CHOOSE KAVEH PLEASE. 😭

Desert 🏜

short yandere gusion x gn reader?? like him being afraid of you leaving him

i luv ur writing btw im so happy to find another mlbb writer on this app, they're so scarce 😭

| • Yandere Gusion

notes: gn reader

© @/kikiwooo

don't heart the post, I want fucking reblogs idc that I'm being rude, it's what I deserve.

Gusion, the Paxley House's curse. Gusion is used to live between death and life's thin line. He dances with death everyday. Gusion never wore his heart on his sleeve, sure he may be playful and warm-blooded, but don't let his playfulness got you. He's as cold as a corpse.

Gusion is an addictive yandere. He needs your touch, your voice, your warmth... He won't lock you up, he'd let you do your own thing, he can keep a track on you, he's a skilled man. However, he's afraid. Afraid that you'd leave him, leave him for Aamon. Between Gusion and Aamon is a cold-war.

" Gusion, this isn't normal. Listen t- "

" Aamon, you're just jealous that you aren't their eternal lover. Leave it. "

Gusion can be sweet, he can be very sweet. If you decided to show your love. His hormones gets the best of him so he's quick to get cuddly with you and get in the hopeless teenager romance shit. He'll kiss all over your face, pull you onto his lap and never let go of you.

But...if his fears come true, then..he'd had no choice but to chain you to himself. You'll be the safest with him! So why are you still struggling? Gusion doesn't like to raise his voice at you, no he never raises his voice at you. Gusion wouldn't hurt you, he loves you to death!

" Love...stop struggling..please. I'm doing this for both of us, don't you love me? You..you love me right? Yes, yes yo do love me and I love you. I'll protect you, I'll give you anything you want, I'll do anything for you. Even Aamon wouldn't be able to stand in our way, I'll make sure he won't steal you away. After all, we belong to..eachother. "

give me chaotic dan heng. give me dan heng who would do the most absolutely wild shit if he thinks its justified. give me dan heng who would deck someone on sight for picking on march. give me dan heng who would narrowly avoid an assault charge after hearing a researcher insult the trailblazer’s intelligence. give me dan heng who would offer to cause trouble so bailu can run off and play and have the childhood he never had

pls give me chaotic dan heng

Jesus Christ, minors have become so fucking cocky and self-centred recently.

It feels like every time I open up a +18 tag or go into an adult fandom space, there's all these actual kids running around, telling people they're minors.

I could be wanting to read a smut fic and I'll see a bunch of posts with the text "minor writing smut, don't like, DNI" or something like that.

How fucking stupid are you? Genuine question. Are your grades okay? Do you need to talk to the school counselor? Take a common sense test? Because I certainly think so.

Why are you entering and actively taking part in adult spaces and then using the "umm I'm a minor, so if you do or say anything, then I'm the victim and you need to get away from me, you creep" card when you get called out on your bullshit?

These adult spaces are not for you, GET THE FUCK OUT! Go sit in the corner and think about what you've done!

Teens will teen. They'll find adult material one way or another, I am fully aware of that. Hell, I'm guilty of reading smut when I was a teen. But when I did, I never told a soul.

I've had accounts run by minors as young as 13-14 interacting with my NSFW posts. And they're somehow bragging about this. Of course, I block them immediately, but I am shocked at how brazen these kids are, to have the gall to do this and think it's okay because "they're mature enough."

No. You're not. I promise you.

Becoming an adult isn't about reaching some arbitrary number. It's about learning to take responsibility for your actions. So take this advice and GET THE FUCK OUT OF ADULT SPACES! YOU'RE NOT WELCOME!

I don't care how much anon hate you kids send my way to try and get me to kms or deactivate. By all means, give me your best shot. But if you seriously think I am going to just let you do this without realising your actions have consequences, you need to be sent to the psych ward across town.

Hello! This is hopefully the final time I talk, and from this entire post I will do my best to be clear and out of my cheerful and friendly persona. This is, quite frankly, an itemized list of grievances in my time here that I wish to be sort out. This is not "beef". This is not "drama". I hate it when people describe problems as such when the post is about resolving issues. These are list of broken boundaries I wish would be sorted out. I am not fighting anyone. I am only stating that I wish to be treated better as an okayish writer/artist. Do not fucking attack anyone based on assumptions. I repeat: I am NOT fighting anyone. Get yourself out of that violent and unnecessary impulse and please just listen to what I have to say.

At this point I might just be on my Post-Timeskip Dimitri Arc. But anyways. I will be swearing. I don't want ANYONE giving advice. I just need you to listen and understand.

Let's start.

First point: Requests.

There's a TikTok-ification of Tumblr, it seems. And I'm not even using Tiktok to know what it is. Requests of part 2s in particular, irks me the most. But first off: I do not wish for a witch hunt. I swear to fucking lord if you do that I will block you.

