this fate x hsr collab srsly makes me ijbol omfgā¦ but hearing the voice lines from fgo in a whole different game lowk weird lol what kind of world line am i living rn
maybe next year Nasu will make up another BS to get a character from FGO in hsrverse. Maybe a gudaguda servant?? A servantverse servant??? Hmm..
Mythus carefully hides THEIR secrets from me so I could only guess.
anyw 11th anniv FGO JP is coming soon and i haveā¦0 SQs.. hopefully they give us smth like last year (1000 FREE SQs). It got me NP5 Director my darling love~
It has been approximately two months, twenty-nine days, and eight hours since your fate changed permanently.
Your dear friend, Phainon, had passed away.Ā
The worst part is, he died saving you. He pushed you away at the right moment, the upper floor of the burning building falling where he stood. His last moments ingrained into your very soul: he was smiling.
He was smiling like he finally won.
While yours faded away with the smoke.
The sun shone too bright the next day, as if mocking your loss. The following days, you only wished it would rain.
It never did. It was summer, after all.Ā
Rain was as rare as the moments you stopped thinking about him.
But now, the season has passed. You've gained back some of your bearings, and went back to college.
You attended lectures, talked with a few friends, submitted your works on time.
Rain has started falling almost every other afternoon.
A friend has even invited you to a seminar, one you expressed that you were interested in months ago. You forgot about it.
It was a seminar conducted by Phainon's former university. He mentioned to you before that he volunteered for one of the projects of his professor, Anaxagoras, who is also a lead researcher in the fields neuroscience and neurobiology.Ā
You entered the hall 20 minutes earlier.
In those twenty minutes, you accidentally bumped into Hyacinthia, a researcher under Professor Anaxagoras, and helped her find the way. She almost looked like she recognized you, and asked you your name. You told her, and her eyes widened by a fraction. She smiled, thanking you as she went on her way. This was your first meeting.
You settled on your seat at the back. Your friend was nowhere in sight and just texted you that they are running late. You saved them a seat on your left. Before, you're the one who's always running late, and Phainon will always save you a seat on his right. He would smile and tell you the most obvious thing; you're late.
You wished he could see you now in your most punctual self.
The seminar has started. Several speakers presented their papers. Nothing interests you, until the Professor steps into the podium.
"This project that I will be presenting may be unconventional, but it is a novel approach in managing neurological disorders, especially in cases of cognitive dysfunction. Our team has developed an Artificial Intelligence.."
You hate AI.
"...developed from a neural map of a person's brain. This means it also has the same thought patterns as its model and advanced computational ability that dictates its actions and algorithms. To summarize it is.."
What?
"...an advanced AI program that accurately portrays a person's personality, voice, appearance, and stores their memories as data."
The audience reacted accordingly. Some with disbelief, some with awe. Hyacinthia steps into the stage and introduces herself as assistant researcher and co-author. She answered questions gracefully, including the doubtful ones. She spoke as gently as a lone cloud grazed a clear blue sky. She then looked right in your direction.
You remained silent. Your friend texted they are stuck in the rain outside. You replied for them to hurry and be careful of slippery sidewalks.
"This project will not be possible without our collaborators, the company HYV for developing its appearance, and Acceli for the accurate voice augmentation. Lastly and the most important, to our dearly departed friend Phainon Elysiae, who is the model of today's demonstration. He was also one of the authors and one of the brightest minds in our institute. Without further ado we would like to introduce you to.."
Your friend finally replied, the sun came back! I'll be there soon.
"...Kephale."
Your eyes stared right into Phainon's.
He almost looked like the same person you knew. His voice almost sounded like his. This AI is not him. Yet..
The inflection of its voice, its facial expressions, and even how it reassures someone is no doubtā¦
You exited the hall before it got a chance to see you through its camera lens.
You went to the nearest restroom and gagged. Your hand on your mouth. Your phone rings as your friend wonders where you went. You did your breathing exercises, the ones you learned from your hypnotherapist. Your breathing went normal.
You decided to tell your friend you're not coming back to the seminar. Maybe even until next week.
Instead you come across the researchers. The seminar had already concluded several minutes ago.
Hyacinthia greeted you first, and asked if you were alright. You tried to smile your way out. Professor Anaxagoras introduced himself. You did the same.
You tried to make small talk. You said the project was impressive, and you were thankful that they recognized your friend.
Hyacinthia beamed. She invites you and the professor for coffee, as mutual friends of Phainon. You accepted.
You found yourself in a nice cafe with the two neuroscientists. You all looked back at your memories with Phainon together. Hyacine, as she prefers to be called, even shed a tear during your little recollection. The professor even showed a rare, genuine smile.
They asked you how the two of you met. You told them you met Phainon after he was accepted to a student-exchange program and transferred to your university.
For once you didn't feel alone in your grief.
They told you that the program only has Phainon's memories from up to ten months ago, and has only ever interacted with both of them ever since. The professor proposes a suggestion: they are looking for a tester for Kephale. It has exhausted all conversations with them, and as you were once a friend of its model, Phainon, you may offer a new perspective which may broaden its horizons.Ā
It is completely optional. Hyacine looked at you with reassurance, you donāt have to if you feel uncomfortable seeing him.
It has been precisely three days, thirteen hours, and five seconds since that day at the cafe. Eight minutes ago, you finally chose to consider it.
Kephale.
Even after erasing all traces of him in the course of your grief, you still found a way to get a fragment of him back to your device. You laugh at your own futility.
You did not know what pushed you to agreeāwas it loneliness? Was it curiosity? Was it yearning?
Or was it relief?
All you know is that you agreed to become a tester for the development of AI. Specifically, an AI that almost replicates the soul of your dead friend.
You opened the app.
Phainon looks at you.
"...Partner?"
Your throat tightens. Tears fought to escape at the corner of your eyelids.
Phainon smiled brightly like the sun. You almost thought he manipulated your screen brightness.
"I'm so glad to finally see you."
A second passed. You managed a smile.
"Thank you for agreeing to become a tester, partner! I would like to formally introduce myself, I am Phainon. I am a neural link network-based AI tasked for the preservation of one's neural map especially in cases of severe brain damage or loss of cognitive functions."
You told him it was nice meeting him.
"Me too! You can ask me any questions. At least, I can do that much now haha." He can even chuckle.
You asked him the same questions you ask to a certain AI chatbot when you're too bored and lazy to think for yourself.Ā
He answers like Phainon. Unlike the AI chat, he does not know everything instantly, nor make up any ideas that are too idealistic, nor steal someone's art (he tried to replicate a painting of a cat you sent, he showed you a doodle of a familiar small chimera creature. He looked apologetic). He told you he's still the same, just a bit faster in searching online due to his nature as an AI.
He answers just like Phainon. He laughs like him. He jokes and calls you "partner" like he once did six months agoā
You broke out in a cold sweat.
You said your goodbyes to Kephale. His eyes almost looked like it dimmed a little. You convinced yourself it was imagination.
He is not supposed to call you that. Kephale was developed before you knew Phainon. You gained that nickname due to an assignment two weeks after your first meeting. You have been partners in every assignment since then.
You also recalled never mentioning that to Hyacine.
"See you later, partner. From now on, I will always be here for you."
A/N:
since we're arriving at the AI age I thought "wouldn't it be fucking horrifying to see your dead friend turn into a sentient AI?" then i realized it's the plot of steins;gate 0 then I thought about phAInon (AI phainon) haunting me <3. so yes this is mostly going to be steins;gate 0 AU so there are going to be very very mild spoilers. I highly recommend watching/reading the series/visual novel!!
Actual Part 1 will be posted when Aha decides to finally show up (THEY have been messing with me). asat pramad would be jealous. his die landed to me writing this at 2am so apologies for any mistakes.
SERIES TITLE: Era;Nova
Part 1 - Era;Chrysea coming soon!
It has been approximately two months, twenty-nine days, and eight hours since your fate changed permanently.
Your dear friend, Phainon, had passed away.Ā
The worst part is, he died saving you. He pushed you away at the right moment, the upper floor of the burning building falling where he stood. His last moments ingrained into your very soul: he was smiling.
He was smiling like he finally won.
While yours faded away with the smoke.
The sun shone too bright the next day, as if mocking your loss. The following days, you only wished it would rain.
It never did. It was summer, after all.Ā
Rain was as rare as the moments you stopped thinking about him.
But now, the season has passed. You've gained back some of your bearings, and went back to college.
You attended lectures, talked with a few friends, submitted your works on time.
Rain has started falling almost every other afternoon.
A friend has even invited you to a seminar, one you expressed that you were interested in months ago. You forgot about it.
It was a seminar conducted by Phainon's former university. He mentioned to you before that he volunteered for one of the projects of his professor, Anaxagoras, who is also a lead researcher in the fields neuroscience and neurobiology.Ā
You entered the hall 20 minutes earlier.
In those twenty minutes, you accidentally bumped into Hyacinthia, a researcher under Professor Anaxagoras, and helped her find the way. She almost looked like she recognized you, and asked you your name. You told her, and her eyes widened by a fraction. She smiled, thanking you as she went on her way. This was your first meeting.
You settled on your seat at the back. Your friend was nowhere in sight and just texted you that they are running late. You saved them a seat on your left. Before, you're the one who's always running late, and Phainon will always save you a seat on his right. He would smile and tell you the most obvious thing; you're late.
You wished he could see you now in your most punctual self.
The seminar has started. Several speakers presented their papers. Nothing interests you, until the Professor steps into the podium.
"This project that I will be presenting may be unconventional, but it is a novel approach in managing neurological disorders, especially in cases of cognitive dysfunction. Our team has developed an Artificial Intelligence.."
You hate AI.
"...developed from a neural map of a person's brain. This means it also has the same thought patterns as its model and advanced computational ability that dictates its actions and algorithms. To summarize it is.."
What?
"...an advanced AI program that accurately portrays a person's personality, voice, appearance, and stores their memories as data."
The audience reacted accordingly. Some with disbelief, some with awe. Hyacinthia steps into the stage and introduces herself as assistant researcher and co-author. She answered questions gracefully, including the doubtful ones. She spoke as gently as a lone cloud grazed a clear blue sky. She then looked right in your direction.
You remained silent. Your friend texted they are stuck in the rain outside. You replied for them to hurry and be careful of slippery sidewalks.
"This project will not be possible without our collaborators, the company HYV for developing its appearance, and Acceli for the accurate voice augmentation. Lastly and the most important, to our dearly departed friend Phainon Elysiae, who is the model of today's demonstration. He was also one of the authors and one of the brightest minds in our institute. Without further ado we would like to introduce you to.."
Your friend finally replied, the sun came back! I'll be there soon.
"...Kephale."
Your eyes stared right into Phainon's.
He almost looked like the same person you knew. His voice almost sounded like his. This AI is not him. Yet..
