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circeyoru · 2 months

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Collection of Overlords _ Part 11 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 — Part 11 (here) — Part 12 — Part 13

Like dominos, one thing led to another as predicted

With Alastor motivated to do his absolute to please you, Husk’s hellish training and push to be a worthy Overlord reached its heights. Though, to not cause suspicion to the other residents of the hotel, namely Angel, Husk made appearances here and there just so no one would claim that Alastor was being unreasonable

As for Velvette, she was being mentored by Rosie and Carmilla. It started with just exploring her new title as a ‘Threater Demon’. Her eye in fashion, her want to command, and her presentation skills were strong. Her role in your collection was to project information and messages you want Hell to know about

Because with Hell’s win over Heaven, big changes were bound to come. Not to mention, Trick would be wanting some action on their side and not just to watch their realm fret over yours. You understand the sentiment, after all, you enacted the system for Overlords for that sole purpose in the first place

Now, it was a lucky thing that the Vees actually divided territories before Velvette went solo, because those served as her base of operations and her new home. With Carmilla’s help in construction, Velvette has her own building to call home and workplace. With Rosie’s pointers, Velvette was capable of recruiting talents of worth to her growth

As an Overlord should, Velvette gathered souls to her side through contracts and slowly started to build her own base and support. Just as Alastor was supporting Husk in such a task, albeit it was more complicated since Husk was still under Alastor’s leash at the moment

Her souls comprised of individuals from the fashion and entertainment industries, not too different from her former work associates, so she was able to handle things all on their own. However, there was one thing that she made clear to her people or demons, which is; she was no long part of the Vees and when they sign a contract with her, it’s only to her service

That was something you’re quite proud to hear her say. Even when she is technically starting from rock bottom, she is not using anyone’s name to give herself a boost to start strong and fast, she was using her own. Granted that you allowed Carmilla and Rosie to help, but they were only serving as guidance and giving her advice on what direction to go in. After all that, they took a backseat and watched

To see her rise from the ashes of her own burnt flame was a spectacle and what you have been aiming and doing with your Overlords since the beginning. It was what you have designed when you took initiative to lead a group of overpowered Sinners. They were more than souls doomed to suffer in Hell

In your dark and cruel eyes, they were so much more. While around the majority of the deceased are destined for Hell, their crimes when living define their powers in Hell and their authority in a sense. You being the puppeteer behind your Overlords shows their potential but also their limits because they can never amount to anywhere above Hellborns of great destruction

You have your Overlords their domain of special title. Zestial of Fear, Carmila of War, Rosie of Dismantlement, Zeezi of Violence, Alastor of Domination, and now Velvette has joined their ranks. Velvette of Recreation. So you never let anything destroy or interrupt Velvette’s growth

It’s funny to watch was Vox’s panic over Velvette’s absence and silence. You had given Alastor a power boost to interfere with Vox’s persistent surveillance. The last thing you wanted was for your two new rising stars to have a stalker that will ruin plans and hard work. So now all Vox could do was try to make more public appearances to hypnotize others into staying relevant

Though it wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. You did, however, receive information from your other Overlords that Vox has been asking around as to where Velvette was. Well, you have to give him credit of being bold enough to ask others where his former associate was at, even though it showed his stupidity

“M’re tea, mine own Liege? (More tea, My Liege?)” Zestial offered with the hovering items.

“Zestial, this is a redemption lesson.” You politely and indirectly declined his offer.

“Th’re is barely anyone h’re. (There is barely anyone here)” Zestial laughed, still offering you your drink to which you accepted. “And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, m’rely… multitasking. (And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, merely… multitasking.)”

Currently, you were sitting in a lesson of the Princess in her endevours to make her hotel a success. While you admire her dedication, you can hardly see her plans succeeding and that’s what you show her despite knowing of Sir Pentious’ arrival to Heaven

As you were attending her class, it just so happened that Zestial was stopping by for tea with you and joined you when you said you were busy attending Charlie’s little class. Needless to say, Zestial saw no use in such efforts, labelling Charlie’s dream as ‘flight of fantasy’ rather than a goal to strive towards

Zestial taken great offence when Charlie was promoting her aim to him when he first passed through the doors of the hotel, claiming that he never wish or dreams of leaving Hell so long as you permitted him to stay by your side. He saw Charlie’s gracious offer to be good as an insult to him and his devotion to your services, going as far as to see it as a betrayal of your mercy had he paid half a mind to Charlie’s words

It was only because you’d be free after Charlie’s lesson does he stay at the hotel. As for why he was also attending the lesson? It was because it didn’t want to waste a second away from you when he can. Unlike the other Overlords, Zestial was the one to have known you the longest and that has given him some unique privileges

For example, he could contact you physically or mentally while others have to wait for you to contact them. That was why he suggested for Carmilla to contact you about the matter of the angel’s death instead of waiting for your summons

Another was his authority to stand in as you to a certain degree while you were absent among the gathering of Overlords, that’s why he had that level of say and respect from the others (apart from the Vees, it would seem)

“Hey, Princess!” Vox’s robotic voice boomed through the doors to the room’s doors behind they slammed open unceremoniously to reveal a frantic technology demon. “Princess! I know you’re a good and kind person, er, demon, so I want your help—”

“Help in what?” You questioned but your tone made it sound like a challenge in it of itself.

The moment Vox heard your voice within the room behind him, he froze and like the technology he is, he robotically turned around to meet your eyes. “Ma- I mean… You’re here…” His eyes looked away then back to you and away again, repeating this as though it was a shy schoolgirl with their crush in a love confession. “What a coincident… Haha…”

“Charlie dear.” You got up and Zestial follow suit, indirectly sending a chill down Vox and everyone else’s spine.

“Yes?” Charlie tried her best to keep an unaffected expression, but the way her body trembled and her hands gripped at her sheets of papers till they were all wrinkled up was evident that even she was shaken up.

You smiled back with a small tilt of your head, “I’ll be leaving my leave and bringing Vox along, do continue your lesson on boundaries.”

Zestial followed behind you, “I too shall beest taking mine own leaveth, has’t a pleasant day, princess. (I too will be taking my leave, have a pleasant day, Princess.)”

Vox grudgingly followed along behind the two of you with his head down.

While walking down the halls of the hotel, the mere appearance of Zestial made any demon near you fear for their lives and left with screams and shrieks. Some wondering why such a fearsome character was even in a hotel for redemption and some wondering if such an irredempable demon can be sent to Heaven with Charlie’s help

At those demon’s whispers, Zestial was quick to show why he was still feared even after the emergence of newer and powerful demons that joined the ranks of the Overlord. You reminded indifferent as you continued onwards to your room while Vox held himself back from flinching at Zestial’s more violent and unseen side

Your head turned to the side as you stole a glance at Vox. He was still straightened up, but that was all a facade to hide his fear and anxiety. You internally sighed while Zestial was quick to make work of the disgrace he faced from the shadows and joined her side once more

As clear as day, you recall when there was a time where Alastor spoke praise of Vox and his powers. How he captivated your interest with the potential growth and rise his powers could bring, the thrill you felt when Alastor listed out all the things that he saw Vox could do

The only reservations Alastor had with Vox was his dependence on Alastor as they were sharing a partnership. While Alastor took credit for what he has down, Vox was eager to share his achievements and accomplishments with Alastor’s name, advertising that he was nothing without the help of Alastor who was already an Overlord

Alastor did tell you that Vox wanted and aimed to be an Overlord, but it was to be on the same level as Alastor. As anyone could see, Vox was doing his all to be on Alastor’s equal and to you, that was disappointing. Here Alastor was, recommending Vox to be within your collection when all Vox wanted was to be by Alastor’s side

Oh how you wanted to crush Vox and stuff him into one of your Cages. But you held back, instead, it was more pleasing to see him suffer and rise from the ashes of pain and torture. You gave Alastor a simple suggestion

Break ties with Vox and let him tred his own path

Followed your indirect order Alastor did. Within the minute Alastor broken any and all relationship with Vox, a battle broke out. One where Alastor showcased his power and strength to be leagues above what Vox had in mind

You were perched atop your throne while your other Overlords watched Alastor’s victory and Vox’s defeat within the space you’ve created for them all. The smile you had on you was so wide that your cheeks hurt afterwards when Rosie pointed it out

Then it wasn’t long before Vox seemingly bounced back from his reality check and came back into the spotlight. To your disappointment, Vox used the media in a poor attempt to push Alastor out of power. The little cat and dog fight was entertaining for only a moment’s time as Vox was biting out more and more of Alastor’s time and attention from his rightful duties

The excuse for your intervention only came when Vox claimed to have an Overlord title. Immediately, you brought him into your domain for such a daring claim. Contrary to your expectations, he fell a few feet down, but out of your favouritism for Alastor and trusting in him, you gave Vox a chance. You did need someone to fill in Husk’s place after all

While his offer to share his Overlord status was a unique and intriguing one, his choices were poorer than a human’s foolishness. At the time, there was promise in Velvette, but Valentino was another matter entirely. Still they did work well together, you’ll give them that. So for the first time ever, there was a group of three sharing the title of Overlord

Now that you look back on it, it was a misjudgment on your place. Trusting in Alastor’s words when vouching for Vox was one thing, trusting in Vox’s choice of companionship was another. Still, you see the issue and that somethings could never be changed no matter what

You lost counts on the chances you gave the Vees. If they were any other Overlords in your collection, they’d be long disposed off, but you let them stay out of the goodness of your nonexistent heart

It was a lie

Within your collection, you needed someone at the bottom to be the receiving end of your fury and for someone to be an example to when things don’t go as you please. There needs to be a system of rewards and punishments and who better than the Vees? They have their uses and they wanted to stay. Whether or not they see through your intentions is another story, but you like that they were naive

Before the Vees was Husk who was royally kicked out and still suffering today. Of course he’s aiming to change now with the help of Alastor. Before Husk was a few others not even worthy of your memory. Though the first and successful one?

Zeezi, your perfect stress toy

It was through her that you realized the need for a bottom rank within your collection. What better to have something dull and trashy to better showcase your most prized ones? Just like now, Vox compared with Alastor. It’s obvious who’s better. The comparison and competition made you ever more pleased with your top favourites

So far, Velvette has been the only one that seeked help to break away from her consequence. You would bet Valentino still sees nothing wrong and would continue as he always had. The question remains… Will Vox change too?

In doing so, put Valentino up for elimination?

You chuckled darkly as you entered your room, taking a seat by the window. “Come on in.”

Vox followed in with a shiver while Zestial closed and locked the doors behind them. The room thrusted into darkness before their surroundings resembled the galaxy appeared before their eyes, something a Sinner can never witness again after their fall.

“Now,” You smirked, Zestial taking his place by your side and poured you a cup of tea he magically made appear. Your melodious voice played like a record but your words were sharp as knives. “Why did you seek out the dear Princess of Hell?” Vox gulped as much as he wanted to stare at anything by you, he knew it was a death sentence. “Instead of looking for my assistance?”

Note: Been a while since this series was updated. Not sure how many of you still read this. I thought of dropping this series a lot of times because of the writer's block, but here's the next part. I enjoy the asks, ideas, and trivia you guys sent me! What you think would happen now?

Hope you enjoyed this one~

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay

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chenya-my-love · 6 months

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Fictional Yuu

I see a lot of people basing Yuu off of characters on TV and in games. They'll have characters (usually Idia) make refrence to this fact but usually in just a throw away line. But nobody really leans into the idea of Yuu actually coming from some fictional media in Twisted Wonderland.

Like imagine some character like Cater, or maybe Vil while advertising the VDC, posting a photo with Yuu in it. Only for some random account to comment "That's an amazing cosplay, it looks so much like the character". And of course they're confused, they keep looking for who in the photo is cosplaying but nobody is there. Eventually just asking the commentor who was being cosplayed. The comment is simple.

"Right next to you. That's Yuu from (insert anime/game name here)". They don't believe it until they look up the listed media and sees the character they think Yuu is cosplaying and are shocked. They look identical to Yuu (except animated). Their name, looks, and personality are all identical to Yuu. It is Yuu.

I see two (techincally three) routes this could go. A RomCom route and an angst route.

The romcom route revolves around Yuu having a canon love interest making the boys jealous (regardless on whether they entered a relationship yet or the plot was still building it up) and trying to imulate them.

Like all the wikis say that Yuu's feelings blossomed after the love interest nursed them back to health when they were sick, so the moment Yuu gets sick the boy is just rushing to Ramshackle to take care of them. Or if Yuu caught feelings first and it was some romantic moment, the boys try to emulate that scene so Yuu will fall for them too.

But than we have the angst routes.

A scenerio where all the boys decide to watch the anime/play the game that Yuu is from. Only for Yuu to catch them, quickly learning that they're fictional.

Yuu realizing that all their memories were made up, and if their a playable character all their actions were being controlled. That all their suffering was pointless, that it was done simply to make them more interesting or to entertain a bunch of other worldly beings that Yuu didn't know existed.

Yuu having an breakdown over everything. Their life isn't even their own.

While learning about Yuu's world and story, they learn Yuu dies. And not just a shock value death that could be removed from the plot without care, their death is important. Their death leads to the ending whether that be Yuu sacrificing themself for the greater good or Yuu's death motivating the protag to take down the villain.

All that matters is that Yuu dies and Yuu needs to die. The story can't progress without Yuu there.

The boys realizing that if they send Yuu back to their world, their pretty much signing Yuu's Death Certificate. And Yuu doesn't know. The boys now know that Yuu is doomed by the narrative and is destined to die in the end, but Yuu doesn't. They can't even tell Yuu cause Seven only knows how Yuu will take the news that not only are they fictional but they're also destined to die.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #yuu au #au yuu #twst angst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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tragedy-of-commons · 6 months

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killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car.

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two.

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys.

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on.

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?”

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.”

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm.

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #ajax x reader #genshin impact #zira's lover : event

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libraryraccoon · 7 months

Note

I saw the Floyd request and I thought of rook hunt in hasbin hotel.

Rip Alastor his privacy he now became the hunted the both speaking French .

Imagine rook talking about angel dust his inner beauty is making him feel loved every day saying something positive.

And Charlie and vaggie getting put on romantic dates by rook and lucifer and rook seeing them ta about how beautiful love is.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : no real pronouns used(sometimes they/them)

Character : Alastor, general headcanon

Message from Raccoon : I was also thinking of a rook!reader while writing the Floyd!Reader tbh.

TW : ROOK!READER, a little suggestive

The Demon Of Hunt, a very strong overlord who knows everything about everyone. A predator whose prey are doomed to die.

They aren't a demon you want to mess with, you don't want to be their prey.

In their lifetime a very famous hunter living in a small village, in their death The Demon Of Hunt, the hunter everyone is afraid of.

Alastor

He met you when he was still killing overlords.

“Now, isn’t that a rather crude way of killing ?” You asked behind him.

How long have you been behind Alastor ? He has no idea.

“Oh ! And what a beautiful deer tail you have there ! C'est magnifique !” You say, touching Alastor's deer tail; ignoring the fact that you had just seen him kill an overlord.

He straight up hated you.

But he also found you interesting, especially when you could see through all his attacks.

Boring, but entertaining.

After that, you didn't let him go.

You followed him, stalking him, wherever he went.

Like a predator with its prey, observing it before killing it.

When he left for 7 years, he finally thought he had lost you…

You followed him.

For 7 fucking years he had to stay with you.

Even 8V>× didn't want to make a contract with you after seeing how weird you were.

Not to mention all the times you talked about love…

*add a disgusted Alastor*

You interfered in his life and never left, even though he tried to reject you.

And let's not even talk about your strange comments…

"Oh ! I wonder what red deer would taste like for dinner ! Or maybe a red wendigo ! Qu'en pense tu, Alastor ?"

“Red deer ?” *remembers that he is, technically, some sort of red deer/wendigo as a demon.* "Ha ha ! Stay 100km/h away from me."

When you arrived at the hotel, Alastor finally felt free ! After all his years of being the stolkant, you finally left him alone !

Well, not always, after all you would never leave your prey friend alone for too long, but you weren't with him all the time.

Alastor won't lie, not being with you 24/7 after so long was weird…

He finally had privacy-

100% complained to Rosie about you.

“And they never gave me space !” -Alastor

"Really ?" -Rosie

"Well, I'll give him some time alone. For the bathroom." -Rook!Reader, arriving out of nowhere behind Alastor.

Although Alastor considers you as a menace, there are times when he is grateful to you and to be your friend.

Like those rare times of weakness, when you helped him feel better, reassured him. It was the rare times he was grateful to have you as a friend.

I just know that when you want to talk about something private/you don't want others to hear you, you speak French.

Although sometimes you just do it to piss off other people.

"Mon cher cerf préférer ! Al' ! Je viens de découvrir quelque chose sur Vox, tu vas pas y croire !"

"Je vais préparer le thé, après tu me racontera."

You turn all Overlord meetings from boring to interesting meetings.

During meetings, you had the habit of telling everyone's secrets (except Alastor's secrets, bestie privilege), and always the most interesting ! Like this time you said you saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator !

*After the song Respectless.* "Actually, mes chers amis, it is possible, or not, that I saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator with her shoes. C'était un combat splendide !"

General Headcanon

You don't let anyone have privacy.

They know it, but they can't say anything.

Angel Dust suffered the most of that, he saw you during one of his shoots watching him in the shadows.. It was terrifying.

“Just try to be sexy.” -Valentino looking at Angel Dust during a shoot.

"Oh, mais mon cher, he's sexy enough like this ! Take off the underwear and people will love it !" -Rook!Reader behind Valentino, coming out of nowhere.

"MOTHERFUCKER-" *Add Valentino's scream of terror.*

You comforted Angel after each shoot, cheering him up in a more or less suspicious ways.

You call Angel Dust by his real name, Anthony. You are the only one in the hotel who knows his real name and calls him like that.

Angel Dust is sort of happy that someone thinks of him as Anthony and not Angel Dust.

Valentino hates you, as do all Vees and all the demons.

Lucifer found you weird the first time he meet you, and knowing your reputation, it was normal, but in the end you got along really well.

You 🤝 Lucifer = make Charlie and Vaggie have romantic dates by candlelight.

“Ah, youthful love ! Que c'est beau !”

“I miss the love of youth..” (in a dramatically way)

Did I mention that you and Lucifer are and always will be drama queens ?

You and Lucifer are just THAT bestie duo that everyone wants to be.

I can so see you having these dinners for two in fancy restaurants while being platonic. You say the most romantic things, speaking in French, and Lucifer joins you in those moments, doing the same.

"Oh, mon chéri, you look beautiful tonight ! Even more brilliant than usual !"

"Oh, I should be the one to tell you that ! You look beyond stunning tonight in that costume !"

You are trending on the networks.

Every. Fucking. Days.

On the networks, there are 3 teams; those who ship Lucifer x Rook!Reader, those who ship Alastor x Rook!Reader, and those who say you are a hopelessromantic and/or aromantic.

