. He can't even be certain if you're breathing.

Calling your name does not elicit a reaction, so he simply sits next to you, mattress dipping under his weight. Judging from how messy it was, a fight must've transpired before. However, no furniture was broken or even scratched which means it was a clean strike. Not even your hands are dirty, only a few splatters on your face.

Which only boils down to you conjuring up or creating some sort of weapon with the 'light energy' that you manipulate. Whether it's conjuration or manipulation, Chrollo isn't sure. What he is sure of is that you are absolutely devastated.

So, being the gentleman that he is, he comforts his fated other half and bids goodbye after you're sound asleep. It was a completely one sided conversation again, but it doesn't matter.

He wants to break you more.

"Say, Chrollo?"

The man in question looks up from his book, the warm atmosphere of the library putting him at temporary ease. With a tilt of his head, he urges you to continue.

"Why do you always cover your forehead?"

He smiles, amused, and rests his chin on top of his hands. "Why do you wear clothes?"

"Huh?" Incredulous, you lean forward as well. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We wear clothes to hide our body, yes? Some people choose to cover most of it, and some choose to cover less. I don't see anything wrong or socially unacceptable about covering my forehead. It's just another part of my body I wear clothing over."

Chrollo smiles smugly. The way your mouth is left open at the answer is quite delightful. It's hard to believe that just a week ago you murdered someone.

"You're hiding something!"

"Am I," he challenges. "If I recall correctly, I'm not the one with skeletons in my closet, dear."

Lately, he's been getting more bold with the pet names. It's amusing to see you grow flustered over his nonchalance.

"It was self defence. I… I didn't mean to do anything."

Sure you didn't, but neither of you talk about that night. It’s an unspoken rule you set when you acted as though nothing out of the ordinary took place the day after the incident. Ironically, Chrollo is bemused at why you’re not afraid that the police might come after you if he decides to not stay quiet.

"Why did you help me?"

Now that is an interesting question from you. Why did he help you? Was it some feeling of obligation that led to his cooperation? Or did he feel pity? Pity that he will soon leave you after taking away an imperative part of yourself.

But he's never felt pity on his victims before. Why now? Is it because you're his supposed soulmate? The full name is the same, and he is quite curious to see if you are to play a key role in understanding himself.

Perhaps it's time to tip over the cup and let the tea spill. As composed as you outwardly were when asking, he could laugh at how obviously you're panicking, afraid that he might get bored and tell the police. That is one thing he silently holds over you.

However, once the tea spills and stains, it never washes out.

"Have you ever heard about soulmates?"

The question seems to baffle you, for your inner panic morphs into plain dumbfoundedness. Thus, Chrollo takes the liberty to explain.

"There's this folktale that two people have each other's names somewhere on their body that can only be seen by Nen users. These two people are destined to be romantic partners. I thought it was a silly story at first, but it seems to be true. To be frank, I hadn't believed anyone's reporting of it, but seeing it for myself has proven me wrong."

You close your book, eyeing Chrollo closely. "What're you trying to say?"

As ballsy as he is, Chrollo pulls up his sleeve and shows you your name written on it. Mercilessly, he explains how he felt your emotions prior to fully accepting that you are, in fact, his destined 'other half'. Chrollo's tongue holds no remorse to the horrified look on your face as he continues explaining his reservations for befriending you and how he got over them.

Conversely, he stays quiet after the unloading of information and lets it all sink in, allowing you to process what you heard. You look scared and vulnerable, yet Chrollo can't figure out why. Is it because he is your soulmate? Or is it because you're just stuped over something as silly as this?

Whichever it is, you clearly did not know about it which means that you haven't seen his name on your body yet.

"And that's why you helped me…?"

"Frankly," he says, "that's why I approached you in the first place. I felt your emotions in this library and when I put two and two together, I figured it out."

A pause and you speak again. "But… I haven't seen any name on my arm."

"It can appear anywhere on your body. It's usually triggered by the other person being in your vicinity."

Silence.

Was stealing your ability and leaving the right way to go? Why are you looking at him like that? With such hope and friskiness?

Why are you reaching for his hand?