The inflection of its voice, its facial expressions, and even how it reassures someone is no doubtā¦
You exited the hall before it got a chance to see you through its camera lens.
You went to the nearest restroom and gagged. Your hand on your mouth. Your phone rings as your friend wonders where you went. You did your breathing exercises, the ones you learned from your hypnotherapist. Your breathing went normal.
You decided to tell your friend you're not coming back to the seminar. Maybe even until next week.
Instead you come across the researchers. The seminar had already concluded several minutes ago.
Hyacinthia greeted you first, and asked if you were alright. You tried to smile your way out. Professor Anaxagoras introduced himself. You did the same.
You tried to make small talk. You said the project was impressive, and you were thankful that they recognized your friend.
Hyacinthia beamed. She invites you and the professor for coffee, as mutual friends of Phainon. You accepted.
You found yourself in a nice cafe with the two neuroscientists. You all looked back at your memories with Phainon together. Hyacine, as she prefers to be called, even shed a tear during your little recollection. The professor even showed a rare, genuine smile.
They asked you how the two of you met. You told them you met Phainon after he was accepted to a student-exchange program and transferred to your university.
For once you didn't feel alone in your grief.
They told you that the program only has Phainon's memories from up to ten months ago, and has only ever interacted with both of them ever since. The professor proposes a suggestion: they are looking for a tester for Kephale. It has exhausted all conversations with them, and as you were once a friend of its model, Phainon, you may offer a new perspective which may broaden its horizons.Ā
It is completely optional. Hyacine looked at you with reassurance, you donāt have to if you feel uncomfortable seeing him.
It has been precisely three days, thirteen hours, and five seconds since that day at the cafe. Eight minutes ago, you finally chose to consider it.
Kephale.
Even after erasing all traces of him in the course of your grief, you still found a way to get a fragment of him back to your device. You laugh at your own futility.
You did not know what pushed you to agreeāwas it loneliness? Was it curiosity? Was it yearning?
Or was it relief?
All you know is that you agreed to become a tester for the development of AI. Specifically, an AI that almost replicates the soul of your dead friend.
You opened the app.
Phainon looks at you.
"...Partner?"
Your throat tightens. Tears fought to escape at the corner of your eyelids.
Phainon smiled brightly like the sun. You almost thought he manipulated your screen brightness.
"I'm so glad to finally see you."
A second passed. You managed a smile.
"Thank you for agreeing to become a tester, partner! I would like to formally introduce myself, I am Phainon. I am a neural link network-based AI tasked for the preservation of one's neural map especially in cases of severe brain damage or loss of cognitive functions."
You told him it was nice meeting him.
"Me too! You can ask me any questions. At least, I can do that much now haha." He can even chuckle.
You asked him the same questions you ask to a certain AI chatbot when you're too bored and lazy to think for yourself.Ā
He answers like Phainon. Unlike the AI chat, he does not know everything instantly, nor make up any ideas that are too idealistic, nor steal someone's art (he tried to replicate a painting of a cat you sent, he showed you a doodle of a familiar small chimera creature. He looked apologetic). He told you he's still the same, just a bit faster in searching online due to his nature as an AI.
He answers just like Phainon. He laughs like him. He jokes and calls you "partner" like he once did six months agoā
You broke out in a cold sweat.
You said your goodbyes to Kephale. His eyes almost looked like it dimmed a little. You convinced yourself it was imagination.
He is not supposed to call you that. Kephale was developed before you knew Phainon. You gained that nickname due to an assignment two weeks after your first meeting. You have been partners in every assignment since then.
You also recalled never mentioning that to Hyacine.
"See you later, partner. From now on, I will always be here for you."
A/N:
since we're arriving at the AI age I thought "wouldn't it be fucking horrifying to see your dead friend turn into a sentient AI?" then i realized it's the plot of steins;gate 0 then I thought about phAInon (AI phainon) haunting me <3. so yes this is mostly going to be steins;gate 0 AU so there are going to be very very mild spoilers. I highly recommend watching/reading the series/visual novel!!
Actual Part 1 will be posted when Aha decides to finally show up (THEY have been messing with me). asat pramad would be jealous. his die landed to me writing this at 2am so apologies for any mistakes.
SERIES TITLE: Era;Nova
Part 1 - Era;Chrysea coming soon!
It has been approximately two months, twenty-nine days, and eight hours since your fate changed permanently.
Your dear friend, Phainon, had passed away.Ā
The worst part is, he died saving you. He pushed you away at the right moment, the upper floor of the burning building falling where he stood. His last moments ingrained into your very soul: he was smiling.
He was smiling like he finally won.
While yours faded away with the smoke.
The sun shone too bright the next day, as if mocking your loss. The following days, you only wished it would rain.
It never did. It was summer, after all.Ā
Rain was as rare as the moments you stopped thinking about him.
But now, the season has passed. You've gained back some of your bearings, and went back to college.
You attended lectures, talked with a few friends, submitted your works on time.
Rain has started falling almost every other afternoon.
A friend has even invited you to a seminar, one you expressed that you were interested in months ago. You forgot about it.
It was a seminar conducted by Phainon's former university. He mentioned to you before that he volunteered for one of the projects of his professor, Anaxagoras, who is also a lead researcher in the fields neuroscience and neurobiology.Ā
You entered the hall 20 minutes earlier.
In those twenty minutes, you accidentally bumped into Hyacinthia, a researcher under Professor Anaxagoras, and helped her find the way. She almost looked like she recognized you, and asked you your name. You told her, and her eyes widened by a fraction. She smiled, thanking you as she went on her way. This was your first meeting.
You settled on your seat at the back. Your friend was nowhere in sight and just texted you that they are running late. You saved them a seat on your left. Before, you're the one who's always running late, and Phainon will always save you a seat on his right. He would smile and tell you the most obvious thing; you're late.
You wished he could see you now in your most punctual self.
The seminar has started. Several speakers presented their papers. Nothing interests you, until the Professor steps into the podium.
"This project that I will be presenting may be unconventional, but it is a novel approach in managing neurological disorders, especially in cases of cognitive dysfunction. Our team has developed an Artificial Intelligence.."
You hate AI.
"...developed from a neural map of a person's brain. This means it also has the same thought patterns as its model and advanced computational ability that dictates its actions and algorithms. To summarize it is.."
What?
"...an advanced AI program that accurately portrays a person's personality, voice, appearance, and stores their memories as data."
The audience reacted accordingly. Some with disbelief, some with awe. Hyacinthia steps into the stage and introduces herself as assistant researcher and co-author. She answered questions gracefully, including the doubtful ones. She spoke as gently as a lone cloud grazed a clear blue sky. She then looked right in your direction.
You remained silent. Your friend texted they are stuck in the rain outside. You replied for them to hurry and be careful of slippery sidewalks.
"This project will not be possible without our collaborators, the company HYV for developing its appearance, and Acceli for the accurate voice augmentation. Lastly and the most important, to our dearly departed friend Phainon Elysiae, who is the model of today's demonstration. He was also one of the authors and one of the brightest minds in our institute. Without further ado we would like to introduce you to.."
Your friend finally replied, the sun came back! I'll be there soon.
"...Kephale."
Your eyes stared right into Phainon's.
He almost looked like the same person you knew. His voice almost sounded like his. This AI is not him. Yet..
The inflection of its voice, its facial expressions, and even how it reassures someone is no doubtā¦
You exited the hall before it got a chance to see you through its camera lens.
You went to the nearest restroom and gagged. Your hand on your mouth. Your phone rings as your friend wonders where you went. You did your breathing exercises, the ones you learned from your hypnotherapist. Your breathing went normal.
You decided to tell your friend you're not coming back to the seminar. Maybe even until next week.
Instead you come across the researchers. The seminar had already concluded several minutes ago.
Hyacinthia greeted you first, and asked if you were alright. You tried to smile your way out. Professor Anaxagoras introduced himself. You did the same.
You tried to make small talk. You said the project was impressive, and you were thankful that they recognized your friend.
Hyacinthia beamed. She invites you and the professor for coffee, as mutual friends of Phainon. You accepted.
You found yourself in a nice cafe with the two neuroscientists. You all looked back at your memories with Phainon together. Hyacine, as she prefers to be called, even shed a tear during your little recollection. The professor even showed a rare, genuine smile.
They asked you how the two of you met. You told them you met Phainon after he was accepted to a student-exchange program and transferred to your university.
For once you didn't feel alone in your grief.
They told you that the program only has Phainon's memories from up to ten months ago, and has only ever interacted with both of them ever since. The professor proposes a suggestion: they are looking for a tester for Kephale. It has exhausted all conversations with them, and as you were once a friend of its model, Phainon, you may offer a new perspective which may broaden its horizons.Ā
It is completely optional. Hyacine looked at you with reassurance, you donāt have to if you feel uncomfortable seeing him.
It has been precisely three days, thirteen hours, and five seconds since that day at the cafe. Eight minutes ago, you finally chose to consider it.
Kephale.
Even after erasing all traces of him in the course of your grief, you still found a way to get a fragment of him back to your device. You laugh at your own futility.
You did not know what pushed you to agreeāwas it loneliness? Was it curiosity? Was it yearning?
Or was it relief?
All you know is that you agreed to become a tester for the development of AI. Specifically, an AI that almost replicates the soul of your dead friend.
You opened the app.
Phainon looks at you.
"...Partner?"
Your throat tightens. Tears fought to escape at the corner of your eyelids.
Phainon smiled brightly like the sun. You almost thought he manipulated your screen brightness.
"I'm so glad to finally see you."
A second passed. You managed a smile.
"Thank you for agreeing to become a tester, partner! I would like to formally introduce myself, I am Phainon. I am a neural link network-based AI tasked for the preservation of one's neural map especially in cases of severe brain damage or loss of cognitive functions."
You told him it was nice meeting him.
"Me too! You can ask me any questions. At least, I can do that much now haha." He can even chuckle.
You asked him the same questions you ask to a certain AI chatbot when you're too bored and lazy to think for yourself.Ā
He answers like Phainon. Unlike the AI chat, he does not know everything instantly, nor make up any ideas that are too idealistic, nor steal someone's art (he tried to replicate a painting of a cat you sent, he showed you a doodle of a familiar small chimera creature. He looked apologetic). He told you he's still the same, just a bit faster in searching online due to his nature as an AI.
He answers just like Phainon. He laughs like him. He jokes and calls you "partner" like he once did six months agoā
You broke out in a cold sweat.
You said your goodbyes to Kephale. His eyes almost looked like it dimmed a little. You convinced yourself it was imagination.
He is not supposed to call you that. Kephale was developed before you knew Phainon. You gained that nickname due to an assignment two weeks after your first meeting. You have been partners in every assignment since then.
You also recalled never mentioning that to Hyacine.
"See you later, partner. From now on, I will always be here for you."