This is why you'd rarely see part 2s in my masterlist. Because every time I do it, the requester does not comment. It is frustrating since if you've seen my works and not just interacting for the sillies because you think it's fun to be unhinged (Lord give me strength.), you might notice I take ample time to research, open wikis, and add lore to the story. Some writers' strength is to write poetically and make even a scene about brushing teeth feel so compelling, whereas I think my only decent skill is to come up with weird ideas and connect them. And it takes time, that's why I write oneshots with a complete plot. Fuck, it takes so much fucking time. Especially since I insist on doing things my way and drawing the headers too. So when there's radio silence, it's absolutely insulting.

But I think what insulted me the most was the time I stayed up till 5 AM to finish a request and made even the header moveable and all I get is "thanks, not what I wanted" I just. I. You didn't even pay me to do this, all I ask is idk, more words than that? I wrote 6k words and even did a colored drawing and that's it??? But I don't tell people I am insulted. I don't tell people that shit feels fucking vile. I wasn't raised to cuss people out. I grew up believing in a higher existence.

But now I'm convinced I'm not kindhearted.

I'm WEAK hearted. And I fucking hate myself.

And don't you dare tell me I'm not because when someone sent an anon ask telling me to kill myself you know how I replied??? I told them that we should talk because I'm worried that this sort of behavior will harm them one day.

Here's an old screenshot since tumblr's search system is a bit wack.

WHY THE HELL WOULD ANYONE REPLY LIKE THAT. THATS LIKE GETTING STABBED AND SAYING "DO YOU WANT THE KNIFE BACK?"

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

WHY DO I ALWAYS LET BLATANT DISRESPECT HAPPEN TO ME WHILE I SMILE???

DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW?

HOW MUCH OF A PUSHOVER I AM? HOW MUCH I DON'T PRIORITIZE MY OWN WELL-BEING?

THAT I NEVER TELL ANYONE WHENEVER I'M HURT BECAUSE I'M AFRAID OF HURTING THEM INSTEAD?

I don't want to be mean. I just don't. But I'm doing my best to be mean in this post because civil dialogue has not worked on my case for a while now.

I'm sorry if this hurts you.

But this is one of my many problems I've been losing sleep over so I just want to solve this one and be done with it.

Second point: complete disregard for boundaries.

I don't. Fucking know why. People send me horny shit in my ask box and I don't even answer it I just delete them immediately. I don't wanna hear about how you would tie up someone and do things to them. Maybe I'd get it as a joke and post the ones I'm almost positive are jokes but I can't read some as one. I can't. I don't even wanna explain more since I'm not sure if I'm a sex-repulsed ace just yet. I remember back then during the OCMC era of this blog I repeated like thrice that I'm ace in thirst anon asks but I still get em anyways. I do not understand this. What part of my personality makes that seem fine??? I don't get it. I don't get it at all. I'm not a rizzler. I am nothing like that.

Third point: "before you send asks, do you actually read my writings?"

This problem reached its height before that I made @faceless-ayato (now @dain-speaks) so I can categorize interactions and fics. Some people during might remember that idol au era. Or maybe not. Who knows.

It is not funny how many times close friends have told me my asks sound like people talking more about themselves and their lore and not any of my stories. Like. 80%. I'm not sure if that's Tumblr culture. Just correct me if I'm wrong.

Just something examples:

Just. Be real with me. Do not vote just to make me feel better.

Because why do I get nonsense stuff. Why the hell did I get an ask saying if I'd hold their hands while pooping? What is this? Tf is that about? Why did I get an ask about crazy room rubber duck? Am i too fucking old? I got several copy pastas of some twitter shitpost even way before the diluc theme and i don't even use twitter. I don't have a Twitter.

I think what broke me is when Navi told me whenever they look at my posts they wonder how I'm not in my villain arc yet. I thought it was just my two close irl friends who felt that way. I thought they were just a bit overprotective and over thinking thinks.

But I think it's clear I'm not actually being respected by some anons.

Most are just looking for enablers. When I open up about my own struggles, my fucking grief for losing the only person that understood me and having to hold their corpse one last time, my announcement that some of the new fics won't be dark and will have compliant readers because of my mental state. What do I get? Ansy, could've been darker.

That's the fucking reason why I made a theme poll. Because if I can't be treated like a person, I'll just give some other character the clown mask. I'm so sorry I can't fuck around anymore. Now you're finding out why.

I just doubt it so bad. It hurts how much I'm doubting that readers actually read. I feel like such a clown. What if all this time I'm proud to be a writer but people just see me as some caricature all along??? I legit can feel my heart grow heavy. I'm not okay with this. You can tell when I get an ask compliment I draw something as thanks too. That's how much I am grateful for that random drop of water. It hurts so bad. I wish I can word this better, I'm a writer damn it but it hurts. I'm fucking crying. Did people even properly read the times I neatly laid out the reasons why I'm not okay before? Do I have to be so emotional for people to understand? I laid it down on several occasions nicely, organized and definitely more professional than this.