They have hilarious debates that you love to join for just fuck all and everyone.

"Well, it's true that Monsieur Alastor is quite handsome, but Lucifer ? Oh, je ne sais même pas ou commencer a son sujet !" -Rook!Reader on the networks screwing up between the teams, always changing the place between Lucifer and Alastor.

You are a star in all the circles of hell fr.

One day, Charlie asked you if you were dating her father after seeing what you were doing/writing on internet.

You answered some shit like "As much as I would love to be with him, je ne pourrais qu'en rêver. He is far too good and handsome man for a simple sinner like me."

Vaggie doesn't trust you, not in a million of eons.

Sir Pentious asked if you had a death wish after he saw you touch Alastor's deer ears…

"Oh, to die by the hand of such a magnifique et servant gentleman ! What an honor that would be !"

Sir Pentious has never seen Alastor back away from someone so fast before-

Niffty like you. You regularly complimented her on her work and her beauty.

Husk, on the contrary, doesn't like you.

He had to endure you and Alastor's shit for too long, 7 years without both of you wasn't enough.

You intrude into people's intimate moments.

And by people, I mean Husk and Anthony.

Imagine Husk and Angel Dust, just being quietly alone, a super romantic moment, and then, you pop in between the two…

But sometimes when you compliment them (one time per day), they like you.

I like to think that the Tik Tok hell version is like the one of the living, with people doing random ship. And Rook!Reader live for that.

397 notes · View notes

hufflegruff · 1 year

Note

girl the way i RAN when i saw you asking for requests as a break from a knowing look!!! if youre down to maybe do something like hurt comfort vibes? with sebastian x MC? like mayhaps they’re fighting and MC gets hurt and protective Sebastian comes out? literally in love with everything you’ve written!!! you’re amazing! <3

I was meant to write a drabble but somehow this became a NOVEL?! Good lord. I really wanted to do it justice!!! I hope you guys still enjoy it!!!

It takes a disaster

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader Word Count: 5k Contains: Fluff, angst, making out!!! Requested: The lovely @ithinkweallsing and @musicbecky had similar requests about protective Seb x hurt MC so I combined both :)

Summary:

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled. She winced at the loudness of his voice. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?” His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing. She stared at him, mouth agape. Sorry, was she dreaming? What was that he just said?

It takes a disaster

When she first resigned to the pitiful fact that she was very likely in love with Sebastian Sallow, she accepted her fate. Doomed to suffer in an unrequited love she held for her best friend.

Merlin, it was such a cliché.

Honestly, she would have laughed at herself if it didn’t also feel so pathetically miserable.

Somewhere along the way, amid catacombs and restricted sections and ancient relics, she found herself becoming dissatisfied with just friendship. And before she could even catch herself, she had already fallen. Buried ten feet underground by the weight of her own despicable, cavernous feelings.

Because they’d been best friends for long enough for her to know that Sebastian Sallow flirted like his livelihood depended on it. If courting witches was a sport, he’d be a professional. It came to him as naturally as breathing.

That was why Cressida Blume battered her eyelashes so feverishly everytime he was near. And why Samantha Dale had been so Goddamn adamant on being her potions partner, so she could siphon hints on how best to charm the Slytherin for herself.

And why she would never entertain the idea that any of Sebastian’s pretty words could be anything more than lip service.

So she went out of her way to find reasons to keep herself busy. Taking jobs and doing favours for townsfolk in the vicinity, so that she wouldn’t have to sit with her own feelings. Or Sebastian himself. Hoping that by the time it came for them to leave Hogwarts, that she would find peace and leave her feelings for him in the deepest depths of the castle.

The distance would help. It just had to.

Unfortunately for her, when she had said that she was heading to the poacher camp up in the Poidsear coast by her lonesome, Sebastian insisted that he absolutely had to come along.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I have to come with you. Who else is going to swoop in when your sorry arse needs saving?” He teased.

She was almost offended, “I don’t need a babysitter, Sebastian.”

“Not a babysitter,” he clarified, “A knight in shining armor,” with a dashingly flirtatious smile.

She felt her heart flutter, and cursed his annoyingly perfect fluffy hair for it. What business did it have looking so attractive? Honestly, the cheek of these Slytherin boys to say such rousing things.

Ominis, Sebastian and herself had been lazing in the grass in front of the main school grounds. But with a deft wave of his hand Seastian beckoned over his broom, and it zipped obediently over.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Sebastian said easily.

“What? Right now?” She replied in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t see anything better to do. Do you?”

From beside him, Ominis piped up annoyed, “Um, excuse me. Did we not agree that we needed to finish our group project today so as to not suffer the wrath of Sharp’s horrid temper?”

Silently, she thanked Ominis for the diversion and prayed Sebastian would take it.

“Like I said. Nothing better to do.” Sebastian reiterated shamelessly.

Ominis rolled his eyes, “Absolute moron you are. Whatever. Take him off my hands for all I care.”

Well that didn’t go at all the way she hoped.

“But I’ve… not even stocked up on my potions.” She said weakly.

Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“Come on, it’s just a routine poacher clear out! I’ve got a couple of Wiggenwelds on me. You know it’s going to be a cakewalk for the both of us.”

She could never say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that. She imagined that most girls couldn’t either. An ugly, decrepit feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. But she willed herself to push the unhelpful thought down and out of sight.

“Fine.” She caved with a haughty flip of her hair, “But try to keep up. I don’t want to have to take care of you out there.”

In a ridiculously exaggerated display of chivalry, he offered her his hand and led her onto the broom with a coy smile.

“Ladies first.”

This boy was going to be the death of her. The ride to Poidsear would all but confirm that.

Sebastian had insisted that she sit in front of him to steer — and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how she had willingly agreed to put herself in this position. His breath was right in the crook of her neck, and his warm hands were wrapped all too tightly around her waist. Did he really think that she could steer like this? She was appalled at how totally inconsiderate he was by being so oblivious to her feelings.

She could hardly hear her own thoughts — not even the intrusive ones — let alone focus on the fly.

Was he doing this on purpose? Because it was annoying.

The singularly, most vexing thing he could do in fact. She had a mission to concentrate on. She didn’t need to be sidetracked. She hadn’t even wanted him and his distracting face to come along in the first place.

“Merlin. Hold me any tighter and I might burst, Sebastian.” She tried her best to make it sound casual. With the light cadence of a joke, and not the high stakes affair it felt like.

“Well, I can’t risk having you falling to an untimely death under my watch. I’d never hear the end of it from Ominis. Or Samantha. For killing her potions partner at such a crucial time in the academic year,” He joked.

His tone was teasing, but she hated that his words sounded so… carefree. Completely unbothered. It bruised her heart more than she liked to admit, but it hurt her to know that he probably thought that this was the same as being in close proximity to Anne.

And why the bloody hell did he have to mention Samantha Dale at a time like this? Unprompted and all. Teenage boys really had no tact. If that had been a glimpse into Sebastian’s mind, she didn’t want to see it. Lock it up and throw away the keys and unleash it into the depths of the black sea to never be found.

If she just ignored it, and never faced it head on, maybe her heart would break a little bit softer.

“Right.” She replied curtly, willing the dejection she felt to go away.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

He paused in contemplation, before declaring, “You’re upset.”

He had said it so matter of factly she almost couldn’t disagree with him. Almost. She cursed herself for not being able to hide the bitterness in her voice better. She cursed him for noticing this of all things.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not.” She retorted harshly.

When the words left her mouth, she quickly regretted them. She felt guilty for how unnecessarily rude it sounded. But she couldn’t talk about this. There was objectively no good way to explain why she seemed so irrationally bothered without emotionally vomiting her feelings onto him.

But before she could apologise, he chose to let it go.

And she didn’t know if she felt relieved or even more devastated.

The rest of their journey to Poidsear was endured in silence. When they finally arrived, they landed just at the precipice of the poacher camp. It was time to get serious, she mentally chided herself. There was simply no time to torment herself with such frivolous nonsense.

They kept out of sight behind a mountain of crates next to a tent. Making sure to stay hidden, she briskly surveyed the scene. She could see from the corner of her eye, a family of hippogriffs chained in cages by the Eastern front. But getting to them would be no easy feat; the area was littered with Ashwinders at every corner.

“God. There’s more of them than I thought.” She whispered to herself.

“Worried? How very unlike you.” Sebastian raised a brow in response.

“Not at all. It’s just you would think that these degenerates would have more productive things to do with themselves than taking magical creatures as prisoners.” She whispered with a scoff.

She had not even one ounce of respect for the Ashwinders, especially those of the poaching variety. Those who made a nefarious career out of hunting innocent, majestic creatures for blood sport were the worst of them.

To her surprise, when she turned to look at Sebastian, he was looking straight at her with an enigmatic smile.

And then suddenly, she felt self-conscious.

“What?” She whispered nervously.

Sebastian murmured warmly, “This is a little nostalgic is it not?”

“How so?”

“You. Me. The exhilarating thrill of getting caught at any moment. Feels like fifth year doesn’t it?” His voice was lower than usual, quieter, with a hint of something dastardly alluring.

It made her heart skip an alarming amount of beats and her skin shiver at the sound of it. She felt an outrageously girlish impulse to snog him and hex him and run far, far away from him all at once. What she would give for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Even if he wasn’t in love with her, maybe she still could grab him by the collar and kiss him silly until his lips were bruised.

Maybe that would finally fluster him.

Because by God, he deserved to be put in his place for all the bloody grief he unknowingly gave her.

He was looking at her so affectionately, and that was just so uncalled for. Honestly, she didn’t know how he managed to flirt so skilfully even in the face of imminent danger. In the near vicinity of bloodthirsty dark wizards. If she wasn’t so conflicted by it all she would be impressed. She imagined that Sebastian Sallow could probably flirt with Death himself and get away with it.

Perhaps that would be a rather useful quality in an Auror. Perhaps, when they were back in the safety of the castle, she would suggest it as a fitting career path for him��

“Look what we have here. A little far from Hogwarts aren’t we?”

She felt her blood freeze over at the sound of the new voice. Sebastian stiffened. A sinister chill ran up her spine.

When she turned, she was greeted by the menacing smile of an Ashwinder, cloaked in shadows. And almost as if the Hermes had struck her himself, the girl wonder retaliated at reckless speeds and pointed her wand with venomous hostility at the dark wizard in front of them.

Fuck. She cursed internally. Her guard had been irresponsibly down. She hadn’t even heard him approach them.

Sebastian probably sensed her panic, and squeezed her hand twice.

Once to comfort her, the second to ask her to follow his lead.

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Sebastian said sardonically with a wry smile “Sir, we were just passing by the area. We didn’t know that this was private property. Terribly sorry for the intrusion. If you allow us, we’ll be on our way now.”

The Ashwinder scoffed, “Save it kid, I know exactly who you two meddlesome brats are.”

“Oh well that’s unfortunate.” Sebastian said patronisingly.

Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she knew that she had to be ready.

“Why’s that?” The Ashwinder asked with a laugh.

“Because that means I have to do this.”

And suddenly, with a swift motion, Sebastian lunged forward with his wand. And almost as if by blind, brazen instinct, her own hands followed suit.

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Red, green, and blue. The colours of their spells cackled at lightning speeds against the howling wind.

But soon enough their commotion caused a ruckus, and it became an army against two measly bodies.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

And frankly, she had to give it to them to their credit, these Ashwinders proved to be pretty formidable adversaries. They moved faster than the others did. And their spells missed her more narrowly than they normally did. But still, actually hitting her was the aim. Close enough wasn’t good enough, and she was determined to make sure that they would never achieve it.

She’d make sure of it — they didn’t call her the girl wonder for nothing.

Spells collided and echoed around her, the acrid scent of fire filling her nostrils. If peril were a smell, this is what she imagined that it would smell like.

And in the midst of the chaos, without a surge of power erupted from one of the Ashwinders. Like a strike straight out of God’s hand — with a single, severe flash of light — a calamitous spell was unleashed, enveloping the camp grounds in a sheathe of blinding white.

And when the light became less blinding, she found herself separated from Sebastian.

Panic welled up within her as she searched the battlefield, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Sebastian!" She called out.

Where was Sebastian?

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She needed to find Sebastian.

Like insidious tendril vines, fear crept into her veins. Yet she willed the anxiousness in her brain to focus; willed it to calm down. Sebastian was a capable wizard. He could handle a few pesky Ashwinders.

Just as capable as she was.

Because with a flick of her wrist, shields shattered and hexes were deflected. With every spell she cast, the wind sang as her curses hit bodies, like a force of nature answering her call. One by one Ashwinders fell under the weight of her unyielding assault.

But then a piercing hex sliced right through her defences.

Her protego shattered, and she was thrown backward into a mess of limbs onto the ground.

“Crucio!”

The sound of the spell sent chills down her spine. It brought her back to the scriptorium. It brought her back to a shadow of Sebastian that she had been trying to forget.

But before she could run, scream, dive or react — it reached her.

And just as torturously as it had the very first time she endured it, pain erupted through her body as she was thrown backward, limbs contorting as she crumbled in agony onto gritty soil. Back then, it had felt as if lightning had struck every single nerve ending in her body. This time it felt like she was burning under a flame that was twice as brutal.

The pain was relentless. Her mind screamed for respite, for any brief release from this torture. She clawed at the ground, gripping her nails deep into the dirt, as if seeking solace in the earth itself. But there was no escape. No reprieve.

Through the haze of pain, she caught glimpses of the Ashwinder that had casted the curse. Even through her blurry vision, she could see that they were gloating. Content at how they had reduced her to nothing more than a writhing, broken vessel.

And God, that pissed her off immensely.

If they could sense the literal thunder in her veins, she wondered if they would be so cavalier?

She didn’t think so.

Through gritted teeth; through sheer determination, she struggled onto her feet with her body shaking in defiance. Summoned the last remnants of her ancient magic, her wand trembling in her shaky hand. A surge of energy flowed through her veins. The air above the tips of her fingers crackled with raw power as she channeled her magic, focusing it into a singularly devastating spell.

And when it hit the Ashwinder, it eviscerated them in waves.

In between all the fighting and screaming and surviving, she didn’t remember much of the details.

But all of a sudden, it was silent.

And all of the sudden, it was just her standing alone in plumes of dust.

When the air finally settled down, she felt herself start to cave. The adrenaline had done its job and was quickly leaking out of her blood stream. As if she had exerted and drained every last ounce of her spirit and was on the verge of collapse.

Was it just her, or were the skies starting to fade?

The pain in her chest was still excruciating. This cruciatus curse felt different from the one that Sebastian had casted on her before.

This one was lingering.

Like it was clawing onto her heart and gripping onto it in a chokehold with a resentful vengeance. Despite having just won, she didn’t have a spare moment to feel relieved. The pain was quickly growing and air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough.

But Sebastian… Where was Sebastian? The panic began to rumble within her. She had foolishly let her own guard down, and let him out of her sight. She mustered what little energy she had left and moved her head frantically in search of him.

How could she ever forgive herself if she let him die?

But when she saw a figure barreling head first towards her, even through blurry eyes and the crackle in the depths of her tired limbs, she knew that it was him. And like an oasis in the blistering desert, the comfort she felt from seeing his face was a brief solace to the pain.

If this was where she was destined to meet her end, she hazily deliberated, at least she could draw her last breath in peace knowing that he was safe.

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

When Sebastian finally caught up to her, he laughed and bursted out breathily, “Merlin… Whatever you and your ancient magic did back there was insane.”

He was safe, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for a conversation, let alone banter. She needed to preserve her last scraps of her battered stamina to make it back to the castle and patch herself up in solitude.

And one thing was for certain: Sebastian could not know.

“I think we managed pretty well.” He said with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, “W-we did good.”

She sounded a mess. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

To her dismay, the look on his face immediately switched into that of deep concern.

He interrogated hurriedly, “What wrong? You sound a little off. Are you hurt?”

Everything was wrong. The discomfort that gripped her chest was getting worse with every passing second. Standing was starting to become too taxing of an undertaking for her.

But needless to say, she didn’t want another thing to worry about, and Sebastian would always make an unnecessarily big fuss anytime she was hurt. Even if it was just a minuscule scratch. He was always too distraught; too tender. It was one of the things she adored most about him.

And she absolutely loathed him for it.

So her stubbornness was persuaded that suffering in silence was the easier of two fates.

Indignantly, she retorted, “How rude. I’ll have you k-know I’m perfectly f-fine.”

Her words were starting to slur, not that she noticed. But Sebastian clearly had. Assertively, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

“You’re not fine.” He declared demandingly.

As he frantically searched her eyes, arms, back, legs for signs of what was wrong, she found herself nuzzled in the nook of his chest. She felt her willpower wither slightly in his flustered hands.

In the shallow breaths that she took, she could smell him. The musk of pinewood and sputtering fireplaces and late nights drifting in the restricted section. An aromatic cocktail that was overwhelmingly intoxicating.

Now she was getting angry. And drowsy. And dizzy. Why couldn’t Sebastian tell that he was being so selfish by being so considerate? He needed to stop touching her so carelessly. She was lightheaded enough as it is, she didn’t need his excessive gentleness to add fuel to the flames of her absurd delusions.

But maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for this brief moment. Sebastian would take the hint and just leave her be. Maybe all she needed was a quick lie down and he would see that she was perfectly fine.

“Oh fuck, there’s so much blood— hey, hey!”

She could see Sebastian calling out her name, but she couldn't hear it. And soon enough she realised, she wasn’t fighting it anymore. And soon enough, Sebastian was no longer in sight. Soon enough, she found herself alone in a quiet, soothing darkness.

Something was twisting at her to give into slumber. Into solitude. Into emptiness. She vaguely remembered from one of Sharp’s more riveting lectures that when poisoned - one should always fight the urge.

But she could still feel the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on the small of her back, and the comfort of it lulled her to relinquish control. After a few ambivalent moments, drifting in and out of awareness, she surrendered to sleep.

When she woke, she was greeted by a horrendously pounding headache. She had no sense of place, but a low groaning ache in her bones. Her eyes struggled to open, but she could feel the warm sun on the tip of her nose, and the tips of her cheeks. The softness of the sun quelled a little bit of the soreness in her body.

She deduced that wherever she was, it was warm and safe. Despite the ache in her bones, there was also a weightlessness to her body. Therefore, she somehow rationalised with herself that this was very likely heaven.

Or any other religious equivalent afterlife.

She wasn’t picky. Any one would do, really.

When her bleary eyes finally pulled themselves open, the fragmented parts of her vision pieced together a faint picture. Of pristine white linen and crisply casted grey brick. A peculiar blend of sickly artificial peonies and concentrated chemicals flooded her nostrils.

Which was odd. Because she hadn’t imagined that the afterlife would feel quite so sterile.

“Fucking hell,” spoke a voice she could never not recognise, and she was shocked.