Once intertwined, you make it a point to look at your and Chrollo's hands held together. He eyes the connected hands with childlike curiosity at the uncalled gesture but lets you have your way. Once your giddiness has settled down, he's quick to put on a smile.

"Premarital hand holding? Why, that's a bold move."

The comment causes you to immediately let go of his hand as though touching a hot surface. What part of his little slip had bothered you is beyond Chrollo. However, he continues smiling and tries again at conversation.

"I hope you're not disappointed over who fate has chosen for you, [Name]."

"I'm not." The sudden proclamation perhaps made you nervous because you keep touching your hair. "It was just so sudden."

Chrollo decides to poke a little, just for fun. "So you have no qualms about me being your romantic partner? Is that what you're implying," he chuckles.

Somehow, this kind of flustered look on you is even more precious. Stammering over your words, you take a few moments before you can give a comprehensive reply.

"That's not… w-what I was saying. What I meant was… was…"

"Was?"

Taking a deep breath, you gather all your courage to speak which, by the way, is a lot more than what you used to kill that man. "I meant that I wouldn't… be opposed… to the idea."

Wow. If Chrollo thought he had seen the peak of your bashfulness, he was absolutely wrong. He could almost pinch your cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't outright reject me. That would have hurt quite a lot."

"What if I reject you later?"

"Hm." Faking contemplation, Chrollo holds his chin between his index finger and thumb. "I would simply kidnap you. I can't let someone as adorable as you escape, now can I?"

"Haha. Very funny, Chrollo."

Very funny indeed.

It was around two in the morning when you texted Chrollo. The second he saw your contact name on his screen, he felt victorious. You noticed, didn't you?

He had been keeping an eye on your schedule. During the hours you were not at home, he would enter your apartment and do a little… redecorating. An example is how this time, he left your kitchen knife over an empty piece of paper with a single red cross on it.

Simple and not bloody at all, but he knows you. Subtle signs are what scare you the most.

Wide open wardrobe doors, an unlocked main door, balcony door slid open with the curtain blowing outside because of the wind, kitchen drawers and cabinets left open, sofa cushions piled into a corner of the living room and so on.

Returning home to things being changed inside your house or waking up to those changes has certainly scared you a lot. Despite being as agitated as you are, this is the first time you contacted him. Did the knife outshine the other things?

No matter. It's not like he plans on replying. It's just a simple message asking him if he's awake. Chrollo doesn't even open the message, dismissing it from the notifications bar and heads to bed.

Perhaps he went too far with the scares.

As dire as the situation was in the beginning, he had thought that you grew accustomed to the changes in your surroundings but he seems to have been proven wrong. There are apparent signs of your weariness and agitation, and the sight almost makes Chrollo frown.

Your eyes cautiously dart around as you grab the cup of steaming hot coffee and bring it to your lips. Chrollo watches closely how you determinedly blow on the drink to cool it down, eyes fixated on the way your lips shape into a pout to do so.

He wonders how it would feel to touch them… among other things.

During your pursuit, you fail to acknowledge Chrollo's attentive stare and how he suddenly crossed his legs after clearing his throat. Begrudgingly averting his gaze elsewhere, Chrollo picks up his own cup and lets the silence between the two of you settle.

Was it not appropriate to tell you about the mark on his forearm? Are you somehow now vying to turn whatever this relationship is into a romantic one?

For the first question, Chrollo thinks he chose the right course of action. Knowing that he is your soulmate will make winning your trust easier, not that he doesn't have it already. For the second question, he can't be sure. There haven't been any such hints from you yet.

The fact that neither of you address the elephant in the room is also maddening. You had admitted to not being against having a romantic relationship with him, but the conversation hadn’t gone further. Should he take the initiative himself? It would certainly be more charming that way, but what if you didn’t bring up the topic again because you’re not ready for the commitment?

Ah, maybe he should go through the romance books you read. There ought to be a few quirks and personality traits of the male lead that could help him woo you.

His thoughts are interrupted by you calling his name. Putting down his cup, he watches you do the same, already missing the little pout on your lips from earlier.

"Chrollo, I think…I think I'm seeing things because of my ability."

Hm. An interesting deduction. You're wrong, but you don't need to know that.

"Do you suspect the happenings in your apartment to be hallucinations?"