You know my situation is fucked when only mutuals and fellow content creators are the ones who read my posts. I think this is because as a generation, this is no longer writer-reader relationships but a cold creator-consumer one.

Who am I to the rest of you grandkids? The Wendy's twitter account? Is that still a thing? What the fuck is happening. Why aren't I treated with human decency as other yandere writers? Where did I fuck up? Is it because I treat you guys as friends? Fucking tell me. Don't give me advice. Tell me where I went wrong and just that.

I will tell you my biggest fucking insecurity since childhood that I don't bring up often: I don't think I'm a "complete" human. Not some fucked up scifi unbelievable bullshit but I feel like there's always something MISSING— like it's harder for me to understand social cues than other people— like it's harder for me to process my own emotions. I won't go into details, maybe it's something undiagnosed- but that's why since day 1 I call myself a gremlin. I don't even tell you guys much about this because I want this blog to be a creative writing space where I can feel safe. But where did that led me.

So to be treated like some haha funni machine even when I'm being genuine hurts so much. It hurts. And the worst part is this is 100% my fault. And now I have to open up about this to get it to people's head.

Alright

That's all.

Here's your cup of ansy-tea.

I promise you won't hear from me more than you have to. I'll do my best to guarantee the rest of the posts are Diluc and writings.

I hope you all have a wonderful day!!! If you read this till the end, thank you. I appreciate you a ton! It means a lot to me. And genuinely please don't give me some advice. I already received plenty and finally listened to years of persuasion to just have this "villain arc". If you gave me one, I'll just assume you skimmed through everything and it'll make me feel even worse. Thanks!

Seriously. Tumblr isn't my only life. This is just one of my many problems (though it's mostly money lol). Don't make it seem like it is.

The place we’ve been living in is kicking us out on a short notice of 3 days (they previously gave us a month and now they suddenly changed their minds, and there’s nothing we can do because we’re just ukrainian refugees at their mercy) so I’ll be taking emergency commissions so we can pay for the lease/rent !!

If you’re interested, DM me or email me at portalmonsterrr@gmail.com

Thanks! ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

𝐀 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

syp. an unfortunate victim, captured and enslaved by the diciples of the abundance, your existence reducing to an experimentation, imbued with the supposed potentiality of harnessing the abilities of an aeon; releasing your tethered state out into luofu's civilization that endagers one of the xianzhou alliance's grand hexafleets.

cw. honkai impact 3rd inspired, multiple povs, very long read, aeon/herrscher!reader, takes place after xianzhou arc, canon interactions, belittlement, negative surroundings, depression, mental health, war, death, suggestive, heavy fighting, gore, possession, trauma

LIs. jing yuan, welt yang, aeons(?)

i. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈 - Does it scare you?

The Astral Express had encountered your unstable state that reigned the bloodied fields of Cloudford, fighting against two powerful factions along with a phantom presence that invaded your mind and whole being.

ii. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈 - The Withering of the Aster

Another problem arises for the subjects of Akivili, while we dive into a flashback of you came to be in the present.

iii. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - Descendance and Ascension

The Mara Eruption of 60XX commences in the hands of the Arbiter General, as past wars, forgotten chaos, and the rebirth of an old god grasps the touch of life once more, all through you.

iv. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐕 - The Draught

TBA

v. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕 - Charybdis

TBA

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍

☰ RETURN TO MAIN MENU

Banner and dividers created by me. Do not copy, translate or post my work to other platforms/websites/apps.

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n! reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: i js wanna say fck SCHOOL FOR GIVING ME 6 PROJECTS DUE TOMORROW. THIS FIC IS MEH BUT TRUST IT GETS BETTER (hopefully…)

Veritas Ratio is a lonely man. Only having his books and his sculptures as friends— regarding the rest as no use for him.

Up till now, you've been nothing more than the pest who waves hi at him every morning, bringing him coffee every now and then. You must be scheming something, there's no way someone could ever be this nice without asking for a favour.

“Dr ratio!”

The alabaster headed man stared at you, even with that stone head of his, you can clearly feel his piercing gaze.

“What is it?”

Veritas groans in annoyance, what is it again?

Lately, you've been struggling to teach this subject. As well-versed you were in topics such as literature, history and the likes, it was true that you were above average with maths.

“I've been tutoring this kid after classes and well…”

He doesn't move, just listening intently.

“He's been asking about quantum mechanics and I don't know much about the topic so…”

“so?”

so?

“I was wondering if you can teach me it.”

God damn it, he has better things to do.