Did heaven include conjuring up a phantom Sebastian from the figment of her deepest imaginations to keep her company for the rest of eternity?

“Sebastian?”

“You’re awake.” His voice was hoarse.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw him properly. It was definitely Sebastian Sallow, the boy that had her heart leaping acres across the Hebridean seas. But in all her years of knowing and pining for him, she’d never seen him look so terrible. His hair was disheveled as if it had endured a torrid storm. His eyes were heavy and solemn, as if they had tolerated an eternity of grief.

This seemed all too real. Too visceral.

Maybe this wasn’t heaven.

“Am I dead?” She thought to confirm.

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“No. You’re in the hospital wing.”

So this was real. She was in pain because her body had been bruised like a peach.

When she finally looked around, she found herself neatly tucked into the covers of an infirmary bed. She couldn’t recall how she got here, and only remembered a few little scraps of the event that led up to Poidsear. But if she had to be certain of anything, Sebastian must’ve brought her back to the castle.

“I guess that makes sense,” She said with as much mirth as she could muster, “Heaven couldn’t be this quaint.”

Clearly Sebastian hadn’t found it funny at all, which is why she was met with silence.

As she cleared her throat, she asked, “What happened?”

For some reason, Sebastian was doing everything in his power to avoid her eye.

“An Ashwinder hit you with a modified version of the cruciatus curse. She tampered the spell and combined it with a blood poisoning hex. You… could’ve died.” He said through gritted teeth. It seemed as if he struggled to even get the words out.

In an attempt to diffuse the graveness of his tone, she made a joke.

“Unlucky. Maybe next time they try to kill me they’ll actually get it right.”

But once again, Sebastian didn’t laugh. If anything, he only got more aggrieved. She felt his grip on the edge of her bed frame tighten so fiercely, she could see his veins pop and his knuckles turn red. He was being so serious — and she was not at all used to serious Sebastian. She had only seen this side of him once or twice, and only ever because of Anne.

“Are you … upset?” She asked cautiously.

“I’m fucking furious.” He said.

She was gobsmacked.

“Why?”

Finally, he looked at her straight on and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. He looked absolutely distraught. Like the splintered shell of a boy who had been cracked open and drained dry of his will to live. Behind the hard look in his eyes, radiated something cloudy, tempestuous and devastating.

“It was my fault that we were even there.” He said

She hadn’t known that a voice could carry such grief and anger simultaneously. But Sebastian’s voice was laced with insurmountable despair. And it broke her heart irrevocably to think that she could’ve caused him so much pain.

Did he think that he was to blame?

That was ridiculous.

“I thought-” he started to say again, but his voice cracked.

I thought I lost you? I thought I’d left you for dead? She wondered if that was what he was going to say.

“Sebastian…” She finally began “It’s not-”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled.

She winced at the loudness of his voice.

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?”

His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing.

She stared at him, mouth agape.

Sebastian himself looked shocked by the words out of his own mouth.

Sorry, what was that he just said?

Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Had Sebastian Sallow really said that he loved her? Her? Complicated, chaotic, haphazard her? Even if her brain couldn’t quite process what she was saying, her heart had certainly understood. It was battering against her ribcage so firmly that she swore it would no sooner burst out of her chest.

“You… love me?” Even as the words sat in her mouth, even as she tasted it meticulously on the edge of her tongue — she still couldn’t believe them.

With his head buried in his hands, Sebastian groaned.

Obviously that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, and that terrified the living shit out of her. He looked as if he considered going back on it. Saying that it had just been an emotional slip of the tongue.

But to her surprise, he stood firm.

“Fuck.” He cursed, “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

His words still weren’t fully sinking in. Her brain was running so fast that it was on the verge of failing her entirely. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Was it obvious? To who exactly? By what egregious definition? And did he expect her to just take his word and say that this little detail was always hidden in plain sight for her to find?

Then there were other more intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. Like what about all the girls that fawned over his every word. What about all the other girls that were softer, prettier, more endearing than her? She just hoped that whatever she chose to say, that she wouldn’t let out the intrusive ones first.

“...What about Samantha?” She blurted practically incoherently.

Oh Merlin. Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing she said to him after she had just been on the verge of death? After he had just confessed his love for her.

Never had she felt so exasperated with herself for being so dumb.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian looked at her as if she’d just grown three heads. She also considered that maybe she had enunciated so poorly that he hadn’t understood a single thing she said. Either way, just as she was about to laugh it away - change the subject - he responded.

“... What about Samantha?”

Suddenly, she felt too shy to ask. But she knew she had to follow through.

“... You’re not in love with Samantha?” She asked meekly.

Sebastian stared at her in absolute disbelief.

“Are you crazy?” he began incredulously, “You think I fancy Samantha Dale?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a thought, she wanted to retort.

But before she could even get a word in, Sebastian bulldozed on.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve mentioned her name all but three times in the last six years I’ve been in this castle. All I talk about is you all day everyday, which makes Ominis go absolutely livid! All you have to do is say my name and I’d stop everything at the drop of a fucking hat to do literally anything you ask for me—”

Did he know what he was saying? She wanted to scream. The feelings in her chest were so intense she feared that she might just throw up.

Could he hear the absolutely ludicrous and inconceivable things coming out of his silly mouth? Did he know what in Salazar’s name he was saying to her?

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“—I look for you in every hallway, every classroom, every corner in this bloody castle! For Merlin’s sake, I can’t even begin to fathom how you could not know that I’m stupidly love with you—”

Despite herself. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Despite the stitches in her lungs. She lunged her body forward and pushed her own chapped, split and desperate lips onto his.

And when their lips met — good God.

She had no idea how she had waited so long to do this.

And she hoped for his sake that Sebastian hadn’t said any of that lightly, because now that she had finally had him, she was never ever letting him out of her shaky, unpracticed hands.

At first, Sebastian had been taken aback. His mouth unmoving, eyes open in disbelief. It was as if he was observing the scene from outside of himself.

But then soon enough — he was all in, and he had his hands cupping the curve of her cheek to pull her closer to him. Soon enough, Sebastian was kissing her like he was looking for something. Pushing, pulling, scouring the shape of her mouth like she was a puzzle to be deciphered. Gripping tightly onto the sides of her waist and the small of her back like she was a prized to be possessed.

And she obliged.

Whatever he wanted to know she’d tell him. If she were a prize, she'd use every cheat every ruse in her arsenal to make sure he'd win.

She just hoped that her needy moans conveyed her willingness to be compliant in his competent hands.

Her limbs ached, her bones groaned. This kiss was too wild, too strenuous, too demanding for her worn out body. But she didn’t care. The floodgates had opened now, whether either of them knew it, and this feeling was unquenchable.

He tasted like home and aftershave and salt and all those silly peppermint candies he ate all the time. If she could fasten herself to him with an irreversible stitch, she would. If she could seal herself into a perfect mould of his arms, she would. If the shivers that raced down her spine could etch themselves permanently into her nerve endings in her skin, she’d gladly bear the mark.

In between peppered, sloppy kisses, she managed to gasp, "I'm in love with you too."

There was no time for pauses. She had no use for breathing; no use for air. She had no use for anything that didn’t include his lips.

His laugh was gravelly and tired and breathy. But it was filled with relief and tenderness all the same.

“Thank fucking god,” Sebastian murmured.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling into the strands of his. She revelled in the texture of him. In her daydreams and her undisclosed fantasies, she had always wondered what it would feel like. Would he be as gentle as his charms implied? Or was he as abrasive as his words could be?

But despite his devouring intensity, despite how ardently he consumed her — everything about Sebastian was soft. His lips were soft. His body was soft. His hands were soft.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. Which immensely disappointed her. And she wasn’t shy to let it show on her face.

"Be careful. You're still recovering." He managed to get out, but it was weak.

Yes, that was true. It was very lovely and sensible of him to say.

But frankly, she couldn't give two fucks.

"I wouldn't mind dying today," she replied breathlessly, her voice laced heavily with longing.

He groaned into the edge of her mouth, "Way too soon."

She smiled wryly. Was it wicked of her to take delight in how protective he was being?

Silence hung in the air.

"Please just... just be careful next time?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She looked into his eyes, "I will."

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she hoped that he knew that she truly meant it. That by definition, her feelings for him meant that her assurance was very much real. Because if not with words, she needed him to know through this gesture that she too looked for him in every inch of this castle. That she too would drop everything at his beck and call.

He squeezed her hand back in return.

Message understood?

“And as much as I’d love to keep kissing you," he whispered with a playful glint in his eye, "I would hate for Nurse Blainey to shun me from the infirmary for so shamelessly accosting one of her patients."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the tension easing between them. "You're right. We wouldn't want that," she replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

—

A/N: This is deffo a little different from the normal soft/simpy Seb that I write. I tried to go for overly flirtatious and wildly charming Seb and a pining MC this time to shake things up!! I still think they're cuties.

Gosh, I hope you guys liked it!! I'M STILL WORKING ON OTHER REQUESTS and of course my bb A Knowing Look! They will be taking a while but I promise I will be putting my heart and soul into them.

xoxo gruff

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #requests

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empresskylo · 1 year

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 3 ⬅ch. 2

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i do not have a tag list.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the following week involved you being the only medic on base and having to treat every soldier on your own; briefing sessions with soap; a few awkward run-ins with ghost; and a shit load of anxiety.

you couldn’t get over the fact that you were about to walk side by side with the most dangerous men in the world on the most important mission you’ve ever been on. soap was acting like it was no big deal—they do this kind of stuff all the time, he had said. you had to remind soap that you were new to this division and weren’t exactly a skilled killer like the rest of the men. you were used to helping wounded men when they were carted back to base, not being in on the action.

“soap,” you whined as the larger man refused to let you take a break from your current training match. “i wasn’t built for this,” you said dramatically, collapsing on the mats beneath you.

soap chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “i’m just tryin’ to prepare ya. ghost isn’t gonna go so easy on you.”

“ghost?” you asked, sitting upright–a bit faster than someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about their lieutenant would.

soap stuck a hand out and grabbed yours, heaving you up to stand before him again.

“ghost insisted on makin’ sure we all met his standards.”

you knew this was about you and gaz specifically, even if he didn’t say it. these men were already the best of the best, that's how they got recruited into this task force. but gaz being recently hurt, and you not coming from a combat background, was probably plaguing his thoughts.

“oh, wonderful,” you said sarcastically. you were almost positive soap was oblivious to your weird dynamic with ghost, but you couldn’t be one hundred percent certain; soap’s perceptiveness could surprise you sometimes.

you downed your water and stretched a bit more waiting for your imminent doom.

gaz approached you, his arm outstretched over his head.

“how’s your hand?” you asked him.

gaz released his stretch with a satisfied grunt and then held up his now unbandaged hand, smiling.

“and your ribs?”

“still a bit sore. just glad they’re not broken.”

you smiled. “just don’t go too hard training today, okay?”

gaz mock saluted you. “yes, doctor.” you rolled your eyes.

gaz had pulled you into a sparring match, trying to get your reflexes to actually function properly for when you’d be out in the field with the men.

you growled in frustration as gaz got another killing blow lined up.

“dead. again,” he said with a laugh.

“glad you find my suffering entertaining.”

you felt your body tense and you knew that ghost had just strolled into the training room. you had a weird way of sensing whenever he was around. it was like he made the air thicker of any room he walked in to.

you tried to keep your focus on gaz. he grabbed your hands and helped you adjust your hand wraps that were starting to loosen around your knuckles. your eyes flickered over gaz’s shoulder and you spotted him.

his eyes were already on you and you felt your blood pressure drastically rise. you immediately looked back to gaz and tried to pay attention to what he was saying to you.

“ready to go again?” he asked when he decided your hands were wrapped properly. you nodded.

after what felt like an eternity, ghost appeared beside the two of you, observing as gaz was in the process of showing you a new defense move.

gaz reached around you with his foot, knocking you off balance and sending you colliding with the mat.

“jesus,” you mumbled, both amazed and annoyed with him.

gaz chuckled and reached out a hand to help you up. you were impressed at his composed and collected attitude knowing what was about to happen in a few days' time. you, personally, couldn’t get your heart to stop racing worrying about everything that might go wrong.

you ignored ghost’s eyes on you as gaz tried to demonstrate the move he just did once again.

you attempted everything he showed you, repairing the order of the stances in your head as you executed each one, and you sent him flying on his back.

“shit, nice job,” gaz praised.

you helped him up when a looming presence from behind you startled you.

“oh!” you jumped, looking up at ghost who was only inches from your chest. “hi, lt.”

ghost was wearing one of his thinner balaclavas again, paired with a long-sleeved black shirt–that disappointingly didn’t have its sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos–and dark tactical pants. he was a new level of intimidating without all his gear on. you felt like your body was going to melt from the heat he was putting off.

“she’s never gonna learn like that,” he grunted out, directly his words at gaz but holding your gaze.

you knew gaz was letting you knock him on his ass, but how else would you understand the basics of the moves he was teaching you? if he blocked you and went on defense every time you went to try, you wouldn’t be able to learn anything. gaz had years of training on you.

gaz mumbled something about taking a break and you began to panic. shit.

“open your legs,” ghost demanded.

a sudden blaze of heat raced up your chest and to your face. your eyes must have turned to moons because ghost’s foot jutted out to kick between your own and widen your stance as if to tell you to get your head out of the gutter.

you adjusted your feet and felt gaz slip off behind the two of you.

just you and ghost now. great.

“your waist feeling okay?” you asked, pointing towards the area of his wound from the week prior.

he nodded. “good as new.”

“good. that’s good,” you said awkwardly.

you both looked at one another, your cheeks warming, before ghost cut you out of your daydream. “arms should always be at the ready.”

you lifted your own and did as he said, mirroring him, and taking on a solid but readying posture.

“now, try to hook your leg behind my own.”

you nodded, the heat from earlier subsided just to be replaced with the rushing sound of your heart beating in your ear. you prayed ghost didn’t have super hearing, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you dipped down slightly and tried to get your leg to wrap behind ghost’s, aiming to knock him backward.

before your foot even made it where you wanted it to go, ghost had spun you around and sent you stumbling back.

“again,” he demanded.

you took in a breath before approaching back up to him and going at it again.

he blocked your attack and you tripped over his feet and fell to the mat.

“again.”

you felt the sweat bead on your forehead, out of both anger and exertion.

and again he knocked you back.

“this isn’t going to help!” you finally said, a scowl on your face.

“don’t like bein’ pushed? think any of those men out there will give a damn about that? think they’ll give a shit that you’re just a medic?”

you let out an irritated breath. “i just don’t think training me like this will get me anywhere.”

“oh, and how would you like t’be trained then?”

you stared at him in silence.

“should i let you tackle me to t’ground?” his voice was deeper than earlier, sending shivers up your spine. “is catering to your ego that important you’d risk your life?”

“this has nothing to do with my ego.” your voice felt faint as you struggled to come up with an argument. you were frustrated, sure. but he was right in a way. any bad guy you cross out in the field isn’t going to give a shit that you’re a medic and not a trained soldier. and you did not want to fucking die.

“no? then go again.”

you brushed off your pants and readied your stance, going at him again. in an agile ebbed movement, you went flying to the ground. again.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. frustrated beyond belief, and exhausted from already training for hours today. you did something you wouldn’t have normally done if you weren’t so peeved off. you sprung to your feet and rushed into him. ghost caught your hand but you spun around behind him, making him grunt as your foot collided with the back of his knee.

he bent forward and you jumped onto his back. he had to release your hand in fear of choking himself out. ghost was so caught off guard that he sank to his knees. you caught your breath, still clinging to him. you may not have got him to go all the way down, but still, you managed something.

“now if you’ll–” ghost cut your words short, shifting his weight so you slid sideways and he grabbed your waist and sent you sprawling out before him. before your back hit the mat, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him downward with you. his hands caught himself on either side of your head, his hips between your legs, his torso almost touching yours as you breathed heavily.

ghost’s eyes bore into yours as he loomed over you. heat rushed to your face as you felt his hips pressing against your own, trapping you below his impressive weight. your hands were still tied up in his shirt, your heart racing out of your chest.

“that hurt,” you mumbled.

“it was supposed to.” his voice was far softer than you’ve ever heard it before as if you stole the breath right from his chest. goosebumps immediately covered your arms and you hoped to the gods that he didn’t notice.

you were at a loss for words as he held his position. “now how will you get out of this, pet?” he provoked.

devoid of logic, you bucked your hips up against him, trying to wrangle your way free. ghost essentially growled above you, sending fluttering vibrations through your chest. you tried to roll out from under him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he let you. your positions quickly changed as you used all your muscles to turn him on his back. you straddled him, heaving again at the amount of force you had to exert to move his body.

your hands were resting on his chest and you felt your entire body go hot. there was no way you were straddling ghost, sitting right above his belt, your hands pressed flat against him, and his hands… his hands loose on your hips, edging towards your thighs.

in pure embarrassment you quickly stumbled off of him, not even offering to give him a hand to stand back up.

you thought for sure he would call it a day, probably irritated at you getting so close. those were definitely not proper techniques you executed back there.

to your surprise, ghost grunted, stood, and mumbled, “again.”

you couldn’t help the displeased groan that left your lips. “ghost, please. i’ve been doing this all morning.”

he didn’t like the way his chest tightened momentarily at the sound of you begging him.

he could see the exhaustion on your face. in a sort of compromise, he wanted one more spar. he slid the knife from his holster on his thigh and caught it expertly in his fingers. “unarm me,” he demanded.

you looked at him with hesitation. “if ya unarm me, y’can be done for the day. i won't even fight back.”

something painful echoed in your chest. you just wanted to get away from him. why was he dragging out your time together? he didn’t even like you. he should just tell price they couldn’t risk taking you along on the mission.

you mentally groaned and slowly stepped closer. ghost readied his stance.

you darted to the left and he deftly blocked you.

then you ducked down, coming up on the side he held the weapon and his arm stopped yours. you grunted before slipping around him and shoving him back. he stumbled a few steps and you dodged his arms.

ghost spun to meet you, grabbing your wrist with his free hand, both of you stumbling so your back collided with the wall.

with heavy breaths, ghost pinned your arm beside your head. your other hand struggled, but you managed to grip his knife and fling it out of his hand, sending it rattling on the hard floor away from you two.

ghost’s hips were almost against yours, his body trapping you against the wall. your head clouded with so many unwanted thoughts about his chest pressed against your own. the way his body traced yours like a phantom.

“next time, try to hold on to the weapon you disarm. because now, you’re defenseless. and hate to break it to ya, but you against any man of my size, unarmed… you’re dead.”

your mouth hung open slightly as you caught your breath. you could feel ghost’s ungloved hands lingering by your waist. you nodded, unable to speak as you felt his fingers fluttering against your skin where your shirt began to ride up. it was almost like he was purposefully trying to touch you.

your eyes flickered down to where his hands were and ghost immediately backed away. he gave you one look over and went to pick up his knife.