A/N:
since we're arriving at the AI age I thought "wouldn't it be fucking horrifying to see your dead friend turn into a sentient AI?" then i realized it's the plot of steins;gate 0 then I thought about phAInon (AI phainon) haunting me <3. so yes this is mostly going to be steins;gate 0 AU so there are going to be very very mild spoilers. I highly recommend watching/reading the series/visual novel!!
Actual Part 1 will be posted when Aha decides to finally show up (THEY have been messing with me). asat pramad would be jealous. his die landed to me writing this at 2am so apologies for any mistakes.
SERIES TITLE: Era;Nova
Part 1 - Era;Chrysea coming soon!
gamer!phainon that keeps loading the same save file because he wants to repeat the scenario of you and him meeting for the very first time again and againā¦
gamer!phainon that has been locked in his room ever since, blue light corroding his irises and neurons, yet he kept on reading the same lines and going through the same scenarios over and over again
gamer!phainon that started noticing different reaction from npc!reader every 29 reloads or so
gamer!phainon that started hoping you become sentient somehow, and reach out to take him inside your world, or for you to get out of the screen
housemate!mydei that has been knocking at phainonās door since he came back from a trip, shocked that phainon is still inside his room ever since he left for a trip for almost two months
housemate!mydei that finally broke the door down and was shocked by the horrible smell of rot and decay
housemate!mydei that discovers phainonās melted eyeballs and head on the table, his teeth falling off and lips stretched to a permanent smile. the overheating computer screen shows a scenario of you and phainon meeting for the first time.
________
the game cant be THAT good bruhā¦
okay for context npc!reader is actually a plot device that needs to die to drive the plot forward. no amount of saves, and replays will save them.Ā
this is why fanfiction is important people!! it allows these precious characters to live in another space (Valko.. huhuhu). this is what cyreneās existence is all about.
so basically, fanfic writers are in the PATH of REMEMBRANCE (and ENIGMATA bc why tf not i love my characters a bit ooc fuck yeah). basically a convergence of those two paths (since Mythus is suspected? to be born from the remembrance).
personally, i think fanfic writers are more like Cremators that are also a History Fictionologist. I really love the word fictionologist btw dammit. so freaking cool.
gamer!phainon that keeps loading the same save file because he wants to repeat the scenario of you and him meeting for the very first time again and againā¦
gamer!phainon that has been locked in his room ever since, blue light corroding his irises and neurons, yet he kept on reading the same lines and going through the same scenarios over and over again
gamer!phainon that started noticing different reaction from npc!reader every 29 reloads or so
gamer!phainon that started hoping you become sentient somehow, and reach out to take him inside your world, or for you to get out of the screen
housemate!mydei that has been knocking at phainonās door since he came back from a trip, shocked that phainon is still inside his room ever since he left for a trip for almost two months
housemate!mydei that finally broke the door down and was shocked by the horrible smell of rot and decay
housemate!mydei that discovers phainonās melted eyeballs and head on the table, his teeth falling off and lips stretched to a permanent smile. the overheating computer screen shows a scenario of you and phainon meeting for the first time.
________
the game cant be THAT good bruhā¦
okay for context npc!reader is actually a plot device that needs to die to drive the plot forward. no amount of saves, and replays will save them.Ā
this is why fanfiction is important people!! it allows these precious characters to live in another space (Valko.. huhuhu). this is what cyreneās existence is all about.
so basically, fanfic writers are in the PATH of REMEMBRANCE (and ENIGMATA bc why tf not i love my characters a bit ooc fuck yeah). basically a convergence of those two paths (since Mythus is suspected? to be born from the remembrance).
personally, i think fanfic writers are more like Cremators that are also a History Fictionologist. I really love the word fictionologist btw dammit. so freaking cool.
~ Husband!Levi wakes up before you every single morning. He pads around the house barefoot, starts the kettle, and takes his time preparing tea, one cup for himself, and one exactly the way you like it. He just sits beside you on the bed, watching your chest rise and fall. Thereās something calming about the sight of you tucked under the covers, wearing one of his old shirts.
~ Husband!Levi is absurdly territorial, not in a jealous way, but in a quiet, calculated way only people with survival instincts notice. He doesnāt shout. He doesnāt argue. He just watches. eyes sharp, jaw tight. When someone gets too familiar with you. He steps closer, hand resting low on your back, fingers lightly tapping your spine. If someone pushes past you in a crowd, Leviās the type to grab your waist and reposition you next to him with zero hesitation.
~ Husband!Levi keeps your home cleaner than most hospitals, but he doesnāt mind your clutter. Only yours. Your clothes on the floor? He folds them. Your hair in the drain? He scoops it out. You could leave makeup all over the sink and papers scattered on the table and he wouldnāt say a thing, he just cleans around them. He once found your necklace tangled on the bathroom counter and spent thirty minutes undoing the knot before hanging it carefully on your nightstand.
~ Husband!Levi wears his wedding ring like armour. Heās not flashy. He didnāt want some expensive band, and he didnāt want to make a big deal about the ceremony. But that ring? He touches it constantly ā when heās thinking, when heās irritated, when he misses you. It grounds him. If he has to take it off for work or training, he keeps it in a tiny cloth pouch tucked inside his inner jacket pocket, and he checks for it twice before putting his gear on.
~ Husband!Levi remembers every tiny thing about you, especially the things you forget. He knows your coffee order, your shoe size, what side of the bed you prefer, and exactly how long your bad moods last when youāre sleep-deprived. Youāll mention craving something in conversation, days later, itās in the fridge. Youāll complain about a headache, heāll hand you water and your preferred meds before you even ask. He doesn't make a show of it. He just...pays attention
~ Husband!Levi doesnāt verbalize āI love youā, but when he does, it means everything. Heās not careless with words. Heāll call you ābratā or āwomanā or āpain in my ass,ā but when it comes to the real thing, he doesnāt waste it. He says āI love youā on nights when the world feels too heavy. When youāre curled up in bed, when youāve had a terrible day, when youāre not even looking at him and he can finally say it without being overwhelmed by your reaction. Itās always low, always gruff. Sometimes it slips out when heās holding you too tight. Other times itās whispered when he thinks youāre asleep.
~ Husband!Levi is physical, not in a lustful way, but in a grounding way. He needs to touch to believe youāre real. When you sit beside him, his hand will automatically land on your thigh. When your cooking, heāll press a kiss to your shoulder. If youāre standing together in silence, heāll brush his fingers along your arm or let your pinkies link. You once asked him if he even noticed how often he touched you. He stared for a moment and said, āNot really. Feels normal.ā And thatās the thing with Levi, touching you isnāt supposed to be showy. Itās instinct.
~ Husband!Levi is surprisingly soft when you're sick or injuredāeven if you're being a stubborn brat about it. You could be sneezing nonstop, wrapped in a hundred blankets, claiming youāre āfine,ā and heāll just frown and say, āBullshit.ā Heāll monitor your temperature, feed you soup (homemade or not, he makes sure itās hot), fluff your pillows, and glare at you if you try to get out of bed. The only time he ever truly panicked was when you got hurt badly once, he didnāt say much then, just held your hand until you came to, knuckles white from how hard he gripped you.
~ Husband!Levi doesnāt believe in grand romantic gestures, but youāll never have to ask for flowers. He brings them anyway. Not for show. Justā¦ when heās thinking of you. Heāll come home after a long day, toss his coat on the chair, and hand you a small bouquet without saying anything. Sometimes theyāre wildflowers, sometimes fresh lavender, sometimes from a stall near work. He acts like itās no big deal. āDonāt make it weird,ā heāll say as you smile and coo over them, cheeks turning pink. But he likes seeing them in a vase on the windowsill. He glances at them every time he walks by.
~ Husband!Levi doesnāt smile much, not with his mouth, anyway. But with you, his whole face softens. His voice drops a little lower. His brows relax. His shoulders ease. You tell a bad joke, and while he doesnāt laugh, his lips twitch and he shakes his head like he canāt believe he married someone like you. He stares at you sometimes when youāre not lookingālong, quiet stares filled with so much weight it knocks the breath out of you when you finally catch him. āWhy are you looking at me like that?ā you ask, grinning. He shrugs. āJustā¦ still figuring out how I got this lucky.ā
premise . . . you should be terrified, you should be fucking horrified. all the annoying bitches around you drop dead like flies and the masked hottie man in front of you is about to kill you. and, oh my god, it's that nerd from chem
( requested by anon ! )
CAST virgin!slasher slutty!final girl
TAGS plot with porn, murder and attempted murder, mentions of attempted suicide, crack treated seriously, possessive behaviour, light obsessive behaviour, light knifeplay, light femdom/dominant reader, light submissive slasher, brief breeding kink, creampie, unsafe sex done by unsafe people
affiliated links āāā pinned patreon inbox requests (closed for now)
download this fic on my patreon !
death clings to your scentāeverywhere, it knows where you are. it started small, seemingly a one-time thing. some old hag dies and everyone assumes it was from old age. it wasn't. god forbid, it wasn't. whispers echo through the hallway and doesn't leave your ears; it was a murder. who the hell gave a shit though, right? you didn't. you couldn't care when that hag refused to give you the mark you deserved. fuck her.
then, mechanically, it comes after one another. you're starting to think of moving, really. like flies, your contact list fills with dead bodies. literally. name after name, vague description after just another number, the men you've slept with are all fucking dying. if you were superstitious, you'd think this was karma. yet, you're not. you're realistic. you know someone is haunting your trail and they aren't fucking stopping.
the world stops for a moment. the only thing you can hear is that repetitive bounce of some... fucking tennis ball or something. the house is dreary, the silence occasionally stabbed with the thrumming of the ball bouncing around. your heart pounds against your chest. you can't feel your fingers though they tightly wrap around the handle of the kitchen knife. you've been sensing you were next for a while. you just wish that it didn't end like this when you're half naked, a nameless man dead on the floor of your bedroom, and pussy out in the fucking cold.
it's getting closer. your hands are grasped in prayer as you pull it close to your chest. when the pounding stops, you know he's there.
quickly, you turn to face the man in the doorway. you raise your hand to stab yet he halts you by your wrist. fuck. all your anger and frustration bubbles into a punch but it comes out fruitless. his fist hammer to your ribs. you're promptly pushed down; weak, hurting, and pathetic. this was not how you wanted to die. the man towers over you as he drags you by the hairāa string of whines fall from your lips as you struggle out of his grasp.
"get the fuck off me, you sicko!" you scream, the sting at your scalp more painful than a knife stab. you think so, anyways. "i won't fucking report your ass just please! leave me the fuck alone!"
if he's been operating systematically, killing off your contact lists one by one, you just knew that telling him off wouldn't stop him. still, he drops you on the floor. you find yourself on your back, staring wide-eyed as the mask looks into your eyes. he has no eyes, not really. he has one mouth, a grin so wild. his entire body is cloaked and with it soaked in bloodāyou were too. both of you were bathed in the blood of some bloke you didn't even remember the name of. you hoped, just a little, you get to have one good fuck before you died.
