#he sees this act. he sees betrayal. use of love meant for him used on these... things..... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

can i request something with aemond?

him going to harrenhal and having visions of his niece who he’s like in love with and he’s just going crazy

He Never Wanted to Leave

- Summary: Aemond encounters your specter in Harrenhal, and you start to torment him days and nights alike - and Aemond never wanted to leave.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are now closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

Aemond Targaryen's chambers are shuddering with the chill of Harrenhal. The ancient fortress is filled with the weight of its cursed history, the very stones whispering tales of blood and betrayal. But tonight, it feels as though those whispers have become voices, murmuring secrets only meant for Aemond.

He sits on the edge of his bed, hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are white. His usually composed face is marred by the strain of sleepless nights, his mind haunted by the act he committed. The fire that once burned so brightly within him now flickers with a cold, unrelenting guilt.

In the low light of the chamber, Aemond stares at the floor, his eye unfocused, as if he's trying to drown out the voices in his head. But then, he sees you.

You stand before him, as clear as day. You are not a ghost, and yet, you shouldn't be here. You're miles away, safe in Dragonstone or perhaps King's Landing, alive and breathing. But here you are, in his chambers at Harrenhal, as real to him as the icy air that clings to his skin.

He dares not blink, afraid that you will disappear. You are dressed as he remembers, a vision from his childhood, from a time when your presence brought him a comfort he could never name. The long, silken strands of your hair cascade over your shoulders, and your eyes—those eyes that once held such warmth for him—now burn with something darker.

"You're not real," he whispers, his voice trembling with a fear he hasn't felt in years. But his words are hollow, even to him. Because you feel real. The scent of you—a mix of salt from the sea and the wildflowers that used to grow around Dragonstone—fills his senses, so potent it steals the breath from his lungs.

You tilt your head, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. "Aemond," you say softly, your voice a haunting melody that echoes through the chamber. "Do you truly believe that?"

His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. "What do you want?" His tone is harsher now, defensive, as if he can will you away with the force of his anger.

But you step closer, your bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. He watches, frozen, as you reach out a hand, your fingers grazing his cheek. The touch is like fire, searing through him, and his resolve crumbles. He shuts his eye, inhaling sharply. He can feel you, warm and alive beneath his fingertips.

"Do you remember the last time we were together?" you ask, your voice gentle, almost loving. "Before everything changed?"

Aemond shudders, the memory flooding back to him with a painful clarity. He remembers the way you smiled at him, the way you laughed at his dry jokes, the way you would look at him as if he were the most important person in the world. It was a time when you were still untouched by the weight of your family's feuds, when he could still believe that there was something pure in his life.

But that was before. Before the bloodshed. Before the war. Before Luke.

"Stop," he whispers, but the word is weak, a plea rather than a command.

Your hand trails down to his chest, resting over his heart. "He was your kin, Aemond. My blood. Do you think I could ever forgive you for what you did?"

His eye snaps open, and he jerks back as if struck, his face contorting with pain. "It was an accident," he says, but the words are hollow, even to him. The truth is a heavy weight in his chest, pressing down on him until he feels like he might break under the pressure. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I—"

"You killed him," you interrupt, your voice sharp now, each word a dagger to his heart. "You hunted him down, Aemond. You wanted to hurt him, and you did."

The room seems to close in around him, the air thick with the stench of his sin. "I didn't want him to die," he says, desperation seeping into his tone. "I swear to you, I didn't."

Tears prick at his eye, but he blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "Please, forgive me."

But you don't move, your expression unchanged, as cold and unforgiving as the stone walls of Harrenhal. "You took everything from me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "And you think you deserve forgiveness?"

Aemond shakes his head, his whole body trembling now. He drops to his knees before you, the proud prince brought low by his guilt and shame. "I'm sorry," he breathes, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer. "I'm so sorry."

For a long moment, there is only silence. The specter of you looms over him, a reminder of everything he has lost, everything he has destroyed. He feels the warmth of your hand on his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you once did when he was just a boy, lost in the world and seeking solace in your presence.

But this time, there is no comfort to be found.

"You cannot undo what you have done, Aemond," you say, your voice soft but unyielding. "The blood you have spilled will stain your soul forever. You will carry it with you until your dying breath."

He crumples further, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor, his tears falling freely now. He feels your touch retreat, the warmth of you slipping away, and he wants to scream, to reach out and hold on to you, to keep you with him even if it is only a cruel trick of his mind.

But when he looks up, you are gone. The room is empty, the chill more biting than before, and he is alone with his guilt, his regret, and the weight of a sin that no amount of tears can wash away.

Aemond stays on the floor, broken and weeping, the sound of your voice still echoing in his ears, a reminder of what he can never have: your forgiveness.

Another day passes in the desolate halls of Harrenhal, but Aemond Targaryen finds no solace, no escape from the torment that gnaws at his very soul. The oppressive air weighs heavy, and the once proud prince can feel the darkness creeping ever closer, as if the very walls of this cursed place are conspiring against him.

He hasn’t slept since the last vision of you, your voice still haunting him, your words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. He tries to shake off the memory, to bury it beneath layers of anger and denial, but it clings to him like a persistent shadow.

As the evening falls, the flickering light of the candles casts eerie shapes across the walls, and Aemond finds himself seated in the same chair where he last saw you, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and longing. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, but its warmth does little to chase away the chill that has settled deep in his bones.

He closes his eye, willing himself to forget, to block out the memories that threaten to overwhelm him. But as soon as he does, the air around him shifts, the familiar scent of salt and wildflowers filling his senses once more. His eye snaps open, his heart lurching in his chest as he sees you again, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

"You again," he whispers, the words trembling on his lips. He doesn't move, doesn't dare to breathe too deeply, as if the slightest motion might cause you to vanish like a mirage.

But this time, you don’t remain distant. Slowly, with a grace that is both mesmerizing and terrifying, you rise from the bed and walk towards him. He watches, transfixed, as you approach, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of how much he still wants you, even now.

You stand before him, your expression unreadable, and then, without a word, you lower yourself onto his lap. The weight of you feels real, solid, and the warmth of your body against his is a cruel reminder of what he can never have. Aemond’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he closes his eye, trying to convince himself that this is all just another hallucination, another trick of the mind.

But then you speak, and the sound of your voice sends a shiver down his spine.

“Do you remember,” you say softly, “the day you hurt me?”

Aemond’s eye flickers open, and he meets your gaze, his face pale, as if the blood has drained from his veins. “I never meant to hurt you,” he replies, his voice hoarse with emotion. But even as he speaks, the memory comes rushing back, vivid and sharp, like a wound that has never fully healed.

You lean closer, your lips hovering near his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “You did, Aemond. You hurt me, and you knew it.”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I was angry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—”

“You were jealous,” you interrupt, your tone unyielding, as if you are determined to make him face the truth he has been running from for so long. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me being with someone else, even though you had no right to me.”

The memory is clear now, as if it is happening all over again. He sees you standing before him, tears in your eyes, your face etched with pain as he spat cruel words at you, words meant to wound, to drive you away. He had been so consumed by his own insecurities, his own fears, that he hadn’t cared about the damage he was doing.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, his voice breaking as he looks into your eyes, seeing the hurt reflected there. “I was a fool.”

“You were,” you agree, your tone cold. “But that didn’t stop you from hurting me. You wanted me to feel the same pain you did, to make me suffer for your own jealousy.”

He feels your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic, and the sensation is so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says again, his voice trembling. “I love you.”

Your laugh is soft, almost bitter, as you pull back slightly to look him in the eye. “If that’s what you call love, then I pity anyone who falls under your spell, Aemond Targaryen.”

He winces at your words, the truth of them cutting deeper than he ever thought possible. “I was wrong,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong about everything. But please… please, believe me when I say that I never wanted to cause you pain.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes his heart ache. “And yet, you did. Over and over again.”

He can’t deny it, can’t escape the truth that you are forcing him to confront. His hands, trembling now, reach up to cup your face, the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers making his heart twist in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words spilling from his lips in a desperate plea. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes for a moment, as if savoring the sound of his apology, but when you open them again, there is no forgiveness there, only a sadness that cuts him to the core. “Sorry again? Sorry won’t change what you did, Aemond,” you say softly. “Sorry won’t take away the pain, or undo the past.”

