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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot.

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER.

d a m n s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg.

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.”

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

#dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing 79 #nightwing 79 spoilers #dc #dick grayson meta #nightwing meta #nightwing 79 meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

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picwew · 3 years ago

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SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

#picrew #male ocs #demon ocs

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aprilsrant · 4 years ago

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Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together.

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher.

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not?

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much!

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances.

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s.

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something.

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered.

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.”

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings?

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore.

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet.

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to.

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework.

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body.

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting.

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured.

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser?

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—.

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor, joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm.

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them.

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement.

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom.

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind.

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader #slytherin #gryffindor #slytherin!reader #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood oneshot #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x slytherin!reader #hp imagine #hp fanfic

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fraidy-farfelle · 3 years ago

Text

This is my attempt at the Fluff ABCs for Frankie the Undead. Please be gentle with criticism because I cry easily. I’ve taken some ideas from @lovestruck-lasagna.

Taglist: @writingfromthetomb @beebubb

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your dry sense of humor. It perfectly matches his insults and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make you laugh. He just says what he’s thinking and you laugh and agree.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Frankie appreciates a good smile, and for many reasons. He learned to read smiles (fake vs real) early on and uses it to gauge people, so he pays particular attention by default. He’s a sucker for cute dimples, and loves the way your nose scrunches and your eyes close.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves late at night when you share the couch and he can read a good book, sip on some whiskey, or puff on a cigar. He really doesn’t care what you’re doing, he can tune out the TV or you prattling on about your day and make comments to show he’s listening. Put your feet in his lap, lay on top of him, make yourselves mummies in blankets, so long as he can reach his glass he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Stay in date nights are his favorite. He doesn’t really like to “share” your attention. He likes to either cook a meal together or order takeout and watch a movie. Particularly black and white gangster ones, or older horror films. Likes to tease you if you get scared and grab onto him. He’ll pat your head and say something like “oh there there, don’t be scared! I won’t let the big, bad monster getcha!” (Like your neighbor isn’t a 7 ft tall children murdering clown demon) If you go out, he prefers less crowded places outdoors.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s a spitfire and he knows it. He tends to explode and then after a few minutes apologizes gruffly and explains himself. “WHY WERE YA OUT UNTIL MIDNIGHT, THATS SUCH A STUPID THING TO DO!” “Sorry, Frankie.” “…… ugh just, please get home earlier from now on. It’s dangerous and I worry about you.” Definitely doesn’t hug you close so you don’t see the relief and worry on his face. Nope!

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He misses Amy desperately. He wants a little girl in his life again, although he’ll never ever admit it. He’s hesitant to make relationships because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. But, if you go out with him to the living world, you’ll catch him staring longingly at parents and daughters when he thinks you’re not looking. If you ask him what he’s looking at, he’ll shake his head and spit out a line about children being obnoxious but you can tell he’s blowing smoke.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

If the underworld wasn’t so dangerous, he’d love to drape you in the finest silks with diamonds and rubies dripping off of you. However he doesn’t want you to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So, he settles for things you don’t really see in public. He also doesn’t like to be found out about it. Your gas tank is filled, the bill you were worried about has mysteriously been paid, your favorite ice cream is in your freezer when you know you ate the last of it yesterday, and hey, didn’t you spend this $20? Why is it in your wallet? If you ever bring it up he’ll just shrug and say “How strange!”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He’s torn about PDA because he doesn’t want you to become a target because you’re associated with him, and people stare at him enough because of his appearance. But on the other hand, he wants to show the world that someone as worthless as him (don’t say that we love you Frankie) has such an amazing person that loves him. Will absolutely grab you and passionately make out with you with one hand on your ass and the other flipping the bird to the cheeky bastard that told the broad beside him to watch out for the zombie.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Panic. Sheer panic. He’s so afraid to lose you, any injury is serious and cause for alarm.

Frankie:*bursting into a hospital lobby, screaming to be taken to f/n l/n immediately**running in the opposite direction the nurse pointed in panic**bursts into exam room 30 seconds later* “Y/N!!!!! I came as soon as I got the message, WHATS WRONG!!!”

You: *sitting on the table, reading phone* “Oh, I have a sprained ankle and they don’t want me to drive so can you give me a ride?”

Frankie:*slowly blinking* “Uh, yeah no problem…”

You: “lemme guess, you heard my name and hospital in the same sentence and ignored everything else.”

Frankie:*hanging his head* “go wait in the car, I’ll go apologize….”

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Not actual jokes, but he loves to sit with you and insult people. He’s an incredibly sweet person to you, but no one else. (Except service people, like nurses and waitresses. Just the general public) he doesn’t think pranks are funny or practical, which is one of the many reasons he and LJ butt heads. If LJ or Will prank you or him, he’s raising hell.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Love kissing your lips. He’s actually really self conscious about his mouth stitches and constantly frets they feel weird to you. Neck kisses are another favorite and are extremely private to him. He also likes to hold the back of your hand against his lips and tell you what he’s thinking, no matter how mundane. Kiss his stitches. Please. Just do it.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He has trouble saying it to your face. He’ll whisper it to you when he thinks you’re sleeping, and he’s been known to leave little notes around for you to find. He thinks protecting you is the best way to show he cares.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The day you finally broke down and told him you loved him. He knew as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw your smile his goose was cooked. He was very abrasive and hoping against hope that you’d leave him be. He knew you deserved better. He was so afraid to build a relationship and love again, he wanted to distance himself and if he was an asshole to you, it would be justified and you’d do it on your own. What he didn’t expect is for you to be so kind to him. Upon your initial meeting, he had been a little harsh, but helped you (if there’s enough interest I’ll do a fic about it) and so when he subsequently was a jerk to you, you were curious and determined to find out what he was hiding. He finally had been mean enough to make you cry. He had never regretted something he did before. He immediately wanted to cradle you to him and beg your forgiveness. Normally when he insulted you, you’d have a snarky retort in reply. But not this time. You fell to your knees and clung to his legs and demanded to know why he treated you so poorly and proclaimed your love for him. It was probably by accident and you were so distraught you didn’t even know it flew from your mouth, but hearing it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you. Hearing that you loved someone like him made him so happy, he knew he’d treasure the memory forever

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you. Period.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

What ISNT odd about this man?! A cute one is he always winks with his green eye.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I HC that he was born in the 30’s, so he calls you “doll” a lot but only in private. He uses your name otherwise so it’s not as obvious to people watching you’re together. He will absolutely refer to you as “the dame” to others. The equivalent of “the boss” or “old lady.” “William! The Dame is trying to take a nap, so shut up or I’ll shoot you!” You call him stitches to tease him in private and are the only person allowed to do so.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Either taking naps or couch potato time. Also, low key likes to cook with you. He can’t cook for shit, but likes to “help” by handing you things or chopping things for you. Is a super good taste tester, self appointed.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Stitches by Shawn Mendez (PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!)

We don’t have to Dance by Andy Black (referring to how he can’t really show you affection in public but he loves you)

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s open about himself and what he’s thinking, and will always take what you say into consideration. He doesn’t like to keep things from you, but he does omit some detail about his jobs if you ask about them. He just feels like you don’t need to be stressed about it.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

LJ picked up on Frankie’s fondness of you almost instantly. He and Will decided to do what they could to get you together in the interest of making Frankie less of a grouch. If it hadn’t been for them insisting that he was good guy to you, you probably WOULD have let Frankie’s prickly nature drive you away. It took a year or so for you to break down.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) A powder keg of insults, foul language, and bullets. Has actually never called you a name outright, and would absolutely never physically hurt you. When he was deliberately being rude to you, he’d insult your actions rather than you. “Stop acting like a dumb broad!” Vs calling you a bitch to your face. He usually calms down quickly, and is hardly ever angry at you, only when you put yourself in danger.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He likes that he’s scary and tough looking so that when you’re with him, other men scatter pretty fast. Has had many occasions where he stepped away and someone came to flirt with you and he came back and had the pleasure of scaring them.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

You are not allowed to do anything dangerous, ever! Will teach you how to use a gun and how to counter things like chokeholds, so you’re less vulnerable. Will absolutely lose his mind if he learns you’ve put yourself at risk. He will shoot someone so fast for you. Takes every person as a threat to you and will pick fights with somebody that accidentally bumped into you. Do NOT test this man.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

You are an open book to him. He’s learned to read people well, and he takes his time studying you. Can tell if you’re getting sick before you can. More than once he’s handed you a bottle of Tylenol, leaving you bewildered, and shrugged and said to take them because you’ll have a headache in a few minutes. He can pick up on your emotions easily and has learned what to do to handle them.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Honestly, marriage isn’t that important to him. He’s not opposed to the idea at all, but like you’ve been together for this long, you love each other, is it really necessary? You’d have to tell him you want to be officially married. He’ll buy you a ring, to show that you’re taken, if nothing else, but he’ll wear his around his neck under his tie so it’s not obvious he’s attached to anyone to discourage his rivals using you to get to him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

The smell of your perfume. Holding you in his arms and taking deep breaths makes all of his troubles go away.

#frankie the undead #frankie creeps #creepypasta

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darthmaulification · 3 years ago

Note

15 with Maul for the Angst Prompts? 🥺

A/N: dropping this at nearly midnight, but i’ve finished it and i’m proud of it so here’s a late night snack. 😤

also, the song that inspired this one was hard feelings by lorde (also technically loveless, which is the 2nd part of this particular audio, but mostly hard feelings) and i do use a lyric from it in my story. 😊

thank you for requesting the prompt, and i hope you enjoy!! 💗

prompt: 15. "i think we'd be better off alone."

content: angst (but a tad more mild), gn!reader, a break up yet again, but also more mutual, like two people collide to share just enough of a relationship that it hurts when they part, but also the relationship is implied to be Toxic, an embarrassing amount of figurative language, slice of life type deal going on here

word count: 1,504

You met Maul when the weather was good. The vast sky had been pulled taut in all directions— a cerulean blue overwhelming in its vibrancy. Most days nothing had broken up the azure, cloudless and thus without rain, but the sun, which followed it’s charted course day in and day out dutifully, bringing with it a near boiling heat.

When you met Maul, the sun had been sitting in it’s throne like a king, at the very peak of the crest it would slope down as hours ticked by. It shone so brightly that it bathed everything, exciting the flowers that rose to meet it and angering your fellow farmers who complained that the intensity was too much for the infant crops. It obscured, only for a moment, when Maul’s ship had passed beneath it.

He caught everyone’s attention, even yours, but only you caught his.

He approached you amidst the wavering haze above flat ground, that tricks the eye into thinking it’s there. You thought he was part of the mirage, how could you not? The strange visitor from his silver ship, his skin a flaming red and tattooed, wearing black robes far too heavy and dark for your planet. You almost had yourself convinced until he closed the distance between the both of you so hastily that it was like he fully intended to be standing amongst the crops alongside you all along.

(Later, Maul would tell you that he had only stopped for fuel, but had caught sight of you in the fields, angelic in your white linens.)

“Hello.” He had said, his voice like the thick purr of a Loth cat and his gaze the molten glaze of honey. He smiled, and his teeth were pitch black and glossy.

(A dye, he would also tell you later.)

“Hello.” You had replied politely, and when he extended his hand to shake yours, you had marveled at how his black-decorated, crimson skin felt like the heat surrounding you, only a living warmth instead. Maul then exchanged his name along with a suave flirt, and you gave him your name as well, gifting him with a blush on your cheeks. That’s when you learned he was bold and did everything with confidence.

The interest only grew from there, of course.

All the while, the sun sat stiff and blistering in the blue, blue sky and the air was dreadfully torrid, made even more unbearable by the lack of a breeze, but there were no shadows in sight, not while you and Maul talked, or when he offered you a drink, or when he walked you to his ship with his arm in yours, or when you both laughed and smiled and drank and swapped stories and even cuddled.

All in all, a good sign. A very good sign.

Until it wasn’t.

Maybe it was the lack of wind.

You learned very quickly that Maul was not only the charming, intelligent, if not hot-headed and cocky, Zabrak that you had made him out to be. You cottoned on very quickly and abruptly to his aggression, his brutal temper that would flare at the slightest provocation to the thin thread it hung from. Maul demonstrated to you, on multiple occasions, his wrath, and his willingness to kill instead of maim, or otherwise show mercy on his selected enemy. It bothers you as much now as it did then, and you would consider his anger a billowing red flag.

But at the time he was so new to you that you forgave his outbursts and strokes of cruelty because you had thought that since people could change, Maul surely could as well. And to be fair, you did what you could, successfully quelled his fury more often than not. But it was still hard to want to be close to a man who burned so intensely at his core that it hurt to be near.

And that made the dry season even hotter. For better, and for worse.

(Mostly worse.)

As weeks passed with Maul, and the summer reached it’s fever pitch, you and Maul had softened up enough to each other that you shared intimacy and closely-held secrets, often both under the delicate watch of the moon, when the night brought with it security and a tender break in the heat. Nighttime was always easier, you realize now, when there was no pressure from wandering third parties from the village, or duties to attend, or the sun to make you squint.