You freeze at his question, but manage to muster a reply. "I don't know. It's probably my ability. It is related to light and conjuring stuff up, right? It has to be the ability!"

"Or maybe a vengeful spirit."

"No! No… he's dead. I know he is."

Erratic behaviour and irrational thinking. You're reacting accordingly. Now, to just give a little oxygen to the spark…

"If you're sure it's your ability," Chrollo drawls, "then maybe you should just get rid of it."

Surprise is clearly written on your face, and Chrollo almost smiles at the endearing wide eyes you sport.

"I can get rid of my Nen ability?"

"Of course." He takes a sip of his coffee and continues. "It's possible."

You bang your hands on the table, cup clinking against the surface. "How?!"

Chrollo simply smiles bastardly at that. If you suppose he will give away important information so easily, you're naive. However… your reaction to the matter was adorable if not an absolute deal-breaker.

Maybe he should give a little push before he claims his prize. It's been a fun ride, so why cut it short?

"If you want to know, dear, meet me here again next Friday at this same time. I need to do some research beforehand."

A change of plan is considered, and Chrollo needs time to think it over. Nevertheless, seeing how desperately you agreed, he thinks he might just change his plan after all.

Chrollo isn't certain whether this idea is wise to act on or not. As he makes way to your apartment, he recalls all the other times he's watched you for hours on end daily. There wasn't any noteworthy information he could gather other than your questionable nonchalance at continuing daily life despite everything.

Maybe he's put this off for too long. He should just get the job done and get on with it. Well, not after messing around with you a little more that is. You're his soulmate. The least he could do, if not indulge you romantically, is be a little playful, not that he isn’t going to indulge you, far from it actually.

Chrollo easily picks the lock in your apartment door. Turning on the lights, he sits himself on the sofa, pulling out a book to read while he waits for your usual time to come home. As he goes through the latest romance book you read, an hour passes, and when he can sense your presence in the vicinity of the building, Chrollo feels absolutely elated.

It's dark when you walk in. Closing the door behind you, you kick off your shoes, groaning. Leaving your bag near the shoe rack, you slowly walk in, wincing when the lights are turned on. However, the living room lights aren't the ones that are turned on. It's the kitchen.

"Good evening, [Name]. I hope today didn't tire you."

Squinting, you look at the dark haired intruder casually leaning backwards on the kitchen counter. His appearance is a mystery to you because you do not remember giving him a key.

"And what brings you here, Chrollo?"

"Is it taboo to want to see my destined other half?"

You scoff, "Quite the smooth talker. Seriously, why are you here? You scared the bejeebers out of me."

You carefully eye his posture. If he turns out to be a threat, you could just use your Nen. Maybe make a sword or some other weapon or just make a run for it. No, you trust him. The door was probably unlocked.

"I simply wanted to see you. I'm leaving in a while after all."

This seems to capture your interest. "Leaving? When? We were supposed to meet next week."

"Soon."

"Okay…"

"Very soon."

"How did you get in?"

Ah. There it is.

Before you could even blink, Chrollo had disappeared. Unfortunately for you, by the time your brain even registered the fact that he had supposedly vanished, a blade is pressed to your neck while an arm holds you steady against a chest.

He's behind you.

And he's put a knife to your throat.

"It's been fun. I could even say that the time I've spent here with you was quite enjoyable, my dear [Name]. However," he presses it closer to your neck, a sign that you should stop struggling. "All good things must come to an end."

"What-"

"I've told the police about what you did."

That's a lie, but what do you know?

Chrollo feels you struggle more, and even though he had no need to hold you like this, he finds satisfaction in feeling you writhe against him. It's nice to see you cower in fear.

"I can give you two options, dearest, and you have to choose whichever poison you prefer."

"Chrollo let me go-"

"If I move this blade even a millimetre, it will pierce your skin. It's also poisoned, so I can't guarantee that you will experience anything pleasant."

Another lie, but it easily makes you settle down.

Chrollo continues, "You can choose to either come with me quietly or stay here and let the authorities deal with you. Considering that you used Nen, I believe that the Hunter Association will come after you as well."

He releases you, and goes back to leaning on the kitchen counter like before, casually sauntering there.