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as he holds you close, as if by holding you he can somehow make up for all the wrongs he has done. But even as he clings to you, he knows it’s futile, knows that this moment is nothing more than a cruel illusion, a reminder of what he has lost forever.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “But please… tell me you don’t hate me.”

For a moment, you don’t respond, your gaze locked on his, as if you are searching for something within him. Then, you lean forward, pressing a soft, almost tender kiss to his forehead. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a shiver through him, his heart breaking all over again.

“I don’t hate you, Aemond,” you whisper against his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”

He closes his eye, his body trembling as he feels you begin to fade, the warmth of you slipping away like sand through his fingers. He tries to hold on, tries to keep you with him, but it’s no use. When he opens his eye again, you are gone, the room once more empty and cold, and he is left alone with the crushing weight of his guilt and the memory of your touch lingering on his skin.

Aemond slumps back in the chair, his body shaking with silent sobs, as the walls of Harrenhal seem to close in around him, the cursed fortress now his prison, his tormentor, and his confessor.

The morning sun is a pale, distant orb in the sky as Aemond Targaryen stands at the edge of the pond just outside Harrenhal. The air is cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of the nearby ruins. The water is still, a dark, glassy surface that reflects the twisted branches of the trees and the crumbling stones of the cursed fortress.

Aemond's eye scans the water, but his thoughts are far away, lost in a labyrinth of regret and guilt. The memories of the past few nights—of you—haunt him more than any ghost ever could. He had hoped, foolishly, that the daylight might offer some reprieve from the torment, that the sun's warmth might banish the cold grip of your specter. But here, at this pond, under the cold light of day, he finds no peace.

As he gazes into the murky depths, he sees not just his reflection but the shadows of the sins that weigh heavily on his soul. The stillness of the water is unsettling, almost as if it is waiting for something—someone. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air feels thick, each breath more labored than the last.

And then, as if summoned by his darkest thoughts, you appear.

You emerge from the trees, your steps light and soundless as you approach him. He doesn’t startle this time; he’s almost come to expect your presence, even in the waking hours. But the sight of you in the daylight is no less jarring. The sun catches in your hair, creating a halo effect that makes you look ethereal, otherworldly. Yet there is no warmth in your gaze, only that same sadness, that same coldness that chills him to his core.

You stop beside him, close enough that he can feel the ghost of your warmth, and you stare out at the pond with him, your expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches out, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, you break the silence, your voice soft and lilting, but with an edge that makes his skin prickle. “Do you ever think about drowning yourself, Aemond?”

The question hangs in the air between you, shocking in its directness, in its cruelty. Aemond turns his head to look at you, his eye wide with a mix of horror and sorrow. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his throat. How could he answer that? How could he admit that the thought has indeed crossed his mind, that the weight of his guilt is sometimes too much to bear?

But you don’t wait for his answer. You continue, your gaze still fixed on the water. “I do,” you say, your tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “Sometimes, I think about slipping into the water, letting it take me. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to stop fighting, to stop struggling, and let the darkness swallow you whole.”

Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a death knell. He can hardly breathe as he listens to you speak, the words wrapping around him like a noose, tightening with every syllable.“You could end it all,” you murmur, your voice almost seductive now, tempting. “No more pain, no more guilt. Just peace. Just silence.”

He clenches his fists, the nails digging into his palms, the pain grounding him, keeping him tethered to the reality that is slowly slipping away from him. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that.”

You finally turn to look at him, and there is something in your eyes that makes his blood run cold—a sadness so deep it feels like an abyss, one that he knows he could fall into and never find his way out. “Why not?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “What’s left for you, Aemond? What’s left after everything you’ve done?”

He shakes his head, his mind racing, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. But every thought, every memory is tainted, corrupted by the weight of his sins. “I… I don’t know,” he admits, the words slipping from him like a confession. “But I can’t… I can’t just give up.”

You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to brush against his arm, and though the touch is as fleeting as a breeze, it feels so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “You’re already lost,” you whisper, your voice like a dagger to his heart. “You’ve been drowning ever since you let that darkness into your soul.”

He swallows hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Why do you keep coming to me?” he asks, his voice trembling. “Why won’t you let me be?”

You tilt your head, considering his question, and then you smile, a sad, weary smile that makes his heart break all over again. “Because you can’t let me go,” you say simply. “Because you’re still holding onto the past, to the guilt, to the pain. And as long as you do, I’ll be here, reminding you of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lost.”

He looks away, back at the pond, at the dark, still water that seems to beckon to him, promising release, promising oblivion. The thought of it is tempting, so tempting, but he knows that even if he took that step, even if he let the water claim him, your specter would still follow him, even into death.

“I won’t do it,” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. “I won’t give in.”

You sigh softly, almost as if you’re disappointed, but you don’t push him further. Instead, you lean in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I’ll be waiting, Aemond. I’ll always be waiting.”

And then, just like that, you’re gone.Aemond stands there, staring at the pond, the silence pressing in around him, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He knows, with a dreadful certainty, that this is far from over. You will haunt him, day and night, as long as he remains trapped in this nightmare of his own making.

But for now, he forces himself to turn away from the water, to take a step back, away from the edge, even as your voice lingers in his mind, a constant reminder of the darkness that dwells within him.

The walls of Harrenhal seem to pulse with a life of their own, as if the ancient stones are attuned to Aemond’s every thought, his every desire. The air is thick, charged with something electric, something dark. And within the oppressive atmosphere of his chambers, Aemond finds himself lost once more—lost in the presence of you.

You appear to him as you always do, suddenly and without warning, as though stepping out of the very shadows that cling to the corners of the room. But this time, there is no coldness in your gaze, no sadness weighing down your features. Instead, you look at him with the same fire, the same passion that once ignited the depths of his soul. And it’s enough to make him forget everything—his guilt, his pain, his regrets. All that exists in this moment is you.

Before he can speak, before he can even draw breath, you are upon him, your lips crashing against his with a desperate hunger. It’s a kiss filled with years of longing, years of unspoken words and suppressed desires. Aemond doesn’t hesitate—he responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as if to anchor himself to you, to this moment.

Your bodies collide, heat and need overwhelming any semblance of reason. Aemond pulls you close, your bodies pressed together as if you are both afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment might shatter and leave him alone in the cold once more. He guides you back toward the bed, the world outside these chambers forgotten, discarded like an unwanted memory.

You fall together onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and desire. His hands roam your body with a familiarity born of memory, of dreams that have haunted him for so long. And yet, each touch feels new, electrifying. You arch into him, your breathless gasps filling the room, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from losing control.

As your clothes are discarded, piece by piece, Aemond’s mind races, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotion. He’s aware, on some distant level, that this can’t be real—that you are not truly here, that this is yet another trick of Harrenhal, another way for this cursed place to torment him. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if this is real or not. All that matters is that, in this moment, he has you.

When he finally sinks into you, the world around him blurs, and all that exists is the two of you, lost in a rhythm as old as time. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, over and over, as if by saying it he can make this moment last forever. His movements are frantic, desperate, driven by a need that has been buried for far too long. And you meet him, move with him, as if you’ve never been apart, as if you are still the only thing in his world that makes sense.

“I love you,” he breathes against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I’ve always loved you.”

You moan in response, your nails digging into his back, and the sound drives him closer to the edge, closer to the precipice of oblivion. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, the scent that has haunted his dreams, his waking moments. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and it makes him feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt since Rhaenyra stole you away.

“I never stopped,” he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. “Not for a single day. Not even when you were taken from me.”

Your response is a breathless gasp, a tangle of words and sounds that only spur him on. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s trying to pour all of his love, all of his regret, into this one moment. And when he finally tips over the edge, it’s with your name on his lips, a whispered prayer, a final plea for forgiveness that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

Afterward, he collapses beside you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared breathing, the only noise in the otherwise silent chambers. He reaches for you, pulling you close, needing to feel your warmth, your presence against him. But even as he holds you, as he brushes his lips against your hair, a cold realization begins to settle over him.

This moment, this passion—it’s not real. He knows it deep down, knows that the you he just made love to is nothing more than a phantom, a specter conjured by the darkness of Harrenhal. But even knowing that, he can’t bring himself to let go. He can’t bring himself to leave this place, to return to a world where you are forbidden to him.