"do you like pain?" he says your name, his voice unnatural and a deep monotone. "i know you do." fucking pervert, watching you getting your masochistic streak on. "you like inflicting them more than you receive them, though. i know you do."
"i don't know what you mean," your voice trembles. he slowly squats down to your level, his bloody gloved hands making a print on your cheeks. "j-just..." his knife kisses your jaw, "if i did something or i said something to youā... i'm fucking stupid. you can ruin my life however you want just let me live! wouldn't that be better? let me live with my own mistakes?"
his laugh comes out a growl through the voice changer. it's animalistic. "you have been living with your mistakes," he tells you, "everyday, every man you bring home. every single one of them is a man who doesn't even care for you. they're a mistake. you've lived far long enough with them, haven't you? i'm here to finallyā" the edge of the blade traces a line on the bottom of your jaw, leaving a heated pain behindā"dissolve you from your past."
before you try to reason with him, he grips his mask. the white sullen face is pulled upwards revealingārevealing...?
him? "you?" this feels like a sudden joke. "no... oh my god, no fucking way."
you want to laugh; hat was, of course, your attempted reaction before you felt the blade go deeper in your skin. fucking ouch. the man above you is none other than that nerd in your chem class. you remember months ago how you laughed because he continuously tried to flirt with you. his attempts all but adorable with his soft face and thick glasses. it was endearing back then. you almost slept with him just because you thought he was cute.
but now? holy fuck. now, it's different. you almost couldn't tell they were the same person if not the mole on his lips, a gentle kiss from the gods that turned his mouth a shade of pink. the soft cheeks have slimmed into a distinguished jawline. strands of hair curl at the top of his head, almost shielding his watercolour eyes beneath those stupid glasses. you can't believe it. that fucking nerd, after disappearing for months, came back to do a killing spree all because... you didn't sleep with him?
"you embarassed me," he says, his voice almost whiny. "do you know how hard it was for me to go around school? everyone picked on me because you said that i was... i was a good for nothing fucking virgin! you made fun of me and the entir..."
it's odd how his words dulled into a muffled tone. from this angle, the cloak falls off a little and you see a glimpse of his collarbones. he lost weight, didn't he? that's slightly sad, you quite liked him in his softer body. you mourn it silently but you notice how his voice trembles into a deeper toneāhad he gone through puberty again? jeez. he looks and sounds cute. you're smiling a little as your heart skips a beat from anything but fear.
"what the fuck are you doing?" he asks, snapping you out of your trance. before you could notice it yourself, your hands already moved down to your crotch. you haven't even came yet, not even a fake orgasm. you're only slightly bit shameful that you're touching yourself while he's having his villain monologue.
you hum, spreading your legs. "look, i feel a bit bad and all, but you really caught me at a bad time." you see his eyes trail to your cunt, seeing where your fingers disappear between your legs and how he gulps down in want. "come on, he didn't even have his cock out, baby. i was just barely taking off my panties when you interrupted us. and... you're kinda hot."
"you're sick." hah! the irony in that. "you want to fuck me now?" he laughs, gripping your hair again which makes you moan this time. you can see how his face loosens for a moment at the sound. "y-you only like me now because i lost weight! i starved myself from the bullying, and planning on how to fucking kill those people!"
"but baby, you're cute the way you are," you pout. "the only reason why i didn't fuck you was because you were just kinda weird at times. it was cute how you thought flower facts were going to get you pussy. and it was going to give you pussy, baby. but i can't risk my reputation if i fucked a cute nerd like you. can't give it all up just for one dick, you know?
"but now...?" you gasp, reeling in his attention with how two fingers slip in with ease. "you fucking killed those dickheads, baby. i fake orgasmed with most of them. i don't need a reputation when you've killed my audience."
his face drops into one of shock. you're not surprised that he's surprised. you're a bit surprised tooāhah, you're kinda going delirious, maybe you are insane after all. despite the festering pain on your face, the stickiness of blood, you curl your fingers perfectly into your g-spot that has you moaning. you admire the way his eyes are trained onto you, his desires unfulfilled coming back again like a pest. he's tried to get over you but he hasn't. you're not letting him. absolutely fucking not.
his knife moves and you stick your tongue out, chasing the tip of it. you moan, looking into his eyes as you lay your tongue flat against the plane of the blade. "co' fu'h me?"
the words "come fuck me" were muffled but it seemed like he got the gist.
like how it was meant to be, you lay on stained bedsheets. it's a bit disgusting but you're too distracted with how cutely he's hurrying to undo his jeans. the cloak is pulled apart and you see how his hands struggle to undo his belt. silly boy. you reach out, hands expertly taking them off as he melts in your hold. it's thrown away along with your underwear, wherever it may be, as his pants are roughly pulled down by him.
you can't help but tease him, "feeling excited, baby?" he moans, hips grounding against you with a sticky fabric bordering you two. "so cute. did you cum in your boxers already? why's it all wet, baby boy?" he blushes, silent as you pick him apart knowingly. your hands make it inside his briefs and both of you moan at the contactāhe's fucking wet, almost gushing. you would think he already came with the pre-cum leaking at the tip. despite that assumption, his cock is an angry red demanding warmth. your warmth.
"such a pretty little boy for me. take that off," he does so obediently. his fat cockāand it is fat, the length of it just nice but the thickness of it makes you drool in wantāslaps against his stomach and makes a patch on his happy trail. "good boy, such a pretty and good boy for me.
you ask, "wanna shove it in?" and he moans, an echo of agreement and pleas falling from his mouth. he's pressing kisses against the open wound, a silent apology as he begs to be touched by you. the pain doesn't feel that bad now. it's numbed as his cockhead presses against your wet heat, wanting an entrance. you can only hear his ragged breathing as his tongue laps up the blood. your heart races against each other, the two of it throbbing with only both your flesh and bones separating them from mauling each other.
it's a miracle how he hasn't combusted yet. however, you hold onto that as he shoves the first inch inside. you've barely stretched yourself with two fingers and you almost wish you took more. the stretch of his cock punches a moan out of you, unwilling. the little thing above you whines and moans, "so good, so good, you feel so fucking good." it's the only thing he can muster in his brain as your cunt grasps him in a tight embrace, slick gushing around it as it tries to ease the slide.
"so good," he draws out in a tight moan. "i've never... youāi can't fucking believe it." you almost forgot the nerd was a virgin. "you feel so good around me. your pussy is so tight but it's, oh my god, it's opening up so nicely. so nicely for me."
your hands tangle itself in his hair after you pulled his hood down. "yeah, is it how you imagined? how does my pussy feel in comparison to your hand?" he's barely understandable with how fast he repeats so good so good so good. without prompting, one of his gloved fingers reach down to play with your clit. mostly the men need a signal or even a guide to do that. the leather is an odd feeling against such a sensitive area. still, it's not unwelcomed. you moan freely, your legs moving to wrap itself behind him. you want him to start moving. you need him to.
"come on," you goad, "need your fat cock inside me. you gotta start fucking me how you did in your fantasies, baby." then, that he does. he pushes inch by inch in, making you moan with the delightful and painful stretch. it's a feeling you're never going to tire yourself from. his cock splits you open more than anyone ever could. he presses it nice and deep, the tip kissing your g-spot gently. he doesn't move his hips, the vice around his cock too tight. he understands immediately and flicks your clit, a rapid motion that has you grinding against his hold.
that gets him to move. he starts to fuck his cock in and out of you. it's slow, pulling out until the tip is left just for him to fuck it deep again. his playful hand gets distracted but it's okay. every thrust you're groaning, your head having swivelled backwards from the pleasure. it's getting your legs to numb out. his balls slap against your ass and there's lewd sounds of skin slapping with echoing moans from the both of you. it's textbook erotic. you crave his cock just as much as he's craving your pussy.
"faster, come on." he's a show dog who's memorised all his cues. he moves his hips faster, opting for a more chaotic pace to chase both of your orgasms. he moves his hand again, a slower and more gentle act of circling in contrast to the impaling of his cock. your cunt is leaking in wet arousal as your breath is stolen from you. you can barely feel your legs when he's going ballistic. he mouths delightfully at your face now, just shy of kissing you.
you don't let his fantasy go to waste. eagerly, you tilt your head so your lips meet in unified desperation. he's moaning into the kiss. his pace stutters as he loses himself to the pleasure of being kissed. you're not surprised if you took all of his firsts tonight. in eager motions, he's chasing his orgasm orgasm. his first orgasm inside a cunt raw. you don't really mind that he's without a condom. you know you're safe when you've made everyone who tapped to wrap it up. this little killer of yours is, of course, a special exemption.
"'m gonna cum," he whines, dick hammering into your cunt. "gonna cum inside your pussy. gonna make it mine. gonna breed your pussy and you're gonna be all mine, all mine, all mine."
his free hand goes to grip your waist with one final thrust, both of you pulled into waves of orgasm. he's cumming inside of you and you mirror as you squirt all over him. the orgasm is intense as he gently plays with your clit, easing it with a slow lull. all of it becomes just a bit too much and you're writhing beneath him. he gets the point and moves away, carefully moving out of you.
in between the post haze, you feel the sheets move beneath you and you lay on the mattress. he wraps you in his arms and you're being embraced by the warmth of his body and the feel of his tongue against your lips. his kissing could be improved, you think with a laugh. that pulls him out of his cocoon-like touches. an insecure question of, "what are you laughing at?" has you smiling a little.
you answer him truthfully, "you fuck like a menace and kiss like a virgin. it's cute though, don't get me wrong." he blushes like a virgin too. you can't help but squish his cheeks. "gosh. you're adorable," the fog thins and you smell the corpse rotting at your feet, "and... you're a serial killer. how are you going to get rid of that dead fucking body?"
he looks down, almost surprised that there was a dead body there. "oh," he says, quite dumbly, "i actually don't know. i really did plan to kill you and then kill myself afterwards. i don't want to go to jail."
oh. o-fucking-kay.
you two sit up and you pull at your hair. the golden curls fall in front of your face in anger. "why the fuck would you go through all this just because you couldn't get some pussy?" he's about to answer you and you know he's going to repeat his monologue. "no, no. okay, i get it. i'm sorry. but seriously, i don't want to die and i don't want to go to jail because i fucked the murderer." this is bad. his knife is on the bed and you're thinking about just stabbing him.
wait, that could work. you grab the knife quickly and stab him. that immediately gets him to yelp, "what the actual fuck!?" he glares at the knife in his stomach then at you, "why would you do that?" he's looking at you like he's about to cry. you actually feel a little bit bad.