"Will you choose me or certain death?"

"Who the hell are you?"

With a smile, Chrollo summons Bandit's Secret and holds it up for your view. The sight makes your insides twist in fear. For the ethically ambiguous man, your reaction is simply amusing.

"Do you not know, dear? I'm your soulmate."

You scoff again, fists balled. "How much did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie," he states, matter of fact. "I simply withheld information."

The look you give him is one of pure rage. Ah, what bliss. Being on the receiving end of such an expression just makes you more precious in his eyes.

"You wouldn't regret coming with me." Releasing the book in his hand, he relaxes his posture. "We can have a good time together. I don't bite."

"Yeah, but do you stab?"

Chrollo shrugs, a smug smile making the action all the more infuriating. Holding the knife up to your view, you make out its intricate design and all the detailing. It's probably one used by assassins and the like. What should you do?

Before he says something, you cut him off. "Honestly, I'd prefer you bite. That thing doesn't seem to be a pleasant thing to be stabbed with."

"I assure you that biting would come one way or the other. How else am I supposed to mark you? Show my love for you?"

"Are you serious," you deadpan.

"Why? Do you want me to bite you right now? First, premarital hand holding, now this? My, how forward of you, [Name]."

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

"Setting the jokes aside," he says, "I'm primarily here to rid you of your Nen. You asked me, remember?"

As Chrollo slowly steps towards you, your eyes - widened and glossy - stay fixated on Bandit's Secret. When Chrollo stops just a step away, he opens an empty page, watching how apprehension and dread oozes from your being.

Cupping your face with his free hand, he takes the opportunity to rub his thumb on your cheek as he consoles you. He could even almost lick his lips at how innocently you hold eye contact with your glossy, frightened eyes.

"I'll be gentle, so don't worry."

The first thing he did after he drove you here was give you a long list of rules to follow. What you had deduced from them was that you're now powerless and what he says, goes. He even took your Nen. At least now you know what his ability is, and it's in no way pleasant.

The hotel room is oddly fancy, but for someone like him, it's a perfect fit. He didn't tell you much on the way here, only absolutely necessary information like the fact that you are no match for him in combat or any other way and that you’ll have to stay with him for a while if you don’t want the police on your tail.

Your phone is confiscated, the telephone in the room has its connection cut and he's glued you to himself by trapping you between his body and the armrest of the sofa.

If anything, the arm Chrollo has slithered around your waist is just proof that he did hold some sort of affection for you from the beginning.

"If you keep drilling holes into the floor like that, you'll get wrinkles very early from the frowning, dear."

He hears you scoff and despite the book from earlier in his hand, smiles to himself at the reaction.

"I would prefer growing old and wrinkly early than endure this."

"How unfortunate then."

"..."

Chrollo turns a page, eyes going through the words. He feels you deflate, the action prompting him to pull you closer. On your end, it goes unappreciated, for you glare at him from his side.

Hesitantly, Chrollo turns his head to look at you. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nope. Not at all." Sarcasm oozes from your tone, but it only riles him up further.

"Would you like to be?"

Perhaps his smile is what's ticking you off, but it's amusing and he isn't someone to pass up on that.

"No. I'd rather take the wrinkles."

"Wise choice."

Is he really this unbothered after essentially ruining you? For what reason did he inform the police and then proceed to hide you? Why is he acting as though the two of you have been in a relationship for months? How is he so casual?

Before more questions can flood your panicked mind, Chrollo closes his book and announces that it's time. For what? You have no idea.

Chrollo's idea of a first date was to bring you to a mafia hideout with nothing but the clothes on your person. It was mainly a way for him to showcase just how powerful he is and just how much disparity exists between the two of you in strength. If he earns your compliance and submission on the first night together, you wouldn't dare to ever leave him.

You did say you weren't opposed to the idea of a romantic relationship with him, so it should be easy earning your acquiescence and cooperation, correct?

No. You're absolutely horrified at the dead bodies. Chrollo thinks he may have earned your fear instead of submission. But aren't the two things the same in essence? Maybe Shopenhauer is rubbing off on him a little bit.