“Then read a book about it”

His eyes were trained on your figure as he saw you tense, just why him of all people?

“Dr ratio, just this once. I just need to learn the basics once and I won't bother you again!”

He closed his codex and turned the other way, ready to walk away from conversation.

“I have better things to do than humouring your foolish antics—”

“Please.”

Your hands fidget nervously as he paused before looking back at you, pondering whether to do you a favour.

“I'll think about it.”

By the time you blinked, he was gone.

The next day passed, you were at his door, clutching your teaching materials as you waited for veritas’ class to end.

He scrunched nose as annoyance rose in him like a tide, he could see you waiting at the window and checking the time every now and then.

“That ends our discussion for today.”

His voice echoing on the walls as the bell rang, his students already out the door.

After a good 10 minutes, most of the students were out the door as he was left alone with himself (+ those eyes of yours that never seem to leave him alone)

“It's rude to stare.”

His comment caught you off guard, the corners of your lips twitching nervously as you hid behind the wall again— shit, he caught you staring…

Veritas let out a sigh before cleaning his desk of the sparse test papers he's collected last week.

A moment of silence passed before you mustered up the courage to enter the spacious room, it was… quiet to say the least.

“Dr. Ratio—”

“I'll tutor you but with one condition.”

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you nervously anticipated what he's about to say. (Did I mention he paused to rile you up?)

“You,”

A click on his cabinet was heard before he turned at your direction to get a better look at you.

“That I won't have to tutor you again next time, just this once”

It was odd, a teacher asking for tutoring from a fellow teacher? It wasn't uncommon but it certainly irked him of the thought. You could just read a book about it but you'd rather take his precious hours in his day for something you could do yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“whew… I thought you were going to refuse.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head no, gripping your satchel tightly.

“Tomorrow at the faculty room after classes—”

When you blinked, he was already behind you. Was he a magician or something?!?

“—Don't be late.”

Then, the door closed abruptly, now it was only you in the room.

…

The next day, classes already ended and you cleaned up your desk to get to the faculty room.

As you slid the door open, he was already waiting for you.

“What're you doing?”

Veritas moved another chess piece on the board, eating the white team's queen.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

Why can't he just be nice for once?

“Whatever, so… do we start reviewing?”

You pulled the chair opposite to his and sat down. He didn't reply, only tapping his feet.

“Your turn.”

“Do I just?—”

“Just move a piece.”

Fine then. There were barely any pieces left on the board, leaving you with no other choice as you hid your king at the corner of the board.

“Checkmate.”

There was a visible annoyance on your face, making veritas chuckle.

“Seriously? When are you going to start tutoring me? I came here to learn something— not some stupid chess game”

“First of all, chess isn't stupid”

Before you knew it, veritas flicked your forehead.

“Second of all, learn patience.”

“ow!”

Veritas hid away the board and grabbed all the books needed, pulling out some notes and highlighters for you.

“Read”

The man in front of you flipped the pages and pointed at the highlighted paragraph for you. Was he making you read out loud? Were you 10 or something?

“Do I really have to?”

His fingers tapped aggressively on the board, his patience was thinning and you weren't even past the first page yet.

“Just do it.”

…

Who could've guessed two hours later you would be in tears, notes sprawled all over the table and veritas shouting at you.

“Idiot.”

He commented on your work before rewriting the entire thing for you and repeating it again.

“God dammit we're not even past the 20th page yet you're here crying like a child.”

Sniffles echoed in the room, only his lamp illuminating the room. You checked your phone and it was already 8 pm.

“Now read.”

“Q-quantum mechanics…”

He clenched his jaw, raising his voice at you before you could continue.

“You imbecile, not that— can't you read?!? Its wave function!”

“Whatever!”

Before he could react, you stood up, bag already in hand and walking away.

“We're not done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Just like that, you were gone.

…

Despite you running off yesterday… There you were sitting on that same chair with the alabaster head man right in front of you.

“Again?”

You bit your lip nervously before tightening the grip on your pen.

“Yeah.”

Veritas nodded as he placed down his codex and walked to the sprawled shelves at his desk, his fingers tracing over the books (those books were rotting on those shelves, too dusty he had to wipe them)

“here.”

He took the book off the shelf and thrusted it into your hands.

‘The nonlinear schrodinger equation’

“Let's start with the ‘weakly nonlinear dispersion relation’ topic.”

Time flies by as he explains each term to you, giving definition after definition about each equation in front of you.

“Here, page 24.”

He pointed at the first equation but your eyes couldn't leave his stone head.

For an intimidating man, he's getting quite patient with you.

“— and let's compute the coefficients, after that,”

You couldn't stop wondering what he looked like under that stone head. It's hot out here, he must be sweating a tsunami in there. Is he handsome? or maybe he's wearing that stone head because he looks that bad?