“enough for today,” he grumbled, a tensing sense of aggravation filling the air.

you straightened your clothes out, walking back onto the mat. “so that’s it?”

ghost turned in a way that made it look like he was forcing his body to move. “need me t’tell you how good of a job you did? pat you on your back and tell ya you’re gonna be fine next week?”

you glared at him. “no. i just–”

“you won’t. you’re gonna get yourself killed out there.” you sucked in a sharp breath at his words. you watched as his eyes avoided your own. “be back here tomorrow to train more with soap.”

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. he hesitated another moment, almost like he was debating on saying something else, but then he turned and left you alone.

you sank down onto the mat, sprawling out backward and breathing deeply. your body was sore and throbbing from all the collisions you took today.

fuck. you had one chance to prove to ghost you were capable. that price trusting you to come along was the right choice. but you just made a fool of yourself. and ghost thought you nothing more than a weak link in their unit. you were going to get them all killed.

you closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your sweat-stained cheeks.

chapter 4 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

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space-apples · 3 months

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i buried my teeth in everything good

hi chatters sorry for dying. thanking @dakedo0o @loveroped @angeart and @sunieraes for beta-ing i appreciate you <3

here it is on AO3 x

and if you want to read it here you can do that !!

He’s succeeded his task, and the wind was faintly blowing in his ear, almost sounding like laughter.

He’s succeeded his task, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains. He didn’t even realize he’d gone the whole night without a blink.

He’s succeeded his task, and the cold air was gnawing against his skin. He could hardly care anymore.

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He was drowning now, and felt the familiar sense of life being drained from him before arriving back at the Secret Keeper. He stared at it coldly (everything was cold.)

A skeleton was somewhere in the distance. It was shooting at him, but Scar couldn’t be bothered to care. The arrows buried themselves into his skin, but as he bled and whatever remaining life source once again drained out of him, Scar didn’t recognize the pain as much as he should have. All he really felt was numbness, a fucked up sense of relief. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, wishing, hoping, praying for release.

If he died now, he would be gone. He would be free.

Of course the Gods above cared too much about their entertainment to let him go. So when he opened his eyes, the arrows were gone. The only mark left that showed they were ever there were the scars. More to add to the collection, he supposed, bitterly staring up at the Secret Keeper statue.

Scar wanted to scream at it, to get TNT and blow the stupid thing to dust and rubble.

He pressed the button once more, wildly, angrily, and cursing so much that a sailor would cringe away.

Win Secret Life, it said. As always. He did win. As always.

Pressing the button over and over again wouldn’t do anything, but he did anyway, something in him snapping. Only getting more desperate and upset with each hit as it gave him more and more books. He didn’t care that his hand was getting splintered, that a nasty bruise was starting to form, that he felt it breaking. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything anymore, he couldn’t focus on caring. Scar just wanted to go home.

He didn’t even realize when he started rapidly hitting the stone instead, putting so much weight and force into his attacks that the button had broken. When he paused long enough to realize, he swore he couldn’t feel himself breathing anymore. The books were splattered around, his hand was bloodied, and his legs crumbled from underneath him.

Scar prided himself on being resilient, only crying once or twice after a Life Game. But seeing his own blood on a half beaten rock where the button should have been, feeling the cold air biting at his skin, the awareness that he was irrefutably alone, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything in order to go home, shattered any resolve he so wished to keep.

His hands didn’t seem like his as he laid them, shakily, gently, carefully, on pedestal once more. His whole body shook, wracked with impending doom. He was sobbing, he realized, though the tears never seemed real. None of this seemed real. He couldn’t breathe through it, and some sick part of him hoped that it would continue, that his body would finally collapse and allow him to be detached from this world.

But maybe he deserved this.

Maybe with how many people he killed, how many people he made suffer, this was his punishment. A permanent loop, a permanent limbo, forever cursed to be alone.

Maybe that was the reason for his time here; showing that his destiny, his purpose, his fate, was to be on his own. Where he grew up, it wasn’t exactly an option to talk with other people, and perhaps he got too comfortable in Hermitcraft. Last Life should have been his reminder, his push in the right direction, but he wanted the interaction. The comfort of being near someone was too tempting to turn down. Yet the bite of cold he felt constantly growing up in the apocalypse, it was the same he felt on that horrible mountain in Last Life. It was the same he felt now. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how many blankets or campfires he had, just like how he wouldn’t ever be able to be relieved of the crippling isolation that threatened to overflow and drown him.

He didn’t know when time started to blur even more, he didn’t know when he started to feel so numb that it felt like he couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing just that. The sun was blaring, it might have stung to look at, yet he just kept staring upward, blankly. There wasn’t much else he could do, anyways. He broke the button. He probably broke his hand too, but he was floating too much to really register it.

He didn’t notice when his legs became anchored to the ground. The hope that the possibility of his opponents (they were friends, they were friends, they were friends) cared enough to come back, to check in on him, was of course foolish. They wouldn’t. It should have bothered him more, and maybe some part of him was uneasy. But a bigger part of him was tired.

Now, his legs didn’t just feel heavy, they felt like stone.

And that’s when he noticed he couldn’t sit up. That everything was so much colder. That he was so much more aware of the world. He could make out every grass blade being eaten by grazing animals, the fish wading through the waters, and he didn't even flinch at the desperate snarling of the Undead– the zombies. They were hungry, ravenous, and all he could really do was shift his energy away from it.

He still felt like he was being stared at, yet he couldn’t detect the stare of the Secret Keeper anymore. It bothered him in the back of his mind. In the dark corners, it felt more than simply wrong. His eyes felt sluggish, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to close them. Now he had to watch, to feel more than the ground below him, the suffocating air around him. It was dark. It was bright. It was hot, but so so so cold.

All he could do was stare into the sky, watching the sun reach into his peripherals and watch it fade away into a cold night, stars tracing each speck of his vision. It should have been the only thing he saw. He didn’t know how he saw everything. But the statue wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t watching along beside him.

He tried to regard it as a good thing. That he didn’t have to feel that prying stare bear into him. But all he could think was that he was now those intrusive, intense, invading eyes. It wasn’t that it was gone, it was that he took its place. He didn’t know if shattering that stupid button was the cause, but he didn’t even mean to break it. He had just wanted to go home.

He can’t even think of how he’d do that now. He barely remembers the faces of his opponents. No, no, they were his friends. Yes, his friends. He couldn’t remember the faces of his friends. They were all muddled and blurry, just like the memories of their time together, hardly resurfacing when he tried to remember. He remembers a boat pole? Bluebells— no, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t frame it correctly, but akin to. A flower of sorts, poisonous to something. He remembers vague things about vexes, though they were just a– a mob with no real significance. He can’t quite... God, why can’t he remember. They were his friends, he said it himself, they were kind and funny and. He wished he could remember more about them other than their bloodshed, than their violence. There were pieces he was missing.

(He misses them. He needs them. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s had to isolate and disconnect from everyone he knew for the sake of Watching. But it isn’t his job to question it, if he could even do such a thing. At least not anymore.)

Time passed on, he knows it’s passed on. There’s little, in this world at least, he doesn’t know at this point. But as far as the people who are gone, the people he killed, he doesn’t know where they are now. How long it’s been for them. He knows there’s not much he can do about it. There’s not much they can do to save him. He thought, he hoped, the numbness was back.

He didn’t know how much he even felt anymore, he wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling. So why, why, is there so much dread in the pits of his stomach. Why is there nausea building in his body, his head throbbing with a migraine. Why did his fear come back all at once, his disquiet of being so utterly alone solitary abandoned abandoned abandoned being seemingly worse than before. It’s not like it ever left, but if it did, it came back stronger than it ever was prior. He didn’t mind being numb, really. He half-heartedly wished for it back. He vaguely realized in his mind he won’t be going home anymore. And this wasn’t at all what he wanted. To be trapped in a never ending loop of pain and pressing buttons was hardly on anyone’s bucket list. He didn't even know what he wanted now, other than to simply rest.

Though now he figured this was why he was here. Why wouldn’t they want someone already contiguous to not one soul— someone so bloodthirsty— in their grasp. Playing their sick games until he could only regurgitate futile means of escaping. Watching for them. Commanding for them. Succeeding for them. Maybe he should have felt horrified at the prospect, and maybe he did, but if it wasn’t at the forefront, he could hardly be expected to feel anything other than that flooding sense of numbness. Maybe he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he did. It didn’t matter now. He had a job to do.

He succeeded his task, and it was then he noticed the button on the stone pedestal was back. It was nicer than the old one. Engraved in markings he recognized. It was the traditional Elven designs that coiled around harsh stone, though he could already feel the connection to his identity fading away.

He succeeded his task, and yet when he tried to reach out for it, he couldn’t move his hand anymore.

He succeeded his task, and now he’d be making sure when others came along, they’d succeed too.

He could vaguely remember that he was Scar, but even that was fading from his mind. Now he was the keeper, the beholder, the Successor of the thing that was here before.

They had no idea how long they were trapped in there. They tried to glance around, and though they could technically see, they couldn’t See, not how they were used to. They didn’t wish for it back. Or perhaps they did. But the harsh transition made it difficult to look around at all.

They knew they were not envious of their replacement— though it was still hard to grasp that they could feel, really feel again. The sensations latched onto them like they'd always been there; like it was coming home— but they couldn’t remember anything to match it, or anything at all. It had been too overwhelming to have so many of them, to notice and detect sensations other than stone and that icy cold that swallowed them whole.

It had been far too long to even remember their name. They were trying awfully hard as well, to remember the identity they had left behind. Before all the buttons, before all the colored names and hopeless faces showed, before all the cravings of violence just to get a sick taste of what being angry meant. They had a life, surely.

They looked down at their new body. This one couldn’t have been their old one– Staring into the reflection they remembered the face of their Successor, eyes still red and running rampant on Red Life urges. They weren’t in that world, and yet. They wondered if the bloodshed would ever stop.

It was rather warm here, they noticed, but for some reason they could still sense that bite of cold they felt as the Keeper.

They didn’t quite know where they were, but they could hear someone approaching. They almost expected a button to be pressed, for them to make a request. Of course that didn’t happen here, and instead a voice called out.

Excited, concerned, afraid, afraid, afraid—

“Scar, oh my god.” The person, upon seeing them, ran over much faster than they had expected. And to their own surprise, they recognized their– her– voice. She was hard to forget, really, because admittedly, she was one of their favorites. The Newbie, the first to truly find the End in their domain. (Their old domain. It wasn’t theirs anymore.) One with such promise, such potential. Of course now they’re rather glad she didn’t win. “Scar, where have you been?”

They forgot they were in place of the Successor, they forgot that was even his name. They tried to open their mouth to respond, but it turns out after spending what felt like centuries with their mouth made of literal stone, it was a bit harder to get words out. They were sure it’d be raspy anyway, from the misuse.

They remembered her name now, and vague recollections of Scar’s memories came back from when they Saw him. Her name was Gem.

Gem frowned at his silence, and Scar– not Scar, they’re not Scar– tensed, worried that they’d already be found out within five seconds.

“I won’t– I won’t push you into talking, Scar,” she said, to their surprise. She surveyed them with such concern that it made them discern… something. Guilt? Embarrassment? She continued, spurred on by them remaining silent. “It’s just– you’ve been gone for almost, uh, two months now. I think.”

They didn’t have to pretend to shudder at the time frame.

It had been way longer than just two months.

Honestly, they really did try getting their mouth open to speak, to demand, but all they could manage were raspy grunts. Gem winced, yet kept her relatively calm demeanor.

“It’s okay, I don’t want to force you.” She reaches over slowly, maybe so that if they wanted to back away, they would. They didn’t. It could have been because moving was so unknown, unfamiliar. Or because they regarded Gem as more than just trustworthy; as safe.

The touch burned before it felt like a regular mortal being was actually holding them. She gently encouraged them to move forward, for them to follow her, a smile now plastered on her face.

“Come on, Scar, let’s get you home, yea?”

Home.

In their last moments before the Successor took over, they remembered his last thoughts were wistfully praying that he’d be let go. Back to wherever here was, where they could pretend his past was long gone and have fun and play— not dangerous— games. Where they could have just a little company.

The memory made them feel like something was twisting in their gut, their throat closing up with such a tightness it felt like they were forgetting how to breathe. They didn’t remember what that feeling was. But they needed to get rid of it, and Gem’s words were so warm, such a drastic change from the icy wind clawing at each part of them, threatening to freeze them over.

Gem’s offer didn’t seem to hold the same malice, but when they tried to see into it, see her intentions, they were swiftly reminded their abilities were no longer with them. The similar sensation in their gut came back, and it screamed and yelled at them to run, to get far away. Logically, though, if they were to run, Gem would most likely catch them a lot easier than they’d like to admit. They were not used to having legs that— more or less— work. And if she wanted to kill them she would have already done so.

So they nod, following her carefully after she takes her hand off their shoulder. She let go, and it still felt like it was there, still felt like it was burning, still felt like it was there to keep it burning. Gem’s touch wasn’t bad, at least they didn’t think so. They hadn’t had any contact with anyone or anything for so long, and perhaps that was why it felt so sudden. So much. They tried to trail behind her as best they could, only becoming more overwhelmed with each step.

They’re not familiar with so much of this, so many textures, so many potential people around, so many so many so many—

It wasn’t her fault, really.

She just kept leading on, adding little comments here and there. It was hard to keep paying attention to her when she wasn’t the only one making noise. Grass crunched from underneath them, water was crashing a little while away, Gem’s armor was rattling against itself with every step, there were probably people in the distance, not bothering to keep their voices down.

Their vision got blurry after a while, their legs felt like mush. They didn’t think it had been that long, though that didn’t make them feel better. They could barely make out Gem’s face, her antlers being the only thing that they could really see.

Everything was spinning around them, going too fast. Or it could have been that they were going too slow. It hurt to keep their eyes open, but the worry that if they closed them now, the worry it’ll be like before made them try so very hard to not blink.

And despite their best efforts, they felt the impact of hitting the ground before anything else.

And despite themself, they knew their eyes were rolling back into their head.

At least it wasn’t everything all at once, but now it was— once again— nothing.

They woke up, not expecting to be able to feel the softness of whatever they were laying on. They were laying down as well, a position they hadn’t been able to be in before. Though they half expected to be frozen like that, it was certainly a lot more comfortable now than it used to be. They didn’t try to move, at least not for a while, unsure they even could.

They were talking about them. Not them. Well, maybe it was them technically, but it was still about Scar. The Scar they knew.

“—Just overwhelmed, maybe,” a voice— they could recognize once more as Gem— said, most likely contributing to a conversation that had already started. “I don’t know. He’s been gone for months.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware, Gem.”

Grian. That voice belonged to Grian. They didn’t have the same excitement towards the man as maybe some of the Others did. They didn’t want to like Grian, and as much as They tried to make them favor him, they had leaned towards Gem.

They thought she’d be smart enough to figure it out. Clearly, they had thought wrong.

They still weren’t moving, afraid to even try, and instead waded through the waters of their mind, through every crevice of newfound sensations, newfound thoughts. It still felt they weren’t their own, as if they were still rifling through someone else’s head.

They couldn’t tell if they still felt like it was burning, and they were once again worried they were back there again because even with however many sensations their body may have been experiencing, it still felt so far away.

They realized they were shaking.

Which was good, they thought. Good that they could move, at least. They couldn’t think much of anything else when trying to refocus on Gem and Grian, whose voices had become slightly raised.

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, inhaling sharply. “I am glad he’s back, I was just— concerned.”

“We all had this after the first Death Game, Gem. Scar shouldn’t feel more violent than, you know, he usually is.”

“But his eyes— even if they weren’t red— they were so empty.”

“Winning a game can be a lot. And Scar was by himself that whole time, even before his, uh, extended hiatus. I think we both know that Scar being alone isn't his favorite thing in the world.”

“You— Okay, I can see that. I mean I think the Death Games can be a lot for anyone, just on its own. But sure.” She let out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t taken a breath throughout that entire conversation. “I care about him too, Grian. It’s not just you.”

They were both silent for a moment, and for a small second, they thought they had walked away. That was until Grian spoke.

“I know.” His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. “I know. I just— Let’s just make sure to make something fun for when he wakes up. Or at least a cup of water.”

Gem lets out a hum of agreement, and they can’t help but feel that pain in their chest. One that seems bad at first, yet seems to feel more comforting. Even as they hear the door being opened and closed, it remains.

It’s a feeling that, although they barely remembered anything, they know they craved and strived to have it. The feeling of being cared for, of knowing that you’re cared for.

It was ridiculous, especially as they weren’t even Scar. It was only a matter of time before they found out, before they kicked them right back out for very justifiable reasons. And yet it was hard to deny the temptation of staying, just to feel wanted for even a little while. To have a connection with a real person, a real being. They know it won’t last, as things usually do, but they didn’t see why they couldn't savor this.

It’s not theirs to savor, they know this. But there’s no one else to provide that connection to them anymore. Even if there was, they don’t remember. It’s frustrating how much they don’t remember, how much they remember about Scar more than they remember about themself.

They knew they should say something, but the thought of being cast aside was enough to replace the feeling in their chest with a much heavier weight.

They knew they weren’t Scar, but for now, they could pretend.

They knew they would be forced to leave eventually, but for now, just for now, they could stay.

#goodtimeswithscar #gtws #hermitcraft #spaceapples writes #successor au #trafficblr #hermitblr #gtws angst #cw dissociation #geminitay #grian mc #desert duo #elven duo #secret life smp

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menofsweaters · 2 months

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I've been thinking a lot of deep thoughts about the end of MHA, so I've decided to spit them all out here rather than letting them live in my brain 24/7.

The more time that passes, the more satisfied I am with the ending, particularly with the deaths of the villains. The ending is definitely not what I would write or choose if I had the option, but I think I'm savvy enough these days to recognize the difference between "this is not my preference" and "this is poor writing." I'm also looking in from the perspective of consuming MHA for enjoyment and entertainment, whereas I believe the author was writing this ending in an attempt to make a political/literary statement, not to please the masses.

All of the most sympathetic and tragic members of the League of Villains met grisly ends by the time the manga wrapped up, and I don't think that's a coincidence. Twice, Toga, Dabi, and Shigaraki were all fan favorites with deeply moving backstories, but that didn't save them from dying. You can say they were all doomed by the narrative, but I think these characters were doomed by their own choices at every turn.

All of these characters - to varying extents - had the opportunity to stop their villainy, but were too dedicated to a certain cause or obsession to do so. Dabi is the most obvious example, as he could have returned to his family at literally any time and saved all of the Todorokis a lot of strife, but the others were also offered outs by the heroes they interacted with, and they all chose death and destruction over surrender.

I'm trying to make a point here but it's kinda hard to verbalize.