His thoughts drift to the letter from his mother, the one he has read a hundred times over, the one that pleads with him to return to King’s Landing. Queen Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne now, and the realm is on the edge of being consumed by fire and blood. His duty calls him, his mother calls him, but all of it feels distant, insignificant compared to the pull of Harrenhal, compared to the pull of you.

Here, in this cursed place, he can have you. Even if it’s only an illusion, even if it’s only in his mind, he can still have you. He can still feel your touch, hear your voice, lose himself in your embrace. And isn’t that better than the alternative? Isn’t that better than a life without you?

“I can never leave,” he whispers to the empty room, though in his mind, he’s speaking to you. “Not now. Not ever.”

The truth of it settles into his bones, as solid and unyielding as the stones of Harrenhal itself. He is bound to this place now, bound to the specter of you, and he knows that he will never break free. Even if it means forsaking his duty, his family, his very soul, he will remain here, in this place where the lines between reality and illusion blur, where he can hold onto the one thing that still matters to him.

In Harrenhal, he can have you. Forever.

And that, he realizes, is the only thing that matters anymore.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader

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suiana · 1 year ago

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yandere! villain x gn! villain reader x yandere! hero part 2

"I don't want to remember anymore."

"It hurts so much."

The villain rubs your back, crouching beside you as you sob into your palms. He stays silent, allowing you to wallow in misery as he stays beside you, a sign of comfort.

Contrary to popular belief, the villain was much more sympathetic than the world class hero who was once your boyfriend. It was a sad situation. Because who would've guessed that your boyfriend whom you loved with all of your heart would just give you away like that?

Sure your relationship was falling apart but he had claimed that he loved you! And he wasn't one to lie, no, not at all! He had always kept his promises! So why would he break one as important as his love for you?

Were those 'I love you's' nothing more than lip service? What about all those times he smiled so sweetly at you that you felt you could just die? Was that nothing more than an act?

It can't be. You refuse to believe it.

"He's such an asshole... I loved him-! I truly did!"

You continued to weep into your palms as the villain remains silent. Did this make him uncomfortable? You sniffled, rubbing away your tears as you turned away from the villain, murmuring apology after apology as you tried to calm yourself down.

You didn't want to burden him after all. Not when he had graciously taken you in, shown you more love than your ex boyfriend ever did and practically spoiled you with attention and riches! And he wasn't even your boyfriend!

Yeah he might've be been the reason why your boyfriend gave you up but still! Your boyfriend didn't even make any signs of trying to keep you with him!

You still couldn't understand why he did what he did. And it still hurts you till this day, a month after his betrayal. Your eyes began to sting once more, tears pricking as the villain sighs and kneels down in front of you. You looked up at him, tears rolling down your stained cheeks as he beckoned for you to use him as comfort to which you gladly accepted.

"I want to forget... Forget everything he did... Oh... It hurts so much! My heart is bleeding!"

You wept into his chest, temporarily ignoring the fact that you're staining his shirt with tears and snot. But it's not like the villain minded. For he merely caressed your head, gently soothing you as he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"Then... I'll help you forget."

The villain mumbles into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist. He gently rubs his hands on your sides, the heat of his body distracting you momentarily as your breath hitches.

He nibbles on your earlobe as your heart races, flustered at his intimate touches and the tone of his voice. The rich tone, the slight hint of seduction... Was he implying that he sleep with you to forget?

"...Such a pretty thing like yourself... Should never be crying over a man like him."

Your blush only grows as he stares into your eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Yes... You didn't need the hero anymore. Not when you had this man here with you. Someone who would actually appreciate you and your efforts.

And you just knew that he was being genuine with his feelings.

How? It was quite simple, really. Would any other man build statues of you? Offer to blow up the world just to see you happy? Or give you the right to end his life whenever you felt like he was being too rude to you?

The fact that he never forced you to reciprocate either was something you really appreciated. I mean, he was a villain! You'd expect him to force you to love him after his devotion... But he never did anything like that.

And it causes your heart to flutter. To flutter in a way that it never did when you were with the hero. So, perhaps it was time to repay the villain for everything he's done for you? It's fine if he's obsessed. At least he loves you.

But it turns out you two were both thinking very different things.

"My dear I meant that I can alter your memory... Though if you'd prefer we do that... I'm not opposed to it~"

The attractive villain chuckles as you stare at him wide-eyed. You quickly button back your shirt as you hide your face in his chest. Ah! What a pervert you were... Don't worry, he loves it <3

"I love you darling ♡"

You soon fell asleep. And when you awoke, you were in the villain's lap, your head against his chest as he reads a book. Why were your eyes so tired..? Were you crying? Why?

"...My dear, why was I-"

"We watched a sad movie together. It's okay if you forgot, I'll be here to remind you."

Ah, so that's why. You nodded, looking up at your lover with delighted eyes as you kissed his cheek. Hm... Now that you woke up, you were in the mood for some destruction!

So that's what you two did. And what better place to destroy than your hometown? And so, the two of you stood in the middle of a destroyed city, holding hands and enjoying as it went up in flames.

A familiar man, aka the hero, stares at you both with wide eyes, running after you and your beloved villain as you two laugh at the destruction of your hometown. This city that you've once considered home... Yes, you were currently destroying it. Why? Because why not?

It betrayed you. Hurt you beyond imagination! Your parents never believed in you. Nor did the neighbours or anyone else, really! Calling you names, berating you... And more importantly, the stupid hero who refused to save you! Damn him!

It was a few years back if you weren't wrong. There was a villain attacking the shop you shopping at and you were trapped under some debris. You vividly remember the way he smiled at you, thinking you were saved, you outstretched your hand, whispering words of praise to him. But your hopes were crushed as he merely turned away, refusing to help you out. That was your last straw. the final thing that made you snap.

So you left, turning to a life of crime and villainy as your partner in crime helped you with everything. He was your ride or die, the one who helped you out in everything, he was all you needed.

After all, he took you in when no one else wanted to. Taught you all there was to being a villain, comforted you when no one else wanted to... To think that a villain would be more compassionate than a hero.

You grit your teeth as your hate for heroes grew exponentially, especially one particular male one. To call yourself a hero, you were supposed to help everyone, to be the bringer of justice. Yet why did he not do any of that for you?

You turned your head to face the hero as he approached you with soft steps. That look... Was he pitying you? You glared at him, frowning as he stammered on his words.

"y/n-! what are you-"

"And... who are you? To call me by that name, hm?"

You relished in the way his eyes widened, the way his jaw drops ever so slightly. Yes... That look! Fall into the pit of endless despair! Look at what he did to you! Regret it all!

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as he fell to his knees, eyes shaking as he got on his knees and crawled to you. To think that the hero who refused to help you would be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Ah, the feeling was just so satisfying~!

"You... You don't remember?"

You laughed.

"Remember? Of course I do. You left me to die."

His mouth went dry as he looked away from your eyes. Your eyes rolled, annoyed at his hypocrisy as you began to walk away to your lover. He had a smug look on his features as he welcomed yiu

"Goodbye hero. May the next time we meet be at your funeral."

And so the both of you left. Surprisingly enough, the hero just watched in guilty silence as he did nothing to stop you or the villain. Only observed quietly as the villain held a satisfied look on his features. Tears of pain and regret began to drop from him as your figure grew smaller, and smaller, until you were gone from view.

Officially disappearing from his life.

And it was all his fault.

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#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere male #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere villain #yandere villain x reader #yandere hero #yandere hero x reader #gn reader #villain reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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lunariiia · 1 year ago

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Yandere Dick Grayson x reader (romantic)

Restraints -. “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

Dick Grayson scared you. His behavior scared you, his eyes, his demeanor scared you. Everything about him scared you.

It was funny really. He used to be, one of the few people, that you could feel safe with. Now you can’t say the same thing. The start of your relationship was fantastic, some would say it was even perfect.

However, that paradise period was not meant to last. Eventually the cracks in your relationship came to the surface. Dick started to become possessive and controlling. That meant no more free control for you.

No more hanging out with your friends or going to parties and having fun. Suddenly you weren't allowed to dress like you wanted to. There was always a certain way to behave and act. Around him, your family and his. It became too much.

And then one day you decided enough was enough. You certainly couldn't take it anymore and you truly wanted to get away from Gotham City and its never-ending crimes.

You tried as sweetly, as you could be to break up with him. It didn't go too well. It was a train wreck. You could still remember Dick screaming at you. Begging you not to leave him behind.