It made you realize just how difficult daytime could be, how consumed those hours were by work and people, how busy it all was. It made you loathe the dawn, wanting to keep the star-dappled midnight sky for as long as possible because that’s when you didn’t toil away in the fields, and when Maul was yours and only yours, and when you didn’t have to worry about his temper igniting, or the switch of his lightsaber, or the pain he’d inflict, or the crimes he’d—

Thinking of it now, your only good memories with Maul took place during nighttime.

Except one. The last memory you have of him.

You had been drained and tired by the oppressive heat that the sun had wrought during the day, and the almost constant pleading with Maul not to slice down any more of your fellow villagers that were terrified of him. You were drained by the effort of dousing his fire, the glares of your once friendly neighbors who’d believed you betrayed by picking Maul over them, and of course the heat made you sweat the life from you.

And of course, it was that night when the darkness didn’t quell the oven-like heat suffocating you.

You and Maul argued. It was venomous, spiteful, hateful�� but you won’t dwell on it, it doesn’t mean much anymore anyways, besides the last few words you spat at one another.

“You are an ungrateful, pathetic bitch!” Maul had roared at you, his lips pulled back in a snarl and nothing but contempt in his eyes. It had felt like a slap in the face at the time, but now when you think of that moment in all it’s infamy, you only sigh and shake your head. Maul only ever knew cruelty, how was he to act without it?

“And you are evil!” You had screamed back like some wild animal howling, sobbing so hard it sounded like shrieking. Maul only laughed, humorless and mean, and he cocked his head, palm flitting to rest on the hilt of the lightsaber that you knew could flash it’s fear-inducing red at the press of a button.

“Have you just noticed?” Maul had cooed, and that was the first time you had ever been scared of him.

“I want you out of my home, my life. I think we’d be better off alone.” How you managed to say that to him when you had been so stiff with icy dread and a wavering voice, you still don’t know.

Apparently though, it may have been the heat that hammered the final nail into the coffin because Maul left, bitterly throwing you one last insult by telling you that being in your house was like choking on magma. You didn’t say anything back, not while the fear still gripped you by the throat, but once he was gone fully that’s when you cursed his name, his bloodline, his everything. You let yourself get as angry as him in the privacy of your home, for as long as your body allowed it, and until you were shaking and raw.

And despite everything and yourself, and how much you knew he didn’t deserve that hypothetical satisfaction, you wept. But strangely, and a bit curiously, it felt more like the relief of the dry season’s long-awaited rain, not the heartbreak of the love, if any had really been there, lost.

It was comforting.

Months later, when Maul is long gone and the wistfully childish part of you daydreams, you think of all the possibilities that could have been, had the heat not been so sweltering. Maybe, in some other reality, a different timeline where different choices were made, you and Maul met when it was raining. Maybe then it could have worked out, if everything had been dampened, simpler... more cold.

But the sun shines bright, sucks all the moisture from the ground and leaves plants wilting and the freshwater low, and it means you are once again sweating in the middle of a crop field tending to the struggling new shoots.

You sigh, a long exhale from your nose, and you wipe the gathered droplets from your brow. The sun rays beam down, infinite and unforgiving, until you walk to the canopy of a tree, to the shade where they can’t touch you. The semi-coolness dimples the skin of your arms with goosebumps, and the drop in temperature is a welcome change.

You sigh again.

I think it’s time to let go of this endless summer afternoon.

#star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #darth maul #writing prompts #angst prompts #anon ask #anon #orion answers

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

Text

Provocateur, Prologue

[Read on AO3]

Written for @krispy-kream in honor of her birthday. Many years ago, back when I first joined fandom, I came up with the idea for an Obi Works For Izana AU, and both Sharon and I ended up writing small pieces of a much larger whole. And now FINALLY...I’m actually writing the very beginning 🤣

When it comes down to it, in terms of area and amenities, the royal dungeons has some of his last few flats beats.

There’s light, for one. He’s never liked basement apartments-- he’d take a stifling attic room over a place with only one exit any day-- but the windows here are high up on the wall, enough that he can watch the sun paint his cell floor as the hours pass. They’re ground level, at least by the foot traffic outside of ‘em, and with how loud these guards gossip, he’ll know whose girlfriends are pregnant and who’s nursing a nasty boil by shift change. Just like sitting in a tavern for a few hours, only with less ale.

There’s a cot too, straw-stuffed and a little too soft, with a blanket that doesn’t even itch. Seems like it might be warm too, for when the nights get cold. Not that he has an intention of testing out that particular hunch.

The guard down the hall is decent in the way authority figures never are; when he calls out to ask where his piss bucket is, the man-- boy? It’s hard to tell beneath those helmets-- ushers him down a hall to a water closet, and when he pops out, reminds him to take care to wash his hands. He’s prompt about mealtime too; when supper comes, the man says to expect three square and leaves him with with a dinner that would put most publicans to shame.

All in all, this isn’t the worst trouble he’s gotten himself into. Worlds better than that stint he’d had in Eurikenna’s gaol. Or that night in Port City.

Still, he’s got no plans to linger. No point in sticking around for a punishment when he's got no interest in redemption. But he’s got a prince to wait for.

Oh, His Highness might say he’s above getting his hands dirty, might look down that noble nose at a man like him who makes his living in trade, but he’d seen his look. Not the first, when his little mistress was watching, all puffed cheeks and disapproving brow, but the second, that glance over his shoulder as the Big Man frogmarched a dirty rat down into the dungeons.

That one was a man who had found the right tool for the job. Hands don’t stay clean without gloves to cover them, especially if they mean to hold a mistress who collects trouble like some ladies collect hairpins. If he wants to keep his side piece quiet, it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have to make a statement. And nothing says don’t touch what’s mine like a few accidents. All he has to do is wait out a royal conscience.

The light fades as he waits, just the last stretch of dusky light yawning on the sill. It’s almost time for all good little princes to be in bed, but this one-- this one will be working instead. The hand that grabbed him had been stained with ink and calluses both; the kind of man who longed for action but was stuck behind a desk. He’ll be up late, managing men and supplies miles away on paper, but in his head--

Oh, in his head, he’ll be thinking about the man he’s left to rot in the dungeons. The one that might be just the right fit for what he needs, for the jobs he can’t give that giant or the pretty girl at his side. It’s the sort of idea that’ll eat at him when the lamps are low and the night is quiet, and oh, how a conscience can gnaw when there’s no more work to feed it. There’s a reason he’s never idle. Not usually, at least.

He casts a long glance down the silent hall; the guard sits at his table, log book spread in front of him, another smaller one laid atop. A novel, by the slack-jawed look that’s slapped across his face. In Eurikenna, his reputation had preceded him, and they’d bound him hand and foot, bolting his wrists to the wall and his feet to the bench. Viande had put him in a cell with a single window and stone on all sides, his only escape leading into a moat rumored to be prowled by sharks.

Here he has a single guard and bars he could probably squeeze through if he skipped a meal or two. It’s insulting to be so underestimated-- or it would be, if he wasn’t already planning to stay. He’s paid out his room at the inn for a week; a few days to enjoy the impeccable food and passable mattress he’s got here won’t hurt-- just as long as he makes it back before the innkeep tosses all his worldly goods in the gutter. And if he does need to make a quick escape--

Well, it’s hardly the first time he’s slipped the noose. But it won’t come to that. Younger Highness is on the hook.

The door to the dungeon clanks open; it’s a softer sound, barely loud enough for him to hear, but he hasn’t made a name for himself by being the sort of person who only hears what he ought. The guard’s gone-- book too-- and his hand itches to have something that ends with a point in it. He should have known, this was all too easy.

A shrouded figure sweeps through the threshold, prowling with the easy confidence only men born to power possessed-- or a professional. His hands flexed, too empty. He’s a loose end, an embarrassing stain on a proud man’s reputation, and there’s only one thing to do with that-- rub it out.

“You’re not the prince,” he says, keeping his voice even, maybe a bit petulant. Boldness wins a bluff; all he needs is time. Just a second, a hesitation--

Which he gets; the figure’s boots scuffing to a stop. Its head cocks, curious. “Is that so?”

It’s a man’s voice, higher than he expects, but resonant. The sort that people listen to when they’re not looking for a way out. The sort that won’t care for a man turning his back on it.

“You’re too tall.” He saunters to his cot, the mattress sinking under his weight. Not quite the attitude he’d been hoping for, but close enough. Gives him enough time to realize his cloaked friend isn’t talking-- no, instead he catches the barest tremble of cloth before a gloved hand tugs it smooth.

“How...astute,” the man hums, a strange lift kicking that first vowel before he smooths that out too. Everything about this man is slick, from the shine of his boots to the way he says, “That must be the observational skills that tempted even the marquis to hire you.”

His grin flicks into a grimace, but habit wipes that all clean before he says, “I wasn’t hired by anyone. Just wanted to...advertise my skills. In case anyone with a fat wallet found themselves needing a problem taken care of.”

Another pause, this one heavier. “And this girl seemed like a likely target?”

“A commoner nosing around a prince?” A laugh huffs out of him. “What about that isn’t a problem? At least when it’s a lady, she doesn’t have pockets that need filling, but some little herbalist girl? There’s a long way between lady slippers and slippers for a lady. And not everyone wants to kiss hems to get a mistress in their pocket.”

Not when it’s just as like to be covered in mud. If there’s one thing he’s learned about these bluebloods, it’s that they only suck up, not down.

The shroud shifts, arms folding across a chest too slender to be called broad, and shoulders too wide to be scrawny. Lithe, perhaps, the perfect size to slip through a man’s guard.

“The job is over, you know.” Boot heels clack as the man draws closer, just enough to see a defined chin beneath the shadows of his hood. “There’s no need for all this cloak and dagger. Haruka has already confessed to the crown that he was the one to hire you.”

His fingers flex behind his head, longing for something besides bristle to cross his palms. “Don’t know why he’s going through all the trouble. I don’t know him.”

This isn’t his first interrogation, but it’s certainly the slowest. The man stands silently outside the bars, a single finger lying along his diamond-cut jawline. No questions, no speculation, just a shadow staring out of a hood, observing. This must be what it’s like to be boiled alive; put in the pot when it’s barely a simmer, the heat raising so gradually that it’s not until his chest is near bursting to speak, to fill the silence, that he knows he’s been cooked.

“What would you have done?” the man says, finally. “If you had your way with the girl.”

The girl who, in the face of danger, tore an arrow from the wall rather than run. “Nothing permanent.”

What little he can see of the shroud’s mouth curves. “How very vague. So many unpleasant things only take a moment.”

“The job was to scare her off,” he admits, wondering why his belly quivered in his gut. There’s bars between them, and his hands are faster than any nob’s, no matter how good the costume. But still, his muscles lay coiled against his bones, ready to strike. “Seduce her, if she seemed...amenable. Bribe her if she didn’t.”

“And what then?” It’s a quicker response than he expects, but the man isn’t agitated-- far from it, he’s never seemed calmer. “If the girl proved impervious to your more...gentle measures.”

There’s a question in that, one the shroud won’t voice. But he hears it, loud in his ears as a bell’s gong.

“I’ve killed before,” he says, each word on thin ice. “And I still sleep at night.” Barely. “I could have done it again.”

“But would you?”

For once, he hesitates. Imagines looking into those bright eyes, the ones that flamed so fiercely in defiance, and with the flick of a wrist, snuffing them out.

“It’d be a waste.” His hands tremble where they cradle his head, a command he hasn’t given them. This is the last thing he needs right now, losing control. “That girl’s got a lot of pluck. And if rumors around the pharmacy are right, a lot of brains too. Besides, bodies make more talk than bribes.”

“That they do.” There’s a lilt to those words, almost amused. “You know, you called it a job. Implying that you received compensation for your services.”

It’s a sting to realize he’s slipped. “Doesn’t mean it was the marquis.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” the man agrees, and if this room weren’t so dark, if this conversation wasn’t so serious-- well, he’d be tempted to say this guy is laughing at him. “Do you have a name?”

He turns to him real slow-like, one utterly dubious brow arched toward the guard’s register. “You want me to believe you can’t read?”

That shadow of a mouth lifts again. “Am I to believe a man of your skill gave your birth name to the royal guard?”

His mouth cocks into a grin. “You must if you think I’m gonna give it to you.”

The man comes closer still, one gloved hand wrapping around his bars. He’s visible to the tip of his nose; a long, patrician one.

“Of course. But you must have something you would like to be called.” His lips-- bowed, the most fashionable in Clarines’ court-- twitch toward a smile, but fall perilously short. “An alias, if you will.”

“Obi.” It’s too short, too quick, but already he likes it. It’s a more playful name than he’s had in a long while. Easy to lose, too, if he needs it.

“Well then, Obi.” His arm rests over one of the cross bars of his cell. “I believe I have a proposition for you.”

“Haah.” He hops to his feet, hoping to seize the high ground. “I appreciate the interest, but I’m already waiting on an offer.”

To say the hood recoiled would be an overstatement, it merely pulls back, barely more than an inch. “An offer?”

“Well, maybe more like...I have prospects.” Obi restrains his grin to little more than a twitch. “I just gotta see if they’ll pan out.”

The hood stills, thoughtful. “What if I could guarantee you a better offer?”