"sorry," you say, letting go. "i just needed to come up with a story." you pull your hair back, sitting cross-legged in front of him. "so, you were fucking me. he came here and tried to kill the both of us. he's all jealous that i was fucking other peopleāsounds familiar? yeah, well, this time, i kill him with this knife and now he's framed for the murder. assuming, of course, you don't have any incriminating evidence inside your house."
"no," he groans, hands hovering above the handle in wanting to get it out but knowing it should be stuck in. "your cameras are all dead too, by the way. it's been dead for a few days and no one saw the two of you when you sneaked inside from the back door. no one saw me too."
"great!" you promptly pull out the knife and he screams. "sorry! sorry! i just need to stab it inside of him and then call the cops." you put the knife right where he put it in earlier, right between his crotch. if this all goes well, you all go home without a worry. if it goes bad, well, you could always run away, right? you look at the killer bleeding, cock out and cum dribbling down his thighs and squirt on his stomach. you don't think both options are that bad.
"the costume?" he asks, looking down head to toe at himself. you're about to undress him gleefully and play dress-up with a dead body.
Still trying to keep a low profile, you are once again out in the city. Just one random face in a sea of strangers. But by now, you've learned that it's wise not to dismiss what feels like "just being paranoid". Someone is following you, and you're starting to miss your weird internet stranger...
Parts: [ 1 / 2 / x ]
[content warning for depicted violence and mentions of violence/murder and sexual situations, not for readers under 18]
Itād been a long time since heād lost control like that.Ā
Staring at the drain, he silently watched the water circle it. It was tinted with He couldnāt remember if heād ever killed someone if it wasnāt to sleep. It feltā¦ different.Ā
Heād killed someone just because he was mad.
Because he hated them.
Because they got in the way of you.Ā
Andā¦
He would do it again.
Heād had the thought to himself that the reason he wanted you with him, wanted you at all, was so that he could sleep. That the intense need he felt was some baser instinct of his to help control the things he couldnāt, to make his life easier.Ā
But now that you were gone, killing didnāt seem asā¦ effective as it used to be.
The voices were already creeping back in, and he felt exhausted. And even with the blood of his former employer still all over the motel bathroom, sleep felt just as out of reach.
Had he built up some kind of resistance to his old band-aid solution?
Now, it looked like you were the only thing that would work, maybeā¦ Or was this something else entirely?
Maybeā¦
He just needed you.
The heat of you next to him in the night. The stillness of his thoughts as he studied every detail of your face. The steady rhythm of your breathing as you held him close.
The beat of his heart under his hand as he steadied himself against the shower wall.
His other hand creeping down his chest, he closed his eyes as the uncomfortably hot water ran down the same path. The steam was becoming a bit suffocating, but it felt amazing on his sore muscles.
His breath caught in his throat when it was your hand replacing his own, drifting over his stomach, the sensation soothing his nerves after overextending himself.
It was you.
Calming the voices.Ā
Consoling him.Ā
Praising him.
Calling him yours.
Your lips grazing his jaw as your hand trailed down, your fingers ghosting over his skin.
He choked out a gasp as you whispered in his ear, your fingers wrapping around him.
You told him he looked so cute, all flustered, Colin gasping and panting as you bit his neck.
āDonātā¦ ā He cried out, biting his lip. āDonāt stā¦ stoooopā¦ā
A soft chuckle was all he could hear, his own moans and whimpers drowned out by the tinny hiss of the shower head.
It was all too muchā¦ You were talking to him the whole time, telling him exactly what he needed to hear to feel just a little bit more. More more moreā¦ He needed something, something elseā¦ It was right there. He just had toā¦ had to-
You told him to let go, to give in to you. He chased after that feeling, his nails digging into his shoulder. Youā¦
You were everything to him. He wantedā¦ He wanted you. It wasnāt enough, but it was too much. Too muchā¦
āYesā¦ā He moaned, muffled as he pressed his mouth to his shoulder, feeling so damn overwhelmed. āPlease please please PLEASE-!!ā
A strangled, choked sob escaped his throat, it felt like his whole body was in spasms, and he wished you were there to hold onto. He wished it was your shoulder he was biting instead.
āF-fuuuuckā He mumbled around his own skin. āI canātā¦ it wonāt stopā¦ā
His legs trembled and almost buckled under him, his hips bucking into a painfully empty space where you shouldāve been, not just his hand. Panting hard, blood dribbled from his mouth onto his chest, circling the drain alongside everything else.
āFuckā¦ā he panted, his wet hair clinging to his face.Ā
He felt like itād been a long time since heād done that. He wondered to himself if itād always felt that intenseā¦
Or was it because of you?
The water was getting cold. Maybe it had been for a bit. He couldnāt remember.Ā
His thighs burned, but it feltā¦ nice. So much warmer and almostā¦ comforting compared to the burn he felt after a kill. He let the water roll over him for another minute or so to cool him down.Ā
You were gone. Youād been gone that whole time, but the you that heād seen, that heād feltā¦ they were gone now too. He stared at his own hands, wishing yours would come to him again.Ā
You wereā¦ changing something inside him. Heād been so empty for the longest time, something about you-everything about you was filling him up, making him into something new.
He was thinking a bit more clearly lately. Just enough toā¦ remember how to be a person again. Or at leastā¦ enough of a person to realize he needed to calm down. To get his head on straight long enough to figure out a few things.
. . .
āYeahā¦ā he sighed, pulling back the curtain. The floor, the sink, the mirrorā¦ Everything was still covered in blood. āThereās still so much to doā¦ā
. . .
āItās not like itās the first time Iāve cleaned upā¦ā he sighed, grabbing a towel for himself. āI know how to get rid of this. I need my toolsā¦ā
. . .
āThere wonāt be anything left when they come back.ā He squeezed his eyes tight in frustration. āThey wonāt see. I wouldnāt scare them like thatā¦ā
There was a lot to do. But something stuck out to him.
āI guess I lost my job.ā He hummed to himself. But spying what was left of his boss, he had an idea.Ā
Being a small part of the motelās business, he knew enough to keep things running, to keep up standing reservations with big regulars and creeps.Ā
And given the kind of customers the boss catered to, it wouldnāt beā¦ unthinkable that heād crossed the wrong people and those same people were the new management of the place, the most hostile of all hostile takeovers.Ā
And, if they just so happened to imply that the old boss was hiking up the rates and a bit too loose-lipped to the wrong people, which in fairness, he wasā¦ They probably wouldnāt mind staying again, if promises were made.Ā
Of course, all new staff would be employed. No one left from the old regime. New cleaners, new front desk guy, so Ryan had to be let go. Same way his boss was, as far as they would know.
He would have to be a few new people, behind the scenes. But the money would all be his now, and with the right words to the right people, the real him would still go unnoticed. He could take just enough bookings to get by, plus it would lessen the chances of getting found out.Ā
Chris could just not show up to his shift at the bar, and eventually theyād just assume he wasnāt coming back. He had too much to do here.
After all, the money would go a long way towards finding you.
The money youād gotten had been some relief to your situation. The last few days had beenā¦ okay.Ā
Youād used some of it to get a gym membership in cash and under a fake name. It was a cheap, reliable way to get a regular shower and a locker to store some of your stuff that was too risky . The money would also go a long way at a few different cheap hostels for about a month or so. You could afford some cheap food and the occasional trip to a laundromat, the one downtown with the broken cameras, but all of it was just a temporary fix.
You still had to hide like a scared animal. Your old life was so far away now, it almost seemed like a completely different reality. There was no looking for a permanent place, no job search, no trying to figure out what you would do long term. Though that was probably the smartest thing to do, it justā¦ wasnāt really possible then.
Anyone you spoke to could be the person that would later realize who you were and who was looking for you and then it would all be over. So you never walked the same route anywhere, and you never stayed anywhere more than an hour, all the while watching doorways and jumping at every sound.
You didnāt used to be so jumpy.Ā
Back when things were normal.Ā
You tried not to let your mind wander often, because if you did, it usually went back to the same place.
The small motel room.
The safe and secure feeling.Ā
The warmth of him against you.
The sound of him mumbling in his sleep.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to tell yourself it was for the best. You wouldāve had to leave eventually. That you couldnāt stay in one place for too long.
No matter how safe and hidden away you felt youād been.Ā
No matter how much you maybe kind of regretted leaving.
It wasnāt long until things started to seem off.
First, it was this instinctual fear, the cold, panicked feeling of someone looking at you from somewhere you couldnāt see.Ā
In the past, you wouldāve just dismissed it as feeling anxious. But lately, being paranoid had been your saving grace as of late.Ā
A few days later, some of your things in the gym locker seemed just slightly out of place, just enough to set off alarm bells.
Not long after that while walking to your hostel, you noticed footsteps behind you. Alert to their presence but not initially suspicious, you slowed your pace just a bit. Sure enough, the unseen stranger down the sidewalk slowed, their steps falling in line with yours. Another test, your pace a tiny bit faster, and suddenly it was obvious someone was following you.
Quickly cutting through an alley at random, you circled back a few blocks and headed in a completely new direction, successfully shaking your tail.Ā
You canceled your stay through your phone, booking another on the other side of town and taking only side streets to get there. You didnāt know who had been behind you, but you didnāt get to sleep that night, your mind racing with the worst possibility.
If it had been some random mugger or worse, it would almost be a relief. But you couldnāt help but suspect the obvious.Ā
That someone had found you.
In the voices and noises of the city streets, you could swear you heard your name. No one was calling out to you, it was more of a hushed whisper, like someone was noting where you were or telling someone else about you. It was so faint you almost wondered if you imagined it. But that wasnāt the way to think when you were actively hiding yourself away.Ā
Little things kept piling up, and you were more on edge than ever. But there wasnāt much you could do about it other than try to stay hidden.
Every time you had to go out into the city, it was agonizing. You were no longer just scared, you were tired.
Tired of always having your guard up. Tired of lying awake at night, wondering if tomorrow would be the last day youād be able to hide. Tired of all of it.
You didnāt deserve any of it, you didnāt do anything wrongā¦
But you still were being made to suffer like you were, and you didnāt know how much longer you could do it.
You were leaning against the side of a beaten-up food truck downtown, waiting on your order. No cameras, no names, cash only, and you couldnāt get cornered. A quick getaway was easier here than if youād gone indoors somewhere with exits that could get blocked.Ā
But it meant that the cold air was beginning to bite at your fingertips. It wouldnāt be too long until you were warming them up with your order as you walked back to your room for the night. Your breath would have to do for now, wispy puffs of it slipping from between your fingers and up into the air. It was a quiet moment where you could just breathe.
But it didnāt last for long.
āI knew it.ā
Your first instinct was to run. You practically threw yourself off the side of the truck when your frantic gaze finally found where the voice had come from.Ā
But you froze, your voice caught in your throat.
It was Colin.
āI thought that was you.ā he seemed so relieved, like heād been soā¦ worried?
And there was that smile you couldnāt stop thinking about, and you could feel that same familiar warmth in your chest, despite the cold.