Crying over your 'so called betrayal.'

You tried to calm him down. You really did. But somehow, he managed to surprise you with a cloak soaked in chloroform. You woke up in a dark room. Nothing like your cozy and warm bedroom. No, this room was cold and filled with shrines of you.

Things you didn't even realize was gone was in here. The walls were filled with pictures of you. Even some of your clothes was laying around. Soaking wet. You didn't even want to imagine what he'd done to your clothes.

It wasn't soon after that he finally decided to visit you. He was happy to see you up and delusional for thinking that you wanted to be here. Again, you tried to calm him down and plead for him to let you go.

He wouldn't listen. Instead, he chose to inject you with a sleeping serum while rocking you back and forth. Whispering how about how much he loved you and that you were going to spend eternity forever.

And that leads to how you ended up in his kitchen. Currently chained up to a chair and eating dinner with him..

Or rather Dick eating and him trying to force-feed you. His actions leave you shaking. Filled with fear.

"Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

He smiled at you sweetly. Like a delusional predator glancing down at their helpful prey. And like the helpful prey that you were. you hesitantly shook your head. "Of course, not Dick."

"Ahh, how adorable you are! I can't wait for all the things, that I’m going to do to you now.

You should've never agreed to that date.

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kentopedia · 1 year ago

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART I ♰ MASTERLIST

As another careful conversation progressed, you poured the tasteless champagne down your throat, the liquid far too much like sandy water.

It was the same, over, and over. The sentence structures were unchanged, never deviating from saying too much without saying anything at all. A practiced smile would follow, where lips perfectly curled upwards. Copied faces plastered onto the next, making it difficult to determine where one individual personality ended and the next began.

These were repeated games, you knew, and you maintained the politeness required of you, even as each curtsy felt stiff and robotic, each refined handshake felt dishonest and meaningless.

Still, you’d grown used to the monotony of this dull life. You tolerated it gladly, ignoring the continuous throb in the back of your mind that grated at you, reminding you that things hadn’t always been this way.

Quietly, you shoved that small voice away. If all of the pomp and circumstance meant you’d feel normal, you’d gladly put on a show and pretend you belonged there.

The woman that stood before you continued her monologue, her dark eyes bright enough to match her elated smile. Her lips were a red, distracting and perfectly lined with the kind of makeup you were certain was far outside her budget. Though her cheeks were powdered and bright, you noticed the beginnings of lines on her young skin, the signs of a life more taxing than she let on.

You’d forgotten her name already. Too many people had introduced themselves to you this evening, and you hadn’t had the patience or interest to remember them. It was unlikely you’d see most of the guests again, after all.

“Congratulations,” the woman said, squeezing your wrist like you’d once played together on the playground. You cringed, wondering if she’d say anything about the iciness of your skin, though it was almost indiscernible with your satin glove as a cover. “I had a feeling you two were going to get engaged soon, but I had no idea when he would pop the question.”

You traded her an indulgent smile, nodding along as you tried not to let all of the conversation float right over your head. Somewhere in the past few decades, you’d lost interest in the faux interactions that events of this grandeur yielded. Everyone was merely putting on their best act, fitting in with those that they deemed superior to them in every way.

In truth, your engagement party was never supposed to reach this scale. Somewhere in between a few close friends, half the city had been invited. It was alarming to see so many unfamiliar faces in a celebration that was supposed to be entirely for you and your new fiancée.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly as Atsushi nudged you gracefully, probably wondering if you’d been ignoring all his friends that evening.

You had… but you felt bad telling him that and would never admit to it. The engagement ball had been his idea, and while you were vehemently against it, you’d indulged him in his innocent excitement. After a life that you’d lived to the fullest, Atsushi seemed to think he had something to prove when it came to loving you.

You just wanted to be with him, plain and simple. There was no need for all the theatrics.

“I’m surprised you invited so many people, Atsushi,” the woman continued, and you’d wished you’d paid attention when she told you her name. She was one of Atsushi’s co-workers, after all. He’d be upset with you if you forgot everyone that he introduced you to. “You’re not usually that type of person.”

Atsushi flushed, and he darted his eyes away bashfully. “It wasn’t my intention for so many guests to be here. Someone got a bit carried away with the invitations.” His thought trailed off, and he diverted to the story of how the elaborate affair had been conceived. Atsushi was the friend of a wealthy agency president’s son, who had offered to organize the event for you. Predictably, he went completely overboard, and now appeared to be having more fun than either you or Atsushi.

Atsushi spun that particular tale with passionate amusement, and you let your eyes wander, hoping to spot a singular face that you were familiar with. If you stood by your fiancée with nothing to say any longer, you weren’t sure you’d make it to the end of the night.

Across the room, a couple of your neighbors huddled in a circle of gossip. You considered speaking to them, if only to entertain yourself, but their husbands were horrendously awful, you didn’t think you could stomach it.

The rest of Atsushi’s co-workers shared hors d'oeuvres and a polite conversation away from the societal elites. On the left side of the floor, the woman who tailored your clothes spoke with another young girl you’d never seen before. A baker from down the street drowned himself in a glass of champagne, looking so dreadfully lonely that you weren’t sure how he’d gotten into the party at all.

You frowned inwards, realizing that while you recognized many of these people, they were more Atsushi’s friends than your own. These were people who greeted him every night on the street, passing their eyes over you like you were just another midnight fling, not the woman he’d been with for nearly two years.

There were too many strangers here to celebrate a marriage they felt nothing about. The superficiality of the situation left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you, very quickly, felt like an outcast at your own party.

You played with the chain around your neck, glancing from person to person. Atsushi, beside you, carried on his conversation, every so often throwing in a word about his work. You were listening half-heartedly, still trying to decide if this was worth all the trouble, or if you should give up on the niceties and head home early.

Someone behind you laughed.

The noise caught your notice because of how achingly familiar it was, how eerie, even. It was cynical and sharp, almost a snort of air that had been released on an accidental exhale. Still, you could hear the genuine amusement in it, a gratitude that came with being able to have something to laugh about.

You shuddered, your body unwillingly reacting as you turned to see who had been loud enough to draw your attention, to stand out amongst a sea of disinteresting people and intolerable voices.

In the corner, the man stood with an aligned spine, every muscle taut to hold himself up. His dark hair was grown out, but every strand remained smooth and healthy, falling over his forehead in loose waves that were glossy in the candlelight. He was caught in a conversation with another, twirling a glass of wine between his fingers, disgustingly captivated by the individual before him.

There was something too recognizable about him for comfort. The shadowed outline of his silhouette was the ghost of a memory, and you were left gawking at a person that you might not even recognize once he turned.

Swallowing, you tried to avert your gaze more subtly as he began to shift his position. He’d noticed you watching him, and he peered over his shoulder, in the fraction of a moment, to catch your eye.

His features were unmistakable.

Your glass slipped from your hands, shattering into a hundred tiny shards on the marble floor. It shushed the room as you maneuvered clumsily to hide away behind Atsushi. From head to foot, you had gone stiff, your body colder than it ever had been, even when you were on the brink of death, before the bliss of sweet blood had ventured down your throat, a memory you’d tucked far away.

You’d long since given up on praying, but you thought about it, just this once, in the hopes he hadn’t recognized you.

Which was a ridiculous concept, really. The memory of him was as fresh in your mind as every bit of yesterday was. He was as likely to forget the image of you as he was his own name, even if you did your makeup differently, if your clothes had changed from how they’d once been.

He’d come here with a purpose—that was the only thing that made sense—and it certainly would have something to do with you. The undeniable acknowledgement sent another wave of nausea through your gut, and you tried to remember what it was like to breathe.

“Honey?” Atsushi asked, concerned, his voice bringing you back to the present. His hand was on your lower back, wide eyes full of an anxiety you often saw reflected back at you. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, clutching your hands to your sides to calm yourself. If you didn’t turn around, maybe he’d go away. Maybe he was just an illusion. One way or another, you needed to be free of him. “I just need to get some fresh air. I’ll be alright.”

It was then that you realized that almost everyone’s eyes were on you, and while some stared back at you with pity, some began snickering under their breaths at the darkened stains on the bottom of your gown. You ignored them, trying not to feel the burning observation against your back, trapping you.

If you left, he was certain to follow.