“You couldn’t.”

The man hums, amusement changing his pitch. “I quite sure I could.”

“Nah.” Obi shakes his head, almost wishing it weren’t so. This guy seems like he could be real fun, if he got his hands on his reins. “I don’t think so.”

“Please.” He opens a hand; an invitation. “Try me.”

“Fine.” There’s nothing to lose by telling, besides some face, if he’s wrong. Which Obi knows he’s not. “I got a feeling the next guy through that door’ll be His Highness.”

The man rocks back, like he’s been hit. “Zen? You think...?”

Obi expects some bargaining, some disbelief, maybe even some haggling, but--

He does not expect the laugh.

“Oh,” the man coughs, lifting a hand as if he might wipe tears from his eyes. “I promise you, I can give you a...far more attractive offer.”

Now that’s a rich one. “What could be better than a second prince?”

The man’s hand raises past his eyes, right to the edge of his hood. With the barest flick of his fingers, the cloth falls back, baring bright gold and Wisteria blue.

“Why,” drawls His Highness Izana Wisteria, crown prince, soon to be first of his name, “the first.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obi works for izana au #my fic #ans #listen it's obiyuki as a WHOLE but in this chapter there's just little hints #but truly this is just our excuse to have:#1) obi work with the smartest man in the manga and have his whole skill set utilized #2) enemies to friends to lovers #also torturing zen and obi with the friendship that could have been #that too #you know how it is

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eldrai · 3 years ago

Text

Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #criminal minds #fanfic #cw: ableism #fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #reid #spencer reid #eldrai does whumptober

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kingreywrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel

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tickles-tea · 4 years ago

Text

The Cycle of Temptation

If me busting out a fic in time for Izaya’s birthday doesn’t show how much I love him, nothing else will.

Izaya’s impeccable aim was not limited to knives, it seemed, as the ball of fabric hit its target straight on. The target being Shizuo Heiwajima’s face, of course.

Izaya cackled at the dull smack his coat made. “Hahaha! Where are those monster instincts of yours, Shizu-chan?” He taunted with a grin from where he was perched on the roof of a small bakery. Standing above the crowd and backlit by the sun, he almost appeared like an angel descending from the heavens. A kind hand granting humans salvation from their sins as if he hadn’t been the snake tempting them into depravity in the first place.

And poor Shizuo couldn’t help but chase the forbidden fruit.

From below, he skidded to a stop and ripped the jacket away with a snarl. His cheeks were tinged red with rage and what Izaya could bet was embarrassment. “Izaya, you bastard!” His gripped the jacket in a trembling fist before his face lit up with inspiration. What kind of thing the protozoan thought up, Izaya couldn’t say, but it was sure to be undoubtedly stupid. “Get down here so I can strangle you with this shitty coat!”

There was a beat of silence.

Ah, I was right, Izaya thought to himself. That is stupid.

“Eh? Are you five?” He drawled patronisingly, lips quirked on a pitying smile. “You have to work hard for what you want~” And with that, he was off again, running and jumping around like the flea Shizuo claimed he was.

The chase went on for another few minutes-leaving an impressive level of property damage in its wake-before it came to a standstill once again. At Izaya’s unspoken command, of course. They were in an alley now, shadowed from the sun and out of the way of any one who might intervene. Not that anyone was stupid enough to try. Their squabbles were frequent enough for most people to continue on their way without a second glance. They’d catch their trains and go to work and return to their everyday lives.

Just as Izaya was living his.

“It seems you’ve caught me, Shizu-chan! Whatever shall I do~” Izaya purred, turning around to face his pursuer with open arms. Shizuo was just as-if not more-pissed off as he’d been a few minutes prior, and surprisingly, still had Izaya’s jacket clutched in his left hand.

Izaya blinked. He hadn’t expected Shizuo to actually hang onto it.

“Oh? You still have that? Don’t tell me Shizu-chan is one of those people who gets off on sniffing clothes,” Izaya laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels.

“Shut up! I’ll kill you!” Shizuo shot back, but there was no denying the blush coloring the tips of his ears. He stomped forward, fists clenched at his sides, until he came face to face with the most infuriating man on the planet. “I’ll kill you,” he repeated, voice softer. Perhaps now that he was actually faced with the decision, his brain took a turn, because instead of wrapping the coat around Izaya’s neck as a makeshift noose and killing him once and for all, he turned Izaya around and pushed him up against the wall.

He breathed harshly against the back of Izaya’s neck, all the while Izaya grinned like the cat who got the cream. “Oh? Like this, it almost seems like you’re more interested in a little death than a murder,” Izaya purred, voice as smooth and silky as the prize. His palms pressed against the rough surface of the wall, bracing himself for what was to come. Teeth digging into flesh, strong hands pressing bruises into his hips. The thought had his lashes dipping with want.

Shizuo grunted behind him, still for a moment. Izaya could feel his warm breath fanning across his nape, and his skin prickled in anticipation. It was strange for Shizuo to hesitate like this. He was a man who ran purely on instinct-acting first and facing the repercussions later. And they were far past the point of caring about repercussions.

He grabbed Izaya’s wrists suddenly, pulling them together behind Izaya’s back and tying the sleeve of the jacket around them. Izaya blinked, obviously surprised, but he hardly seemed to mind even as his cheek pressed into the wall. “Ha, who knew Shizu-chan was into this kind of thing?” He purred with a snicker. It was a tight bind, but he knew by now that if Shizuo really wanted to hurt him, he’d be dead.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Shizuo grumbled into his ear, leaning in oh so close. His voice was impossibly deep, more of a growl than anything, and it shook Izaya to the core.

Izaya smirked. Even as vulnerable as he was, he still teased and taunted, hoping to push Shizuo into action. To make him bite the apple. “What are you gonna do about it?”

This time, it was Shizuo’s turn to grin. Animalistic and wild in the way Izaya loved. “This.” Strong hands latched onto Izaya’s sides and squeezed with just enough pressure to make him want to crawl out of his skin. Izaya’s eyes widened in realization, and he started struggling to get away. However, he was literally caught between a rock and a hard place. There was no way to squirm free, pressed against the wall as he was.

“Uwahaha! Y-you monster! Nahahahaha!” Giggles burst past his lips as Shizuo pinched up and down his sides, tweaking at his ribs every so often to make him jump. His hands flexed uselessly behind his back as he tried to stop the attack, but every time he twisted to one side, the other would be targeted. “No! This isn’t what I wahahanted, you protozoan!”

In all honesty, Izaya had expected less humiliation and more making out. And Shizuo, the bastard, probably knew it too.

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t want to have to chase you out of my city today, so I guess we’re both out of luck,” he countered with a cruel grin, hooking his chin over Izaya’s shoulder and pulling him close against his chest.

Venturing fingers explored further and found their way under the hem of Izaya’s shirt, teasing and tickling the soft skin of his belly. “Ah! No, no, nahahaha!” Izaya squirmed frantically, throwing his head back with the force of his laughter. His muscles jumped with each brush of calloused fingers, but with his arms bound and his body held steady in the grip of the beast, there was no reprieve.

Shizuo chuckled at the way Izaya bounced and jerked and danced around, jumping from one foot to the other in his futile attempts to wiggle free. He seemed to take particular joy in the squeal Izaya let out when he scritched at his belly button; it was loud and embarrassing and promptly followed up by a stream of high pitched giggles that were far too innocent to be coming from a man like Izaya.

“Fahahaha! I’ll-! I’ll kihihihill you! Stahahahap!” Izaya gasped out a curse when Shizuo pressed into an especially sensitive patch of nerves on the side of his stomach. He was practically folding in on himself, knees jerking up to protect his midsection before he lost his balance and had to steady himself again.

His legs were growing weak-from the struggling or from the tickling itself, Izaya didn’t know. Nor did he want to. It was mortifying enough that he had let himself be caught in this situation in the first place. Being tickled like this in public, by Shizuo no less… it would take awhile for his pride to recover.

For how often Izaya was seen as the sadist, Shizuo showed little mercy as he skillfully honed in on the spots that prompted the strongest reactions. He massaged his fingers into the soft give of Izaya’s lower belly and was rewarded with loud frantic laughter and desperate squirming. Tracing along the sensitive rim of his navel earned him squeaks and giggles and lips stretched in a helpless grin.

It was only when Izaya’s laughter became wheezy and his lashes wet with tears that Shizuo finally relented.

Izaya sagged in his arms, residual giggles falling from his lips and shaking his sore shoulders as he tried to catch his breath. His legs felt like jelly, and he was sure he’d crumble to the ground if not for Shizuo’s steady hands holding him up. Those deceptively brutish hands...

Shizuo could be surprisingly gentle at times despite his inhuman strength. While Izaya loved the way Shizuo could lift him and hold him up against a wall for hours on end during their late night trysts, there were times when his touch was so light Izaya could barely feel it at all. A comforting brush up his thigh, a careful touch on his cheek. Nothing like the violence and destruction that came from his clenched fists.

Shizuo could be gentle.

But Izaya would prefer broken bones over this torture any day.

With his breathing now somewhat even, Izaya looked over his shoulder to level Shizuo with the most aggrieved glare he could muster. “Shizu-chan…,” He murmured, voice low on irritation as he tugged on his still bound arms.

Shizuo-who had been sporting an oddly soft smile-chuckled and set about untying the knot he’d created with the coat’s sleeve. “I take it we’re not heading back to my place this time?”

Incredulous and more than a little outraged, Izaya reeled back, mouth already forming around a barrage of insults before he paused. His expression evened out then, any trace of annoyance leaving his face in an instant. But what replaced it was not kind or understanding. It was wicked, mischievous, a red light flashing danger. And the words that he spoke as he rolled his shoulders and held up the wrinkled coat sent an uneasiness down Shizuo’s spine that almost seemed to seep into his bones.

However, with the uneasiness came a certain excitement, a thrill.

“We should go. Since Shizu-chan seems to like this so much, it’s only fair he gets to experience it as well, right~?”

#Durarara #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #shizaya #tickling #Ticklish!izaya #my writing #In time for Izaya’s birthday~#Barely lol

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

“Pardon the way that I stare -- There's nothin' else to compare... The sight of you leaves me weak; There are no words left to speak, But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real... You're just too good to be true -- Can't take my eyes off of you...”

~“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (cover),” by Joseph Vincent

x~x~x~x

For my next installment of my “Valentine’s Day” series where I feature each of my kids and some of the people they care about most, I present to you Jackson Knightly with his future love interest Montelimar Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier and Monty’s BFF, Orla Atkinson @hphm-brooke! I think this particular post fits @kathrynalicemc‘s wonderful Valentine’s Ball prompt perfectly, as well, since it takes place at a Valentine’s Day ball and features these babies in formal wear!

In Jackson’s fifth year, he still saw Monty solidly as a friend. That all changed, however, during a Valentine’s Day ball Jackson helped organize with his BFF Adelia “Addy” Selwyn @that-ravenpuff-witch and several other students.

Jackson was greatly looking forward to the event. Not only did he pull out all the stops to make sure the place was decorated beautifully with swan-shaped ice sculptures, marble cherubs, and white roses, but all of his friends -- his “sweet Demiguise,” Hirtia “Tia” Caldwell @cursed-ice-spirits; his “lady Vipertooth,” Orla “Lala” Atkinson; his “brilliant Frenchman,” Montelimar “Monty” Bloom -- would be in attendance. Jackson had ended up inviting a fourth year student from Hufflepuff named Felicity Abbott as his “date” for the event, after finding her sitting in the stands alone after the recent Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sobbing inconsolably into her handkerchief -- it was out of pity more than anything, but Jackson hated seeing the young lady cry all by herself.

Jackson came down the grand staircase toward the Great Hall in a set of gold-trimmed white dress robes and very slender, fitted gold slacks over a pair of black ankle boots, looking like a charming prince out of some Muggle fairy tale. No one had spotted him descending the stairs yet, so he scanned the room -- and what caught his eye first was a tall boy his age with spectacles, dressed in handsome grayish-blue dress robes with tails and a matching vest over a white shirt and slacks. It was Monty, chatting with his best friend Orla -- Monty was visibly flustered, but both of them were smiling. Despite himself, Jackson found himself smiling more softly than most anyone was used to seeing. Bloom had always been so modest, he thought to himself...even with how handsome he clearly was. The thought stuck in Jackson’s head strangely -- certainly, Monty was handsome, few would probably question it, but...well, it wasn’t exactly something men were supposed to think about each other, was it? His father certainly wouldn’t have approved if Jackson had ever verbalized such a sentiment...

Fortunately Jackson was quickly distracted by several members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming up to talk to him, and ever the showman, Jackson put on his broadest, most confident smile and went about socializing. He then slowly made his way over to Monty and Orla, his ocean-blue eyes alight with good humor.

“Lala, my precious Vipertooth!”

Jackson took Orla’s hand and used it to twirl her around like a little girl playing princess.

“You look absolutely radiant, my dear,” he fawned over her.

Orla’s lips spread into a cool smirk as she rested her free hand on her hip. “I should hope so, considering you picked this dress out for me.”

“I’d like to think I have good taste, Lala,” said Jackson with a mischievous grin. “The lavender makes your eyes pop just so.”