As Chrollo removes a pen from the dead man's skull, he eyes how you're supposedly holding in a scream. There was hardly any blood involved in the kill, so maybe your terror stems from the act and not the sight. No matter. The man he was targeting is near. It'll be over soon.

An arm slung around your shoulder, his eyes don't miss the way you flinch. Chrollo smiles at you reassuringly, sending you an implicit message that you can take it and you will take it quietly. You're his soulmate. Stomaching this is the least you can do.

Maybe he'll reward you with giving you some privileges for the time being. Perhaps some information and clarity? He didn’t tell you much, so any information he gives you will be appreciated. Well, it's not as though your reaction to hearing that you will now live with him will be a positive one.

Chrollo indifferently saunters through the corridor filled with dead bodies as though walking through a park. You hesitantly follow behind him, staying close as per his instructions. Having arrived at the target's office, Chrollo once again asks you to stay close.

It's precious how you cling to him like your life depends on it.

And it does. It absolutely does depend on him.

The door opens with a creak and the man inside clearly looks like he's seen a ghost. Trembling in fear, all he manages to do is whimper. Chrollo simply closes the door behind him, and wordlessly summons Bandit's Secret, smug at how your eyes widened at the sight of the book.

The idiot crawling on the ground knows what's coming, and he's unarmed so there's no threat to you both. Chrollo supposes that arrogant men like him are easier to take care of since they're too prideful to even keep a knife on their person.

Nonetheless, Chrollo browses through the collection of abilities thinking over what to use. You're standing right next to him, throat dry and possibly even feverish from the fear. The latter is evident from how your face looks flushed and pale.

Using an ability that would swap air with water inside his lungs wouldn't be fun since it would do a quick job. Piercing his body with multiple Nen blades and then burning his skin off would be too terrifying for your poor eyes. Killing him without Nen would be pointless because he wants you to see the possibilities of what he can do.

Hm. What to use. What to use. Maybe…

"Indoor fish."

Your eyes widen at the two fish like creatures that appear in the room, floating. Without removing his eyes from the man, Chrollo gives you a warning. "If you don't want to be eaten alive, you will need to be in physical contact with me, dear."

A lie, but he wants to see your reaction.

Despite you desperately grabbing his free hand, you immediately close your eyes shut out of trepidation. The action will make you miss the point of what he's doing, so Chrollo frees his hand and pulls you in front of him by the shoulder.

Book open in one hand and the other gripping your shoulder, he calmly tells you to watch carefully, not allowing you to close your eyes for even a second. He forces you to watch the man be eaten alive by the fish, his terrified screams echoing in your mind.

Is this feeling a good one? Chrollo wonders if he's feeling victorious over his target dying or over you learning to fear his capabilities.

Ah, he was right earlier. You are feverish. He pulled you to him, back touching his chest and when he cupped your cheek, he felt wetness along with the increased temperature of your body. This night may have been too much for you, but it'll be worth it.

When the fish have eaten everything except for the man's head and half his torso, Chrollo closes Bandit's Secret and watches as his body collapses into a sad pile of flesh. You stifle a scream at the sight, and Chrollo briefly wonders if you felt this when you killed a man yourself.

His curiosity won’t be sated for a while. You've collapsed as well, so he can't ask you now. Well, off to the hotel you go. If you wake up soon, he’ll simply act as though nothing of importance transpired in the past few hours. It should throw you off into lowering your guard.

…

Seems like your legs had given out, not your consciousness. Chrollo’s thought process goes on auto-pilot and before he realises, he’s on his knees as well. The absolutely terror-stricken look on your face stirs something within him; however, an urge to remove you from this death filled environment is trampled by the urge to ruin you further, the latter winning solely because he let it.

He had squashed the will to soothe you like an insignificant insect and failed to dig up any remorse for the action. Even now as you frantically try to regain your bearings, the only thing on Chrollo’s mind is that this outing has ensured that you will never step up to him, and it is absolutely imperative that you do not. The reason is something Chrollo adamantly refuses to acknowledge.

Thus, like he always has, he will steal everything from you. Even if you are his soulmate, his destined other half. From you, he will steal your future and entwine it with his own no matter how.