“—the quantum mechanical pressure becomes negligible in the ‘semiclassical’ where nabla and—”

He hit your head with a codex, with no hesitation at all.

“ow!”

Oh shit— he must've noticed you staring.

“What were we reviewing?”

uh…

You gulped nervously, looking down at the page, you guys were already at page 26?!?

“0 points.”

He smacked you but with less force, though enough to leave a bruise.

“that hurt…”

“Then listen, don't waste my time.”

Under that alabaster head of his, a small smile formed from the corner of his lips due to the amusing sight before him.

“You're annoying, let's go over the fluid-dynamical form again.”

You weren't that boring after all.

…

You both were already at page 31, which was slow progress (at least to him, he can finish the book in under 3 hours.), yet still progress nonetheless.

“Do you get it now?”

It was already 9:58 pm, shit. You both got carried away…

“Yeah.”

Veritas handed the book over to you and hid away his highlighters.

“Go review at home— you better finish page 40.”

You nod, shoving the book into your satchel and your water bottle.

Today was… fun.

As you walked outside, one foot already out the door, you looked back.

“What?”

“and…”

There was a moment of silence, none of you moving before your voice shook,

“Thank you.”

He didn't say anything back, only putting back his folders in his bag as he removed his attention from you. You shook your head and just walked home.

…

It was the third day of him tutoring you, you were getting quite good.

“And how do you do the hamilton equation?”

There was a weird habit you did, you would bite your pen or sometimes click it nonstop due to stress (which you did now, don't do it too much though, you'll piss off veritas.)

You let out a soft hum before confidently writing the equation, no error in sight.

“And these quantities are called?”

“They're uh… momentas, right?”

“20 points— you're getting good at this.”

Receiving praise from others came by often, but to get one from the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself? You could wish.

Your eyes were glued at the scratch paper, unable to contain your smile; the aeons definitely smiled down on you and blessed you with his attention for today.

He takes note of this, but doesn't comment on that any further, only flipping the pages.

…

The fourth day. It was 2 pm, 3 hours earlier than the usual tutor hours. A new coffee shop opened in the food court at the university, which turned into the new buzz (the old coffee shops were shit.)

The line was long, your legs were about to give up but your students would occasionally suggest this shop, saying it's definitely better than the instant coffee at the teacher's lounge.

After 5 more minutes, it was finally your turn to order.

“Good afternoon! What can I get ya?”

The menu was definitely diverse, candy corn flavoured coffee? That's new.

“I'll take your special cappuccino”

The cheerful cashier jotted down your order, asking for your name then running to the back.

You sat down at some table and took out your laptop, fixing your schedules for this weekend.

“For ___?”

Eh? That was fast. It only took them 3 minutes to make your order despite the heavy line? Impressive.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and snatched the cup from the counter and walked back to your seat.

It tasted funny. Coffee jelly in cappuccino with sprinkles on top? At Least it tasted good.

“And here I was wondering where you are.”

“ack!”

You looked up and saw veritas in front of you, looming over you with his codex behind him after he hit you.

“that hurt…”

He sighed and sat down next to you while you rubbed the bruised area.

“Stop hitting people with your codex damn it!”

“I find it far more interesting to use my codex to get your attention.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the way scoffed, sipping your coffee and typing some requirements on an excel sheet.

“Anyways, why were you looking for me?”

He leaned back on the couch, before responding,

“Nothing, I was just wondering where the idiot was.”

“You little—”

Only a soft sigh left your lips as you continued to type, veritas beside you reading his codex and none of you saying a word.

Though this peaceful moment was short lived as the bell rang, signalling that the two of you had to go back to your respective classes.

Veritas sat up, closing his book.

“It's time for me to go.”

“Oh yeah.”

Veritas was gone in a blink of an eye, what's up with him disappearing so suddenly 24/7?!?

…

5 pm.

You were patiently waiting in the faculty room, what was taking veritas so long?

“You're late”

Veritas rolled his eyes— wait.

His stone head was… was this really the veritas ratio? He had nice purple hair, his eyes, he looked so… beautiful.

No way.

“When are you going to stop staring?”

“Oh— uh.”

You chuckled nervously before forcing a smile as he sat down in front of you.

“Let's continue where we let off.”

The sound of flipping pages reverberated across the room, your eyes locked onto his face. He would occasionally click his tongue at some parts of the book, guiding you through each equation as his face was close to yours; enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“—because its transformation φ is a symmetry and thus preserves the Lagrangian L and the action ,S=∫L”

Veritas ratio leaned closer to you, your hands touching as he got closer,

“Do you get it now?”

You didn't. You were too focused on his face, with every wrinkle of his brows, the tiniest details of his jaw and hell, even his eyes. How could you even focus? With his face inches away from yours? No way. The man right next to you stares at you, tapping his fingers on the mahogany table; he repeated himself.