His eyes trailed over to Monty, lingering briefly on the gold buttons on his lapel before moving up to his face.

“...I must say, Bloom...you’ve really cleaned up most handsomely. Is there a lady here you thought to impress?”

Monty flushed, but put on a modest smile all the same. “Oh no, not at all...I merely thought to try to dress for the occasion, as best I could.”

Once again, Jackson found his expression softening a bit. Even now that Monty was more confident than when they’d first met, the Ravenclaw still sometimes blushed like a shy schoolgirl. It was actually quite endearing.

Monty’s smile grew a bit wryer as he added, “I must thank you for the compliment, Jackson, considering that -- as always -- you have a knack for standing out.”

Jackson grinned. “I certainly try.”

Out the side of his eye, he caught sight of Felicity Abbott, her face bright with a smile and dressed in pink satin, waving at him from the top of the stairs.

“Please excuse me,” he said softly, “I owe the lady at least one dance tonight, as her escort. If you see Addy, tell her I’ll follow up with her shortly -- I’d like to add some twinkling lights to the roses trimming the windows, once it gets darker outside...”

He inclined his head to his friends before moving to greet the younger Hufflepuff.

Jackson had been nothing but a gentleman with Felicity Abbott, as he would’ve been for any other young lady he might offer a dance to. She seemed to be having a good time, and Jackson was grateful for it -- he didn’t know her at all and he quite frankly didn’t think that she’d be anything but an acquaintance for him in the future, but even so, he had a sensitive enough heart to hate the thought of someone not having fun at a party, especially a party celebrating Valentine’s Day. What Jackson had not expected, however, was Gryffindor’s tall, broad-chested seventh-year Quidditch Captain stepping right in front of him and Felicity.

“Torquil Travers,” greeted Jackson.

Travers’s eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jackson’s face. “Care to explain what the hell you think you’re doing, Knightly?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dancing with my woman,” Travers hissed through bare teeth.

His eyes flashed at Felicity, who trembled visibly.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly under his raised eyebrows.

“Now, Mr. Travers...surely Miss Abbott at least merits being called ‘your lady,’ rather than something so crude?”

He spoke as pleasantly as he could, given the stink eye the Gryffindor was fixing him with, but he did take a subtle step to the side so as to create something of a physical barrier between Travers and Felicity with his body. This only served to make Travers angrier.

“Felicity is my intended,” he spat. “She is my wife in practice, if not yet by law, and therefore mine.”

“A person is hardly something to be treated like an object to possess,” Jackson said in a low voice that betrayed a sharp edge despite the cool calm of his expression. “Nor like a caged animal that follows a man’s direction.”

He glanced at Felicity, whose face had gone very white and scared. He immediately tried to comfort her with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come, Miss Abbott,” he said, “let us be off -- ”

But before Jackson could steer her away, Travers grabbed the back of Jackson’s robes, roughly pulling him backward and away from the younger girl. Felicity screamed.

“You will not touch her again, you filthy Muggle-bred ponce!” snarled Travers.

Jackson amazingly responded to Travers’s fury with a broad, gleaming white smirk. “‘Filthy?’ Come now, Mr. Travers, surely you could come up with a more targeted insult than that -- these robes are clearly spotless.”

His tiny brown eyes widening with rage, Travers raised a fist --

BAM.

Before his knuckles could collide with Jackson’s jaw, however, Monty had appeared out of nowhere. Dashing forward, he’d forcibly put up an arm and stepped right between Jackson and Travers so that the Slytherin commentator was behind him and Traver’s fist whammed right into his left shoulder instead.

Jackson’s eyes grew very wide. “Bloom...!”

The blow made Monty rock back slightly and clutch his shoulder, visibly winded, but he regained his footing quickly, his eyes narrowing upon Travers’s face.

“That is enough,” Monty said in a very low, firm voice. “Travers...I think it would be best if you take a step back and a deep breath. A physical altercation is hardly a good way to settle such a dispute -- especially when there are teachers present.”

He indicated the Charms and Transfiguration professors, who were striding through the assembling crowd as if to discover the source of their interest.

Travers’s fists were shaking with rage, but he seemed to know he wouldn’t be able to get his way or evade punishment if he persisted. And so, shooting a venomous look at Jackson over Monty’s shoulder, he shoved past the pair and disappeared off into the crowd.

Jackson grabbed onto Monty’s robes from behind, almost cradling his back. His face was unusually pale.

“Bloom -- my -- you’re hurt...”

For once, he seemed to have trouble speaking coherently. His hand came up to the spot on Monty’s chest where Travers’s fist had landed.

Monty flinched ever-so-slightly, but smiled reassuringly at him. “Oh...don’t worry, Jackson. It’ll just be a small bruise, I think -- ”

“It should be dealt with straight away,” Jackson said in a strangely sharp and faintly shaky voice.

He looked at Felicity. “Miss Abbott...I see my dear Addy by the far window with Mr. Ellison. Please, remain in their company until I return: I’ll be back shortly.”

And with that, Jackson had escorted Monty out of the Great Hall and to an abandoned hallway a short ways away from the party. He’d insisted on Monty sitting down on a window ledge and removing his robes and shirt just enough to show his left shoulder, so that Jackson could work on healing the injury before it could darken with a bruise. Jackson hated the Hospital Wing as well as hospitals in general, so he’d gotten very used to treating himself whenever he was hurt.

Monty himself could see how tense Jackson was: tenser than he’d ever seen him previously. It truly hadn’t been that horrible -- certainly it would’ve been far worse if Travers had elected to take out his wand instead -- but Jackson still seemed very upset. And he was: Jackson’s emotions were very turbulent indeed.

Monty had protected him. It wasn’t out-of-character for him at all, really, but he’d never physically protected him quite like that before...allowed himself to get hurt, in order to shield him from harm. Jackson hadn’t really had anyone do something like that for him before. Sure, perhaps Adelia would scold someone’s face off on his behalf or Orla would hex someone into next week for having said something, but those were entertaining. This was decidedly not. This was different. It made Jackson’s heart swell with concern and yet also such pride and warmth and admiration and caring...and yet for as new as the feeling felt, it truly didn’t feel unfamiliar. It felt second-nature...almost...like coming home...

“Jackson?” said Monty gently.

Jackson was brought out of his thoughts, but he didn’t look up from Monty’s shoulder. Instead he finished the Healing spell he was casting and then helped pull Monty’s shirt back on.

“There we are,” he murmured, as he fastened Monty’s buttons. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Better,” admitted Monty.

He watched Jackson’s face carefully. “Jackson...I’m grateful for the help, but I’m all right, truly...”

He brought a hand onto Jackson’s buttoning his collar, making the smaller man halt.

“You don’t need to worry.”

The two’s eyes met. Although both men’s eyes were blue, it was like a calm freshwater lake meeting a rushing ocean: both beautiful and cool, and yet completely different in attitude. Monty’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but his face was very composed. Jackson’s face was anything but, especially when his own cheeks actually started to redden too.

“I...suppose I have lost my composure somewhat,” he said, his eyes falling back down to his hands on Monty’s shirt almost self-consciously.

He finished buttoning up his collar and then helped him pull his grayish-blue robes back on, trying to plaster on one of his charming smiles.

“...What can I say, I’m...not used to some dashing hero coming to my rescue,” he teased.

Monty smiled. “Well, I couldn’t very well do nothing, seeing you face off against a mountain troll like that, could I?”

Jackson couldn’t bite back a laugh. He looked up at Monty, his ocean-blue eyes and smile alight with more of that strange, unique softness he’d felt -- the sort that, truly, only a precious few ever were the subject of.

“Of course not, my brilliant Frenchman.”

And it was that day that Jackson Knightly’s heart knew what it took a lot longer for him to admit aloud -- he loved Montelimar Bloom with everything that he was.

#ValentinesBallHPHL #my art #jackson knightly #montelimar bloom #orla atkinson #adelia selwyn #my writing #valentine's day #singles awareness day #orla's swan collar GACK I loved designing that #lala isn't the type to show a lot of skin so I had a lot of fun trying to design something modest and pretty for her #she is a lovely fashion template brooke my dear <3 #I see her having been counseling her BFF since monty had heard jackson had a date for the event #and of course poor monty had a crush on jacko long before that stupid charmer ever got a clue #poor jacko was raised by a rather hypermasculine and homophobic father so it takes him a while to be open with his sexuality #even though let's be honest his 'closet' is pretty close to invisible even before he comes out #*pets jackson*#first time writing for monty!#I hope I did your bb justice darling <3

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 5 years ago

Note

Yo! Really love your works! Anyways, how would a Yandere Kars, Dio, Kira, and Diavolo be with a s/o that's friends with the good guys? (bonus if they too are yanderes)

Yandere! Kars, Dio, Kira, and Diavolo with an s/o that’s friends with the good guys ( A pinch of good side yandere, I kind of wanted to focus on the main villain but yandere characters are insinuated)

Also if anyone wants Diavolo just request away! I spent 4 hours on Dio, Kars, and Kira alone so I’m kind of wiped right now, I wasn’t expecting to write that much right away.

Yandere! Pt 1 Dio

He has had his eyes set on you even prior to turning himself vampiric. Every second before he turned he was inexplicably in your presence whenever you were with Jonathan. Merely listening onto your drivel with that so called mannerless man.

At any given opportunity he’d interrupt, and of course continually make Jonathan a fool of himself in front of his father. Occasionally that would leave you vulnerable with Jonathan having to attend to other duties due to his brutish incompetence. But perhaps you were a bit more on your toes than he realized, any hesitance you may have had around him the blond had picked up immediately.

He totally acts like this is normal during the period he was still human. He’ll even bring up nonchalant topics up with you. Beckoning you on for walks while just so happening to be in front of Mr. Joestar, his sharp use of his tongue is fairly convincing.

He kept track of every single interaction you had with Jonathan, whether it was running to him because of the blond himself. Or you sneaking onto the property to avoid his own gaze. Though he’d especially let you know he was privy to your attempts to avoid him. Just with a simple stare, or perhaps a passive aggressive remark over dinner.

When the point of his vampirism hits his personal obsession only worsens (especially if Jonathan starts showing particular signs of an unhealthy fixation) or any of his allies for that matter. He personally makes a visit to you when you have seemed to have purposely distanced yourself.

“Jonathan seems to be a little strange around you doesn’t he? What a frightening thought that acting against his own chivalrous intents with you-”

He pauses for a second gauging your expression, but a well worn smirk simply rises on his lips

“such a shame really when you always used to run to him...”

He’ll even rub in the fact anyone that works with Jonathan around you has met the same fate in their behavior.

Any sense of normalcy is quickly stolen from you and the blond will make sure it stays that way. Shall you run back to the men you tried to trust with your well-being? Though being honest he’ll find a way for you to fall in his clutches, especially manipulating the competition.

Yandere! Kars

As a pillarman who would normally look at a human with disdain, his fixation with your is increasingly dangerous. Especially if you happen to be working with Joseph, Lisa Lisa, and Caesar, (and if they are anywhere near fixated as he is with you, things are bound to be brutal). Your a goal for him just as the red stone of Aja is, no one or anything will stand in between him and you.

Considering you must be worth something if you managed to be seen in a positive light of a being who lusts to stand as a superior being.

Surely he toys with your well-being just to try and coax the others out, placing you into unfair situations. Such as being outnumbered by recently turned underlings. (More than anything the worst outcome would be you having the red stone, as Kars would snatch you up himself without letting you putting up even a minuscule bit of a fight)

Considerably he revels seeing you at your limits, cunningly mocking you with backhanded compliments. But in between there’s a sincere remark that sends utter chills down your spine. He’s very willing to get a stone mask on you and turn you at a moments notice. Not only to torture Joseph and the others with their obsessed actions in having to use hamon.

He’ll also hum over the fact how delicious you’d taste if he just happened to absorb you. Frightening your fragile soul to the core as he mockingly takes a finger of yours into the skin. Honestly he’d mostly disregard the others obsession in place of you. Though that isn’t to say he wouldn’t love to tear anyone to shreds who possibly thinks they could have you of all things.

Yandere! Pt 3 DIO

There’s massive tension when arriving in Cairo, Egypt. You can’t help but sense something is up with the guys, an overprotective streak. No it was something more, and you had to keep them at bay. Each of them were ruthless to anyone that dared to try to hurt you. Though their supposed protection could be absolutely suffocating. Then there was occasional issues...Kakyoin was normally snippy and pretty sharp with his insults but something was more intense and spiteful behind him insulting Polnareff.

Jotaro was silent but his presence was sharp and barely left you, how could you not notice a man practically staring holes into the back of your head. Most of all Polnareff couldn’t be more than a few meters away, he was practically a lap dog. Until one of the others intervened with a vengeance.

The trip had started completely normal for their personalities but now it was twisted into something that likely freaked you out. Even putting you on edge comparable enough to the undead fiend hiding in Egypt. That was the least of your issues however when you did arrive in the fated city of Cairo. Dio himself waited with a suave calmness of anticipation of the people who wanted to kill him. Hidden within the confines of a building well tucked away, he desired to destroy the burden that was he Joestars but also something else.