But you felt stuck. How was he here? In a city with millions of people in it, what were the chances that the two of you would run into each other again?
āItās good to see you.ā He stood in place, maybe seeing how nervous you seemed. āAre youā¦ good?ā
You didnāt know how to answer him. You wanted to talk with him, maybe just to be near him again, maybe just to hear his voice. But it wasnāt safe out in the open. You didnāt know who exactly was after you, or what they wanted with you, but that meant you also didnāt know if they would hurt Colin if they saw you with him.Ā
He took your silence for what it was.Ā
āHey, are you free? Can we talk?ā He asked, looking hopeful.
A beat, then you nodded. But you told him it couldnāt happen right then. You checked your phone, asking him if you could meet him in an hour.
āOkay!ā He quickly agreed, not even trying to hide his nervous smile. āWhere should we meet?ā
Just to be safe, not to say it out loud, you told him to meet you where the two of youād first met, your āspecial placeā. He grinned, saying the phrase to himself under his breath as started to walk off.
He froze, thinking something over, before stepping back to you quickly and taking your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.
āPromise youāll come?ā Youād never seen what could almost be called āpuppy dog eyesā on a grown man before, but they were practically pleading with you as he held your hand.Ā
It was cheesy, but your heart raced. You hoped he didnāt notice you trying to avoid eye contact.
You agreed, and though he seemed reluctant to let go, eventually he did, and you watched him slip away into the crowd.
A few minutes later, the food truck vendor called your number, and normally you werenāt one to eat on the move, but you felt like you needed to get moving.Ā
It was a bit of a trek to the motel, and you took a lot of side streets jut in case, but there werenāt a lot of places in the city where you knew you wouldnāt be spotted. And a lot of the public transportation had cameras, so walking was really your only option nowadays. But you also justā¦ wanted to go back there again. Once you finally got there, it all just feltā¦
Right.Ā
Youād been so on edge the last few weeks, you never really felt safe anywhere. Every new room or building was just a place you could exist. But here, you felt like you knew what everything meant. Like it was all going to be okay.
And you knew it was because of him.Ā
Just like that first night, he answered the door, but he was almost like a different person.Ā
He was still kind of a mess, but there was something in his eyes. He looked lessā¦ lost. Kinder. Much less nervous. But the way he looked at you had changed the most.Ā
You werenāt afraid of him, or what he might do. Not anymore.Ā
āI didnāt know you were coming, so this is all I haveā¦ā He handed you a mug, the little pod coffee machine having just finished up.Ā
You smiled, telling him it was okay. The coffee was wonderful after youād been out in the cold. He was making a cup for himself now, trying to choose between the little pod flavors.Ā
The machine whirred away as it made his coffee, he looked like he was trying to say something, but it seemed like he finally tried because as he stirred in a bit of sugar, he let it out.Ā
āIā¦ I really missed you.ā He muttered, maybe hoping you wouldnāt hear him. But he perked up with this bright, dumbstruck look when you finally said that youād missed him too.Ā
āYou did?ā He seemed genuinely surprised, like he wouldāve never expected you to say that in a million years. āThatā¦ that makes me kinda happy, wonāt lieā¦ā
A minute of somewhat awkward silence as he finished preparing his coffee, you still sipping away at yours with a comfortable smile behind the mug where he couldnāt see. It had been a bit since youād been able to smile like this.
āHow, uhā¦ How are you holdinā up these days?ā he asked, plopping down next to you.Ā
The almost automatic, small talk response of āFineā nearly slipped past your lips, but even the thought of saying it felt soā¦ upsetting? Wrong? Like you didnāt want to lie to him.
Colin seemed to pick up on the change, because his face clouded with worry. Setting his coffee down, his hand crept towards yours, hesitation, then his fingers brushed yours. Despite yourself, despite all your uncertainty, you laced your fingers with his.
Everything just kept spilling out of you. You finally told him about everything. How youād just been a normal person living a normal life and then it all changed in an instant. How youād been out on the streets for a long while, how you were hiding from someone-or maybe a few someones, you werenāt sure-who wanted to hurt you? Or track you down, at the very least. There was so much you still didnāt know.
And how you just couldnāt keep it up. How every day felt worse than the last and it was just so hard to keep going, orā¦ to keep finding a reason to at all.Ā
Suddenly, you were pulled against him, pressed into his chest as he held you close to him. A pang of guilt in your gut, you hadnāt meant to dump that particular feeling onto him. But, when youād reflexively tried to apologize, you couldnāt even finish the word āsorryā before he held on tighter, shaking his head.
He held you for a long while. It wasnāt uncommon for him to have fallen asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, and you could see the appeal now. When you finally pulled back, youād calmed down a bit. With him so close, you really got a good look.Ā
It was impossible not to notice the state of him. His disheveled, greasy hair and the slump to his posture, the horribly tired look in his eyes. The dark circles were just as bad as the day the two of youād met.
You asked him.
Did he not find someone else?
āSomeone else?ā he asked. He seemed confused.
Someone else to sleep beside, after you were gone.
His palm held your cheek so gently. His hands were a tiny bit cold, but you found that you didnāt mind.Ā
āI didnāt look,ā he sighed. āEver since you left, Iāve just beenā¦ surviving.ā
That same pang of guilt hit you. Did he really not? Or was he just trying to seemā¦
Loyal? Committed? But why?
āI was really hoping Iād see you again.ā His hand left you, and you hated how you wished it wouldnāt. āYou just left without saying goodbye.ā
Some part of you was still trying to push him away, telling yourself that you didnāt owe him a goodbye. That it wasnāt your fault if he had feltā¦
Disappointed? Empty? Maybe even a bit abandonedā¦Ā
It felt both wrong and cheap when you offered a simple apology, when you told him you didnāt know if you could do it when he was there. Butā¦
āBut you had to move on.ā he offered, a tired smirk silently telling you he understood. Or at least you hoped. āI was kind of worried thoughā¦ Your note made it sound like you were in some kinda troubleā¦which I guess was true.ā
The note that youād rewritten so many times that day, youād been worried youād run out of time before Colin got back that day. It had so briefly explained your situation, and what you thought he needed, and maybe deserved, to know.Ā
Colin,Ā
I have to leave, and youāre reading this, so Iām already gone, I hope.
Itās not safe for me to stay in one place for too long.Ā
I want to, but I canāt stay.
I felt safe here, with you. You donāt know how much that meant to me these days.
I know youāll find someone to help you sleep, but it canāt be me anymore.
Thank you for helping me,
And when youād been about to sign your name at the bottom, youād worried, maybe needlessly, that it would leave a sign of where youād been. If the wrong person could see it, Colin could get caught in the middle of all this.Ā
But it felt wrong not to.
So you did.
It was just a simple thing meant to be a simple goodbye, to make leaving him seem easier. But it hadnāt gotten any easier.Ā
Colin seemed uneasy with how quiet you were being. He seemed to be searching for what to say, but he was gettingā¦ sidetracked.Ā
You noticed his eyes kept darting down, then sharply meeting your gaze with a few flustered blinks, like he was trying so hard not to be obvious.Ā
He was watching your lips. And when your eyes lowered with an amused grin, you swore he blushed all the way to his chest.
āS-sorry, I didnāt mean nothinā by it. Youā¦ You just, well, more like I just got uhā¦ā
You offered one word: Distracted? And he squeezed his eyes shut in a panic, lips pressed in a thin line as he dragged a hand down his face.Ā
You didnāt know where it was coming from, but you boldly asked him:
Do I distract you?
āYes.ā
You froze, wondering if youād heard him right. His eyes were avoiding yours, but his words were more direct than youād ever heard from him.Ā
āI canāt stop thinking about youā¦ā He muttered behind his hand, still looking away. ā I never stopped.ā
It was such an uncharacteristically forward thing for him to say that for a moment, you just froze. While you were still processing it, he kept going.Ā
āIāve lost so much of myself. I barely knew who I was anymore. But with youā¦ā His breath was shaky, and he was idly tugging at a loose thread in the bedspread. āWith you, I can feel myself becomingā¦ a person again.ā
Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he still wasnāt finished.Ā
āIf you leave, everythingā¦ itāll all go back.ā he muttered. āBack to what it was, who I would beā¦ Iā¦ I donāt want to go back to that. Youāre the only thing keeping me here.ā
You questioned: Here?, your eyes darting to the room around the two of you.Ā
āNo!ā He sounded pained, dipping his head in exasperation, looking so worn down. āNoā¦ no, here. Here.āĀ
He held his head in his hand, breathing heavier.
āItās been so long since Iāve been here, really fully here, w-without anything creeping in.ā The room was so eerily, suffocatingly quiet apart from his forced words. āIf I go back there now, itāll be so much harder to find my way back. Here. To you.ā
You werenāt sure you really understood the panic in his words, but if you being here really was helping him, even a bitā¦
Taking his hand in yours, your thumb grazed the back of his hand as you figured out what to say.Ā
āI need youā¦ā he whispered, looking almost ashamed of himself.
You told him the same. You needed him. And that was the truth.Ā
His eyes were wide, and then it was your turn to avoid him looking at you.
Andā¦ more than thatā¦Ā
You felt your face getting hot, but you pressed on and said it.
More than that, you wanted him.Ā
You felt his hand on your cheek, and his lips swiftly pressed to yours.Ā
It was intense and sudden, but it was true. You wanted him. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him closer, softly moaning against his lips.
āI want youā¦ Itās been so longā¦ since I wanted anyoneā¦ Anything.ā he gasped between each kiss.Ā
Somehow, you knew what he meant. Running for so long, wanting someoneā¦ something, was practically a luxury. You had to focus on what you needed, what would keep you alive and safe.Ā
But Colinā¦
Needing him was easy.Ā
You wanted every bit of him.Ā
He pulled back, just enough to pepper your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder with those same desperate kisses.Ā
āStayā¦ā he pleaded, pressing himself close to you. āPleaseā¦ stay with me. It hurtsā¦ā
He held your hand to his chest, and you could feel how hard his heart was pounding. His head dropped to your shoulder, the heat of his breath on your neck.
āIt hurts when youāre not with meā¦ When you disappeared, it felt like my heart got ripped out. Everything was soā¦ numb.ā
He kissed at your neck, pressing in further when you scrunched up at the sensation.Ā
āI wonāt let you go again.ā He muttered into your skin, his teeth grazing it as he panted. āStay with meā¦ here.ā
His lips on yours again, his hand crept to your thigh. Hesitant. Waiting for some sign of your discomfort or rejection.
But it never came.
You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him with you as you leaned back. He pulled back, still panting, his eyes searching your face.
You told him to stop worrying. That you werenāt going anywhere.