“I said, do you get it now?”

Like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your last card was to lie but he was smart enough to not fall for that.

“Y-yes”

“Then what were we reviewing just now?”

He rolled his eyes hearing your mind blank out and confused ‘uhhs’ escaped your lips. You flinch from his harsh tone, as the cold stare turned into a glare.

“We should be reviewing the noether theorem, not my face.”

He made you solve equation after equation, his gaze not leaving you once as he crumpled your papers even after one minor mistake, “Idiot”, “Do it again.”, and “Are you really paying attention?” Constantly rang in your ears, you were not sure whether you asked for a tutoring session or a three hour insulting session from the revered professor.

“I'm sorry.”, He sighed at your visible frustration as you apologised through gritted teeth. He started to pity you when you struggled with just the terms at the next lesson. Was this theorem that hard? He dropped his pen and closed the book.

“Let’s end today’s session.”

A look of relief appeared on your face as he said those words, clearly, he’ll give you a break—

“Just read this book instead. It gives a more in-depth explanation”

— or not. He thrusted the book in your hands and put on his alabaster head, making you raise an eyebrow,

“What? You can’t seem to focus without this on”

You laughed an awkward chuckle while sliding the book in your satchel, a small squeak was heard when he stood up and moved his chair at his desk.

“Tomorrow again?”

“Sure.”

…

Veritas tapped his feet aggressively as time past by, you were late by 20 minutes, by now he would've left but for some reason he's feeling nice today that he'll wait for you.

The faculty room door slid open as light footsteps entered the room.

“Sorry ‘m late.”

You smelled different today. That would sound creepy to the average person but despite the tight alabaster sculpture that covers his face, he could smell your perfume and that he's gotten used to your scent by now.

“Did you wear something new?”

“Come again?”

He took one glance at you and shook his head and shifted his attention to the complex arithmetics on his codex.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

It was hard to ignore you as he tried to mute your voice but he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a quick glance at you.

“I meant your perfume, idiot.”

“No need to be rude.” you scoffed and placed down your bag at your desk.

He finds himself eager for a response as your right hand shuffled in your bag looking for the perfume bottle,

“I just tried something new.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table to take a closer look at the bottle, inspecting it with a skeptical look one he's glad you cannot see through his sculpted head.

“It was a gift from one of our coworkers here”

There was a loud slamming sound that rang in the room when you dropped the materials Veritas made you read, it was a pain highlighting everything.

“From who?”

Why was he suddenly interested? He's not one to ask about anyone's affairs so suddenly, not that he'd care about something so miniscule about you like perfume yet you humour him.

“From Amir, the history prof guy?”

“I see.” For some reason, he finds himself feeling annoyed after hearing who you got it from. Why would you accept a gift from that idiot? He's a far better history professor, definitely? definitely.

Hours passed yet he couldn't concentrate. Not with that foul stench of your new perfume of yours.

Dr. Ratio scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued to guide you through each and every lesson, harsher than usual— you didn't know why.

“Wrong answer, 2 points.”

Veritas smacked your arm with his heavy codex and snatched your answer sheet, crumpling it and tossing it in the bin.

“Do it again.”

This fucker. You were starting to lose your resolve but you do not falter under his scrutinising gaze.

Again and again. Another 30 minutes yet your answers didn't seem ‘perfect’ enough.

Veritas clicked his tongue in annoyance as you failed to answer another simple question again

“Are you even paying attention?”

“If you didn't yell at me every minute I would've”

You continued to write more equations as he rolled his eyes at your reply, his eyes scanned your work and it was okay (atleast to his standards).

His eyes squinted, looking for any mistake but there was none, he gave up.

“50 points”, he spoke in a defeated tone.

“Just 50?”

“0 points then”

“Oh come on.”

It was hell getting tutored by him.

A/N: ITS TWO PARTS COS FUCK TUMBLR AND TOLD ME THERES A WORD LIMIT LOL. THE FULL FIC WAS LIKE 6.4K WORDS OR SHIT DAMN. ITS SO CRINGE ONG IMMA POST PART TWO TMRW GOD. IM LAGG>NG SO NAD RN HELP

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do you feel like a young god?

synopsis ☆ blade wishes that his path had never collided with yours.

content info — smut (minors stay away 😡 i'm warning you), ANGST, fem! reader, regular fic but with a twist on the format. violence at the very end so be aware of that.

word count — 2.1k words.

author's note — this has been in my drafts forever. normally i don't write angst but i was listening to halsey's badlands album & it instantly gave birth to this fic. the entire album is so blade coded that it hurts. anyways this is just 100% pain and smut, there is no comfort. nonetheless i hope you enjoy this drabble and its unplanned christmas theme (i apologize in advance 😓) ALSO i'm working on reqs as we speak i swear

BLADE has never had time to entertain romantic affairs, or even indulge in spontaneous sexual encounters. such matters reeked of the kind of superficial sentimentality that he's long discarded due to its blatant, disgusting lack of appeal. since he’s remembered, all he’s ever really wanted is to taste death, to be enrobed within its earnest invitation and to finally relieve himself of his all-consuming burden. there was no room for anything else—especially something as trivial as fulfilling the human heart’s wishes.