There was you. So he bides his time carefully while his servants attempt to take the group out before they could bother approaching him. Of course he’s not surprised in the slightest when they make it right on his doorstep.

You all happen to split off at an oh so convenient time. Anyone you happen to run into whether it be Terrence d’arby or even Vanilla Ice *Varying on who you split off with). Give you looks of intrigue but explain nothing of their vague interests.

Perhaps you inexplicably end up on your own by some miracle, even if it wasn’t a particularly good idea. Dio absolutely delights himself in tracking you down in the night under the stars of Cairo. He doesn’t even make haste in taking care of anyone chasing him. The vitriol he’s met with even stronger than usual hatred for his existence tips him off to the groups feelings for you. The blond vampire certainly couldn’t have that type of fixation possibly eyeing you, aside from himself that is.

Dio will eventually find you, and certainly corner you in one shape or another. If he happens to need to use The World to achieve this if you’re not too far away than so be it. He towers over you with a wave of charisma and confidence, a smirk placating his desires placated right in front of him.

“Astounding you came this far with the Joestars, I’ve never seen such determination to cross the world with a bunch of fixated fools...” he’ll muse nonchalantly. But there’s something wrong you can just feel it, his eyes are no different. His interest in you is frightening for some reason. He plays along with the mix of fury and fear in your eyes, the swings of your stand that he easily dismisses with a few strong swipes of his stand. Then he’ll comment of your distress, reminding him of countless others who came near him. Time proceeds to stop and he comes up on the other side of you.

He enjoys the feel of your neck beneath his fingers before firmly letting his nails dig into the surface.

Time resumes, his digits already digging into your arteries with little effort. An air of superiority fills the air, he’ll inform you this is where the fight ends. Unfortunately it’s not the way you wanted it to in the slightest, no he never intended to give you that choice in the first place.

He doesn’t hesitate to tease you, his breath just centimeters from your face as he bends down. telling you not to bother with trivial resistance, his lovely little pet.

Yandere! Yoshikage Kira Kira is particularly interesting with his yandere tendencies, it’s bad enough he has to hide a deadly hand fetish let alone an obsession for a whole person. He’s rather concerned immediately as this obsession isn’t typical of his usual murderous intents. What makes it worse most likely, is he probably has the awareness you might be part of the group that’s attempting to pursue him.

Even when he assumes the identity of Kosaku Kawajiri, he’s not only on edge of being discovered but you are also an issue. He should want to eliminate you just like the rest who are trying to find him. But he can’t seem to convince himself of such of endeavor, even with the potential of just having your hands

When it comes down to it however, he’s on edge enough to strategize around you somehow. Especially with Hayato and Shinobu being involved with his assumed identity’s life.

His heart impulsively races if he stumbles near by you, an attempt to rationalize his feelings after acting on his simple desires for so long.

Though there’s likely a way to track your habits after he gets rid of the others, and any feasible evidence incriminating him towards these newly missing pupil. Surely he can track your family’s schedule, perhaps even your own to an extent.

There’s much he has to work around, but he’ll somehow make something work even if Kira has to erase every single little thing to get to you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere jjba #yandere scenario #jojo’s bizarre adventure #dio brando #yoshikage kira #kars #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba #jojo x reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader

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blueluneacy · 4 years ago

Text

Familiar Shore

Hey, so this is a commission for the lovey @lliminall! Thank you so much for commissioning me, it means a lot! This is a continuation of Black Ocean, so go check that out if you haven’t! It’s Bruno bucciarati x reader timeeee

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: kidnapping, suicide, transformations, just general angst and comfort vibes

The ocean no longer had any color. It was like the moment you woke up on this terrible island, most everything lost color, the strange world you now found yourself in feeling small compared to the extent of the Labyrinth you once knew. You tended to sit by the ocean nowadays, watching the fish that swam up to the shores to see the strange being that liked to sit and watch them. When Bruno first dropped you in his little lair, some minor beasts that inhabited the ocean and the island, but it seemed that in the days that Bruno was gone, he quickly straightened them out. This place was strange in the sense that everyone seemed a lot more docile. You supposed that most people would have considered that ocean uncrossable and that the local wildlife wasn’t used to humans like yourself, leaving to strange circumstances, like finding that the many tailed foxes seemed to like your company, or that after giving some of the gray birds some of your dinner, they perched near you and cawed at the beasts that came towards you.

Of course, that’s not to say things were sunshine and roses. For example, Bruno was actually terrible. A few times you had tried to pull together a raft and get back to shore, only from Bruno to simply tear it apart and carry you back to your little island. A paradise, he called it. Yeah, what a paradise. And you had gone to Jurassic measures. You remembered waking up in that cave after doing something terrible, stepping out to find Bruno sobbing over your lifeless body. You actually felt bad enough to sigh, only for Bruno’s new keen ears to pick up on it and lunge back to you, thanking whatever Gods there were looking out for the two of you that they set your spawn to here, that you would be with him, that he wouldn’t lose you. You cursed those same gods.

But for now, Bruno seemed to leave you alone. Whether it was because he understood that you needed space and time to process this, or just because he was busy with who knows what, you weren’t sure. Maybe he needed a steady supply of torture to sustain him. It would make sense, the way beasts seem to just thrive on destroying any human being that they came into contact with. But, there was also another problem, one that plagued you. It had to be a lie, right? Bruno couldn’t have possibly actually… Turned into a beast, right? No, he had to be one beforehand. There’s no way that a human being could turn into a beast, and even so… Why would he? Bruno was kind and caring… Unless he wasn’t. Until he was completely deranged, dragging you under the depths until you passed out. You didn’t like to think about it, didn’t like to think about those eyes. You just closed your eyes, telling yourself in just another minute, you’d walk the fifty feet back to the cave you had now found as your home, finding the stone becoming increasingly more smooth, the terrible thing that was keeping here making it more homey day by day. What started off as a simple cave with furs on the ground now had furniture, actual walls, even a bed. You still preferred to sleep on the floor if it meant it kept Bruno from holding you. It didn’t.

After a few moments and a lot of convincing yourself to get up, solely just to eat and get some rest as you plotted your way out of this mess, you made your way over to the cave only to stop when you heard voices. One of them you recognized, Bruno, but there was someone actually responding to him. You swallowed, unable to help yourself from hiding at the edge of the cave to listen in to what they were saying.

“I just don’t know if I can make it work, is all. I mean, you’ve seen them. They’re horrified of… This.” Bruno spoke out, leaving the other beast just to scoff.

“They’re horrified that you’re no longer human. Something that you can’t change. Do you honestly believe that you can make them separate this idea of who you once were versus who you are now?” The other beast, for what other creature would be able to speak out with such calm in front of Bruno in the state that he was in now, replied, sounding simply skeptical.

“But you don’t understand, it’s not like I’ve changed. I’m still the same person, I just-”

“Happened to have turned into an eldritch horror beyond basic human comprehension now trapped in a liminal space shaped like a labyrinth. Good pitch.” He sounded so curt, leaving Bruno just to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bothered to ask you.”

“Because you knew I would be honest with you. It would be easiest if you just gave up on the human, Buccellati. Humans are odd, fragile, and emotional. You could easily find a nice beast girl to settle down if you really wanted.” He replied, leaving you just to… ponder. You never really thought of beasts actually speaking to each other, much less loving each other.

“You act as though we’re not humans.” Bruno replied sharply, leaving the other beast to sigh.

“You’re not. We’re not. Sure, maybe at one time, but there’s no way back. Who knows, maybe you and Dio can laugh over this one day.”

“He’s on the other side of the Labyrinth. Speaking of which, how are there other Beasts in this territory? I thought it was supposed to be mine.”

“Oh, only stronger beasts deal with things like territory. Pathetic ones like me, we don’t have that luxury. It’s easier to say you’re with the biggest guy in the room than to try and stake out your own claim in the world. Plenty of territories are filled with beasts that simply stick around for protection or just because they feel like it. I’m surprised you don’t have a line out the door with Beasts asking for your blessing to move in, this is prime real estate.”

“They’re too dangerous for my beloved to be around. I’m particular about the things that might feel too comfortable to try and hurt them.”

“If you’re choosey, then you really made a bad choice in letting me stay.”

“You don’t like humans. I figured you didn’t have the spine to break theirs.” You gasped at that, Bruno’s fine tuned ears finally picking up on your listening in to their conversation and standing up.

“Cara, you can come in. It’s rude to listen in.” He called out to you, leaving you to swallow as you stepped out into the low candlelight of the cave, making your way inside. You just stared at the ground, not wanting to respond for fear of… You weren’t really sure. Bruno didn’t tend to get mad at you, but you didn’t know anything about this other beast. When you caught a glimpse of him, you were a bit skeptical. While Bruno tended to hide his more… Er, Inhuman qualities, this other beast had no qualms about being comfortable. You saw how his silvery hair fell over his shoulders, his painted lips barely concealing rows of sharp teeth and neatly done nails actually claws.

“Tesoro, this is Leone Abbacchio. He’ll be staying near the Shore, so you may see him often.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to roll your eyes.

“Oh boy, another terrifying monster I get to live near! I’ll make sure to bake cookies for the house party.” You replied, leaving Bruno’s face just to set into a grimace while Abbacchio just smiled and rolled his eyes.

“I have no interest in humans, and much less one this scrappy.” He replied, standing up. It took a moment for his insult to click, but once it did, you were ready to fucking fight. Would you lose? Probably. But your honor. But, before you could get a word out, Abbacchio just brushed himself off of bits of sand that seemed to stick at his body, and turned to Bruno.

“I’ll let you two have your lovers quarrel in peace.” And with that, Abbacchio quickly was out of there, leaving you alone with Bruno, who just shook his head as he sat down, motioning for you to sit with him. You did not obey.

“Don’t just stand there, tesoro. Perhaps we should talk. I hate the idea that there’s something wrong with our relationship.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to scoff as you crossed your arms.

“It’s fundamentally wrong, because it’s based on a lie. Me being here isn’t because of love! It’s because of… Because you… I’m your prisoner, Bruno!” You didn’t know why tears were welling up in your eyes, why the pain hit your heart as you spoke the truth, but it did. Your dreams of escaping with Bruno to the outside world, outside of this hell, were crushed entirely. Everything was just a wreck, Bruno had lost it, and beyond it all, he still gave you a pang in your heart. Bruno just shook his head, standing up and you released how much taller than you he was. Was he always this much taller than you? Still, it didn’t matter, you didn’t have the chance to step away before Bruno wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. It was possessive, but his hand came behind your head, pressing your face into his chest. You gasped as you released he still smelled the same as before, of coastal air and cypress.

“I… I don’t care about that, (Y/n). I can’t lose you, not like everyone else. Please, just stay with me. If I lose you, I know… I know I’ll become like the rest of them. Please, I really do love you. Don’t you love me back?” Bruno’s voice was shaking, as if he were about to cry. You had the instinct to try and comfort him, holding yourself back the best you could.

“I… I don’t know anymore. It feels like… I’m haunted by you at this point. This person you once were and the… Thing you are now.” You replied, leaving Bruno just to sigh and let you go.

“I… But I haven’t changed. I haven’t hurt a single human. If anything, I’m safest out here. No one could possibly come out here, it’ll just be you and me. We can make the life you spoke about here, we can get married and have a family-”

“Bruno, no! We can never have that! You know that! Deep down in your heart, you know that just as well as I do, that this will never work! Even before... “ You looked away, hoping to find some sense of reality in a pace that seems to lack it. God, this was terrible. “We were just chasing after affection, weren’t we? Did we really love each other, or were we just so lonely that we didn’t know what to do and threw ourselves at the idea of human contact?” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“(Y/n), do you remember how you entered into the Labyrinth?”

“I…. What?” That was out of nowhere. You wondered if maybe he was trying to change the subject, but nonetheless, you shrugged and decided to answer.

“I don’t remember. I was walking through the woods one day, and it was like I got lost… Well, lost forever. I don’t really… Know what I did to deserve all of this.” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“Is there something back in your old life so pressing that you have to return to it? Is the world outside better than something we could build?” Bruno asked. You wanted to argue so bad, but he was right in a way. There really was nothing that you had going for you back at home. You would go back to work, live your boring, mundane life, but…

“You’re holding me hostage here, Bruno.”

“I’m protecting you. (Y/n), there’s no way out of the Labyrinth unless you have someone from the outside to pull you out. There’s no exit. That is the main secret of the Labyrinth.” He told you, his voice serious, and you knew he was telling the truth.

“I-I… T-Then, what were we searching for all that time?! Why were we… What kind of torture is all this?!” You replied, shaking a bit. You didn’t notice the way your hands were starting to fade and distort, but you didn’t care. “What kind of being would create such a terrible place?!”

“I… I don’t know, tesoro. I really don’t know. But… If there’s no one outside looking for you, you have to understand. Travelling back to the main portion of the Labyrinth is…” He didn’t have to say it. It was a death sentence, a world of torture waiting to happen. You just collapsed, feeling yourself collapse into a pile as you sobbed, trying to find some way, some reason for your entire existence here. You wanted to believe this was a lie, you really did, but something about Bruno’s tone.... How did he even learn this? Did that other beast tell him? Maybe it was just a lie that that beasts told, and Abbacchio knew that Bruno would try to be a sap with you. Torture by proxy. But still… Bruno’s hand hit your back, rubbing it gently as he sat down next to you.