You stepped away from Atsushi, and his hand reached out to you, before retracting, falling. “Are you sure?” He followed your every movement. “You seem—”

“Yes.” You smiled at him placatingly, hoping no one else could hear you. You didn’t want them to be concerned—least of all, Atsushi. It had nothing to do with your engagement, and you were afraid it appeared that way. “I’ll be right back.”

Atsushi seemed to understand after that, shifting his attention to his friends warmly, as he attempted to diffuse the tension. If anything, he knew that you had no desire to cause a scene and relented to your wishes, drawing everyone’s focus off of you. “Alright. I’ll wait here.”

He’d always been steadfast in his understanding. It was one of the reasons that you had fallen for him in the first place.

You nodded and said goodbye to the dark-haired woman before escaping from the ballroom, hoping you could find a room to hide in. Once your feet started moving, they didn’t stop, carrying you throughout the manor in a desperate search for the closest escape route. There were too many doors in the house, a multitude of bedrooms that weren’t needed at all.

As you weaved your way through the halls, you ran into a few couples caught in a salacious embrace, blocking each of the rooms that had once been private. They shouted at you, and you slammed the door uncomfortably, having no desire to intrude on their secretive affairs.

You couldn’t remember what it was like to be sick, to expel every last fluid from your stomach, but you were certain it resembled whatever you were feeling now. Foreboding dread had come to cripple you in every sense of the word, gripping you tightly in the vice of panic.

Finally, you reached an empty bedroom, one with a balcony that overlooked nothing but the gardens. It was a beautiful night, and the dark sky calmed you, bringing you back to the present, pulling you away from memories that you had shoved deep into the pits of your soul, burying them under lock and key.

There was a dreamy hue over the garden, illuminated by the candles and lamps outside. For just a moment, you basked in the serene lighting, the calmness of the evening away from all the guests. The music inside was but a faint whisper, the orchestra stumbling their way back into a tune after you’d escaped the ball less than dramatically.

Inhaling through your nose, you stilled your mind, and waited for the peace to end.

You felt his presence behind you before you heard him, those sharp eyes on you like daggers along your back. He moved silently, gracefully, like he was floating above the floor and not even there at all.

You curled your hands into a fist, staring hard into the horizon as your nails broke the skin of your palm. He’d be the first one to speak, as he always had been, and you’d get sucked into his alluring features, letting yourself indulge as you knew you shouldn’t.

Closing your eyes, you waited for him to break the silence. To come up behind you and hover his touch over your skin. The fragrance of his skin got closer and closer, and you squeezed your eyes tighter, hating how much you’d missed him. That even when you despised him, a part of you still belonged in his possession.

“I’ve missed you, my angel.”

Five words were all it took. Your knees buckled under you, the voice you hadn’t heard in decades like a soothing lullaby from your childhood, a hymn you’d used to worship a god that had left you behind. Your knuckles turned pale as you squeezed the stone of the balcony barrier, just enough force to keep you on your feet.

His voice was never gentle, but for you, he plated his steely knife in rose-colored foil, softening the edges until it couldn’t cut too deep. The sound was exactly as it had always been; nostalgia had its teeth deep in you, before that cool wave of horror crashed over you, remembering who it was, exactly, that you were dealing with.

“Don’t call me that.” You grew stiff as you felt him drawing closer, pulling to you with every word. Within seconds, he was near enough to ghost a breath along your neck, merely a phantom sensation.

“Hm.” His fingers dipped along your shoulders, the blades between them, and you tilted your head away, refusing to gaze into those eyes. “You always did hate that, didn’t you?”

Against your better judgement, a part of you had lit on fire. You longed for him, even when it sickened you.

“Perhaps my lovely devil will suffice instead. You never could accept that you were the very killer I made you out to be.”

“I don’t care what you call me.” You stepped away until you were digging your flesh into the balcony guard, the stone cold as it pressed into your stomach. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Can you say that while meeting my eyes?" Dazai laughed, and though the sound of it was acerbic and mocking, he stayed where he was. "Maybe I’ll believe you, then. You’ve always been so horrible at lying to me.”

You snarled, ready to slice your nails across his cheek and watch with satisfaction as the blood dripped to his chin.

The anger steeled you, made you think you’d be prepared to face him once more; surely the hatred for him outweighed your lasting weakness.

You turned, eyes narrowed, and though you continued to exhibit your antagonism, the sight of him was poison to your resolve.

Dazai was still as hauntingly beautiful as always, those deep eyes gleaming in the moonlight, watching you with a hint of amusement. His hair was styled as it had been a century ago, transcending lifetimes while he remained eternally twenty-two. He smiled, lips curling into a grim expression, all too delighted with the loose hold he still had over you.

You averted your gaze but stood your ground. “I hate you, Dazai.” You curled your arms around your chest, keeping the distance between you. “I always will.”

For all his confidence, Dazai’s expression momentarily fell, like he’d expected you to welcome him back with loving arms, grovel at his feet with apologies you didn’t mean. Then, the insincere smile was back, drawing you in with revolting sweetness. “I’ve searched for you for decades. I thought you were dead—”

“I don’t care.”

“—Only to find out you’d been running from me this entire time.” Dazai invaded your circle once more, and his fingers pinched your jaw, studying you raptly. There was just a foot of air between you, the cool heat exchanged in your breaths. You ignored every muscle in your body that was relying on memory, wishing to do all the things that it had once done. “Did those years together mean nothing? Were you not to be my everlasting companion?”

You swatted his hand away, a million little fires starting along every point where your skin met. But no matter how beautiful he was, how calm those saccharine words of his made you feel, you knew the mercilessness that he was capable of. “I never made that choice of my own volition. You took it away from me.”

His eyes flashed before he retracted, complacent. “I gave you what you asked for. A life more than the one you had. And then I gave you everything I had left to give.”

“Your apology means nothing to me. Get the hell out of here.” Your words lacked the bite that you’d wished for, not sure you had the courage to push him into a fight. His strength outweighed yours by centuries; you had enough sense not to challenge that.

Dazai blinked, and then laughed, jeering, without any sense of real humor. “You misunderstand. I’m not apologizing.” He tucked a hand back into his coat, regarding you with serious disdain as he sunk back, the outline of his dark clothes blending with the evening. “I never regretted the decision I made that night.”

You stared at him, blinking, before retracting and matching his heartless laugh with one of your own.

It was as if you’d never been parted at all. The unpleasant decades thinned into one small period, an insignificant point in time that, now, seemed nothing more than a development to your character. “Fine. I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dazai. I wanted to be rid of you, and I was. Your insincere words don’t matter to me anymore.”

His jaw tightened, and you stared each other down, searching for any glimpse of the familiar figure you’d used to love. Undeniably, he was there. Those eyes of his were just the same. The soft words he used for you and only you had never changed.

Yet, just as those sweet parts of him were as comforting as ever, the ugly parts of him were there as well. You remembered his cruelty, his gift of manipulation, and you pushed him away, never again wanting to be strung in that web.

Dazai did nothing but blink as you withdrew, standing straight, pulled taut by a marionette cord. “Is this the life you intend to live now? This half-hearted existence where you befriend mortals that will wither without you, to be engaged to a man you will never spend eternity with? Pitiful, really.”

For just a moment, you’d been so caught up in Dazai that the man who’d loved you with all of his heart had vanished into the atmosphere. It was as if, somehow, you’d forgotten that Atsushi was there at all.

Guilt overwhelmed you.

That man, the sweet, kind man who had become your saving grace, was at risk because of your carelessness. Dazai was too smart not to have taken cautious measures, and you knew he’d learned everything there was to know about your life before intervening.

It made sense why he’d appeared now of all times. It was the perfect opportunity to ruin everything you’d loved for good, reducing you to the whimpering mess that had accepted him in the first place.

He'd made you; he’d known you; he’d loved you for decades. If anyone knew how to break you, it was Dazai Osamu, and that was the thing that scared you the most.

“I fully intend to turn him,” you said, hating the way your voice broke on a singular syllable, making you seem uncertain of the decision you’d made nearly a year ago. “Though I appreciate your concern. I’ll be perfectly happy this way.”

The comment didn’t faze Dazai, who grinned, his eyes burning with a fire you’d never forget, a sort of glee that only transpired from evil. “I should kill him before that happens, shouldn’t I?” His teeth gleamed in the candlelight, two long fangs slipping over his lips with threatening causality. The points were even more severe in the lighting. “I’ll be sure to savor in the taste as I rip his throat out.”