YOU didn't plan to get involved with the agenda of the stellaron hunters, but perhaps your hopes were ultimately futile when your older sister was their very leader. really, what's funny was the fact that even though you two were related by blood, and were raised together, you only shared two traits: a sharp gaze tinted with magenta and the useful gift of perception. otherwise, you might as well have been nameless strangers. you were kind, forgiving, and preferred to heal rather than harm; kafka was the complete opposite, her manicured fingers gleefully stained with scarlet.

BLADE remembers finding himself in an unusual state of confusion when he had first met you. your appearance in itself contrasted against your team members; whereas they wore dark shades of black, purple, and red, you were clad in smooth clothes of pure silver, which didn’t make sense since they would end up dirtied and tainted either way. he remembers disapproving of your very presence because you seemed entirely unfit to fulfill your job—to kill mercilessly and to follow elio's script without an ounce of remorse or hesitation. "you don't belong here," he'd sneered, his vexation only increasing when he saw the docile smile you'd given him in response.

YOU weren't ever truly angered by the blatant acts of disrespect that blade displayed during the earliest stages of your connection. some would argue that you possessed the patience of a saint, and though you wouldn't exactly disprove such a claim, you'd say that it extended far beyond that. there was something you saw behind the scarlet hue of blade's gaze, something that lain dormant behind all the hostility. for a reason unknown, you soon grew the desire to discover it, and to maybe in turn help the man in some way. it didn't matter if a part of your soul had to be sacrificed—you would do it.

BLADE found it all too easy to decline your attempts. it was a continuous, repetitive process, where you’d seek him out and offer a few questions that seemed unassuming at first, and he’d respond by pointing out the obvious holes ruining your facade. he didn’t know why you were suddenly so eager to uncover information about him—or, to “properly acquaint yourself” as you’d innocently described it—but he didn’t care either way because it wasn’t worth trying to. at least those were the words he told himself for the first four months.

YOU managed to break down the weakest parts of blade’s walls by the fifth month. it was slow, and arduous, and yes, a bit frustrating—hearing him curse you out wasn’t really a motivating experience—but ultimately your efforts prevailed in the end. finally, if only a little bit, he opened up to you, and he began giving short but actual responses instead of a mere grunt or a simple click of the tongue. and so he started filling in small snippets about himself. how he found pleasure in the familiarity of a sword. how he despised the way your sister called him ‘bladie.’ how kuding tea was one of his preferred drinks. how he couldn’t remember the last time he dreamt in his slumber.

BLADE was rather astounded by the change in behavior you seemed to have withdrawn from him. at first he denied the reality and brushed off the occurrence as him simply taking the easier route, so that he didn’t continue to waste unnecessary effort on dodging your pesky questions. but here was the truth—he wasn’t lazy, ever. he always did things for a reason, always justified his actions with some kind of logic, no matter how immoral. something strange was happening, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he still tried to maintain a form of apathetic distance. blade convinced himself that things were remaining strictly professional. even as his pale hands somehow found themselves entangled within your soft hair during one stormy night, and even as his chapped lips pressed against yours.

YOU were surprised but not at all unwelcoming of the unorthodox suggestion that blade gave you one day. in a tone that betrayed no emotion, he asked—well, perhaps demanded—that you two enter a sort of arrangement that he called “being each other’s respective stress relief.” in a more straightforward, explicit manner, you two would use each other for physical pleasure whenever needed. that was where the intimacy started, and it was where it ended. with your heart beating a bit more than it should have, you agreed. blade smiled—a small, predatory kind of smile—before engulfing you in a harsh kiss, backing you into the wall as his hand squeezed around your neck.

BLADE relished the sounds that he was able to elicit from you—sweet, pretty little moans, desperate, high-pitched whines, and of course, the breathless mantra of his own name. every ounce of it made him swell with smug pride, and made his cock harden even more. your eyes would shut tightly whenever you felt particularly overwhelmed with pleasure, and of course he’d always force you to open them. after all he needed you to see just how much of a slut you were for him, just how much he’d ruin you with the marks he’d leave all over your skin and the countless orgasms he’d trigger within you. somewhere in the very back of his mind, there was a faint voice that warned him of the territory he was threatening to cross, just barely short of touching the edge. but he ignored it in favor of savoring the depraved sense of exhilaration that electrified his veins, knowing that he was the one corrupting his colleague’s sweet, innocent, naive little sister.