“I… I know. Apparently… Every Beast that is in the Labyrinth was once a human being. One that was never saved.” He told you, leaving you just to go silent. You looked at your hands, the twisting of your own flesh and the accenting of claws that you had been telling yourself was just your nails growing jagged from lack of care. You turned to Bruno, lip quivering.

“I’m just haunted by the ghost of the person I thought I loved, and I don’t know if that person truly is you, or if he was killed in the fire.” You whispered, almost hoping that Bruno wouldn’t hear it. He just pulled you closer, wiping away your tears.

“I… I honestly don’t know. I feel like I am the same person, but who knows. I don’t know what has changed about me, and what hasn’t. All I know is… (Y/n), you keep me whole. You keep me… Good. I can’t explain it. I know you loved that person before, but… Could you ever be able to love me too?” He asked, leaving you just to look at the ground.

“I… I think so. I…” Your eyes just welled up with tears again as you grabbed onto Bruno, sobbing. You mourned for him, for yourself, for the hell that dozens were put through.

“What’s going to happen to me, Bru? Am I going to become a monster?” You asked, leaving the man to just pet your hair, hushing you.

“No matter what you become, you’re still going to be mia cara. And I’ll always love you, no matter what. I promise.” He told you. You looked up, letting your hand run along his cheek as you pressed your lips against his for the first time in forever. And he wasn’t warm the way he once was, but the kiss was still real, and his lips were still soft. When he pulled away, Bruno just held you in his arms, the two of you sharing a soft moment as you both tried to process the new reality that had come upon you. This was now the world you lived in, a world of Beasts and humans who would someday become beasts. If there were gods, they were only malevolent.

“I… I really do love you, (Y/n). I want a life with you. Even if it has to be in this hell, I really do mean what I meant. I think we could create a paradise here. A place just for us, forever.” He told you, and in your week state, you just nodded, letting Bruno hold you as you closed your eyes.

“I… I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” You told him, feeling your eyes get heavy as you cuddled up with Bruno. You looked into his eyes again, seeing that blue you had fallen in love with in the beginning, the Fisherman’s son who was determined to get home, with that serious look on his face, but full of hope. His eyes still had hope, though. For some reason, that seemed to comfort you, seemed to make you feel like things… Might be okay. Maybe not now, but someday.

For the last time that night, you dreamed of that idyllic life you once wanted with Bruno, in the old world on the ocean, a family and kids and peace. When you awakened in the arms of the beast, you were finally ready to throw it away.

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati/reader #writing #My writing #mine #sfw #yandere x reader #yandere/reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #commission #labyrinth au

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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Name (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Anon asked: “suggestion for Todoroki angst : he got in an arranged marriage with S/O because of his dad who offered a large amount of money to her family for this. Indeed it’s not what they are both looking for but Todoroki really acts cold, is sharp, openly criticizes her (a bit OOC ik) ... S/O is hurt but is still trying to be a good wife around the house to make the best of the situation and hide her insecurities. It’s just an idea, if it does not inspire you I hope you will find something better!! xx

Genre: Angst. Just...angst. I’m so sorry in advance plz don’t hate me

Warnings: Grab your tissues, this is a long roller coaster that’s only going downhill OH GOD I’M SO SORRY

Word count: 3,059

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: (Submission 1/3 for my post asking for todo angst ideas! Thanks for the ask anon!)

Um. This is...depressing. Really depressing and really intense. I didn’t expect it would turn out this way. But it did. I had 2 other endings, but I instinctively wrote this one. I actually had to stop and cry for a few minutes because it was just really painful I mean, I know I said I was ready to but I didn’t actually mEAn it

I tried a different style for this, but I think it suits the story well. It’s 3rd person limited because I wanted you to experience everyone’s feelings in this (gotta maximize on the angst yknow) and half past tense bc of reasons you’ll find out.

God I’m afraid to post this. Is it bad that I love it, I honestly spent so much time writing this, but it hurts sO mUch?? Y’all are gonna hate me, you’re gonna kill me, oh no, just read the thing already, I’m hiding.

Buy me a coffee?

Shoto didn't know how to react to the news. It's not that he had his eye on anyone in particular, or that he was even interested in marriage for that matter. But because he proposed it, the man who had spent his entire childhood controlling every aspect of his life, he refused to accept any other intrusions from the man he should call "father."

The strange man across from his father spoke those words so casually. "So Endeavor, when are these two tying the knot?"

At first, he thought he had misheard or misunderstood. And then his father responded just as casually, "The date is set for next month."

The normally calm and collected boy almost burst the entire room into flames. He clenched the silverware so hard his knuckles turned white and his teeth ground together, but he couldn't say anything in front of his father's guest and his daughter for fear of shaming himself. The girl across from him offered a sympathetic look, but he turned away, already preparing the earful he's going to give his father.

"I want nothing to do with this!" he whirled on Endeavor as soon as they were home. "You've made my life a living hell controlling every single thing! And now you even want to control my marriage?!"

"I'm doing this for you!" Endeavor bellowed right back. "For the Todoroki name! For your future!"

"This is all for you! I want no part-!"

"If you don't agree, you'll never see your mother or the siblings again."

The calm threat was enough to drench Shoto's wrath into submissive fear. The flaming monster in front of him proved once again that he hasn't an ounce of sympathy for his blood. He's learned that family is the only thing keeping his son under his thumb and he still actively exploits that weakness.

All the boy can do is swallow and walk away, retreating to the outside world to escape his bitter reality even temporarily. Shoto doesn't have outbursts often, but there are times when the straw finally breaks the camel's back, and this is one of them. All he can do is run until he can't run anymore, reaching somewhere secluded enough where he can burst out in flames and ice without hurting anyone, finally getting to a forest where he can do exactly that and scream to his heart's content. It's the only thing he can do that is under his own control.

In the month that followed up to the wedding, Shoto barely spoke a word to anyone, choosing to isolate himself. He only came out when he absolutely had to show his face at functions to the bride's family and look presentable. His mind was always absent, the time flying in a blur of colors and white. Thankfully, his father did the preparations, so all he had to do was go along with everything. Shoto was simply playing a role in a play or movie, he was an actor who deserved an award for being in character for a month.

The night of the wedding, he and his newly-wedded wife were whisked away to their new home, being alone for the first time together. He didn't even know what she looked like nor did he care. As soon as they walked through the door of their already-furnished house, he released a heavy breath, brushed past her, unbuttoned his tuxedo, and - cold as his ice quirk - instructed, "I'm going to bed. Don't come up tonight." It was the first time he had ever spoken directly to her.

His wife, through this entire ordeal, was patient with him. She didn't want this arrangement either, but she figured they could at least talk and come to a mutual agreement. The entire month, she never pushed him to speak to her. She anticipated that he would be rational about this, as she was told by her family, and that they would be able to talk things over when they were finally alone. Just as she was going to speak her mind the way she had rehearsed it many times, he dismissed her. She was hurt, but she understood. He's exhausted after a whole month of stress and preparations, she rationalized, He just wants to rest. I wouldn't want to talk to a stranger after all that either.

Resolving to try again tomorrow morning, she undressed (with great difficulty), crept into the master bedroom for her clothes while Shoto showers, retrieved her pajamas quietly, and retreated back to the living room. The girl searched all the closets for a thick enough blanket and settles down to sleep on a couch, the exhaustion putting her right to sleep.

The next morning, the new Mrs. Todoroki woke up bright and early to make breakfast for her husband as an olive branch. She toiled away in the kitchen, somewhat making a racket even though she wanted to stay quiet so Shoto can sleep. Just as she finished setting the table and had to face the question of how to wake him, the boy padded down from the room.

"Oh, morning!" she smiled brightly at him.

He murmured a greeting back only to be polite, his face devoid of any real emotions other than coldness. He sat as far away from her a possible, thanking her for the meal halfheartedly and digging in without another word.

After waiting a few moments to let him satisfy his hunger, she cleared her throat. "So, um-"

"Your tamagoyaki needs more soy sauce and butter," he stated bluntly.

She blinked at the harsh comment. It was shocking he said anything to her at all, and the first thing he said was an insult.

"And the miso has no flavor," he continued in the same tone.

The girl finally gathered her wits. "I'll do better tomorrow. Thanks for the feedback, I guess?" she laughed nervously, trying to erase the immense tension Shoto bled into the atmosphere. When he didn't respond, she tried again. "I know this isn't something either of us wanted, but that doesn't mean we have to live here like enemies. We could be friends, or even just roommates!"

"I'd rather be strangers," he interjected harshly.

It felt like a stab in the heart. Here she was, trying to make their lives somewhat bearable together through their common misfortune, and all he wanted to do was live like ghosts in the same house.

Shoto placed his chopsticks down firmly, glaring her straight in the eyes with the iciest hatred she's ever seen. "Just to be clear, I want no part of you. You live your life and I live mine. You can have the bedroom to sleep at night if you want, but it's mine when I come home to shower and prepare for bed. We will not sleep, talk, or breathe near each other as long as we are in this house."

She dipped her head in defeat, unable to bear the weight of his stare. "C-Can we at least have our meals together?" she asked feebly.

It's something he respected, coming from family values no matter how broken. It's the only exception he made to their less-than relationship.

Months passed and she kept her end of the bargain through a suffocating routine. At first, the girl was kind, trying to get him to open up to her somehow without overstepping her boundaries. She made excuses for him constantly. He's just tired. The least I can do is leave him alone. I can't comfort him anyway, I'm a stranger. He's still upset about the whole thing, he'll come around. She even begged her boss to let her leave a little early every day to make sure she had ample amount of time to get home, shower, and prepare dinner before Shoto returned. When he did, he wordlessly showered, sat down to dinner, nitpicked at her cooking, finished eating, and went to sleep on the living room couch, all without even sparing her a glance.

But as every day passed, she grew more weary and worn in her efforts to please him. She tried to fix every little complaint Shoto had about her cooking or the cleanliness of the house or the laundry, but nothing seemed to satisfy him. She tried to hold onto the silver lining. At least he never touched me wrong or took advantage of me, she would think bitterly. He has the decency not to take his anger out on me.

Then the dark thoughts closed in as he continued ignoring her. Surely, Shoto's only disgusted with his father, he doesn't harbor hatred for her personally. Then she would remember the hate and disgust in his mismatched eyes the first day of their marriage. She realized no matter how desperately she tried, he wouldn't show her any signs of warmth or appreciation. No more did she try to make conversation with him during meals or greet him when he came home. There were days she thought, Why should I even try? He wouldn't like it either way. What's the point of getting up today? Maybe he'll even criticize how I sleep. But she still rose out of bed every morning and carried out her routine because it could always be worse.

A sliver of hope came in the form of Shoto's birthday. The girl figured if she did something just a little special, he would acknowledge her even the tiniest bit. She spent days beforehand researching and testing out the perfect cold soba recipe because she knew it was his favorite. She lit some candles on the table and bought a small cake for them to share.

When he came home, she was sure he would notice and say something, but he didn't; he went straight up to the bathroom as he usually did without a word. Though she felt the glimmer lessen in her heart, she didn't give up. For the first time in a while, she verbalized her thoughts to him.

"I made your favorite for your birthday!" she chirped as he sat down, setting the plate and a cup of dipping sauce in front of him. She was so eager for him to try it because she was confident she'd gotten it right this time. If she were a dog, her tail would've wagged in anticipation as he slurped the noodles into his mouth. She waited patiently for his feedback, leaning forward in excitement as he swallowed.

"The noodles are slightly overcooked. And the dipping sauce is too strong, you didn't add enough water."

Her hopes came crashing to a halt. She couldn't even muster anything else to say as he hastily finished his dinner and rose to leave.

She stood up, heart hammering in her chest. "What about the cake?" Anything, something!

"I don't want it." He turned his back to her.

"I got it for you!" It was the first time she explicitly stated her intentions, the first time she made herself vulnerable.

"You shouldn't have gotten it at all. It was a waste of time. Why did you even try?" The calm and cold words stung her as he got up and left her in the dining room alone.

His words echoed against the empty walls of the dining room. She looked down at the cake he disregarded, feeling cold and dizzy. She took a shaky breath in and out before resting her head on the cold glass table to stabilize herself. The voice stabs through her even as she closed her eyes to block them out.

It was then she felt bluntly in her mind. He hates me.

The girl feels nothing but numbing cold, both on her face and inside. Rolling up to sit, her neck and back cry out in soreness from sleeping on the table, pale light greeting her from the nearby window. Her face feels strange, and she trudges to the bathroom mirror to check why. She knows she should be preparing for work, but what's the point? Her reflection reveals lines across her cheek, probably from sleeping on the edge of the table. She shuffles to the kitchen because she should probably start breakfast, but why should she? Leaning against the counter, she can't bring herself to move anywhere. Her brain buffers as she tries to force herself to think of what to do now. She doesn't feel sick, but there's a dull, cool feeling in her limbs that she can't face.