The domesticity of waking up your beloved as sunlight falls on their face. Ah, such bliss. The curtains aren’t completely drawn, so some rays of sunlight peak through the gaps and fall onto your face. It's a sight that Chrollo would have ingrained into his mind if he wasn't confident that he'd be seeing it again often.

It may be that his arrogance will be his downfall but why not uphold it for the time being?

If it does not aid in anything else, it certainly makes the moment you flutter your eyes open all the more rewarding.

It’s not like he woke you up. You roused from sleep all on your own, and now you’re staring at him in confusion. Like you’re still dreaming. A switch flips inside you and you recoil backwards, putting some distance.

You’re simply being dramatic. On your insistence he had to sleep on the sofa, yet now you have the gall to react this way? Preposterous!

“Good morning to you too, dear.”

Chrollo’s greeting is accompanied with a smug smile, and you seem to have to hold yourself back from spitting something unsavoury.

“You…!”

“Contrary to what you may be assuming, I assure you that I woke up on the sofa. I merely came here to wake you up, that’s all.”

You squint your eyes at him in assessment. “Did you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Alright.” You settle down and sit yourself at the side opposite to which you woke up since it’s currently occupied by the man who’s become your captor. A question pops into your mind, and you voice it before you forget. “Chrollo, why do the pillows smell like my perfume?”

“...”

“It’s a little cree-”

“I forgot to get them washed.”

Sure he did.

In one smooth motion, Chrollo is on his feet and out of the room. However, he backtracks to the doorframe, giving you a sly look before he pulls out his trump card with the smirk of a man who knows he's won.

In your somewhat vulnerable state from having just woken up, your eyes slightly widen at how he leans against the doorframe, arm raised above his head and resting on the doorframe as well. When your eyes land on his halfway unbuttoned shirt and bare forehead beautifully accentuated with loose hair, you immediately look away, eyes still as wide as saucers.

Intrigued at the reaction, Chrollo makes a mental note to go through the list of quirks and actions he made while reading those books you like. Maybe the time wasn't wasted after all.

It’s past noon now, and the dark haired man who holds a book in his hand while leisurely manspreading on the sofa refuses to give you any information. Well, you did learn something new. Chrollo covered his forehead because of a tattoo. What that tattoo is, you don’t know because all that he gave you for an answer was a smile.

His original aim at seating himself so disorderly was to force physical contact between you both. After last night’s date, you had avoided speaking to him and graced him with yelling when he attempted to share the bed with you. He understands why you would want to build up a level of trust to sleep together, but why avoid confrontation?

It’s absurd. Even forcing you to sit on the other end was a hassle. He even went through the trouble of packing some of your belongings and bringing them over late into the night so that you would be more comfortable in the morning after having to sleep in the same clothes you had worn for an entire day.

Chrollo has an idea about the questions that are brewing in your mind, but figured that his considerate gesture would act as a breaking point that would lead to you giving in and talking.

However, observing how you blankly stare at the wall, Chrollo closes his book and takes matters into his own hands. He remains extra careful to keep his voice gentle to soothe you into a feeling of security, to make you believe that you are safe and that he will take care of you despite what he had demonstrated the previous night .

“Did I pack everything of importance?"

You don't bother moving a muscle when you reply. "Yeah."

Grey eyes narrow at your disinterested body language, deciding to poke and prod a little. "Alright. If I missed anything, tell me and I’ll get it by tonight.”

“If the police are looking for me, then why do you keep going back there?”

Bait taken.

Now, reel it in, Chrollo.

“Mm. Maybe,” he rests his cheek on his fist, back leaned on the armrest, “it’s because no one’s looking for you.”

Something snaps inside you, and Chrollo can’t decipher what emotion it is that you’re displaying with that expression. Breath caught in your throat, he can see your eyes start to accumulate tears, brows furrow in what he recognises as confusion, and teeth clench as a sign of rage. Is it fury that you are experiencing? Your eyes show sadness and brows confusion, so which is it?

“What… do you mean?”

Chrollo decides to answer your question, faking a pensive expression. “Well, I never informed the police of anything to begin with, so I’m certain that no one is looking for you.”

“No one?!” You’re closer now, right in front of him in fact. “Not even my family? My parents?”

“It’s hardly been a day.”

“Then why…”

He braces for your yelling, so he’s obviously surprised when your question comes out as a whisper instead.