Basically, I think Horikoshi wanted to show us that it doesn't matter how "good" or "bad" you are as a person, it doesn't matter how moving your story is, it doesn't matter how deeply you believe in your cause, it doesn't matter if you love your comrades - your actions are the things that matter. As beloved and tragic as all of these characters are, they still murdered and maimed many innocent people, they still destroyed cities and hospitals, they still tortured families and loved ones.

Those innocent people are the ones who really suffer in bloody coups. I genuinely do not give a shit about anyone's ideals if they consider everyday people as acceptable canon fodder for the revolution. The LOV's ideals, Stain's ideals, the PLF's ideals, whatever you want to call it, are not worth the abject destruction of society over.

AFO and other power-hungry dictators feed off of people like Twice, Toga, Dabi, and Shigaraki. People who suffer from mental illness, who are estranged from their families, and who are rejected by society. The LOV was used by more powerful forces to commit horrific acts. As engaging as those characters are individually, they still fell prey to a violent ideology that offered nothing for them and everything to the person in power.

I guess what I'm saying is that it's easy for even the best of us to get wrapped up in some "cause" and end up suffering over it, or causing others to suffer. I think Horikoshi was trying to make a statement about who ends up paying the price in war and I'm finally accepting that statement. Those deaths were meant to hurt and they did, and I think that's why some readers hate it so much.

I've got more to say about the whole "they didn't fix hero society!!" stuff, but I'll gather those thoughts later.

#mha spoilers #bnha spoilers

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xaytheloser · 5 months

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The Sinner's and the Saint

The beast's relations with Bengin Butter Cookie (oc x canon lore, aka, doomed polyamory /silly)

Knowledge, Volition, Happiness, Change, Solidarity... and Benevolence, these virtues where imbued into the six ancient cookies, as the witches trusted them with the sacred virtues, in hopes of the dessert world would maintain a constant state of peace and prosperity... Benign Butter Cookie Remembers the good old days.. the times she laughed and watched Shadow Milk Cookie perform his iconic shows, as he takes pride in making her crack a smile even if she had an awful day. she remembers Mystic Flour Cookie, who showed just as much compassion as she did when aiding the common cookies of Earthbread, she was a passionate ancient through and through.. she remembers Eternal Sugar Cookie, and how she and her used to laugh and play in their free time, sitting calmly on her cloud, looking upon the glittering horizon.. she remember Burning Spice Cookie, as she took great joy watching him train to get stronger day by day, clapping and cheering for his growth as a virtue... and Silent Salt... while they spoke few words, their compassion for the cookies of Earthbread was clear, as they would show great care of the cookies of Earthbread, no matter the circumstance...

Oh, how power corrupts..

Shadow Milk, who now cackled in sinister glee as he used the innocent cookies of Earthbread as mere toys for his sick entertainment.. as he played gruesome shows to his comrades.. and Benign Butter Cookie.. whose face now showed horror instead of joy like she once had...

Mystic Flour could now care less for such insignificant speck of dough that weren't her comrades, as they now viewed herself as a godly figure, she was granted powers for far greater use than protecting the useless cookies of Earthbread.

Eternal Sugar Cookie, who was now to tired to put effort into anything but commute with her fellow ancients, and even then, she barely lifts her head up from her pillowy cloud.. as she smites anyone who disturbs her alone time..

Burning Spice to great joy in the suffering of the weak little cookies he terrorized... he viewed them as new targets to get stronger, just mere punching bags to play with..

and Silent Salt.. they saw no point in saving cookies anymore.. only cutting them down, crumbling them without hesitation as if they were no more than insignificant grains of flour... Bengin Butter Cookie could not stand watching her once beloved comrades fall under their own strength..

And so she helped her godly creators seal them away..

Shadow Milk pried at the bars at his cage, reaching out for Benign Butter as he yelled for her to save him... took look at him! there no actual way she would do this to him! ...right..?

Mystic Flour was surely shocked when her forked cage fell onto her.. thought she did not show surprise.. she knew that Benign Butter was still blinded by her faith in the gods that she might have had no choice but to trap her comrades if they so wished... Silent Salt could not bare to lift their sword at Benign Butter.. her expression looked.. so sad... and full of regret.. that they just couldn't do it..

Eternal Sugar was waken up by the sound of chains ratting against her newly established cage, as Benign Butter was on the other side of her cage.. her head lowered down as she ignored Eternal Sugar's pleas to let her out..

Burning Spice was full of rage... not at Benign Butter, oh no... at the witches... how DARE they make his sweet Benign Butter trap him like this! he saw her broken, crying face, theres no way she's doing this on her own volition! he swears to make the witches pay...

Benign Butter now resides in Beast Yeast... guarding the SIlver Tree along with Elder Faerie Cookie, preparing for the day she may have to put the beasts back into the seal if they ever do get out..

she will keep Earthbread safe at all costs... for the sake of Earthbread.. and her baby..

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 months

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June of Doom 2024 Day 1 - Help me

This marks the beginning of June of Doom, though the doom will be kept to a minimum in here. These boys already suffer enough in canon, the least I can do is give them something to be soft about. The title is always the prompt for that day.

Suguru is not going to lie about the fact that watching Satoru–certified strongest sorcerer in centuries–struggle with opening a jar is hilarious to him.

His amusement must radiate off him, because after yet another failed attempt at twisting the lid off, Satoru turns towards him, eyes narrowed.

“You could just offer to do it, you know?” he bites out and now that makes Suguru outright laugh.

“You could just ask for help, you know,” he shoots right back, not moving a muscle to come to Satoru’s aid.

There are two reasons for this: one is the entertainment a struggling Satoru gives him but the other is a little bit more serious. Suguru knows that Satoru was never allowed to rely on others, was never allowed to ask for help or support and Suguru and Shoko are trying their best to hammer it into his head that things are different here, that Satoru is allowed to be simply human every once in a while and that it’s only natural that there are things he needs help with every now and again.

They are not having much success with that if Suguru is being honest, and Satoru’s current struggle with the jar is just proof of that.

Satoru glares at Suguru for a moment longer, before he turns his attention back to the jar in his hands and Suguru is glad that shooting laser beams with his eyes is not one of the many powers that come with the Six Eyes, because otherwise the jar would be obliterated by now.

“I could just smash it,” Satoru muses once he accepts that staring the jar into submission is not working and Suguru sighs.

“If you want to cut your throat open with glass shards and then have Shoko call you a stupid, idiotic moron, sure, be my guest,” he mildly gives back and his mouth curls into an amused smile again when Satoru visibly freezes and then shudders.

Suguru knows that he’s more afraid of Shoko than of the glass shards–which is stupid in itself–but it’s working out in his favour right now, because Satoru puts the jar down, a defeated sigh leaving his mouth.

“Fine, we’re eating out,” he decides, and expectantly looks over at Suguru.

“So you’d rather get dressed, leave the school and pay for a meal than simply ask me to open this jar up for you?” Suguru asks for clarification, because the lengths Satoru goes to to avoid asking for any kind of help are truly mind-boggling.

“Who says I’m paying?” Satoru asks him and now it’s Suguru’s turn to narrow his eyes at him.

“If you make me go with you, you are paying.”

“Who says I want you there?” Satoru asks in return and now this is going to be fun.

Suguru smirks.

“Okay, fine. Go then. I’ll just have dinner here, like planned. I wish you a good evening,” he pleasantly says, implying that he’s going to wrestle the jar that gives Satoru such trouble into submission and Satoru immediately sits down at the table.

“Oh, you’re going to cook? Mind if I stay?”

“On second thought, I’m not hungry anyway,” Suguru immediately replies, getting up and waving over his shoulder. “Good luck with whatever you decide,” he calls back to Satoru and a quick glance over his shoulder reveals a gaping Satoru.

It’s honestly hilarious.

He’s almost out of the building by the time Satoru catches up to him.

“You would let me starve?” he whines out. “Me, your best friend, the light of your light? You’d be so cruel to me?”

Suguru knew it would happen, so he doesn’t so much as stumble when Satoru collides with his back, hanging off him like a limpet and he rolls his eyes, trusting that Satoru can feel the sentiment even though he can’t see it.

“There are two easy solutions to the problem,” Suguru explains to him, not stopping in the slightest. “One, you can just say you’re going to pay for my dinner.” He’s predictably met with silence. “Two, you can always ask me for help.”

That earns him a displeased huff but still, Satoru doesn’t speak up. It’s only when they arrive at Suguru’s door that Satoru speaks again.

“Fine, dinner it is,” he mutters, and even though Suguru suspected that this would be the outcome he still can’t help the slight twist of his mouth.

Surely one of these days Satoru will feel comfortable to ask him for help. Suguru simply has to believe that.

“Thank you for paying,” Suguru says in advance, reminding Satoru that this is what he agrees to and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, come on, I’m starving.”

“Things could have been so much easier,” Suguru reminds him but decides to drop the topic when Satoru’s face closes off.

Suguru can push and prod much more than anyone else would ever be allowed to, but even then Satoru has his limits and clearly, Suguru has reached that for today.

“Let’s go to your favourite place,” he says, a peace offering in lieu of a real apology—one that Satoru wouldn’t take anyway, Suguru knows that from experience—but instead of happy enthusiasm he’s met with a frown.

“You don’t like that place,” Satoru reminds him and Suguru freezes for a moment before he shrugs.

“It’s not my favourite, that’s true,” he admits. “But they do have some dishes I like, so it’s not that bad. We can do my favourite place next time,” he offers and now that finally gets Satoru to grin at him again.

“Deal,” he agrees and then happily skips ahead, Suguru following him at a more sedated pace.

One of these days, Suguru vows to himself again, but clearly it’s not going to be today, so he’s going to let it rest. For now, he’s simply going to enjoy an evening out with Satoru.

~*~*~

Ever since that fiasco with the jar, Suguru can’t stop thinking about it. It was bad before but now it’s occupying his every waking thought because he just doesn’t understand why Satoru wouldn’t just ask him.

Suguru wouldn’t even have made him ask verbally; it would have been enough for him if he offered the jar to him. That would have counted, in Suguru’s opinion, but even that Satoru couldn’t do.

Shoko and he have never outright asked Satoru why he’s never asking for help, certain in their assessment of his childhood and family trauma, but Suguru can’t help but to think that even that can’t fully explain Satoru’s stubbornness.

He acts as if he’s going to die if he so much as hints at needing help and Suguru simply doesn’t get it.

“Hey, Satoru,” he asks, carding his fingers through Satoru’s hair in anticipation of his mood when the question is out and just like predicted, Satoru melts under his touch.

“What?” Satoru grumbles, not even bothered enough to open his eyes or lift his head from where it’s pillowed on Suguru’s lap and it brings a small smile out on Suguru’s face.

He knows Satoru trusts him because of moments like these and he truly wouldn’t change that for anything.

And yet he’s still going to shatter the peace.

“Why are you so adamantly against asking for help?” he comes right out with it and despite the way Suguru still scratches at his scalp, Satoru tenses and makes to move away.

Suguru stops him with a hand to his shoulder and a reassuring hum but he knows he’s only semi-successful because Satoru glares up at him.

“Why are you so stuck on this?” Satoru grumbles out and Suguru sighs.

“Because you’d rather struggle with a single jar for ten minutes and then pay for two dinners than simply asking me for help. I could have opened that jar for you and I would have thought nothing of it. Why can’t you just ask?”

“Because I’m supposed to be the strongest!”

“So? I mean, you are, there’s no denying that. You are the strongest sorcerer. But that doesn’t mean that you also have to be the strongest human, you know.”

Suguru keeps his voice even and calm, hoping to defuse some of the anger he can see bubbling up in Satoru and he allows himself a small smile when it works and Satoru goes limp again.

“Yes, it does,” Satoru eventually says. “I can’t be weak. I’m not allowed to be weak.”

Suguru huhurthurts for him.

“Do you think me to be weak?” he asks even though he knows what the answer is going to be and he’s proven right when Satoru huffs in displeasure.

“Of course not, why the hell would I think that?”

“I asked you for help just yesterday, remember? When I asked you to carry some of the things for me we bought.”

“Yeah, but that’s—” Satoru tries to say but Suguru interrupts him.

“How is that different? Why is it different when it’s me?”

“Because it just is,” Satoru almost yells out. “You’re allowed to be—” his voice cracks and breaks before he goes on, “—human. Things are different for me.”

“How are things different for you? You’re just as human as I am,” Suguru carefully says, desperate to not let his voice shake, to not let Satoru know how much he hurts for him but he knows he’s not really successful because Satoru’s face twists.

“Am I?” Satoru asks, his voice uncharacteristically wavering. “I’m not so sure I am. My family at least doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Well, they are fucking wrong,” Suguru almost spits out and bends over, until he’s certain that all Satoru can see is him. “You are. And that’s perfectly fine.”

Satoru stays suspiciously quiet at that but Suguru isn’t deterred.

“You’re human, and you’re allowed to have emotions and to struggle with things and to ask for help. None of these things take away your strength. Nothing can change that you’re the strongest sorcerer. Those things are not related at all.”

Satoru presses his lips together when Suguru falls silent and Suguru knows that this is Satoru’s limit. He probably already pushed a little bit too far, but Satoru hasn’t run out on him yet—which happened before Suguru learned to read the signs—so it has to count for something.

At least Suguru hopes it does.

“Let’s not speak about it anymore today,” Suguru finally relents and sits back up, taking his soothing motion in Satoru’s hair up again. “I’m sorry.”

“Just—shut up,” Satoru mutters, but Suguru knows he doesn’t mean it when he turns so he can hide his face in Suguru’s stomach.

“Alright,” Suguru softly gives back and scratches at Satoru’s scalp with more intent to make up for his words.

They spend the rest of the evening in silence and Suguru knows that they are going to be okay.

~*~*~

Suguru wasn’t really paying attention when Yaga handed Satoru a letter after their lesson, but he does notice that something is off the moment Satoru freezes. Yaga and Shoko were long gone by the time Satoru opened it so it’s just Suguru and him in the classroom right now and that makes Satoru’s reaction even more alarming.

Suguru sees how his eyes fly over the page, sees how stiff his shoulders are, how his hands shake the tiniest bit and all Suguru wants to do is soothe him however he can, no matter what the letter says.

“Satoru,” he quietly says, cautious not to make Satoru flinch but Satoru flinches anyway.

He can’t seem to tear his eyes off the page in his trembling hands though, so Suguru carefully puts a hand to his wrist.

“I’m here,” he simply says, because he doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn’t know what the words say so he can’t tell Satoru that everything is going to be alright. Not without knowing what’s happening. “Satoru, breathe.”

Satoru sucks in a reflexive deep breath and then continues to breathe like he should do and that has to be a good sign.

“I’m not weak, right?” Satoru asks, his voice thin and reedy and Suguru’s fingers around his arm spasm.

“No, you’re not,” he’s quick to reassure him and watches Satoru’s head jerk.

“And I’m human?”

“You very much are.”

Satoru turns his gaze to him at hearing that and Suguru can’t remember a time when Satoru had looked this panicked.

Not even curses are able to put that look on his face.

“Help me,” he breathes out and Suguru still doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know what he’s even supposed to help with, but he knows that there is only one possible answer.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

At hearing that, Satoru shoves the letter into Suguru’s hand, who quickly scans it over. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, in his opinion; Satoru’s family is asking him to come back home for a weekend but if before Suguru could only guess at Satoru’s relationship with his family, this certainly cements it.

To say that Satoru has issues with them is probably the understatement of the year.

“You want me to come with you?” Suguru asks when it becomes clear that Satoru is not going to tell him what he actually needs help with, but it’s not as if Suguru needs him to say it out loud.

He knows Satoru well enough to read the desperate panic right off his face.

“Please,” Satoru whispers, still clearly so desperate and Suguru is quick to nod.

“I will, I absolutely will, Satoru.” He’s not sure how much he can push Satoru right now, how much he can handle, but he feels as if he has to say something else, too. “Thank you for asking,” he quietly adds on and then watches in horror how Satoru crumbles where he stands.

He’s quick to gather him in his arms, pressing Satoru’s shaking form to his chest and he presses one reassuring kiss after the other to the crown of his head.

“It’s okay if it’s you, right?” Satoru asks, his voice barely audible even in the silence of the room and Suguru understands that his is about more than about asking for help.

It’s about his family, it’s about letting Suguru know that he’s not as strong as everyone always claims he is and there is nothing else for Suguru to do but nod.

“It’s always okay with me,” he agrees because Satoru can be allowed to be weak and painfully human with trauma and issues in his presence.

Just like Suguru can allow himself to be the same with Satoru.

“Come with me. Don’t let me—I can’t go there alone,” Satoru says, his voice still shaking and Suguru doesn’t mention the hand that is so desperately clutching Suguru’s shirt.

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

It doesn’t even bear thinking about—Satoru asked him for help, so Suguru will do whatever he wants. Or needs, in this case.

“You wanna take the afternoon off? We can finally watch that movie you keep pestering me about,” Suguru offers when nothing else comes out of Satoru’s mouth and that finally gets him to relax a bit.

“You’re not going to ask? Why?” Satoru wants to know and Suguru shakes his head.

“No. I don’t care. You don’t want to go there alone, so you won’t. It doesn’t matter why. If you want to tell me, then I’m here, I’ll listen, you know that, but I’m not going to ask.”

Just like Satoru hadn’t asked when Suguru almost had a panic attack over a stupid painkiller, because the sight of pills is still a trigger for him, even though he’s been off his medication for months now.

“A movie sounds good,” Satoru says after a beat and Suguru allows himself a small smile.

“Let’s go then,” he decides, quickly stuffing the letter in his pocket, so Satoru doesn’t have to see it again.

It’s only once they are on Suguru’s bed, Satoru curled into his side and the movie running, that Satoru speaks again.

“Don’t leave me alone, okay,” he softly says and Suguru almost wants to laugh because there is no universe out there where he’s ever going to leave Satoru alone ever again.

“Never,” he promises and brushes his lips against Satoru’s forehead.

“Good,” Satoru breathes out, pressing his face under Suguru’s chin into his throat and Suguru doesn’t mention that he’s going to miss the movie like this, because the movie is not even the point in the first place.

The point is to let Satoru know that he’s ereherehere, that he’s always going to be here and he thinks he gets that across when Satoru melts against him.

They’ll face Satoru’s family together, just like they face curses together and in a week or two they will laugh about this, just like it should be.

And Satoru will know that he can ask anything of Suguru because Suguru will always be there for him.

#bt writes #june of doom 2024 #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #hurt/comfort #referenced child abuse #trust #getting together #fluff

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rel124c41 · 9 months

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THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE IS THRILLING, AND I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT. jade leech

♛: It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia. Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

tags: mind manipulation, emotional constipation, pining, not actually unrequited love, pop culture refrences, manga & anime, male-female friendship, board gmae club (twst), fights

Azul and the word ‘mistakes’ are oil and water. They keep themselves separated from one another, boundaries drawn quite clearly. Though it has been his pride since his first year attending Night Raven College, Azul cannot always be there during its operating hours. Schedules eventually collide and two events overlap. And though it was an honest mistake of Azul’s to forget a club meeting, Jade was surprised to see which had reigned more important to his house-warden's attention.