The phone rings, catching her off guard. ��Glancing at the number, she doesn't hesitate to answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby. It's me."

Her eyebrows relax, appreciating the sound of a familiar voice. "Hey, Mom. What's up?" She knows her voice sounds weak, she's hoping the woman can't hear it.

"I'm just checking in, you haven't called in a while. Is something up? You don't sound good."

"I'm...fine," she stumbles over the word. "How's dad?"

"He's doing well. You sure you're not sick, sweetie?"

"I'm not." She leans her back on the counter.

"Is Shoto there? How is he?"

And just like that, she feels something dislodge in her throat. "He's going to work, he probably left early." She doesn't know, there hasn't been any rustling in the house.

Her mom is silent for a while. "Tell me the truth. What happened?"

The sound of her mother's stern voice moves something in her chest. "It's nothing, I just made a mistake."

"Doing what?"

"I tried making Shoto's favorite dish for his birthday yesterday. I put so much time and energy into perfecting it for him to enjoy it, but I fell short again." She laughs bitterly, tears starting to fill her eyes. "He didn't even want the cake I got for him, he said it was a waste. I shouldn't have bothered with it." She blinks and a tear slides down her face. "I don't know why I was expecting something different to happen, I'm so stupid."

"Honey, where is this coming from? What's going on?"

She wipes her face, but more spill out of her eyes as she slides down the cabinet onto the cold floor. "It's just a little frustrating when you're sharing a house with someone you're married to and they barely acknowledge you. I mean, I expected there to be problems at first given the circumstances, but I didn't expect this." Her voice shakes with every word. "God, what did I do to deserve this? I've lived in this house for 5 months, and never has he even said 'thank you' to me. Hasn't breathed a word of appreciation to me. I do so much for him. I've bent over backwards for him just to make everything done the way he wants it, I've worked my entire routine, my entire life in this house to cater to him, but all he does is complain!" She sobs into the phone, curling up into a ball as tremors wrack through her body. "I'm just so tired. I don't know how much more I can take. I've made so many excuses for him, but I just can't do anything right. Why am I even still here?"

Her mother is silent on the other line. "My baby, if I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have allowed this marriage. I can't believe you're going through this."

The girl can't formulate words or think anything coherent. She drops the phone out of her hand, wrapping her legs to her chest as the tremors continue in waves, muffled whimpers the only thing escaping her lips because she's afraid to cry out loud despite being in an empty, lonely house.

Shoto heard something he probably shouldn't have, but he definitely needed to hear. It bothered him for the rest of the day. It was a sobering slap in the face that made him feel shame and regret, a hard-to-swallow pill that sat in his stomach the entire day.

On his way back home, the sound of her sobs echoes in his mind. He curses his behavior from the past few months. At the very least, he made a lady cry, and at the most, he's been a complete asshole. It's all his fault, that is something he's completely aware of and is ready to take full responsibility for. All this time, he was stupidly neglecting her out of spite for his father, but he broke her in the process. He's angry that he had to hear her crying to realize that. The only thing he can do now is hurry home to profusely apologize for what he's done and hope they can start over new and she forgives him, which he's prepared for her not to do.

Honestly, he deserves all the hate from her that he's shown her. After everything she's done for him and all the effort she's put into their imbalanced relationship, he wouldn't be surprised if she yelled at him and called him all sorts of names.

Shoto walks through the door, the atmosphere different. The house is quiet as usual, but it's more eerie than he remembers, as if that means anything with how aloof he was. He slips into the bedroom and changes quickly, returning back to the quiet dining room where his dinner waits for him at his place.

He tentatively sits and spares a quick glance at the girl who's supposed to be his wife. Her eyes are still puffy and she's tugging at her sleeves. It seems she's avoiding him and he was avoiding her before. He questions how things should start. When is the right time to speak his piece. Would she listen to him now? He decides to take a bite first and chews slowly. I guess a 'thank you' is a good place to start-

"We're getting a divorce."

He stops suddenly, almost choking.

"You don't owe me anything, and I don't want anything from you." She isn't looking at him, voice calm and collected. "Besides, it's better this way since it's what you wanted." She rises from her seat smoothly. "I've already packed for the next few nights. I'll have some workers come in the following weeks to clear out the rest, and the papers will be delivered promptly." Her footsteps recede from the room.

Shoto turns around to call out to her, and his minds comes up blank.

He never even bothered to remember her name.

Sequel?

Sequel!

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

943 notes · View notes

dreamii-yume · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! ¿Could I order a one shot yandere from Azul with Ariel? (Or you can put s / n hehe. The one that is most comfortable foto You ewe) I always wondered how Azul would be with her Childhood love (Ariel protected him from teasing but she doesn't know him very much) when he found out that she fell in love with a human (Eric). Sorry I like ti see the world burn 7v7. Greetings! :D and sorry for My horrible english TwT

“She doesn’t know him very much” Yup, I definitely fucked this request up, didn’t I? I was just writing and I realized I was straying away from the original request Σ੧(❛□❛✿) But I was too lazy to start over so, sorry about this Anon~! (´；Д；`)

Damn, this was a very interesting request! I had fun writing this!

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Azul’s Darling had always been there for him since they were children! Protecting him from bullies when he could not and encouraging him in his darkest times. Azul could not ask for better blessing such as his Darling! However, Darling was a mermaid who had always been fascinated by the land. But this time, she got a bit too curious and had fallen so blindly in love with a mere human! It seems that Azul has to teach her the hard way of what it means to face one’s consequences.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“Ow!”

Azul heard the annoying voice of one merchild cried out. He and other merchildren all gathered around his pot again, having nothing else but to take pleasure in teasing and insulting him. Azul looked up with teary eyes, proof that he had been holding back his tears all this time. The merchild rubbed his head, trying to ease the pain coming from it. Azul looked down and saw a seashell, someone seemed to have thrown this at him, though forgive Azul for not feeling a single bit of sympathy for the merchild.

“Who was that!? That really hurts, you know!”

Everyone looked around trying to find the culprit, Azul did too, curious of the events unfolding. However, instead of showing themselves, many more seashells have come raining down upon them. Azul hid down his pot, as he did not want to get hit, leaving the group of merchildren panicking on how they’re going to defend against the attack. Though, peeking from the pot, Azul’s once teary eyes sparkled in amusement as the bullies he hated so much was now pathetically squirming in front of him. It made him want to laugh but he managed to restrain himself.

“Let’s get out of here! Azul must have done something using one of his disgusting tentacles!”

Azul narrowed his eyebrows, irritated at the fact that these merchildren even has the nerve to pick the blame on him. Well, even if he was at fault, they should’ve seen it coming. And so, they swam away with their long tails, retreating cowardly for a mere rain of seashells. Serves them right for being such bullies, Azul sincerely hopes they get at least a little bit injured. Morbid thought for a child, but who can blame him?

Azul looked around, his place that was once so empty and clean was now covered in seashells. He sighed, though the culprit had driven his bullies away, they certainly created quite a mess. He was thankful that the shells were somehow beautiful to look at, or else, he would’ve been the one to get seriously in trouble for littering. Speaking of the culprit, he never actually saw anyone that could’ve done the deed. Just in time with his line of thoughts, Azul heard a mischievous giggle from behind him.

“Hehe! My plan worked!”

Azul blinked, taking the time to study this particular merchild who was clearly unfamiliar to him. Her tail shone a beautiful shade of color as the sway back in forth in the water, she wore intriguing accessories from her wrist and fingers, her hair was flowing gracefully from every slight movements, and her skin looked very smooth and youthful. Most importantly, Azul couldn’t help but gaze on her face as she laughed, thinking of how adorable her smile was. He didn’t say anything to her though, and just waited until she calmed her laughter, silently admiring her figure not too far from himself. Once she regained her normal breathing, she instantly freezes up when she noticed that Azul was looking at her.

She flushed red in embarrassment and scratched the back of her neck, feeling silly. “Ah, I guess someone still saw me…My bad!” She said, nonchalantly and began to swim towards him. Azul quickly tensed up and backed away, his guard was up in an instant. “Hey, are you okay? I heard those kids saying some pretty mean things to you so, I thought of stepping in.”

“Well, I ended up not showing myself anyway…” She laughed, her voice was sweet and somehow enchanting to hear.

But Azul still kept his guard up on her, he wasn’t going to risk a way for this mermaid to be all friendly with him. For all he knows, she could be as crude as her species. Azul followed her with his eyes as she swam to grab one beautiful seashell. “My plan was just to scare them; these seashells don’t hurt much anyway...” She said and looked at him with an apologetic look. “I realized that I might’ve included you in my prank. Were you hit? I’m sorry.”

Azul sink deeper into his pot as if he wanted to disappear from her presence, or at least wanted her to just leave him be. However, being the curious child she is, she went closer to him about to ask more questions until she got a good look at him. “Hm? Huh?” She blinked, looking down at one squishy limb of his. “Tentacles...?”

She soon realized what she was looking at and widened her eyes, letting out a loud and dramatic gasp. “Ah! You’re a Cecaelia!” Azul flinched at her voice as he grits his teeth in irritation. It was a reaction that he expected from people who doesn’t know him. If she end up following the same pattern, he knew that this mermaid would end up joining his bullies for the fun of it, ultimately leaving him all alone when they get bored.

However, this strange mermaid curiously swam all around him, trying to take a closer look in his anatomy. “Wow~! Amazing! You’re a real cecaelia! Like the Benevolent Sea Witch from the Great Seven! It’s my first time seeing one!” She cheered, her eyes sparkling, her observation was making Azul feel self-consious even more. Then, she faces him, looking directly at his eyes. “Hey, can you move all tentacles at once? Can I touch one of them? What’s your name?”

Azul’s face flushed as he felt overwhelmed by her presence and never-ending questions that he resorted into pushing her away. “W-What do you want!?” He yelled, backing away as far as possible. The mermaid stumbled a little before noticing his scared, teary eyes. “Why did you come here for!? Tell me so you can go away already!”

The mermaid tilted her head to the side, blinking in confusion. “...What do you mean?” She said.

“You drove those bullies away because you expected to be rewarded, right? Just tell me what you want and leave me alone!” Azul yelled, aggressively as his reasoning only made the mermaid raised her eyebrow in confusion.

“Eeh? Rewarded? I’m not really...” She trailed off, putting a hand on her mouth, thinking of what she’s going to say next. She then snapped her fingers as an idea came lighting itself on her head. She swam close to him again but this time, she made sure to keep a safe distance as to not bother his personal space again. “Reward, huh? Then...”

“Be my friend!”

Azul blinked, his mind processing what the eccentric mermaid has said. “...Excuse me?” Azul muttered, tilting his head to the side. Was that all she wants? To be a mere acquaintance of his? A simple form of friendship and nothing else? No, there must be some kind of trick to this!

“A friend! I want to be your friend! And if you’re asking for what kind of reward I want, then I want you to become my friend! It’s as simple as that!” You cheerfully explained, Azul’s over critical mindset was contrasting with your idealistic point of view.

“T-That’s it? If I were you, I would’ve taken advantage of this, you know.” Azul warned her, his face not understanding her intentions at all. “You’re not going to ask me to do your homework for you? Make a certain type of potion? A spell? Anything else?”

The mermaid looked at him as if he was crazy. “Wha-!? No, of course not! What kind of life we’re you living up until now...” She said, sweat dropping, feeling kind of bad for the state of Azul’s mind. Then, she went closer to him, thankfully, the cecaelia didn’t move away like before. She then gently took Azul’s squishy hands onto hers, the boy taking note of how soft it felt around his. “Let’s start again, what’s your name, Cecaelia-kun?”

Azul stayed silent for a while, at first, he never had any intention of saying his name to a stranger but looking deep into her eyes, she was mesmerizing. She holds great kindness and patience in those eyes, it was very compelling. “...A-Azul.” He muttered but loud enough for the mermaid to hear. “Azul Ashengrotto.”

This made the mermaid smile, an adorable, happy smile. Azul could feel his heart beat faster than normal as his face flushed red. He wondered if he was about catch a cold soon. “Nice to meet you, Azul-kun~! I’m (Y/N).” She introduced herself, hands still in hers. “Let’s be friends!”

This was how this particular day had set a personal space on Azul’s heart, mind, and soul. A special day that he recognizes soon in his life. The first time he properly interacted with a genuinely kind and beautiful mermaid. The first time someone so warm held his hand and not being disgusted on how cold it was. Yes, this was truly the day the was more important to Azul than any other holiday in his life.

It was the day he met you.

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Ever since that fateful day, Azul was automatically attracted to you. He found your request to be ridiculous, all because he couldn’t understand why, and he wasn’t planning to take it seriously. However, he soon found himself taking on that exact role. Your personality was probably what interested him to bear with you, so cheerful yet so graceful. Before he knew it, he was having fun bonding with you and learning all sorts of stuff about you.

On that same day you met him, you had recently moved to Coral Sea, thus the reason why Azul has not seen you before. He found out that you grew up in a strict, yet loving family, that alone was enough to explain to him the practiced elegance in your form. You were the youngest out of your sisters whose names he didn’t bother to remember, you were the most interesting out of the siblings anyway. However, there was one little quirk about you that Azul did find strange. Something that he usually wouldn’t expect a resident in the bottom of the sea to have.