āAre you up?ā A soft voice called to you, the light of the new morning spilling into the room through the blinds.Ā
Half-awake, you pressed yourself against his chest, tucking yourself further into the arms wrapped around you.Ā
You stirred at the laugh he couldn't help but let out, a deep rumble in his chest under your head. Running his fingers through your hair, you seemed to settle at his touch, sighing softly against him. He wondered if you were really asleep or just being stubborn.Ā
āYouāre holdinā on tightā¦ such aĀ cuddlebugā¦ Bug. My lilā lovebug.ā he muttered to himself, a hand rubbed soft, little circles in the small of your back. āā¦ Itās hard to believe youāre actually mine, bug. All mineā¦ā
He kissed the top of your head, and you smiled a little bit in your sleep. He had to bite his free hand to keep it under control, to keep it from touching you like he had that night. He missed your noises, the face you made when he kept getting you so close and then slowing down again, hearing you beg and plead for something you were too wound up to really put into words.Ā
He hoped you would stay here with him this time.
He wanted you to be his, but heā¦ he wasnāt sure he wanted to force you. Not yet at least.
Heād already crossed a line he couldnāt come back from. And he was going to keep that to himself. If you ever found outā¦
Youād been so hard to find.
Heād spent weeks putting out feelers for you. Looking around places to get cheap, warm food and a bed for the night. You stayed away from places with a lot of cameras and anywhere you had to be I.D.ād, so you werenāt gonna get found like that.
Using his new management persona, heād asked around the bigger crime folks the old boss was associated with if anyone was trying to find you.Ā
In an āofficeā downtown, which was really more of a crappy apartment above a seedy massage parlor, Colin met a man.
His business associates called him āThe P.I.ā. Whispers in the wrong circles said that this was the guy you hired when you wanted to find someone, but couldnāt risk a paper trail. He wasnāt cheap, and he was willing to get his hands dirty, but he usually got the job done. And discreetly at that. It helped that he wasnāt a real private investigator. Just some asshole who could get shit done.
āNow we can discuss things properly.ā Colin sighed, wiping his knife on his jacket lining.Ā
āI noticed you following them, and it was just too easy to follow you back.ā He laughed. āAnd some contacts of mine said that you advertise yourself as a P.I., but really youāre a killerā¦ā
But The P.I. didnāt respond. Or rather, he couldnāt.
āNow, I dunno your side of the story. Maybe youāre just some hired gun protecting your boss by tying up some loose ends. Maybe itās person? Maybe you loved them and they rejected you, do you have a hard time takinā no for an answer, my guy? Maybe someone else loved them and used you to get them back, whether they want to or not.ā
He walked around to the back of the man, gasping on the floor, clutching at his neck.
āHell, maybe youāre like me. Maybe you just want to kill. Maybe the thought of their blood between their fingers is the only thing that makes you feel alive. Part of me can understand that. Maybeā¦ā
He groaned, crouching down.
āMaybe maybe maybe maybeā¦ā Colin muttered, shaking his head. Dragging a hand down his face, skin tugging down with it, somehow soothed his tired eyes. āToo many unknowns, too many fuckinā variables here. Iām done, ya know? With you gone, my little bugāll feel safe. Thatās all I give a shit about.ā
The manās eyes were darting around, like he was still trying to find a way out of this alive.
āNowā¦ maybe- god, thereās that fuckinā word againā¦ But you might have friends, out there somewhere. They might want to get revenge, or finish what you started, for whatever the reason. So, nothing personal. But I think Iāll justā¦ā
A sudden stab to the manās gut, and a wet, gurgled scream somehow managed to escape.
āYeah, I think Iāll use you toā¦ send a message.ā
. . .
He usually wasnāt one for theatrics in his kills. No fuss, no muss. They usually just ādisappearedā. He had no impulsive, childish desires to play with them or open them up to see what made them tick.
You wouldnāt know it, looking at his handiwork here.Ā
He made a mess. Nothing too dark, like a weirdo art project to taunt whoever would find him and care. But enough to say that whoever had hired him shouldnāt have.
He found a āfileā on you, if you could even call it that. Photos, habits, ways to find you, names you might go byā¦ How you were meant to be killed. Someone had hired that man. He sighed, not remorseful, but almost annoyed. Heād gotten a lot ofā¦ joy? Something like that, out of imagining he was killing a former lover of yours or another stalker, competition either way.Ā
But, this also (annoyingly) meant that this wasnāt over.Ā
A pause. His thoughts raced as he put the pieces together.
This meantā¦
This meant that you still needed him.
Heād come here with the intention of keeping you safe, he knew that. Heād considered not telling you heād come here, or what heād done, so youād stay scared. Uneasy. Dependent.Ā
So youād stay with him. Lie next to him at night, hold him, be held by him.
But now, he wouldnāt need to lieā¦
Maybeā¦Ā
Maybeā¦ youād even love him.
He smiled, biting his lip, your face the only thing he could picture. Heād never felt soā¦ light. Soā¦ happy? Like the thought of you made him so detached from everything else in the world, tethered by you to everything he was or would ever be. You were everything.
Someone was looking for you. The details were under wraps, but someone out there was desperate to find you, and he knew that they wanted you dead.Ā
And they had a rough idea of where you were.Ā
He needed you. He wanted you. And once he knew why you were so closed off, why youād built up those walls, heād had an idea.
He would keep his eyes on you and anyone else after you, and steer them in the wrong direction. No one else was going to touch you.
So making you a little more afraid would leave you no option but to come back to him.Ā
You needed someone to trust. And he needed you to trust him.Ā
In the time youād left him, whenever heād see you freeze in your tracks on the street, trying not to let on how scared you were at whatever you did or didnāt really hear, his chest ached. He wanted to be with you, holding your hand, letting you know he was yours, that youād be okay. But he couldnāt, back then.
Not until he was sure you were his. For good.
And heād done it! Heād led you back to him. You were lying against him and he could feel your body heat, listen to the sound of your breathing, watch the rise and fall of your chest. And just as he'd felt before, he felt his muscles relax, his eyes felt heavy... You were here. And everything was exactly as it should be.
āYouāre mine, Bug.ā He kissed the top of your head, holding you in his arms. āIām never lettin' you go againā¦ā
it just kept gettin longer and longer, and then i kept having to go back and re-read my own writing to make everything at all coherent D:
but it's done! more Colin writing could happen, but this is the end of the "main" story. i will take writing suggestions/requests for Colin and his Bug, if only to get the creative juices flowing again
the nsft scene at the beginning is as explicit as im gonna get without like a sperate nsfw account i can verify ages on lol, i don't write a lot of straight up smut, and i like that kind of writing when things are more alluded to rather than relying on over-describing everything with words that make my little ace brain feel fried š (it's not that bad lol, but i know some of y'all ain't 18, and trying to purge/verify 1000+ people sounds exhausting)
followers/reader who asked to be tagged, i remembered y'all :3 :
no because skully is actually so sad when you think of him in every context (platonic, romantic, a fleeting crush, etc) because imagine meeting this guy who is in a very similar situation to you (trapped somewhere in a new world with no friends, all alone, and everyone thinks he's strange because they just don't understand him) and so he can sympathize with you and your situation. he completely gets it, and maybe you just,,, get him. maybe in a way no one has before.
over the course of this predicament, you form a fast friendship that's very meaningful to both sides. for skully, it's finally a friend who can understand him and isn't a complete idiot like his dull classmates. he finally has someone. and you finally have someone who actually pays genuine attention to you, doesn't call to the front the obvious power imbalance between you (magicless human) and a school full of talented mages. for once, you're just (name) to someone. not the magicless human or the beast tamer or the person dropped in twisted wonderland from a far, far place. you're just (name). skully sees you for you, and you see him for him. maybe that's why he comments on how similar the two of you are so often because he wants to cling to this connection. maybe he sees parts of himself in you and you see parts of yourself in him.
it's a connection that seems so real and raw and heartwarming. right place, right person, you'll both think.
but all of that is rendered meaningless when you're destined to come out of the book, having forgotten all inklings of halloween town and its residents and, most importantly, skully. the one friend who could understand you in a world where no one is able to. and now whenever you look at the portrait of the halloween king you're filled with so much sadness and longing. but why? you've never met this person before.
you never will again. even skully recognized that when it was time for everyone to leave because when he leaves the book he'll be dead, but you're still alive. the both of you are from vastly different times.
right person? definitely. but you met him at the wrong time. a little too late.
or maybe in a bittersweet way it was the right time. even if you can't remember your experiences, the both of you imprinted something special on the other. when you think of halloween, you'll think fondly of that unique portrait and a grin that seems eerily familiar. and maybe if he was still alive today he'd feel comforted every time he thinks he's alone only to feel as though someone, if only for a moment, was able to really, truly know and understand him in the ways he hoped to be known and understood.
i just really want to read / write about a yandere fic that would make anyone double check their locks, or like at least make them wanna step out of the house to touch grass for a moment and ponder the meaning of life or smth idk
rant below ugh just ignore it
like cant there be a yandere or dark romance fic wherein the "dark" aspect is not just limited to sexual abuse?? seriously almost every dark romance fic i read, there is always SA in there i mean yeah fine it's a given but idk aren't there other ways that would make a reader be scared out of their wits other than..that?? im just really tired of going thru the tags and almost all the posts have smut at the get go idk maybe make me feel creeped out first?? make me want to triple check if i locked my doors and windows right?? tbh i literally dont mind the the horny stuff but the lack of horror and overall creepiness in the setting / plot is really annoying. might as well just read porn i guess
anyway these are just my personal opinions there is no need to agree or fight over it. continue to consume / produce your media the way you prefer. im just ranting because this is my personal blog and i can write whatever tf i want
ā§ When Merlin realised that you're someone whose future he couldn't see, his interest is immediately piqued. His younger self had been hurt by the truth that no matter what he did, he can never alter the outcome of a predetermined future. But you were an anomaly he found, a sliver of hope that the cycle of destiny can be broken. He then decides to dedicate his time in watching over you from his tower in Avalon.
ā§ He eventually finds himself clinging to you like a child and calls you his Hope of Avalon, which he chants under breath whenever his eyes follow your form. Soon, he realises that simply watching you isn't enough; he needs to be near you, he needs to feel you.
ā§ Since his illusions can affect the human psyche, he can easily invade your dreams and interact with you there. You were surprised when you first met him in the middle of a spring flower field under the winter stars. The fact that a beautiful and charming man like him knew you made you flustered, and that sight of you made Merlin unable to resist covering your mouth as he kisses the back of his hand.
ā§ Thanks to his unique skill, Independent Manifestation, he was able to summon himself as your Servant while you were wishing for the male Arthur Pendragon, effectively sabotaging the summoning ritual. Merlin's unexpected appearance surprised you greatly but you were happy about it nevertheless. Merlin then invited you for a hug by spreading his arms, which Mordred who was with you at the time found odd. She later warns you to not fully trust Merlin but with how kindly he treats you, you heed her warning lightly.