“Keep a keen eye on the bar. Most tables are already in rotation for waiters. I do not anticipate any unruly customers this evening,” Azul says, folding the scarf five times in his arm.

Dorm coat draped on his chair and dorm hat rested on the hanger, it seems evident that Azul will actually be leaving. Of course, Monstro Lounge has managed to sail without her captain. It has perhaps experienced a few scratches in the helm but nothing more. Truthfully, the worst she had suffered was under the hand of her own captain during his incident. Jade smiles at the memory: tables splintered down the middle, a flower field of glass shards, dehydrated fish upon the marble floor. Since then, nothing that they cannot handle! But still Jade wants to push, just a bit!

“And if we have the misfortune of taking in an unamiable student?”

It is unlikely to happen. Today is a Tuesday, they are not in the middle of any exam season and no holidays are around the corner. Today is perhaps one of the most quotidian days of the year.

“The same old, same old, you know. Call in Floyd if you need assistance. No stains this time.”

“And if Floyd is wrapped up in something else? Would you really leave me here, with no protection?” Jade puts his fingers to his lips and bats his eyelashes once. “Poor and unfortunate me.”

Azul makes his way to the door and fixes him with a glare. “No stains this time,” he repeats.

“Of course.”

Jade lifts a hand to push the bridge of Azul’s glasses up. How entertaining it is when he bristles under the slight touch. Scoffing, Azul leaves his office to the roaring waves that await him. The eelmer giggles as his captain abandons the ship. And when an hour later, a customer gets short with him at the bar, Jade is benevolent enough to remember the little pledge of his and simply wrings the breath out of him with his own tie instead of anything more drastic. However, the customer falls limp off his stool and Jade judges this might be the best time to retrieve their captain.

He puts down the drink for the Diasomnia student’s friend. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere ~” his tone is saccharine but his grin is venomous. And the terrified student does not dare to move an inch as Jade abandons the ship.

It is very unusual for something other than profit to capture Azul’s attention. What matters most to Azul is coins and contracts, then whatever monetary profit that he can squeeze from each item. Perhaps a game of poker that he is betting on would prove more profitable than a mostly uneventful Tuesday in the lounge. But, valuable time spent playing board games? Jade surmises that is a bit strange of his housewarden. He takes a right turn down the college’s hallway.

The Board Game Club’s meetings were typically Wednesday, but the designated classroom for the club was empty both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Perhaps they bummed up the date of the club meeting because of a riveting match of Sorry. Not that Jade himself would get the appeal. To each their own. He takes another right.

Jade guesses that Azul won’t be too upset by his disturbance. If that fae student had simply refrained from species targeted insults and focused his animosity towards his drink being made wrong, it would have been smoothed over. Not that Jade made his drink; as rare as mistakes are from Azul, they are even rarer from Jade Leech. He takes a left and opens the clubroom door.

His eyes widen momentarily before his typical expression returns. Jade expects to be met with a crowd of people that he would have to navigate through to locate Azul. But the place is desolate besides the table where Idia Shroud and Azul reside. And as Jade is an observative person, he does not fail to notice the claymore resting on the table’s edge. His skin buzzes. Oh are you perhaps –The thought is snipped when he feels a ruffle of limbs push through the space made by himself and the corner of the door. He lowers his gaze to apologize when his eyes widen much larger than before.

“Excuse me, Jade,” you move deeper into the clubroom, a bowl of watermelon in your hands.

“No, my apologies, Prefect,” Jade assures and places a hand over his heart to cover the wrinkles in his purple dress-shirt. Are his clothes wrinkled? He had not even considered checking after incapacitating that Diasomnia student. He straightens his already straight posture and discreetly pats his clothes down. Gloved hand over his breast, he can feel that quivering rabbit pace of his organ.

Diligently, he follows after you. “Have you switched from Track & Field to Board Games this semester?” It is unexpected of you. You had only ever missed one of the twenty-six Thursday club meetings due to an illness. Perhaps, your physical prowess was complete and you were focusing upon intellects. If that is the case, he could tutor. His strong suit was not board games but with a mind that is always mapping out the second or third steps of a plan, he could prove to be quite of use. Would you use him? Should he ask you if you –

“No, I'm still running at Track. But, today is the final day of the big Idia versus Azul showdown,” you place the bowl of watermelon down on the table. “To be frank, I think both of them are liars and this will go on till graduation.” You take your seat … to Jade’s displeasure, in a chair shoulder to shoulder with Idia Shroud.

“Oya, knowing them both, I’d wager you might be correct, Prefect,” Jade smiles despite your seat. “Have you –”

“Jade.” His organ quiets down, regaining the typical pace of a wolf rather than a rabbit. “Did I not put you in charge of the lounge today,” and though Azul smiles, he has just barely managed to leash the snarling beast of aggression that wants to make itself known on his face.

“Oh yes, but you see, there has been a complication. I endowed the lounge to Floyd for the time being. Perhaps, we should switch positions?”

False kindness melts off his face as Azul groans into his gloved hand. Jade notes it is odd of him to release his guard in front of you. To show genuine dissatisfaction, unhear of. Idia, he can understand as Idia seems to be the only one Azul finds on equal standing but you? Have you two perhaps gotten closer? “Not necessary. I will take care of it.”

“Rung in a friend to avoid losing Azul-shi, fufufufu,” Idia grins. “What a cheat~”

Azul sends Idia a glare. “Nothing of the sort. I’ll get this matter sorted then we shall continue. Unless … you would like to phone in an excuse to prolong your inevitable downfall? Ortho perhaps?”

“Damn, and it was just getting riveting.”.

“Can you really call a game of Monopoly riveting,” Idia asks you.

“Well, not riveting in like the terms of Evo Moment 37 but riveting in like entering the basement in RE: Biohazard. The anticipation of it all,” you defend. Idia chuckles at the comparison. However, the laugh is snipped by Jade’s irate voice.

“Don’t worry, Prefect. I shall return Azul so he may defeat Idia shortly.”

Idia shrinks back at being acknowledged by one of the twins. He puts a cube of watermelon in his mouth to avoid carrying on conversation. You, everlastingly polite, supply both vice housewarden and housewarden with a wave. “Looking forward to it.”

Jade flashes you a smile. A tiny centipede of teeth wiggling on his pale features. Teeth that are sharp enough to bite into steak like dull human teeth bite into whip-cream. And despite his unnatural teeth that unnerve others, your lips inch up a slight bit. As they say their own goodbyes, you hum and return to analyzing the Monopoly board too. Outside the door, Azul turns towards Jade sharply. Where Jade’s teeth are razor-edged, Azul’s glare is of a similar caliber.

“There are no stains, just as promised. Aren’t I too good to you?”

“You’re comparable to a splinter.”

“Fufufufu, so cruel, Azul.” The words hardly mean anything. It was an unexpected but welcome surprise to see you. Perhaps, Jade could even manage shrinking off the responsibility of Mostro Lounge to return and spectate with you. Yes, that sounds ideal.

──────────────────

Jade did not get to return to the club meeting nor was the scolding from Azul pleasant. If Jade was more impressionable like Floyd, he would have spent the last two days sulking around. But his brother is who he is and Jade is who he is. So, he continues along seemingly unbothered.

Jade did thrive in observation, however. Collision of two stars was too ephemeral; Jade preferred being the satellite, influencing slowly. Glimpses of you fed him until today where he could feed you. Of course, he would not deprive himself of food either. The returning violetish-red heat of the lava lamp of blood under your skin, hand, and fingers, passing by him to grab another serving. That pleasant burn of your body heat would soon return to him tonight.

He had attempted various times for you to open up about your interests. They were as successful as trying to get a flower to bloom during the off-season. You wilted at the emotional tweezers snapping at your petals. Resolutely, you bite your tongue. Though, he admired your foresight to never reveal too much. He still remembers three weeks ago that you had mumbled into your hand “, no, you wouldn’t find my interests all that interesting.” And Jade should have denied that acquisition or at least persuaded you otherwise. But he predicted that if he had pushed, it would have revealed his hand of cards. Instead of balancing a bit of mushroom on his fork, he would have been balancing his poor, unfortunate heart on the prongs. He too had the foresight to never reveal too much.

So while he took great delight in your shared Thursday nights, you two were crashing into an inevitable pause. But, no, he should focus on cooking. After Track and Field, body hot and stomach empty, you dragged sore feet to Mostro Lounge all to see him. He provided free food and you provided the conversation. And if you stop providing conversation, he’d resolve to beguile your pretty tongue.

Afterall, you were a busy student. You made the choice he was worthy enough for your time. Jade was no stranger to the value of that ticking march. So the conversation too must become valuable as what fills your stomach, or Jade would be seen as an inadequate provider.

The timer dings. Putting down his pen, Jade crouches to the mouth of the oven. You are unexpectedly optimistic about trying new foods — a trait both of you share that makes him more endeared towards you. He pulls the mushroom lasagna from the steel tongue.

Unlike Azul and Floyd, you will humor him in trying his mushroom-themed plated meals at least one. At the very start, he tested you and put a slightly paralyzing type of mushroom in both of your portions. Your reaction was amusing, poking at the dead pink member with fork prongs, seeing if you would start to slur certain letters, not the least bit unnerved. Perhaps, you thought it unintentional because you did return the following week. You even made intriguing observations on the meals he served you. Enoki blooms: you compared those to coral reefs. Hen-of-the-wood mushrooms: you compared those to a dissected brain.

Jade is delighted to hear your pending reaction about tonight's dish, cutting into the pasta. You should be here soon.

Once the dish is sliced and portioned, he moves to check the voices coming from Mostro Lounge. Some unorganized customers? Some intruders? He keeps the cutting knife on him, concealing it behind his back. Cannot have you getting you harmed by any brutish students, though with that sword on you, you should be — hm. Oh, you are here!

Under the gleam of the lounge’s cobalt lightning, you look riveting. Stubborn droplets of sweat remain on your biceps and cheeks but it does not subtract from the sight of you. Your forearm muscle slightly bulges as you hold your sword’s handle to your hip. As you talk with whoever is on the other side of the entrance, you slightly straighten up. Jade wonders if something is wrong and tightens his once relaxed hold on the knife. However, the grip is nothing to the tremendous squeeze he gives the knife upon hearing your huffing snickers.

Now who was making you —

“No, I promise! Gojo’s feats can walk Diavolo like a dog.” You start forming words around a laugh. “When Diavolo looks into the future, he’s gonna see the strongest sorcerer kicking his ass.”

The other voice starts growing louder, so you join along. “Dude! I swear! — No, Jotaro is not winning! He literally has infinity, no JoJo is beating him — But you can’t! Wait! Hahaha, Joseph and Gojo would be drinking instead of fighting — Come on, Dio is not winning that.”

You are so caught in power-scaling that Jade’s presence surprises you. Muscles bulging, you jump slightly as an aerial voice sings, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too pressing. Am I, Prefect?”

Jade has both of his hands on the door frame. Faithful cutting knife still clutched in his dominant hand, he crowds over you. His body bent forward, left foot toes tapping on the ground. A weaker individual would have swooned or shivered at the lack of distance between his chest and your skull. His presence engulfs and swallows you like you are Jonah sitting like a pill on the whale’s tongue.

Instead of shivering or swooning, you relax and answer, “No, just some power-scaling between Idia and I.”

Smile dropping, Jade turns his focus onto the eldest Shroud. He had not realized the two of you were so close. What meets Jade’s glare is just the floating tablet that Idia uses. And though he is safe in Ignihyde, a full body shiver spiders its way through Idia’s bones. Despite his polite smile, Jade’s eyes are two coals of vexation.

Is that a knife in his hand! All the blood drains from Idia’s already moon white face.

“Hm, power-scaling. How interesting. Is that a method of testing your own strength against one another?”

“Um, close. It’s more like between,” but you slowly trail off and do not finish your sentence.

“Ah, you’ll have to tell me more over this lasagna I prepared. Mushroom ragu and prosciutto cotto. The pasta sheets are even handmade.”

“Hah, yeah I will. Um, Idia, I—“

“I’m afraid I only have enough servings for two.” That is a lie. There are enough servings to provide you and Grim a week’s worth of dinner. There is a second lasagna already tinfoiled for you that you will be taking home.

He knows your routine to prepare protein meals. He also knows that Dire Crowley provides low income that makes meat a rare treat instead of what it truly is, an everyday diet necessity. And though you two at ten P.M. will go through the same dance of ‘oh, i can’t accept this much food’ and ‘I insist’, Jade smiles at the thought of cornering you once again into taking his cooking home.

“A-ah, that’s completely fine. I have to run maintenance with Ortho. I’ll see you around, Prefect?”

“Yes, yes, see you, Idia.”

“Bye bye~” When you are not looking, Jade reveals the front gallery of his teeth. Thin lips pushing up and up to give Idia a warning smile rather than a winning smile.

Intelligent Idia Shroud employs the unused emergency motor to make a swift escape.

──────────────────

To be honest, one of Jade’s favorite days is the day of Azul’s overblot. Unfathomably cruel, others would criticize if they knew. Trey might even shrink away from the friendly terms they established; Jade smiles at an image of uneasiness etched on the baker’s face. Though Azul’s foundering had been entertaining, it was not the fondest memory of that day. No, it had been you. You and your scrambling friends. You and your sword. You and your wrath.

You always had that claymore on you. Perhaps even more commonly than you were seen with Grim. Snaked around your waist with a baldric, no matter where you spent your time, it stayed. It was an extension of your body.

Jade came to learn much about it through honed investigation. One: you acquired it from Sam’s Shop after Riddle Roseheart’s overblot. Two: it was prematurely infused with magic to give the user support, ideal for some magicless as yourself. Three: it had a blessing put upon it by Malleus Draconia, making it unbreakable. Jade’s mood had soured quite some time ago from unearthing the third fact. Though his own magic was not on par with the prince, he would have bled and forgo sleep if it meant he could add a spell you wanted added to your claymore. To protect you, he melts at the thought.

Despite that, it was still magnificent seeing you work with your sword. Raw, nude desperation to attack each movement. If you missed one counter, you would suffer far most of all. Jade mourns that you had not actively participated in the fight against him and Floyd in the Coral Sea. Your physical prowess was both elegant and gauche. You reminded him of a shark-mer locking onto the smell of blood but you reminded him too of a struggling seal with its neck between a shark-mer jaws. Winning and losing. Volatile in every swing that you did. Most people were at the very least stunned when seeing his mismatched eyes; however, they were nothing compared to the color of yours. Two moons trapped in red skies. When Azul had thrown your body into Mostro Lounge’s centerpiece aquarium, you had broken a blood vessel in your eye and it only made you more irresistible. Watching your stumble, crawl, limp back to your claymore, past the flower field of glass and starry night skies full of dehydrated, dead fish, lifting back up your secondary arm and yelling out in pure wrath, “ Azul Ashengrotto!”

He shivers at the memory and almost drops the glass he was polishing.

Yes, you had acted as splendid entertainment that day. When both Ramshackle and the photograph were temporarily taken, your eyes were weak. You glared at him and Floyd but it was a childish glare. The hardened stare of a child who had gotten their favorite bear taken away by an adult or older sibling. A powerless yet vexed look. You were pitiful and laughable to Jade before the hour of Azul’s overblot.

But since then, Jade had yet to see any of it resurface. Not that that disappointed him. As you had already caught his eye, he would be even harder to shake off than Floyd. He was going to remain. A flea that can only be torched off and, in removal, singe the skin it has burrowed into.

Sighing, Jade put the last polished glass up on the bar-shelf. Enough reminiscing. He keeps remembering those bright, evocative sclera and iris, he will be forced to retire to his room and take care of a physical burden. Now, next Azul wanted the aquarium whipped down, then I should check upon Floyd’s process in the kitchen. So much to be done. As Jade crouches to grab the window cleaner, he realizes one essential thing.

He never wants you to look upon anyone but him. It’s a desperate, unattractive yearn in him. If he could capture your precious face in his hands, eyes tilted up towards him, glaring, it would feed him to the fullest he had ever known.

──────────────────

Idia tries to keep his physical presence in school down to one time per week. If it is a good week, he physically enters Night Raven College zero times. If it is a terrible week, he steps foot on college ground twice.

This week has been horrible to Idia. He entered the college once each week for the Board Game Club. The rules he and Azul mapped out stated that both of them needed to handle the dice with their own flesh and blood to avoid a cheating move. Then, he is entering Night Raven College a second time to retrieve the paperwork from Dire Crowley on Winter Break preparation. Today Ortho’s ancient curses exam was keeping him busy. Oh, woe is him. All of this grows into pulling the blue of his lips into a desolate frown. His glum mood is already making him anticipate the worst to come.

“Just get this done as quickly as possible” he mutters through gritted teeth .

His anxious nature makes him more susceptible to what he knows is going to go wrong. It is written all in the air. It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia.

Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

Sevens, please hear Idia, and let his death be swift and please don’t let anyone see his browser history. Amen.

“Classroom 3-B is void currently. Come.” Not like Idia has much choice. The door clicks behind them. Shivers convulse in Idia as Jade pushes him to sit down at a desk.

The look on Jade's face is deadly. Shadows cut and slice over his oily pointed features. Almost Rembrandt-like, the darkness on his face is painted by the jaw of the light overhead. The intensity of his glare would cause even wool to ignite in seconds. His eyes glimmer like yellow embers or olive beetles of hate hate hate. Idia could envision smoke starting to float up from his eyelids with the fire they held within. The housewarden is glad for the seat because his legs are numb now. Terror pins him down as Jade calculates.

This might not be effective, Jade surmises. Idia Shroud is a third year student, advanced in magic studies, and sometimes resistant to magical attacks. But – an image of your wrathful eyes appears in his head. But he had calculated all the risks beforehand, plan after plan, for days. Manipulating his premature failures to even turn into successes. Idia Shroud was a skittish individual, if his resolve was shaken then he could win this battle, here on the stage.

Jade slams his hands down to the desk. The sound will disrupt his mental fortitude. One of his gloved hands striking out to grab Idia’s face in a vice grip, he pulls his mug forward. The close proximity will unnerve the touch averse housewarden. With his index and thumb, he pulls the blue shaded skin of Idia’s eyelids. “Shock The Heart.”

Jade waits with bated breath. Searching in the housewarden’s face for a twitch or spasm. He cannot feel if his magic was effective, which wasn’t too surprising, but … “What are your opinions on the Ramshackle Perfect?”

“Hm? (Name)?” Jade’s eyes turn sharper. He still can’t gauge if Idia is influenced by his unique magic. Yet, as panic settles in, the word vomit that Idia drools out is satisfactory enough.