The image was sickening, a gruesome thought that made your old panic reignite. You schooled your lips into nothing but a line, knowing that Dazai could detect even the smallest change in your features.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve managed to control yourself so well.” He went on, mocking you with every second that passed. “After three years, did I hear? I admit, I was having trouble listening over the band.” He tilted his head, studying you, searching deep into your consciousness for an answer that would satiate him. “You’ve never been able to resist your hunger before. What changed?”

You knew better than to underestimate him and stood taller.

“I’m not the same person I was when I was with you, and I never want to be her again.” You closed your eyes, looking away.

“This isn’t the life I envisioned for you a century ago.”

“My life is not yours to craft. I’m not some doll you can bend to your will.” Finally, you reached out to him, wrapping your hands around his own. His skin was cold, dead, void of any blush from the stolen blood in his veins. You were one word away from begging, pleading with him, even as you stood your ground. “Just don't kill him, Osamu. I’d never forgive you, and that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to come back to you.”

The scowl twitched ever-so-slightly as something in his eyes flashed. His name on your lips had always been his greatest weakness, and you could see him thinking hard. “For once, my love, you’re wrong. That’s not what I came here for.”

You stared, puzzled, before dropping his hand and frowning. “Then what are you here for?”

“I was looking for you, yes,” he admitted with a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve been looking for you for years, and it is by mere coincidence that I found you here.” A cheer sounded inside the house from a toast. You wished that you were in there, warm, where all of this was but a nightmare. “As happy as I am to see that you’re alive and well, I refuse to compete with someone who turns you into everything you are not. If you’re so much happier without me, then who am I to stand in the way?”

“I’m supposed to believe that?” you scoffed.

You’d be a fool to believe that was any more than an obvious lie, that Dazai’s motives were pure of heart. He had never been loud about his jealousy, but he’d killed every lover you’d ever dared to take, leaving you alone with no one but him for comfort.

Dazai had always refused you even one outlet of happiness, even when he’d had other lovers of his own, had brought his one-night affairs to your shared home. The place where you slept in the same bed, fucked on most every surface imaginable had been tarnished with decisions that he’d never be able to undo.

Your gaze hardened. It didn’t matter anymore. With lives that never ended, vampires weren’t known for their monogamy. You were naïve to think that a man like Dazai would give that to you.

“I mean it, Dazai.” You shoved away the vile memories from the forefront of your mind, wanting them to stay just that – memories. They would not become a repetition of the past. “If you kill him, I’ll burn you to ashes. Then, I’ll step into the flames myself.”

“Ah, but wouldn’t that be such a lovely way to go? Tossed into the flame by the very woman I care for most dearly, reunited only moments later in death.” He seemed too fascinated by the idea, his gaze faraway as if wondering what could possibly push you to that breaking point.

“Hell has a special place for you, Dazai,” you said, disgusted. “Somewhere far, far away from me.”

He laughed darkly. “Oh, how wrong you are. If I am the devil himself, as so many say that I am, then I’ll ensure we spend every moment in the flames together.”

Your lip curled, and you pushed him back in abhorrence, ignoring the tug in your heart that wanted to do everything but. You hated him, you loved him, you never wanted to see him again, you wished he’d stay by your side forever.

Nothing was more dangerous than the allure of fond memories. It seemed even those could lead you to turn a blind eye to the horrors that had been unleashed in the very city you inhabited.

You exhaled. There had to be a line in the sand, a point that you could never pass.

“Please, Dazai. Let me go.” His very presence had already put a kink in your future plans, and if he stayed any longer, you weren’t sure how much damage he’d cause. “Things can never go back to the way they were. I don’t want them to.”

“I don’t either,” he promised, nodding sincerely. “You’ll be rid of me once I make sure that this is what you really want. Who would I be if I watched you lock yourself into a marriage with a man you can never love more than you loved me? To watch you live a life reduced to hiding in the shadows, pretending you were never there at all?”

The arrogant bastard.

“I do love Atsushi more than I ever loved you,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster, your eyes full of flames, unrelenting. That man was waiting for you downstairs, probably worried out of his mind. You refused to play any more games. “Loving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. It was a mistake to let you turn me. I regret all of it.”

Dazai’s lips curled, his gums exposed as he snarled. “Ah, but mistakes are your specialty, aren’t they? You’ve made even more in my absence.”

You said nothing, tired of already falling into the same routine with him. The same old song and dance, taking you back to a time when all you had was him, a time you never wanted to go back to again. The exchange of cruel words was more familiar than your own last name.

“I should be on my way to my room. Sunrise is fast approaching, and I won’t be taking any risks, now that I know what I have to look forward to.” He bowed his head, though you could see his careless smirk, filling you with an irrepressible anger. “I’ll be around.”

With that, you watched him turn and walk out the door, ruining the rest of your evening.

Dazai’s chin was covered in blood, clots drying together around his lips as he pulled away from the lifeless doll between you, the woman that had once been on her way to becoming a well-known actress. Now, she’d be found in a pile of her own blood, the liquid creating a sticky pool beneath her.

It was a sight you’d never tire of; Dazai the very product of his own misdeeds, looking forever the gruesome killer that he made himself out to be. He was most alluring this way, his fangs protruding over his lips, teeth-stained ruby red from the drink of eternal life.

Your adoration for him was most intense in moments like these, when blood became the one thing that bound you together.

“You are beautiful,” he said, shoving aside the corpse, her deadweight toppling onto the floor. “Everyone pales in comparison to you, my darling.” His fingers were soft around your jaw, bringing you closer, reducing the space between his own lips and yours. “I am eternally yours.”

You woke in the bed that you’d chosen to share with another, the one with a squeaky spring, so unlike the coffins you’d previously spent your days in. The room was completely dark, sun-proofed to save you from your fatal weakness. It could have been the middle of the day, and you wouldn’t have known.

Atsushi was beside you, a flickering candle creating shadows on his features as he read through his reports. It’d become routine for him to be by your side as you slept, now that you didn’t fear the sun slipping through cracks on the boards.

It wasn’t as much time as you would’ve liked together, being on such different schedules, but you made it work as best you could. Atsushi often went into work with puffy eyes from sleepless nights, or you fumbled around the house, bored while the whole city slept.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes full of concern. His hand inched across the bed to hold your own. “You haven’t been yourself since yesterday evening.”

You hated that he’d noticed, even though it was his job to do so. It was wrong to keep secrets from the man you loved, even more when you were to be married in just a few months.

Still, you were reluctant to say anything on the matter, certain that you could deal with Dazai on your own. You’d mentioned him to Atsushi only once, and it was through vague details that gave the impression you were in too much pain to talk about it. Like the sweet man he was, Atsushi had accepted it, and he had never once forced the words from your mouth.

You owed him nothing, but it felt wrong to keep your history with Dazai a secret from him. Especially now. Especially when Dazai, who was a loose cannon on his own, had never been very rational when you were around.

“I’m fine.” You sat up in the bed, maneuvering closer to the side where Atsushi was, his legs spread out in front of him. He was wearing casual clothes and seemed scrubbed clean from a bath. It must have been later than you thought. “Just a weird dream is all.”

“I didn’t know vampires had dreams.” Atsushi went back to his reports.

That was because you’d never told him. You rarely had dreams, and when you did, they were more like memories. Or some prophetic, horrible vision that you’d learn to ignore. Nothing pleasant, like when you were human.

“What time is it?”

“About eight. Sun should be down by now, I haven’t checked. I’ve been working—there seems to be an increased amount of crime this week. I don’t know who came into town, but they’ve got an itch for trouble.”

“It’s not a vampire, is it?” you asked, instantly feeling nauseous. Dazai had no qualms about making a spectacle of killing humans. He’d leave a string of bodies like a signature, knowing you’d recognize his mark.

Atsushi snorted. “No, I think I’d see the signs. Just some regular guy.”

You weren’t convinced. Dazai knew how to hide his tracks and make it seem like anything but a vampire, but you convinced yourself to keep quiet. If Atsushi had even a suspicion about Dazai, he’d go after him, and you didn’t want to see what would happen if he did.

For both your sake and Atsushi’s, you hoped that he was right about this.