“Then why did you do all that?”

Yes. Why did he? Why did he go through the trouble of cleaning up your mess and then lie to you about reporting it? Why did he choose this path when a relationship was inevitable considering your subtle yet clear interest in him?

Well, it’s quite simple actually.

“I wanted you all to myself.” Chrollo leans forward and closer to you before he continues. “Your existence is key to understanding myself. You still have nightmares about killing that man, don’t you? I can’t even remember the face of whoever’s life I’ve taken.”

His hand cups your cheek, and the action feels akin to a searing hot piece of iron being placed on your skin. It’s a detestable gesture at the moment but you let him do as he pleases.

“Such a fragile being is bound to me by fate. So fragile, in fact, that she has to justify her sin by calling the man guilty so as to not let her own guilt take over.”

You flinch at the mention of the murder, but Chrollo’s grip is merciless and he keeps you under his hand. As he keeps staring into your petrified eyes, he moves closer, and closer until all you can see are his eyes.

“Tell me, darling. How did he scream? Was it desperate or spiteful? Was the smell of blood intoxicating or revolting?”

“Stop it-”

“What went through your head as you watched him die? How did it feel to see his limbs fly away from his body?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

The first few tears that manage to escape are promptly wiped away by his other hand. Before he resumes his verbal onslaught, he makes it a point to grab your face with both hands and force you to look him in the eye.

“You’re no better than I am. You continued on with life as though nothing had happened. I can’t say I’m unimpressed.”

His half-hearted compliment causes you to do a complete 360 degree turn, and Chrollo realises that he has found a little foible that he can exploit. You’re too emotional if provoked even the slightest bit and always ready to declare what you’re feeling.

“If I never met you, then all that would never have happened!”

However, sometimes those declared feelings can sting worse than even the deepest cuts with lemon squeezed on top of it.

“So I am responsible for you deciding to kill someone?”

“You were the one to put those destructive uses of my Nen into my head. You… you orchestrated all this!”

Chrollo finally lets go of your face but doesn’t avert his eyes. If anything, he looks at you more attentively now.

“Pointing fingers usually is seen as an act of denying responsibility for your actions, but in this case your finger points to the real culprit. You've caught me. How many years must I now serve, judge [Name]?”

His comment infuriates you further. Clenching your fists, you gather all your malice and concentrate it in your glare, malice oozing from your very eye sockets.

“Chrollo Lucilfer,” you say, “I wish I died before ever having the misfortune of meeting you!”

“Unfortunately for you- wait.”

As much as the admittal hurts, Chrollo’s mind focuses on another pressing matter. He never told you his full name which can only mean…

“[Name], I’m afraid I'm cutting your little tantrum short and as much as I wanted to refrain from anything premarital, I hope you understand when I ask you this. Show me where my name is on your body.”

Like a little child, you protectively wrap your arms around your body, shaking your head profusely in rebellion. “No way!”

“Is it somewhere you don’t want me to see?”

“No!” You stop shaking but your arms are still the same. “It’s not there anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen it ever since I got here.”

Ah. That’s because you no longer have Nen. Unlike you, he can use it perfectly fine.

“Where,” Chrollo demands.

Begrudgingly, you turn around, arms now hanging at your sides and legs crossed. “It’s… on my lower back. You can have a look but only this once.”

Hesitantly, Chrollo lifts the fabric of your shirt, unsure of what he may see despite knowing exactly what he will. His eyes widen at the sight. His name, Chrollo Lucilfer, is right there on the small of your back. As though in disbelief, he traces each letter with his index finger, ignoring the way you shiver at the touch.

“Hey, Chrollo?” Voice meek, you don’t turn your head to look at him, speaking sitting as you are. “Why did you lie to me about the police?”

His eyes don’t budge from the sight of his name. “To be frank, I wanted to see your reaction.”

“If your little prank is over, can I go home? I’m sure my parents are worried.”

Somehow, the mention of your family causes an ugly feeling to bloom in Chrollo’s chest. He covers you with your shirt, eyes still fixed on your lower back. Chrollo will try again, and this time he will be clear.

“I’m afraid that you’ll be living with me from now on.”

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hunter x reader

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