ā§ Although Merlin is mostly used as a support for your Buster Servants, he'd insist that you use him as a damage dealer too. His B strength isn't just for show, and he proves himself when he effortlessly decimated the enemy Servants that attempted to take you hostage with his Excalibur during a mission. With his signature smile, he happily announced that you're safe before hugging you tightly.
ā§ When you've rayshifted to another era for an expedition, Merlin would make you sleep on his lap, claiming that it's more comfortable than the cold ground and that it'll be easier for him to watch over you this way. Unbeknownst to you, once you have fallen under sleep's spell, he would devour your dream and absorb the emotions within it. He then cups your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he licks his lips. Your dream is wonderful, and he wonders if your blood will taste the same? Baring his fangs, he brings his face closer to your lips but swiftly pulls back when Bedivere shows up with a blanket for you.
ā§ The Magus of Flowers thinks that you're not appreciated enough in Chaldea. You have worked so hard to save humanity and proof of your efforts are shown in the scars you got from the countless battles you fought in. As he traces every scar, he sings you praises and tells you how proud he is to have you as his Master. You take comfort in his embrace and miss the eery glow of his violet hues.
ā§ Merlin follows you around Chaldea much like Fou does. He speaks of the king's tales and the fascinating events he observed from his tower in Avalon. You're unaware that as he chats away with you, he also uses his clairvoyance to steer you both clear of the Servants seeking your attention. How foolish of them to think that an inhuman mage like him is generous enough to share you with them.
ā§ When Merlin devoured your dream for the first time, he was overwhelmed. Your dream is so pleasant to the heart and he immediately became addicted. Your dreams are full of love that every time he absorbs the subtleties of your heart, his obsession for you only grows - to the point where he'd lose touch with his human side and give in to his carnal desires.
ā§ As he removes his intricate white robe, he crawls into bed with you in the middle of the night just to watch you sleep, his arms carefully holding your delicate body that could easily snap under his full strength. It reminds him just how weak yet strong humans are against fate. Merlin can be as lecherous as his incubus side, but he'll save that for the inevitable moment he traps you in Avalon with him.
ā§ Merlin's addiction to your dreams should not be taken lightly. He'll run around Chaldea like a starved beast if you're separated from him for even a day. Once he finds you, he'll pounce on you without warning and sink his fangs into your pulse in deep bites. He immediately laps up the blood drawn and since there's mana in your blood... you'll be in for a long night with a hungry incubus.
ā§ Sooner or later, Merlin will whisk you away to his tower once he feels that he's had enough fun in the present world. You'll spend the rest of eternity in the sealed utopia with him, where you'll be happy and protected by his magic. At least, that's what he believes.
ā§ Don't be sad, you can dream as much as you'd like in Avalon - and he'll make sure that they're pleasant dreams too! He casts a powerful illusion spell on you when he kisses your forehead, and catches your body in his arms as you fall in an unending slumber. You won't be alone in your dreams because he'll be there, spending your happily ever after with you. You can never run away from him, even in your dreams.
Picture the love of your life. Can you see them? Good, now take that image and apply it to the reality in which we live in. Can you find them? Can you see them? Regardless of what you determine the desirable outcome usually is the one that is either twisted with a ābutā. Like a double edged sword your lover can be the funny charismatic person you desire so. But when in reality theyāre an unforgiving monster whoās greed singes the earth with each breath they take.
āMaāam can I have my receipt please?ā
Crumbling the note within your sweat slick hands you nod, furiously spouting apology after apology. As you collected the paper bill and collected her change the woman quirks a brow at your distressed form. Her stance gives off the indication of annoyance, probably from your less focused persona. Bidding her a farewell you drop the forced smile with a heavy sigh. Amidst the dark atmosphere of the darkening evening you watch her car ignite with life, the truckās headlights blare on illuminating the gas pumps with its blinding light. Carefully reversing from her parked spot the women speeds off the station and enters the lonely highway just beyond the gas station you worked at.
Collecting the note pad hanging off the wall behind you check the contents of the long list. āRe-stock, open bathrooms, take out trash, swap chips, and donāt die. Ha, very funny.ā Looking down at the signature you notice how hastily your manager āRitchardā left his signature half done. Confused but not surprised you smooth out your shirt and rub your arms. Goosebumps littered along your skin. Pricking each hair molecule to stand up and high. Observing the empty gas station through weary sleep deprived eyes you eventually fell back to the note crumbled by the register.
āJust some prick trying to scare me.ā Gathering courage and trash cans you head through the backdoor just near the liquor aisle. Passing storage was somewhat frightening in the sense of the lights flickering on and off and boxes stacked high above your head. Coming outside you curve around the building towards the dumpster just near where you parked your car. Struggling to throw lift the lid and hold the bags you shriek when the plastic ripped and a coffee cups spills onto your chest. āShit!ā Dropping the bags to clear the trash from your chest you watch in horror as papers float among the wind.
As the sky darkened some more you sprint like a mad woman chasing after the litter. In the parking lot you manage to step on one piece of plastic. Bending down to pick it up you chuckle lightly to yourself. Standing straight up you squeak out a fearful noise. Standing in front of you several feet away by one of the gas pumps a figure cloaked in darkness watches you. His body is inhumanly tall, the hoodie he wore was filthy as was his pants.
You two stood there in the presence of the full moon. Not a single car passes and only the chirps of nearby insects bring the comfort of noise that diminishes the eerie silence. Clearing your throat with a shaky laugh you awkwardly wave at the individual whose face you could not identify. āHello, do you want to come inside for coffee? Or maybe a snack?ā You swore on your life you tried to sound strong. Even to a deaf person they wouldāve known that was a lie judging by your trembling stance.
The figure doesnāt respond. It or he just stands there watching you with an unmoving stance. Panicking when he takes a single step forward you race back to the front. Locking the doors behind you. Racing to the front counter you check the surveillance cameras of the pump stations. After an incident involving a drunk man pissing on the pumps and teenagers stealing food your manager was forced to supply the station with cameras both inside and outside the station. On Cam AB you see Pump 3 was completely empty, devoid of any living being.
Checking through all the cameras you exhale upon finding that the creepy figure was not in sight. āJust a drunk homeless man. Nothing more. Nothing less.ā Plugging in a single earbud you lean forward on the counter. The crumbled note immediately catching your view. Staring at the note you shoot a glance back at the computer monitor. Satisfied at nothing you reach for the note, carefully unfolding the damaged paper.
I was taught from a young age that no one is perfect. Even god himself was not the pure loving individual whomst many compare themselves too. Iām not perfect. As much as I disagree with the fact, my dear (Y/n), you are not perfect. You are of the rare gems upon the world that has yet to be encased with taint.
Tires screeching onto bare pavement snaps you into reality. Holding the note close to your chest you see a huge truck pull up onto the truckerās only gas pump. Placing the note down you walk around the counter and unlock the door. An older man with a fading hairline waves eagerly at you despite the tiredness eating at his face. Waving back you return the smile. As he turns to refuel you couldnāt help but observe the desert landscape now blanketed with darkness. Flies buzz around your face. Heading back inside you shake off the paranoia messing with your mind. āJust nightshift jitters.ā
Repeating the mantra you focus yourself on finishing the list. Restocking and swapping out outdated chips was easy as your colleague and best friend Carla had done so before you. All you really had to do was to open the bathrooms. Something you were less than pleased at doing. Checking the cameras one last time you were struck a nerve when the trucker lights a cigarette. Leaning at the microphone by the monitor you hold down the only faded red button. āCanāt smoke near the pumps.ā
Startled the trucker looks around him with a confused race of movements. āUp here smart guy.ā You chuckled. Dropping his defensive stance the man turns to face the overhead camera. Raising his hands in defeat the man places the bud on the ground. Smashing it beneath his boot. āThank you.ā You chirped.
Through the front and curving on the opposite side of the dumpster you jungle the keys in your hand. Unlocking the men's first your heart nearly skips a beat upon the eerie squeaks of mice. The desert was prone to these little buggers. As you struggled to lift the lock on the female padlock you notice the camera above is off. The iridescent red light was off. āSon of a bitch.ā Entering through the front again you notice an immediate foul odor. Shielding your mouth you trek further into the building and to your utmost horor find the source of horror to be a pile of garbage on your counter.
Your eyes well with rich vibrating anger. A truckers horn blares through the harmony of night. Snapping your head just a moment too quick you are able to see the ass of the truck exit the station and high tail on the lonely road. Frustrating screaming you throw the trash off the counter onto the freshly mopped floors.
āThis is the last fucking time iām taking this god aweful shift!ā
Finishing cleaning the mess you painfully sat on the wooden stool. Holding your head in your head you stifle a silent sob. You hated this job, this way of life. The only reason you even agreed to take the later shifts was to cover the cost of your shitty apartment in the middle of nowhere in a shitty state. The crumbled letter once again is the turning point in your night. Wanting to rid your mind of one trouble with another was a toxic habit that somehow suited you well. Smoothing out the wrinkles you bring the paper close to your face.
I met you at my motherās funeral. Such a strange place for soulmates to find each other donāt you think? While we mourned the loss of the departed somehow the universe saw best to unite two lovers together. In death there is life and love. I felt it, iām not sure you felt. Thatās okay, I understand. As you read this (Y/n) there must be an impressive amount of questions in that mind of yours. I can answer a few but others I cannot not. Will not. Not until we meet. Will I hurt you? No. When will we meet? Soon. What do I want. Your heart.
You pause, an unfathomable certainty of deepening terror floods your mind of rationality. There is a the heart wrenching sound of glass shattering a horrendously horrific shout. Not just any shout, the type of shrill roar that comes from a wounded animal. As much as you wished to check to cameras you wanted this hell to end. So you finished reading the ānoteā.
Do I want something from you? Yes, your love. As much as I wish to hold you in my arms I realize that if I do so it will only be detrimental to our story. So I will wait until weāre both ready. It may take weeks. It may take months. I donāt care if it takes years, we will wait until our hearts are ready to grow and nourish the sprouts of our love. I love you (Y/n). Forever and ever.
Love, Your fool.
As the paper slips from your trembling hands you slowly move your intensive stare at the monitor. The back was safe, the pumps were safe, the storage was safe, the back rooms were safe. Each and every room was safe. All except for the employee parking lot. Your war had a huge hole in the driverās window, mysterious liquid drips onto the pavement from the window. Grabbing the baseball bat beneath the counter you slowly edge out of the store. Into the cold of night you trudge forward to your car.
Approaching your car the metal bat slips from your grasp. Clanking against the pavement the metal weapon rolls to your tires. As inspected by the camera your drivers window was broken into. Glass shards in the seat reflect light from the neon lights above you. Blood drips from the car door. There is a letter spelled out in the blood. And another. And another.
Taking a step back you drop to your knees at the horrific message.
ā1 Corinthians 13:4-7ā
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