“Okay.” You threw the covers off the bed, putting yourself together with the clothes you’d strewn across the room. Atsushi’s eyes remained on the paper, ever the savior of the city he lived in. It was admirable, really, even if his work took some fraction of your time with him away. “I’m going to go out, Atsushi. I’m starving.”

“Want me to come?” he asked, finally looking up, much too eager. He was always so willing to stand by as you clamped your jaws into rodents, feeding off the unwanted pests that lingered the streets.

It was disgusting. You knew that your diet to him, and to all the other humans, was noble. It was repentance for all the horrid sins you’d committed at your lowest point.

To vampires, it meant you were rejecting your nature, trading your gift for a chance to thinly grasp at the cord of humanity you’d never truly held at all. It was abhorrent and shameful.

“No,” you said, certain that if anyone saw you feed on a rat that evening, you wouldn’t be able to recover. How Atsushi could stand to be with you after that display of events was beyond your comprehension. “I need to clear my head.”

“Okay.” Sometimes, you wondered if he’d ever doubted you at all. He was always understanding of each rejection, each carefully chosen word, no matter how harsh they were. “Will you be back quickly?”

“Of course.” With that you smiled, never wanting to waste the precious hours you had with your fiancée before the sun rose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Atsushi kissed you before blowing out the candle and laying his head down. “I’m going to take a nap. I’ve been working on this all afternoon.”

“See you later.” You watched as he tucked himself into the bed you’d just left, waving at you lazily from the covers.

You swallowed down the sharp pang in your chest, looking away from him as you left the room, into another that was bathed in moonlight.

Really, you were content with your, but the arrangement between you and Atsushi was growing dismal. While you made it work, you always had, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you’d never be able to accompany him on daylight ventures, confined to your midnight prison.

You lost your head as you traveled through the dark streets, the city busy with nightlife now that the sun was far beyond the horizon. As usual, there were all kind of people out and about, the rich and poor, the young and old, the good and the bad. And you, the worst of all, the one pretending to fit right in with the rest of them.

After a young couple, not much older than Atsushi, crossed the road, you slunk down into an abandoned alley, bending yourselves into the shadows like the nightly creature you were. You heard the rats scurrying about before you could even spot them, your supernatural hearing so much more attuned to subtle sounds.

With a face, you walked to the hub of rats, your speed much quicker than any of their tiny legs. One particular animal looked back at you, intrigued against its very nature, holding a piece of garbage between its small human-like hands.

You took the rat by the neck, staring into its beady eyes as you plucked it from the ground like a dandelion. The creature looked back at you so helplessly that you almost felt guilty for freeing it from its meaningless existence. Without thinking, you bit into its flesh, draining the rodent dry. The fur was rough against your tongue, disgusting as always as the strands got caught in your teeth.

It wasn’t enough. What little blood you had gained from the animal was never enough to sustain the bloodlust that had increased tenfold since Dazai stepped back into your life.

With a sideways glimpse down the alley, you plucked another rat from the gutter, remembering why you were destroying your own dignity in such a way.

“You’ve made some concerning decisions lately, but this certainly takes the cake.”

With the rat still thrashing around your lips, you glanced up at the man lingering down the alley, his tone cruel and mocking. You continued to suck the last bit of blood from the rodent before tossing the body aside, meeting Dazai’s eyes.

“Why do you care?” you asked, and though you were still starved and lightheaded, you would draw your hunt to a conclusion. You would only embarrass yourself further with Dazai’s keen stare watching your every move.

“I’d wondered why you seemed so weak.” He tossed a disgusted look towards the rats scurrying through the trash, their plump bodies dragging thick tails behind them. “I see, now.”

“Spare me the lecture. I swore I’d never feed from another human, and I’ve never broken my vow.” A rat ran past you, unafraid, even after you’d just killed another member of its clan. The long tail hit your ankle, and you cringed, to Dazai’s satisfaction.

“You’ll get yourself killed. For a vampire of your age, you should be much stronger than this.” He took a step towards you, cornering you in the alley. “Now, you’re a threat to no one.”

“Then, I will die. Something I’m surprised you haven’t done already.”

Dazai was silent, his eyes hard. For all of his promises of the threats that lie out there, you couldn’t spot another but him. There were dangerous vampires in the world, you knew that better than anyone, but he’d always be the one you feared the most.

“Will you continue to torment me for another night?” you sighed wearily, wiping the blood from your chin with a handkerchief. “Your very presence exhausts me.”

Dazai, irritatingly, lit a fire deep in your gut, increasing your hunger to lengths you hadn’t felt in years. You could smell his blood from where you stood, the ambrosia that you’d never tire of. It was a dessert so unlike anything you’d tasted as a human, and you hated that he was tempting you with it now.

Your vision flashed with images of you sinking your fangs into his shoulder, draining him of every last drop as you lost yourself into the man that was Dazai Osamu.

Dazai eyed you carefully, dragging his gaze down to your chest, across your body, back to the blood-stained mouth that remembered too fondly what it was like to taste him. “You still wear the ring I gave you, hovering delicately over your heart.”

You’d forgotten; or you just thought he’d never notice. You’d hidden it under layers of clothing, but still, it had broken free. “A reminder of my past mistakes. It has nothing to do with sentimental value.”

He hummed, considering twirling it around his index finger before he thought better of it. “If that’s the case, why haven’t you turned another companion? Is it not for the hope that we might return to another one day?”

You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten so close, close enough to touch you. It became hard to focus, even as he kept a respectable distance, letting you retain a semblance of control.

“Atsushi clings to his human life as I did. I will never turn him against his will.” You stood taller, even as you refused to look into his brown irises, to see the mockery that was pushed back at you. “When the moment is right, only then will I do so. That’s something you’d never understand.”

He laughed. “You’ll continue with this narrative, will you?”

You said nothing, staring at the bodies of dead rats that would soon begin to decay. Let him find amusement in the choices you’ve made.

“Sweetheart,” Dazai said, his voice softening with the tone you’d never been able to resist. Your heart twisted, your forehead wrinkling as you kept your eyes firmly on the ground. “Don’t hurt yourself in this way. These vermin will not sustain you.”

“I won’t hunt with you, Dazai. I won’t kill anyone. Don’t try to deceive me into coming back to you.”

“That’s not what I was suggesting.” Before you could discern his actions, Dazai had bit into his wrist, opening a vein as blood poured down his forearm.

You froze.

Fangs had dropped over your bottom lip without a thought, your pupils dilating with the desire of blood. The scent was hard to resist, a sweetness that had been placed on this Earth only for you, handed over from the Devil in an attempt to bring you furthest from God. Though, that might have been all wrong... maybe your god was standing right before you.

Your eyes glued to the fountain of life, and you began to doubt your restraint. It’d been so long.

“Dazai—” you tried to step away, but your feet were cemented, buried under the cobblestones of the dimly lit street. You were a stronger woman than this, and certainly a vampire of your age would not collapse at the sight of blood in the way you were. “Stop it.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. This isn’t what I want at all.”

You finally tore your gaze away, taking a few more steps back into the alley as you regained control of yourself, sick with a yearning for him. Dazai was playing a torturous game, and you refused to be the victim.

The vein closed, and Dazai watched you curiously, but he made no move to reopen the wound. Your irrational thoughts began to calm, and though you could still smell the blood that circled through his body, warm from a recent kill, your resolve was now stronger.

“I can’t stand to see you like this.” His words were hard, disappointed. “I won’t leave until I know you’re safe from harm. Even a mortal could end you with the weakened state you’re in.”

“Safe from harm?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. “I’m in no danger here. I’ve been fine without you for fifty years, and I will continue to be fine without you for the rest of eternity.”

His voice deepened, eyes narrowing into a glare as he watched you retreat. “Don’t pretend to be a fool. Your very position with me put you at risk. You betrayed vampires even older than me, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.”

You exhaled, looking up at the stars before dropping your attention back to Dazai. “I don’t think you actually care. You told me that you loved me, and time and time again, you failed me. You left me there, Dazai. I had no choice but to betray them; they were going to kill me.”

“I thought they already had.” He reached out to you, curling his hands around your chin, desperate and wanting and so many things that you had never seen him. “Don’t you understand? I thought you were already dead. I never would have left if I’d known the truth. I’d never think of escaping without you.”

Your breath caught, and while you couldn’t stand to believe him, you felt yourself giving in a little more, succumbing to Dazai each time you crossed his path. Still, you removed his hands from your face, forcing yourself to be a little stronger, to put up those steely walls until he left your life once and for all. “I don’t trust you, Osamu, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself. There’s no reason for us to be speaking at all.”