YOU found your heart beating impossibly faster every time your lips met his, every time he quietly snuck into your quarters and whispered things that were only for you to hear. of course it was only inevitable that you fell in love with the man himself. long forgotten was your goal to solely fix him because in a strange, almost twisted way, it was like you were healing yourself with every scorching touch of his fingers, every relentless thrust of his hips. and for better or for worse, it felt like he was starting to care for you against all odds, and you saw it through the littlest of things. how his dull scarlet eyes seemed to brighten just for a second when he saw you, how he started to stay the night after he ravished you, how his fingers traced your beautifully bruised skin with an uncharacteristic gentleness when he thought you were asleep. you loved it, and soon his embrace was the only thing you learned to crave.

BLADE seemed like he was caught in a peculiar trance ever since you two had agreed to the "stress relief" arrangement. it was unimaginable, really—or at least it should have been. not once had he felt such unbridled emotion for a woman, or for any person in general. he detested the sensation at first. hated how vulnerable it made him feel. so, whenever he felt particularly exposed, whenever you smiled at him for too long, he used your body as a distraction. he'd mark your skin as if he was nothing more than a mindless animal, would pin both your wrists above your head as he snarled, hips smacking against yours. the strategy would work for some time, but the moment he saw you fall into a peaceful slumber—exhausted from all the rigorous activity—the emotions would come rushing at him again, full force. soon there was a voice at the back of his mind, whispering of how he was falling into a trap. one that he had arrogantly, unknowingly set for himself.

YOU started to feel a shift in blade's behavior, noticing how he became more distant as the days passed. your conversations shortened and shortened until they became almost reminiscent of the ones you'd have at the beginning of your relationship. your nightly sessions dwindled in frequency, eventually reaching the point where he barely even knocked on your door at all. all of it drove you to the brink of insanity, worry consuming every ounce of your being until you couldn't handle it anymore. "what the hell?" you had hissed, pulling the man aside once silver wolf and your sister had retreated to their quarters for the night. "why won't you talk to me, blade? what did i do?" but even that didn't work. all he did was scoff and push past your figure, shaking off your grip when you reached out for him. the next day, you were so distraught that, in a fit of desperation, you asked your sister for help. but the only thing you received was a look of warped pity and an obscure comment. "once the candle burns out, the room grows dark again." kafka murmured.

BLADE couldn't handle any of it anymore, his seemingly endless endurance having reached past its limit. he hated the way you looked at him in confusion and anger, and most of all, betrayal, as if he had stabbed you in the back. he might as well have. but above that, he hated the way you reminded him of his curse's weight. in another life, he had thought of immortality as a gift—a gleaming trophy awarded only to those who had gone above and beyond to prove their superiority. how foolish he had been. immortality was a burden, its pressure so insurmountable that it felt heavier than holding up the sky itself. from the very beginning, he'd known that being immortal meant that he'd have to watch the people around him fall prey to death's embrace, but somehow that simple fact evaded his mind when he—it still pains him to admit this—developed feelings for you. he wasn't quite sure if what he felt was love in its raw form, but he was pretty damn certain that it was the closest he was going to ever get. because as selfishly and disgustingly sentimental as it was, the last thing he wanted was to see you wither with age, until you were nothing more than another corpse. and so with a shaky breath, and an unstable heart, he decided to handle the situation in the only way he knew how to.

the truth was that YOU truly were one of the most perceptive people out there, even as heartbreak dulled your senses. so you heard the muted footsteps and saw the swiftly approaching shadow. you knew who it was, even without sparing a glance. still, you remained motionless, your movements almost painfully frozen as your eyes slid shut. tears silently rolled down your face, staining your skin even before the sword pierced through your chest. crimson seeped through your silver blouse like ink on a blank canvas. you fell to the ground, exhaling unshakily, unrivaled pain blooming within every inch of your body. you felt the strength being drained from your spirit, but you mustered the will to meet blade's scarlet gaze. "guess i should have expected this, huh?" you murmur, fingers moving to feel where he'd stabbed you. silently, blade crouched down to your level, his expression unreadable. you reached for his hand, neither of you flinching when his skin became stained with your blood.

"all of this was a mistake," BLADE muttered, tone betraying not even an ounce of emotion. still, he kept his fingers intertwined with yours, and that action alone was enough. "my fate is already determined, but you sealed your own the second you approached me." the wind was cold and unforgiving around the two of you, its invisible talons recklessly combing through the man's ebony strands of hair. but blade paid it no mind, not even when a particularly harsh gust threatened to overwhelm your last words. and as time would tell, those were the very words that would haunt him in the future.

"i'd seal my fate over and over if it meant that i'd see you happy again." you whispered, and for once you failed to notice one crucial detail.

for the first and last time, blade's vision grew blurry from his tears.