“Um, well! They’re kind of stoic and standoffish but really staunch too. Energy is trying way too hard to be ‘mysterious’. And they don’t make friends easily because of it. But they’re great! You know, Mifune from Soul Eater and Teresa of the Faint Smile, totally their kins.”

Kins? Are you perhaps related to someone that he hasn’t heard of? The thought of missing information about you vexes him. His grip tightens up on Idia’s face and his lips are squeezed together, hushing his sentence.

“Do they have relatives in Twisted Wonderland?”

“N-No, they have no family in Twisted Wonderland.” Idia speaks through the hole in his squished lips.

“Hm, then who are you comparing them to?”

“Anime characters. Ones that stand on business. Same personality and same True Neutral Myers-Briggs type. They both wield swords and their strength is unnatural.”

Yes, Jade knows this. Impatience burns his skin. He knew because when you and Jack Howl had been helping around the lounge by proxy of your trio of friends, you had broken off a bit of a table in your hand with the ease of snapping a graham cracker. Your unexplainable strength was perfect for you surviving in the Coral Sea. And he knew you wield a sword, anyone with eyes knew!

You were stoic, loyal, and strong. All of this Jade knew because he had been observing you!

His unique magic might not hold for too long with Idia. He needs information that is new and valuable, or else he will be stuck with prodding Ace or Deuce or either of their acquaintances for information. Already, Jade had calculated out how to talk to you and get you two on friendly terms. Thursday’s meals, offering help with botanical garden exams, and being ready to assist. All that paled in comparison to the friendly terms settled between you and Idia. What did he have, that spineless housewarden? If intellect was the key to your heart, Jade had that and then some.

His nose scrunches at the question he is about to ask. “What does the Ramschakle’s Prefect find … desirable in people?” What do they look for in a mate? If anyone knew, it would be Idia or that senseless trio.

“Formal with ulterior motives. They’re totally into your character archetype. Really gets them going. Shit, last week, they were being super cringe and ranting about the Falling Devil when she –” Idia luckily stops himself when he sees the startling intensity that Jade is staring at him with.

Was this perhaps … a code of sorts?

“My character archetype?”

“Your personality is appealing to them,” Idia seems to gag around the next word “, ugh, romantically. A normie crush”

Idia immediately regrets his words. Because as the spell starts to splinter off him, his brain returning, the look he is confronted with is even more terrifying. Idia panics that he might be in the hands of the more openly unhinged twin because Jade’s face is split ear to ear in a wide grin.

“Fufufufu, is that so~”

──────────────────

Night Raven College’s beauty is most prominent to you during the night. Up the stairs, down the hallways, into the Hall of Mirrors, there is an inkling of hypnotizing beauty in a college that is otherwise a pain in your ass. Burning cat eyes of lanterns dance on the top strip of walls. Marble statues in the Hall of Mirror seem to shine, oily in their strict features. Mostro Lounge is exceptionally gorgeous with its low cobalt lights.

As winter draws nearer, days shorten. You have gradually lost the fear of walking alone at night. Everything that went bump in the night seemed trivial in the face of a rose tyrant or dethroned lion. You felt what bruises on bones felt like. That causes anyone’s well of fear to eventually dry up.

So, stepping into Mostro Lounge, you are quite surprised when a tiny droplet of fear falls on the tip of your nose and rakes down your body. Because, well, the scene in front of you is quite startling.

This can’t be – No, it’s definitely not.

What catches your eye is not the company. The company, though weirdly dressed, is expected. You are fearful of the way all but one of Mostro Lounge’s booth-table has been cleared away to Sevens knows where. On the tabletop rests a delicate medusa lamp. The five heads are nude fluorescent bulbs blown to the shape of jellyfish. Plates and silverware for two are present too. Even a tea kettle has joined the group. Why won’t you two be sitting at the bar like usual?

You try to shift your attention to the meal in the center, avoiding what you do not want to acknowledge. From this distance, it perhaps looks like a type of filet of steak or chicken. Something you have never tried before obviously. You try to distinguish what mushrooms were used. Maybe if you focus all your attention on that, you can avoid it. Steam still rises from the plate. And your foolish eyes follow the gray wisps up to the nightmare. A vase of red roses decorates the frightening table – coincidentally or purposefully? Your favorite flowers. Roses still are your favorite despite Riddle’s overblot. You had only told your Heartstlabyul friends that.

Trying not to panic, you decide to look at your company, especially since he is approaching you.

Usually, Jade stuck with his student uniform despite how late you two kept each other. Personally, you hated peeling off layers to change at night. But tonight, he has switched his attire for a simple button-up and his usual slacks. His tie and gloves are still on but his sleeves are rolled up. In your scan, you notice he is wearing Floyd’s Santoni charcoal gray shoes.

You look past Jade, trying to gauge if you can grab that chicken or steak and make a run for it. Tragically, Jade is already in front of you. You innerly grumble because you know Track and Field has mostly drained you of most of your energy. Well, nothing you can do now.

Hand over his heart, the eel-mer greets you with his polite, trained smile. “How lovely of you to make it tonight, Prefect. You look quite breathtaking.” He closes his eyes and hums at you. Trying to appear less predatorily? You remain tight-lipped but the silence does not deter him. Instead, he scoops your callous hand and presses a kiss to it. “I have prepared a, let’s say, compulsive meal tonight that I would be honored to share with you.”

EW! You repress a shiver quickly. “So-sounds good.” Jade drops your hand and, once he is turned, you quickly scrub the kiss off on your sweats. This isn’t what you think it is – It’s a mind-game of Jade’s and you love deciphering those. Try to enjoy it, (Name), the inner voice scolds.

You follow and take your seat when he gestures at it with one hand. Still standing, he begins to cut up the portions of your shared meal. Ah, so it is chicken and typical field mushrooms.

“I believe I have already disclosed this information to you, but please let me continue, Prefect.” He grabs your plate and starts filling it. “Agaricus campestris, known by many as field mushrooms, actually share a resemblance with one of the deadliest mushrooms, amanita phalloides. It has been used in many assassins attempts. It has snatched the life of a Pope, Roman Emperor, and a Russian tsaritsa.” Returning your plate, full of half of the main course’s field mushrooms, he reaches out to fix a bit of your hair. “How cleverly deceitful Mother Nature can be, yes?”

Okay, this is more like it! Though Jade is certainly acting more Jade-like tonight, you can deal with this in stride. You refrain from lifting up your fork as he starts to fill his own plate. “Mother Nature certainly has a sense of humor that is both sycophantic and prepotent. She is such a whore.”

Jade openly laughs at that. Finishing his own portion, he sits and continues, “I think she is giving her subjects a word of warning. Those who don’t finish their food will taste death.”

Your first hint? No, it is too early and you should not jump like a humping dog on every word of Jade’s. “Even she plants her roses with thorns. Her prettiest creation even bites. That warning that she will certainly turn on you, eventually. She would take her tea with both poison and honey. Don’t you think, Jade?”

“An astute image of her. ‘Mad honey’ and regular honey on her spoon. Would you perhaps like to try the blend tonight before we feast?”

“Of course,” you chirp. As he pours you a cup, you continue, “Tonight’s blend won’t happen to be roasted oolong?”

“A keen nose on you, Prefect.” You assume that this one is safe and you waste no time in sipping it once it is in your hands. This seems to be the right move in the game because Jade’s expression flickers. It … It grows a bit softer around the edge, happier? You drain your cup to the middle and absentmindedly stroke the ridges on the ceramic squid design.

“Perhaps, a tea made for a Pope?”

“Ah, more commonly, oolong is a blend dancing on the tongue of a Russian tsar.”

Your pride takes a hit; you got one of the answers wrong. Finger moving down the squid’s arms, you take in a bit of the scenery. Usually, clues are not in the backdrop but it is never an impossibility. You look back at Jade and see he is staring at you with a certainly strange look. Hm, odd. You turn away. But you think you finally got it.

Confidently, you push your plate into the middle of the table and finish your tea. Perhaps the outfit and scenery change was only a red herring to deceit you away from the real mind-game. The meal is most certainly poisonous! Inside, you beam at guessing correctly until you hear a hesitant voice.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“No, I don't think I will.” Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

“Is the food perhaps not to your liking?” Well, that tone of voice is certainly concerning. You turn away from the aquarium you had been looking and return to Jade’s sight. Panic is almost dotting his features; his teeth pulled back in a vulnerable grimace. “It was my mistake to make a meal you hadn’t tried before for this. I know your fondness of trying new meals but I might have overstepped. I’ll remedy this. My apologies, Prefect.”

HUH! You quickly grab back the plate before Jade can touch the edge. Why did that voice unnerve you so – “No, no, I just.” Great, now you have to find a way to remedy a mistake you made. “I just wanted to test your resolve to this.”

To you, you are talking about the mind-game Jade is playing. To Jade, he thinks you are talking about this date and the relationship that he wants to foster with you. Rejuvenating, he chuckles and shows his full smile. “I want you to know I am very committed to this.”

Still, unsure of your steps, you wait till Jade takes a bite of mushrooms first as you focus your fork at the chicken. The conversation dims down like the autumn sun. Though, it has never been unpleasant with Jade. Eating and nourishing your bodies: that is a big part of Mother Nature’s hierarchy of needs. Company is less than food, but it has never been absent from that hierarchy either. You always enjoy meals with Jade.

Am I doing this right? Jade questions.

Jade peeks around the roses as he watches you eat what he can provide. He is grateful that you are eating the mushrooms; field mushrooms were both fascinating and delicious. He knew how to differentiate between various mushrooms in the fungi field and had yet to make any mistake when selecting them. Moving onto the next step, Jade hopes that your aversion to eating at first was just a malnourished mistake.

Finger by finger, Jade removes his gloves. Delicately, he plucks one of the roses out of the vase. He had retrieved them from Trey that morning, specifically asking for the thorns to remain to the baker’s confusion. The thorns prick at his rather soft human skin. Under your watchful eye, he takes the stem and squeezes off the head of the rose.

“Roses, your favorite flower, correct?”

That fear comes back like a returning tidal wave. You feel your spine lock up and you swallow around your bite. “Yes, I enjoy them very much. How did you know?”

“I have my ways~” He takes the rose and tucks it behind your ear. Anxiously, he wanted to feel some warmth on the tip of them but nothing sits there but cold sweat from Track and Field. “Though I have a fondness for the ecosystem of fungi, the floral kingdom is not without its appeal.”

Your heart hammers. No, no, no need to panic, (Name). Perhaps you are jumping to conclusions and are mistaken, an inner voice speaks out. Slowly, you unfurl your tensing hands and ignore the blood you had drawn. Yes. You are mistaken, you reason.

“I actually grew a fondness them because –”

“Because it is your middle name.” You only revealed that to Grim. And well, the recorded files that Crowley had on you in your school information center. So, your surprise is a guarantee.

“Yes, hah. It is.”

“Both of you are parallel in your looks. I can see why Heartslabyul graciously accepts your company. Though, really, I sympathize with anyone who wants to keep your company.”

“Hah, well, being a Prefect is certainly time consuming. Grim, Ace, and Deuce are certainly not the best at dodging trouble.” You place one of your hands on the leather and squeeze your nails tightly into your skin.

“Yes, I certainly remember that. Some of my fondest memories actually came from the time after those three made their deals with Azul.”

You stay silent.

“(Name), you know that mistakes are a rarity from me. However when I am around you, I feel that I am always balancing off the edge of falling into one big mistake. And though I take everything in stride, I find the thought of making mistakes with you is far from thrilling. But, I’m willing to remedy those mistakes whenever the time comes.”

This – This, you realize it with impending horror. Harshly, your teeth snap together. This is – Your palms are slick with new sweat. THIS IS A DATE!

“And, I know, that perhaps —“

“Please, Jade, please stop.” The look on both of your faces is shared: a pained expression for entirely different reasons. Immediately, his faux politeness is dropped to reveal worry. You, terrified you, cannot handle a confession in this world.

“(Name)…”

“I have to go.”

You quickly push away the plate and stand. Stirred by the motions, the rose balancing on your ear falls to the ground. “The meal was delicious. You’re a brilliant cook, Jade. I just —“

“Please, let me apologize to you.”

“No. No, it’s alright.”

“(Name).”

Your strict avoidance of looking Jade in the eye is ruined as he grabs you by your wrist. Quickly, your eyes climb up to meet his face. What returns your look is terrifying. No, it is not a smoldering look of anger that three-fourths of the student body is terrified of. The vulnerability in his eyes terrifies you. In Jade’s face, there is the slight hint that this was not a meticulously crafted confession. In his face, you can tell he does not like the action of confessing. Showing his hand of cards, slitting his wrist, wearing his heart like a cufflink on his uniform.

Well, fucking hell, you don’t like this either! Romance, you simply cannot. “I have to go, Grim needs me back at Ramshackle.”

By some miracle, you manage to free your wrist. And the look on his face is easy to tear your eyes away from.

──────────────────

Has anyone ever been isekai-ed twice?

You gnaw around the cover of your phone. You know you will be scolded when Idia gives your phone another upgrade for higher speed or more data space, but that concern pales in comparison to the terrifying concern you’ll need to face. Now you understand Idia’s apprehension to leave his dorm. Perhaps, you can lay here and rot away. Wait till your skin sinks down like pastry crust and your bones moss over the sheets. You will nourish yourself slightly. Perhaps, three cigarettes? Or another bottle of vodka? Which would be more of a soothing balm to the flame that has engulfed your skin? Your thoughts are cut when the phone in your mouth buzzes.

Isekai Shoukan Wa Nidome Desu, not worth the watch bro was trying too hard to be Guts LOLOLOL

Good, reliable Idia. Despite all your stress, you can always smile at someone who has similar, admittedly nerd-routed humor such as yourself. You type back, Do you think the black carriage can cart me to another universe?

u probably haven’t buffed up your stats enough to cash in another isekai

Is that your ‘sweet’ way of saying I don’t deserve a second try in a new universe?

not sweet, just based

Kys actually. I have like a real problem this time.

something you can’t just punch through? u’re literally Saitama just punch your problems

This is emotional, I can’t punch it.

EW! IDIA LOGGING OFF. NO NORMIE EMOTIONS HERE.

Idia

Okay, you forced my hand. Yoko Littner ¼ Bunny Scale Figure. You patiently wait. The dots appear, sink away, reappear until …

boxed? You are already digging the box off your display shelf when your phone vibrates. You confirm it is boxed, even sending a picture and verbally highlighting how the tape is still intact. You can almost feel the bone-deep sigh Idia must have taken as the bubble returned. k normie, what’s going on?

So, you recount it all for him. Fleeting touches, warmth on your tongue, the ease of banter, and the security that you had felt in your long-standing friendship only to be disarmed by words that sent a ripple of lightning down each vein in your arm. You could not comprehend it. Just … Jade Leech? Fucking Jade Leech. One whose intellectual prowess could perhaps even puppeteer the downfall of any house-warden. And he had looked upon you with such affection. The whirlpools of his eyes reaching out towards you. His eyes … mutilating your common sense … God, why did you long to see that look again? Why did he say that to you? To manipulate you for what purpose?

You wish you had punched him.

As soon as you revealed to Idia that the person who had confessed was Jade Leech, your steady back and forth came to a halt. Idia? Idia. What do you know? Two minutes passed. Idia Shroud, remember Yoko.

okokokok listen, he used his unique magic on me! i am not in violation of any normie code, none! but … a week ago Jade caught me off guard and asked me your, uh, type. pls don’t be mad.

A tiny tiny part of you is flattered to see Idia try to keep benevolence in your friendship. The oldest Shroud is not one to worry about friendships. However, that tiny part is smothered by something much bigger. Crunch. You look down at the electronic you have broken in your grip. Anger growing, you start to scream. Not even words, just ah, ah, hah, ah, AAAAA!

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“If the Prefect takes down one of those eels, it wouldn’t be so bad. I still haven’t forgiven them for the exam scheme.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't they have a vengeful Floyd on their hands?”

“I say one down, one more to go. My Henchman’s got this.”

“Isn’t it so romantic! The tenacity to fight for another’s hand in love. The agonizing beauty of having to harm that certain someone. Like a lioness who sees herself unfit to be a mother devouring her cubs. Quelle vue! Blood drawn by the brawn of love. Hah.”

The three shiver at the intruding voice. Maybe if they do not look at him, he will find another person to entertain himself with. Minutes pass by and they still feel his presence. Cracking first, Deuce is the only brave soul who turns around to greet Rook Hunt.

“Bonjour to you too, Monsieur Spade. Do you know how long Monsieur Mastermind has been coveting our fair Trickster?” It seems like he is asking out of genuine curiosity instead of bragging that he himself knew before.

“Actually, none of us knew. Apparently, it’s been a while. The Prefect said Jade integrated Idia before confessing.”

“Hm, and Roi de Ta Chambre is missing from attendance. Perhaps jealousy?”

“Nah, more like fear. (Name) almost tore his tablet apart when they crossed paths on our way to potionology.” Ace chuckles at the memory.

“My Henchman isn’t too happy about it.”

“Still, I figured (Name) would just ignore it forever. Any emotion they can’t solve with anger is just pushed to the side.”

“Their emotional intelligence is sooo low.”

At Ace’s words, they all cast a look out onto the center of the track-field. Jade stands, arms folded behind his back. Oddly, he has only chosen to waive his jacket and rolled up his button-up’s sleeves. He is comparable to concrete whereas you are like a spinning power-drill. You are pacing back and forth, randomly swinging your claymore at times, pacing again. You switched your uniform for a tight black shirt and white tai chi pants. Content is Jade’s expression, watching you warming up to fight him.

The crowd has grown quite a bit. On the farturn and backstretch, most of the crowd has accumulated. And at the start of that farturn is Azul behind a fold-out table, sign shouting “Place your bets. Jade Leech vs Ramshackle’s Prefect.” Outstretched like a cat, Floyd is the only one of the crowd lounging on the bleachers.

Deuce is quite surprised to see that every housewarden has shown up. Even Malleus Draconia is flanked by his two bodyguards, his vice-housewarden floating a bit off ground and excitedly rambling in the taller fae’s ear. There is a sizable gap in where Malleus is standing among the crowd.

But, he also feels quite bad because he isn’t too sure who to support. You had gone to Azul Ashengrotto with a proposition that you said should reach the ears of a certain eel-mer. Your conditions that you and Jade would battle on the upcoming Sunday morning. If Jade bested you, he would be granted a date. If you bested him, the matter would be dissolved. Deuce was anxious about seeing perhaps one of the brutalest rejection of his life. To surely be beaten up by the person you desired, he groans at the idea. Poor Jade.

Thankfully, Rook Hunt leaves to stand by his own housewarden. The crowd waits anxiously, wondering who will start, before Ortho Shroud enters the green of the track-field. To the trio’s surprise, you do not seem agitated at the interruption. The boy comes up to you both, hand altering itself into a megaphone.