It was your extreme fascination above the sea, in the land, where humans reside.

When such topic starts, Azul has to live through that dreamy look on your face, fantasizing what it’s like to be on the land. You could talk for hours on end about the humans’ inventions, despite the fact that Azul thought that the deep ocean already has their own versions of that said item. However, he did dismiss your fascination as a simple, child-like addiction you have, nothing to really worry about. Instead, on times like these, Azul would pretend to listen but in truth, he was just quietly listening to your enchanting voice, not your actual words. Though, he wishes that you could talk just as much about him rather than worshipping some creature who could walk on two legs.

As time pass, the two of you grew closer and closer, your bonds deepen with every interaction. Little did you know that not only does your friendship grows, but also Azul’s undying and desperate love for you, slowly twisting into that of an obsession. Even when the Leech Brothers came in, he could not think of them more than mere acquaintances, you still remained to be the most important in his heart. Azul strived to be better just for you, who have done a lot for him, helping him gain back the confidence he once lost. He worked hard in sports, erasing his overweight self and mastered the art of studying and making high quality potions like the infamous Sea Witch.

Azul strived to become the better version of himself just for you.

Of course, Azul became insanely overprotective of you as time goes on. Once he developed his unique magic, he targeted any mermen who dares to make a move on you and trap them into one of his contracts, with knowledge of their weakness in mind. You would wonder why that one merman in your school had suddenly traded their long and fast tail just for a silky flock of blonde hair. Azul would only shrug whenever you would ask why they would make such a deal with him, saying it’s a confidential thing. You would never suspect him at playing quite unfairly with his deals at all, he was just doing his job with Floyd and Jade chuckling mischievously in background.

You did not have to know. After all, everything he had done has been for you.

Not too long later, Azul and the Leech Brothers had received their invitation to the prestigious school, Night Raven College. They were to be sent out by the ebony carriage anytime soon and Azul would not forget how cute and salty your face looked.

“How nice~! I’m so jealous!” You puffed your cheek as Azul merely raised an amused eyebrow at her behavior. “Night Raven College...You, Floyd, and Jade get to go on land and have legs!”

“Azul~! Take me with you~!”

Azul chuckled at her and pat her head, easing her pouting self. “You know I can’t do that. Night Raven College is an all-boys school and only chosen students with a high affiliation with magic gets to attend such school.” He explained, calmly but your disappointed pout would not leave your face. Azul thought it was adorable, if only he has a camera that could treasure that look on your face. “How about this? I’ll come visit during spring break and I’ll make sure to bring you some land items that will surely intrigue you.”

With those simple words, your eyes sparkled and your mood changes almost immediately. Azul really knows how to bring you back up. “Really!? You’ll do that for me!?” You exclaimed, excitedly.

“Of course, anything for you, my dear.” Azul smiled at you, watching as you cheered, going back to your usual self. You then wrapped your arms around his waist as a sign of appreciation. Azul had to physically resist himself not to just stuff you in his luggage to bring you wherever he goes.

“Thank you, Azul! I’ll be waiting for you always!” You said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

Azul leaned down on you and gently kissed you on the forehead, a daring move but you weren’t one to misunderstood such gesture. You thought it was normal move for best friends as close as the two of you are. Unknown to you however, Azul wished desperately that it was your lips that he could smooch on and not just restrain himself on your forehead.

“I’ll miss you too, (Y/N). Take care of yourself.”

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Azul had always looked forward to spring break just to see you again rather than his family. He wished he could come home during winter break too, but just as Floyd states, it is a very troublesome task to do so. His first time going home during spring break last year, he was blessed from seeing you so happy and swimming around him. He gave you his promised items, watching on how you curiously examine each one of them. He wanted to laugh as they were just simple, everyday items from the land but he made sure to never give you any low-quality ones. Heavens, he would never dare give you anything low of worth, you deserved the best of everything after all.

This year too, Azul was very eager to come home, he made sure to finish all his homework before going out. He wanted to spend the whole spring break with you after all, he didn’t want something as bothersome as homework get in between that time. Azul may look calm as he stood in front of the dark mirror that would take him back to Coral Sea but the Leech Brothers behind him only chuckled as they know exactly how utterly excited he was on the inside. He gripped his luggage tighter, full of the land items he promised to bring you. He couldn’t wait to see how happy you would look this time.

Arriving at Coral Sea along with the twins, his predictions had been on point once again as he was the first person he saw. “Azul! Floyd! Jade!” You exclaimed with a smile on your face as you swam towards them. Floyd and Jade gave their own way of greeting her, Jade being polite while Floyd is the complete opposite. Finally, you turned to him and Azul had already prepared for the usual hug you would give him every time he would come home.

But there was none this time.

Azul blinked, a smile still remained on his face to mask his confusion as you merely swam towards him, waving and smiling. “Welcome back, Azul! How’s the dorm head life so far?” You greeted. “I heard you opened up a restaurant? As expected of Azul!”

It delayed Azul half a second to answer before giving her the proper response, save for the little stutter he made at the first word. He was a bit disappointed that she didn’t tackle him into an embrace like last time, it even feels like her excitement had really gone down. This made Azul suspicious for sure, was she not happy to see him or...?

There was definitely something wrong.

If Azul hadn’t been suspicious before, the fact that you only smiled at the land items he got you was surely something that can raised someone’s attention. He wasn’t the only one too, Floyd and Jade felt the same but they chose not to speak about it. “Ah...I’ve heard one of these! I never thought I’ll ever see one...” You said with less excitement in your voice, causing Azul an even greater worry. What happened while he was away, he wonders. Does he have any business he has to take care of for you?

It was only after three days that Azul began to notice your actions were not corresponding with your past self. You seemed to be almost in a daze when you’re on your own and in some days that you were not, it feels like you were hesitating to talk to him. Azul wanted to ask you personally on what was bothering you but he didn’t want to pry too much. He wanted to wait for you to talk to him yourself, was there anything he could do for you? Azul had always been patient with you and this time as well, he shall wait for you to speak up.

Then, the time finally happened.

“A-Azul...” You called, Azul instantly knew that you were finally going to confess what you have in your mind this past few days. Azul looked at you with a smile, a smile that he made so innocent just for you. The Leech Twins were in the same room as well, but you seem to not mind having them listening. Perhaps it was the fact that you’ve known them along with Azul and that they don’t care much for any secret you might have.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He asked, delighted that you were finally speaking up to him.

Azul noticed how you gulped as a final evidence of hesitation. You looked up at him. “You...Can do anything, right?” You said, your eyes now looking serious like you just finally accepted your fate.

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Well...I wouldn’t say anything unfortunately...Just things possible to do by my hands so I prefer the term, mostly anything.” He corrected, observing as how your mood changes depending on what he says. “Why? Is there anything you want?”

You fidgeted for a while before finally opening your mouth, Azul noticed your tail swinging a bit too much today. “...Legs. A pair of legs to take me up the surface!” You said with a determined look on your face. “I want to make a deal with you, Azul!”

Now that caught Azul’s attention, even the Leech brothers were quite shock at your sudden request. Was this the day Azul had been looking forward to? The deal that bounds you forever with him if you happen to fail? However, his darling (Y/N) wanted to go to the land, isn’t that a bit dangerous for a mermaid who had been swimming on the bottom of the ocean for all her life? Azul narrowed his look at her, showing his distaste for her plan as he cleared his throat.

“I know you’ve been fascinated by the land ever since we were children but...I didn’t think you would go as far as change a part of you for such thing.” Azul said, his voice was laced with disappointment that it made you flinch. “But do tell me (Y/N), why now? Out of all the times you could’ve done before?”

To his surprise, your cheeks flushed and a heartwarming smile appeared in your face. “...Because I found him.” You timidly whispered as you put on a dreamy expression. “A guy that I love!”

Azul froze, his hands almost dropped what they were holding as in that moment, he felt something in him broke. He slowly looked up at her with a dangerous look on his dilated pupils that unfortunately went unnoticed as you were sucked in on your own dream world. “Pardon...?” He quietly muttered, his voice trying to calm themselves upon hearing the words that he thought his darling would never say. Floyd and Jade immediately recognized the change of atmosphere in the room but not you. “What...did you say?”

“A guy, Azul! A human! He visited Coral Sea just a few weeks ago with a use of a water-breathing potion!” You enthusiastically told him, it was as if you were holding these words back all this time, thus the reason why your energy felt overwhelming. This was the (Y/N) that Azul knew, eccentric and happy, but the cause of this is definitely not what he wants. “He got lost so I helped him and we ended up hanging out! I can’t believe how good-looking and nice he was! Just like a prince from a fairytale!”

With every compliment this unknown guy gets from you, Azul could feel himself so close to snapping. Good-looking? Nice? You have horrible taste, not to mention the possibility of those traits being a mere facade! It disgusts him to no end that this guy was even coming out of your own mouth. “He taught me a lot of things about the land, some of which I’ve never known about!” You continued and Azul had to seriously restrain himself from slamming his hand on your mouth to stop you from talking. “This must be fate, Azul! Like what the little mermaid must’ve felt when she met the human prince!”

“That’s why, I want to have a pair of legs and go to the land! I want to meet him again!” You went closer to Azul, your eyes begging him to answer her plea. “Please, Azul! I know I’m being selfish but I swear this is a one-time thing! I’m never going to ask for anything like this anymore!”

“Make me a part of that world, Azul!”

Azul looked down at you as you gripped his sleeves with a desperate look on your eyes. How frustrating, if only you were this desperate for him like he was to you, maybe things would’ve gone a lot more smoothly. His eyes glared at your expression behind those glasses of his before sighing. “...Three days.” He said, holding up three fingers in front of your face. You blinked up at him, wondering what he meant. “I’ll give you legs and even take you to the land. I’ll even go as far as let you live in my dorm during all of that.”

Before you can cheer in victory, Azul continued, not giving you a chance to even let out a single word. “If you truly believe that you and that guy are destined together, then I’ll use that as your condition.” Azul said, his eyes cold and dark. “After you sign my contract, I will give you three days to make this human fall in love with you and seal it a kiss.”

“Only then will I give you the ability to change from a mermaid and a human anytime you want.”

“T-Three days...!?” You widened your eyes at the outrageous condition. “T-That’s...!”

“Impossible? But (Y/N), don’t you remember?” Azul smirked as he gave you a close-eyed smile but it looks so sinister from your sight. “The little mermaid was in the same position as you are and the benevolent sea witch was gracious enough to give her the same condition. In the end, she did succeed on achieving the life she wanted, correct?”

You pursed your lips together, thinking about what he just said. “If this was truly fate like you said then I do believe that you can do what the little mermaid had done.” Azul said, his voice cunning and manipulative. “After hearing all of that, do you still think three days are impossible?”

You looked down and slowly shook your head. “...No.” You said and looked up at him, this time with a determined smile. “I can do it!”

“Such determination, a trait that I personally liked about you.” Azul praised, keeping his eyes close as to not show how much evil he was plotting inside his head.

“I’ll have you know that just because you are a precious friend of mine, you are not going to special treatment from me.” He said, his lips smiling so cruelly. “Favoritism is not good for business, after all. You’ll have to pay the usual fee.”

“It’s fine! I’ll pay! Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you! Anything!” You desperately nodded your head, ready to take any risk. Azul smirk got wider.

“Then, I’ll take your voice.” He said. “I’ll have to take your voice as compensation for your request.”

You widened your eyes and wondered on why Azul would’ve wanted such a specific request. Your voice was not the most beautiful in the ocean, so why? Sure, it would’ve be harder for you to clear the task without a voice, but sometimes love needs no words, right? You decided to not get swayed by any form of hesitation in your mind this time and nodded. “I’ll accept that.” You said, brimming with confidence.

Azul looked delighted by your choice as always before opening his eyes, ready to kill your short-lived happiness. “Finally, one last thing.” He said. “You do know what will happen should you fail this contract, yes?”

You froze as you almost forgot about that part, but you mentally prepared yourself. This is where Azul took a deep breath and chuckled, everything was going rather smoothly for such a deal with an overwhelming amount of risks. “You’ve been my close friend for a long time now, haven’t you?” He said as he leaned close to your face, just inches away. You gulped as a chill went up your spine, somehow this was akin to that of making a deal with a devil rather than a sea witch. “I’m sure you’ve already known by now what kind of consequence I tell of my clients once they fail.”

You backed away from him, a wary look on your face. “...Being bounded to you forever...Right?” You said but shook your head, recklessly dismissing it. “...I’ll take it! I can definitely make my prince fall in love with me within three days and without my voice! If not, I can be your slave or whatever!”

Azul chuckled, patting your head like he usually does back then. “Then, I’ll look forward working with you, (Y/N).” He said as Floyd and Jade smirked in background, the two of them were already intelligent enough to know what their dorm head was planning. “Make sure that you won’t have to regret this deal, yes?”

It’s time for you to know the true nature of a sea witch.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue with the spice~?

I feel like I’m going to jinx myself again once I set another deadline for myself but I was born to suffer so the estimated date of release of the next request is on June 23

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto #sinfic #twisted wonderland #spicy dream #octavinelle

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