“The rules are,” the crowd hushes “, if either opponent is knocked into the red of the track, they lose. If either opponent's injuries stop them from fighting, they lose. If either opponent vocally forfeits, they lose. Jade Leech will be fighting to win a date with Ramschakle’s Perfect (Name). Please start in 59, 58, 57…”

You track Ortho leaving the green. Somberly, you take steps to make a little gap between Jade and yourself. You gradually stop fiddling with your claymore; from flipping it to and fro in your hand to letting it lie cement at your thigh. Victory was simple and foreseeable for you. Ace had asked you before if you planned for a fight against Jade Leech, one of the finest alchemical students. But you recited what you said during each overblot, “All I gotta do is win.” The simplicity was laughable, even you know this but, you glance up at Jade, all you really have to do here is one thing: win.

“4, 3, 2, 1. Go.”

Magic in Twisted Wonderland comes in categories. The basic elemental forms are flora, water, fire, and cosmic then it branches off into sub-genres. Certain magic in Twisted Wonderland is palpable and, most important to you, able to support the weight of a body. So when Jade miscalculates and flings a beam that you can jump upon, you waste nothing.

Being airborne is thrilling. You tuck your legs up to your rear as you cup your claymore’s handle in your hand like a child holding a fragile insect. Ground rapidly approaches you. Arms up, back arched, eyes front. You swing down with all your might with the full intention to slice Jade Leech down the middle like an unbirthday tart. These first three minutes will give you plenty of time to judge how he fights. You got to observe him in the Coral Sea; that gives leverage.

Jade goes to counter what seems like an attack raining straight down. You maneuver your body with the pressure of the spell, drop your right foot, and snap right towards Jade’s body. Got in, now deal a blow. Shoulders inches from each other, you wind up like a baseball player and go to lock eyes with Jade.

You expect frustration. You expect his typical calculated yet distant look. Yet - tch! You drive your sword into a swoop. No matter what his eyes look like, time to win.

You two dance in a tsunami of black-red sparks and thumping air. You two whip around each other, arms repeatedly tearing in and out to the collision of yours and his attacks. When either of you stumbles, the other relentlessly pushes. You can admit as a flora attack pushes you back that Jade, despite his eyes, is calculating each motion of yours. Trying to get two steps ahead but stumbling along. You both stumble in your little dance, too evenly matched.

But, the count in your head ends; three minutes have passed. Time to get serious. As Jade raises his pen to the sky to send a wave of energy at your body running towards him, he stops. Not in submission but because you have disappeared from his sight. Where did you –

Hm, Jade’s back is surprisingly muscular. Swimmer muscles? You can feel it through the tight shirts both of you are wearing. On your own latissimus, the turbulent avalanche of blood roaring through his system pounds at you. Back to back, you gently decline your head to rest on his dominant shoulder. His scent is quite sweet too when he is sweating like a cooked lobster.

You move your mouth near his ear. The words you speak cause his sturgeon scales to sway a bit. “Jade.” His back shivers under yours. “I’m gonna show off a little, kay?” Then once more, you are gone.

Jade catches a flash of silver, swooping right down to his neck. Time does not even allot for him to counter against your claymore specifically. Instead, he sums up magic to bubble around him and push everything back. Finally, you return to his vision, feet dug in soil and running right back at him as soon as the magic presence wilts off his pen.

To the left, to the right, to the left again, the dance resumes. Cornered right back into defense, Jade mourns. You attack faster than before, faster than what he witnessed at Azul’s overblot. Your claymore moves like a flickering light. You move around him and manipulate him to twist like a puppet to counter each strike. Down to his legs, up at his shoulders, behind his back. Unlike the noticeable strain in Jade’s face, you remain pouting.

His scent. You attempt to cut his left arm off and he counters. His scent. Why was it still distracting you! You pivot your feet, fall down in a swooping arc, and attempt to cut his tendon. That scent was all you could think of. Not that anyone could tell as you were moving both faster and more dynamically than before. He smells so good, you agonize. It bleaches the inside of your memory. To rid yourself of it you would probably have to crush up peppers and grind them into your nose until it bled. You had been around sweat enough in Track and Field but none sweated so saccharinely. With a vertical swipe, you try to cut off the hand of his that holds his magic pen.

Jade counters and you two are caught in a standstill. You two push at each other, magic pen and claymore vibrating against one another. Speckles of dirt start to fly up from the ground. The jet black strand of Jade’s moves wildly at the air pressure. Is that bastard locking you close to him on purpose! Sparks start to fly off the middle of your blade. Elbows lowering, you strain against the spell but you will – you – you will find that weak area in his counter.

It comes in one explosive burst as you push harder and send Jade a mile or so back from you. The ground settles. Typically, you would make no mistake to run back in and continue, but - ugh! Quickly, you start to rub at your nose. Murmurs start up again but you keep scrubbing. The stench of bacteria from blisters and new blood is a welcome relief. Once his smell is thoroughly gone, you get right back into it.

You planned to close that distance but it seems Jade Leech did not let an opportunity go to waste. As expected of him –

You sweep underneath the crackling violet of a cosmic attack and redirect a burst of thorns aimed for your heart. Some time was allotted for Jade to think when pushed down, but you will not allow that to be unfortunate for you. You said you were going to show off, so show off you will. Tucking your non-dominant hand to your breast, you cut a canyon’s mouth into the fire attack Jade sent at you.

Again, you two clash, synthetic grass leaping up like a million frogs. You unlock from the exchange, tilt your blade, and start stabbing at him. “Tch,” is all you get from Jade as he tucks himself to become smaller and dodge each incoming stab. By the shoulder, by the ribs, by the tip of his nose. Rapidness and precision is your groundwork. Jade jolts back and forth to dodge each incoming strike, playing into your hand.

Then, unexpectedly, you abandon your claymore by the effort of launching it into the air. You can see it in Jade’s eyes that he sees this as an opening. Then in his next blink, your foot is connected to his ribs. His heart pounces on your sole. You grant him a small smile then thrust all your strength in your kick.

He has to use two air spells to stabilize himself. Two caverns blown into the field. Damn, you had meant for that kick to knock him into the red.

Without looking, simply outstretching a hand behind yourself to catch your sword, you wonder if Crowley will make you pay for property damages. So be it. With that too enticing smell drawn out of your nose, you can go all out.

You start closing distance when – shit! You are suddenly knocked off your feet when Jade lands an attack at the place your running feet were going to land. The fall you take is not elegant. Your dominant shoulder bounces once then twice more on the ground. Your bones clang but you manage a grip on your sword. Metallic warm blooms on your tastebuds, did you bite your tongue? Groaning, you go to stand up when suddenly Jade Leech is towering over. Face shadowed, eyes bright.

Ah, teleportation magic.

Instead of threatening your life like all the overblots did or moving in to kill you, Jade says with his typical sycophantish smile, “I was thinking of cooking maitake mushrooms for our first date, Prefect.” Smug bastard!

You smile wide around the blood coating your teeth, “I actually prefer portabella.” In a blink, you pivot your body to wrap around the back of his leg. Like a scorpion launching an attack, you swipe at him. The connection is perfect. You watch a squirt of blood spit from the back of Jade’s thigh. As you are rounding your body back up around him, you laugh, " if you really want to win this, you need to fight with at least seventy percent more effort.” Then, another perfect collision that makes you giddy of all things. His head is thrown back by an elbow to his nose.

And to complete the full rotation, you aim your sword towards his neck once more. But you are caught by surprise when that elbow did not knock around his brain enough to disorient him. Where your sword should have landed is intercepted by his magic pen. Another time-wasting standstill. This time feels different though. Rotating your wrist up and down as you might, you cannot gauge a weak point and you are forced to look at him.

Red is slick down his upper lip and chin. It shines violet, blue, and a blackish-green in the light of his counterspell. Tidiness is swept and rustled out of his typical hair-do. The ‘J’ of his black stand resembles more of a combination ‘K’ and ‘Z’ the way it is blown through. His matched eyes? Arrowed directly onto you. Olive brown and canary yellow, wide and crazed. And that look – That look!

Di-Did your heart just skip a beat? No. No. No. What is wrong with you today! You are never so distracted by an overblot or sparring partner. You never had some kind of revelation during your training with Silver or battles with Riddle, Leona, or Azul. Are you falling ill of all things!

Your face luckily does not change. The only indication of your inner crisis is a bulging vein in your arm. Relentlessly, your claymore and his magic pen scraping against each other, you try to dictate where his weak spot is. Clump by clump, ground starts to be serrated by your combined efforts. Then, fuck! Your face crinkles with pain. Bits of magic jump over your weapon and start to cut paper-thin lines on your cheek. One. Two. Three. Tiny whiskers of hot pain. You grind your red teeth and push even harder. You silently mourn the opening you lost before as Jade starts to push you back. You are growing angrier.

Separate from this moment, Silver mutters under his breath, “The Prefect is going to win.” He meant to keep it to himself, but –

“Huh? How can you tell?”

“I- Master Malleus. Well, because,” and before Silver can start, there is an explosion of noise in the crowd. Joined by an explosion of red coming from Jade’s left shoulder.

Crouched on the ground, behind Jade, you cross both of your arms to your chest. Red rain drops down onto your back as the appalled noises grow in volume. Uncaring, you spin back and once more throw your sword into the dry blue skies. You plant your feet. Instead of feeling the pulse of Jade or smelling his sweat, you shift all attention to the Earth like you should have from the start. The gumminess from the blood in your mouth gradually fades away. Your labor torn veins gradually relax. Air is cold. You are warm. As Jade struggles to comprehend where you even went, you perform tomoe nage on him backwards.

Jade only sees four images: your face when locked in a standstill, emptiness, emptiness again (in the form of sky), and then he is blessed with your face again as you retrieve your claymore from the air and hold the tip of it to his throat. Laid on the ground, he gasps. That expression has returned to your face. Wrath. Your scleras are white but it is still the same. A tightened and angered expression that one would think could cause a head to implode with a single look. Crazed and wide. The rhythm of your wrath thumps around him like crashing waves. The ferocity of predator’s teeth and riptide’s rocks in your eyes. Sevens, he wanted a life with you. Yearned for you to join him, Floyd, and Azul. If this is the last time, you’ll talk to him – if this is the last time, you’ll see him – His heart aches like a fresh bruise at the thought, hurting more than the slash from his shoulder. If you will no longer cross paths with him again, then he needs to say what he always wanted to. He needs to reveal his hand. Pierce his heart on a fork so you can eat it whole.

“Sevens, you’re beautiful,” Jade rasps.

HUH!

You leap back. Your claymore clatters to the ground. You care little for the starting murmurs of confusion, spinning your head away from him to put a hand over your mouth. Mortified, your fingers collide with skin and reveal you are starting to blush of all dreadful things. You turn your head back towards Jade. He is looking at you with th-those soft eyes again. You turn away faster the second time.

Your fingers start to climb up towards your nose bridge and eyelids. Mortification is an inadequate word for you now. Hotter than Grim’s or Idia’s flames, you swear your cheek could start expelling smoke in the dry autumn air. Instead the air whispers and theorizes: “Is it over? Who won? Did Jade poison them before the fight? Is that a forfeit? Do I still have a chance with the Prefect?”

For the first time ever you do not care about retrieving your blade from battle. If you had to encounter those eyes, you could not direct the head on your shoulders to act civilized. Why did he have to be so – ugh!

With a huff, you start walking towards Ortho. Your eye must be drawn in a monstrous glare because the robot boy turns his head back and forth to avoid your gaze. You school your features as you get closer. When in front of him, you raise your dominant hand and say “Announce Jade as the winner. I sprained my wrist.”

Ace and Deuce vocally make it known that they are confused and bewildered. You do not spare them a glance, watching as the yellow of Ortho’s eyes shift, little rectangles in the artificial irises shrinking and rotating. His gaze lasered down on your arm. “Prefect, your wrist is not –”

“Announce that Jade won.”

With a smile, you turn towards Ace, Deuce, and Grim. Somewhere that feels as far off as another country, Ortho’s hand changes back to the megaphone and announces “Jade Leech is the winner! As a result of injury!” That makes little difference to your overall mood. Your smile grows and you ask your friends, "Are you guys willing to walk poor, unfortunate me to the nurse?”

“S-Sure, Prefect.” Deuce agrees, catching on.

Sighing, Ace crosses his arms and remarks “ Always relying on the magic-able students, aren’t we, Prefect?”

“Yeah,” you agree, knowing you saved them both four times over. “A magicless student like myself needs all the help she/he can get. Come on, Grim. My wrist is injured, but my shoulder’s completely fine.” You crouch and Grim reclaims his usual spot.

“(Name),” he whines in your ear “, you better not skimp on feeding the Great Grim because of your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And it’s just one measly date; you three will always be more important.”

“You got a good head on you, Henchman!”

“Damn right.”

“Still, Jade Leech? Do you want bodyguards for this date,” Deuce asks you as you all start walking.

Another tiny smile crawls on your face. Now that you are a safe distance away, you think you can finally look back. The crowd is peeling away in sections. Some students are cheering. Others are forlorn. The most miserable of them seemed to be gathered near Azul Ashengrotto’s betting table, where the octo-mer is counting his thaumarks. In the center are your claymore (which you are slowly itching to retrieve) and Jade Leech and his twin brother. You chuckle watching as Floyd goes through the motions of shaking his brother excitedly by the shoulder, throwing his own arms up in the air, whooping and hollering, and taking Jade’s limp arm to raise to the sky.

At this distance, Jade’s eyes are blurred upon his face and safe to look at. He is staring straight at you. Hm, he does have some appeal, you muse. Raising your ��injured’ wrist, you wave to him. “No, that won’t be necessary. I would’ve mopped the floor with him.”

“Huh? But you lost?”

“Huh? Did I say something,” you respond to Grim, faking a sheepish look. You return your arm to your side. “Ow, my wrist really hurts, guys. Ow ow ow~”

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The worst part of it all was the wrist splint. That black, velcro monstrosity wrapped on your lower arm seriously took a nasty chip off your pride as a student of Silver Vanrouge. You bowed so low to him that your forehead hit your knee. However, that was not even the cherry on top. You had to cry out in pain every time Ace or Deuce took your ‘injured’ arm and pinned it behind your back instead of fighting back like you wanted. Though Riddle did collar them, the day the nurse ‘cleared’ you, you made it known that that would never happen again. Ace did actually have to borrow your wrist splint after.

You did get your sword back. You swear on the Seven, you were having withdrawals from the first night away from it. Tossing and turning enough to cause Grim to bite your ankle. Jade was gracious enough to return it two days after the fight, just as you were zippering up your coat to meet up with Tsuntaro. He even polished it for you!

You exchanged your thanks and then stood for too long at your threshold, waiting for him to leave. You were unsure if you could really look him in the eye. When he knocked and you received him, you busied yourself with looking at your sword.

“You know, I could provide a spell that might be of use to you for your weapon. Free of charge. I know that it already has –”

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

“I really don’t want our date to be at Mostro Lounge. There’s an ax throwing place on the island. We can take a bus route to get there.” You finally look up.

Wrathful eyes are not what makes you swoon. To you, there is little appeal being crushed by pulsing anger. Jade’s eyes are completely antonymous and devoid of that fiery emotion, but they still burn you because, because — Well, he is looking at you as if you yourself hung stars in the sky and whittled the mountains’ edges by your hand. He is looking at you with such warm affection. And you, emotionally constipated you, are smitten with that warm expression.

Ears tinted pink, Jade says “, Yes, arrangements can be made for that. This weekend?”

“This weekend.”

When the cloud of jade green fireflies arrive by your gate, you actively have to ignore the way Jade bristles and glares. You learn that day that a hand placed upon his lower back calms him down perfectly fine. A trick you will use later. And use it later you did~

It had been about two months since your first date. The winter break came and went. You defeated Jamil Viper, suffered a few snake bites but nothing tremendous. Then at Kalim’s party, you had to defeat Jade’s seven evil attempts at getting a kiss from you. Both successful, as expected of Night Raven’s Prefect. Another success of yours? Defeating the newest game Idia gifted you as an apology with an S rank, which you were journeying to Mostro Lounge to tell a certain someone about.

“Hey, you can’t just cut the line!”

Well, that might not be good. Steadily, you place your hand over the auburn pommel of your sword. Eyes narrowed and piercing to find the line-cutter, you turn. And for some reason, the host panics. “A-Ah! It’s just you, Prefect. Go ahead. Sorry!”

Hm, did the matter resolve itself? Well, you hope the host finds the line cutter eventually as you venture deeper into Mostro Lounge. You scan briefly over the tables and aquarium lighting. Persistent cobalt shadows are quite enchanting to you now. Gratefulness pushes your lips up a small amount when you locate Jade Leech among the swimming blue.

“Jade!”

The vice-housewarden’s head almost comes off his neck at the speed he looks towards you. That familiar, once tortuous look returns to his eyes. “(Name), what a pleasant surprise.”

“Jade, put down your tray.”

“Hm? Whatever for?”

Well, at least you gave him a semblance of a warning. Advancing on him the whole time, you reach chilled hands to the back of his neck. His pulse is relaxed; you think it’s a shame because you love hearing its rapid speed. One hand cups his cervical and he reasonably tenses because last time you did this, you spun him into a headlock. But that’s not the agenda and he can start to piece it together as you push his head down to meet lip to lip. Ah. That beautiful pulse is back.

His lips are well kept, soft and thin. This close you can smell the sweat of a hard day on him. You tilt your head to the left to deepen your first kiss. It is no question to invite tongue into the kiss, though it certainly catches Jade by surprise.

You can tell Jade is upset that he had not put down his tray because the dishes upon it are rattling. And his one free hand is tightly holding onto your waist like a snapping turtle locked onto a finger. You push up harder into the kiss and almost start laughing when his reaction is a muffled groan. “Ag - Agh,” his throat hums at you.

During this rather inappropriate display, your hands have been focusing on running through his hair or gliding over the skin of his neck. Boldly, you inch one hand down his arm and wrap it around to hold the middle of his back. AH! His pulse is exploding now. This time you actually do need to pull away to laugh a bit.

Your laughter gradually stops as you hear Azul Ashengrotto emerge from the kitchen, chastising both of you for your display. In your ear, Jade asks “Do I get to know what I did to be rewarded with such a pleasant surprise?”

And in the face of teeth that could tear your throat out, you hum “I just ranked S on my new game.”

“In my lounge of all places! You two are so indecent. You have dorm rooms; Perfect, you have an entire house to yourself. You couldn’t have possibly waited; you just had to come in during rush hour on a weekend!”

Jade smiles despite being clueless of what you mean. “Well aren’t I one lucky eel~” And he means it, the efforts and mistakes made to get to this moment … Jade’s smile grows as he watches you and Azul bicker. All that effort was worth this.

#disclaimer: MC is gender-neutral despite tag of male-female friendship #reblogs are appreciated bc i only have 5 followers on here #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech

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