His jaw tightened, but he let you go, straightening with a frustration he didn’t deserve.

“I’m going home to my fiancée—the man who has never put conditions on his affection. Please, stay as far away from me as you can.”

You shoved past him, shaking with nerves. Though he was stronger, he stumbled back, watching you go with an emotion you couldn’t discern.

PART II

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

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forestdeath1 · 8 months ago

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 4. How Sirius shows care towards people and animals.

Sirius has a trait that often seems like irresponsibility or excessive harshness.

Sirius really respects another person's free will and choice and even treats teenagers as adults with their own minds. It's a deeply rooted idea of respecting others as agents of free will.

That's why he has no pity for those who make mistakes, including himself. To him, any mistake is always a person's free choice. Sirius will never forgive Peter because, regardless of Peter's circumstances for betrayal, it ultimately was a CHOICE. He even refuses to forgive the Ministry (as if the Ministry cares, oh Sirius):

‘Don’t worry about Percy,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘He’ll come round. It’s only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,’ he added bitterly.

He tells this to Molly after she encounters a boggart. Contrary to popular belief, in this scene, he doesn't really comfort her after their argument. Lupin does most of the work. Sirius just adds this phrase. He's still angry at Molly for what she said, just acting more maturely and not escalating the conflict further. He's angry because he understands Molly said exactly what she meant. Molly is also angry at him, they generally love to get angry at each other because they don't really understand each other.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

He even considers Kreacher an agent of free will.

‘You’d be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,’ said Sirius.

As they say - where there's a will, there's a way. When people say that Kreacher was lower in the hierarchy than Sirius (as any house-elf would be), Sirius himself did not see it that way, and it’s truly paradoxical. He argued with Kreacher, kicked him, engaged in verbal battles, though he could have just given direct orders. Kreacher's insults towards Sirius were similar in style to Walburga's (otherwise, where would Kreacher learn those insults?), and Sirius... Sirius, instead of direct orders, just yells back or kicks him. When Harry gives Kreacher a direct order to shut up, Kreacher obeys instantly. A house-elf must obey the direct orders of their master. But Sirius doesn't give direct orders. Because for him, Kreacher is also an agent of free will (and also some ‘‘member‘‘ of his beloved and hated family, as Sirius is much more attached to the Blacks than he would like to admit).

Because of his attitude towards equals, Sirius fights for Harry to get the information he needs. For Sirius, Harry is an adult, not a five-year-old child who needs to be looked after in the style of Molly. Molly deprives Harry of his agency, his choice, and his own opinion with her overprotection. We have to understand Molly; she really worries for all of them, as half her family is in the Order and can die. She doesn't want to lose Harry, so she tries to protect him in every way. Plus, they all have orders from Dumbledore. Isn't Molly right? Molly has her point, she works for the Order and thinks Sirius could harm with his too "independent" behaviour, and teach Harry this excessive independence. And what does independence from Dumbledore lead to? Molly knows well (and so does Sirius) – last time such "independence" from Dumbledore cost the Potters their lives. I don't want to judge Molly. She's a member of the newer incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix, and a good one at that. Sirius, however, is still mentally in the era of the Order's original incarnation (as is Lupin, though he is more conforming and softer), a time when the rules of engagement were harsher, with much more focus on the grim realities of war. The newer version of the Order operates with different tactics – emphasizing manipulation, cunning, and caution.

Molly and Sirius have different approaches. Molly is about caution. Sirius is about action.

Sirius treats Harry as a subject, not an object to be shielded from information.

Sirius knows where his area of responsibility is and what he can influence, and where he should not interfere:

‘Not just yet, Molly,’ said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. ‘You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.’

‘I did!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so –’

‘And they’re quite right,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You’re too young.’

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

‘How come Harry gets his questions answered?’ said Fred angrily. ‘We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!’ said George.

‘It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,’ said Sirius calmly, ‘that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand –’

He doesn't tell the twins anything because it's not his responsibility. But Harry – that's his responsibility. And Sirius believes it's up to him to decide what Harry is allowed to know and what not (considering Dumbledore's instructions "I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly").

‘He’s not your son,’ said Sirius quietly.

‘He’s as good as,’ said Mrs Weasley fiercely. ‘Who else has he got?’

‘He’s got me!’

In the situation with Molly, you see two opposing views clash. Molly, with the archetype of a guardian, wants to shelter everyone with her care. Sirius, with the archetype of a rebel, respects Harry's wishes and wants to open up new knowledge and opportunities for him to fight.

‘He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘He’s only fifteen and –’

‘And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,’ said Sirius, ‘and more than some.’

‘No one’s denying what he’s done!’ said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. ‘But he’s still –’

‘He’s not a child!’ said Sirius impatiently.

Sirius probably stopped considering himself a child very early on. Maybe it came from his conservative family, where children were expected to grow up earlier, not walk around as "little children" until they were 18. They think about marriage, duty to the family, responsibility early on. Plus, wizards come of age earlier – at 17. So, for Sirius, 15 years old is not a child anymore.

That's why Sirius defends Harry's right "to know".

‘But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back’ (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) ‘he has more right than most to –’

Sirius really encourages taking action. His way of caring isn't about coddling. It's about giving knowledge, opportunities, resources, and supporting in the right direction. For Sirius, to live is to act; he can't be without action, doesn't understand life without it:

‘Personally, I’d have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights ... I’ve been stuck inside for a month.’

Sirius can't not act and he doesn't understand how you could do otherwise. He knows Harry is the same because Harry is like his dad, meaning James was the same – always acting.

And he encourages this in Harry. But he always teaches to act with thought, not just charging in. In the 4th book, Sirius was telling Harry not to stick his neck out, but in the 5th, it's the opposite. Sirius has his own logic, which he shows here:

‘So, you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the Defence group?’ he muttered finally.

‘Me? Certainly not!’ said Sirius, looking surprised. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea!’

‘You do?’ said Harry, his heart lifting.

‘Of course I do!’ said Sirius. ‘D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?’

‘But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –’

‘Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘This year, we know there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!’

‘And if we do get expelled?’ Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

‘Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,’ said Sirius.

That's Sirius through and through. A true Gryffindor, who won't just sit around when there's danger afoot. You might argue that he shouldn't have encouraged Harry in this way. But what else was he to do? Hand Harry over to Umbridge? Of course not. He trusts Harry, believes in his potential. He treats Harry as an equal, not as a child, and that's why Harry feels so connected to Sirius – at last, someone sees him as mature enough, respects him as a free person. Throughout the series, Harry has been shielded from the truth, kept in the dark, yet Sirius shows him a different kind of respect – he sees Harry as someone who can act, in whom he places his trust and belief. Is Sirius right? When it comes to Harry – absolutely. As for the war, the Order, and following Dumbledore's orders – Molly would definitely disapprove.

He even passes Molly's words on to Ron. In his sarcastic manner, but still:

… anyway ... first of all, Ron – I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

‘She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also’ (Sirius’s eyes turned to the other two) ‘advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.’

Again – a striking difference between what Molly understands by care and what Sirius understands by it.

Sirius lets Harry feel that he's believed in, respected, that his actions are encouraged. Sometimes Sirius criticises them, because as much as he encourages action, he believes all actions should be reasoned. Act according to logic, not thoughtlessly.

For instance, Sirius sternly reprimands him in the 4th book when Harry, in his opinion, does something foolish. And notice his communication style. Sirius is often blunt in conversation, in his way of talking, he doesn't sugarcoat. And Harry's okay with that. Sirius isn't one for mushiness.

Harry – what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the Forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practise Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out of bounds again.

That's what care means to Sirius. Not forbidding him from knowing information. But actively helping him so Harry is ready to stand up to challenges.

Or like this:

‘Now, listen ...’ he looked particularly hard at Harry – ‘I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission, it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.’

‘No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of Grindylows,’ Harry said.

But Sirius scowled at him. ‘I don’t care ... I’ll breathe freely again when this Tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, OK?’

At the same time, he provides Harry with emotional support. Just without the mushiness. There's a sort of rough tenderness about it, making these signs of attention and love seem even more important and pleasant.

‘What’re you doing here, Sirius?’ he said.

‘Fulfilling my duty as godfather,’ said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very dog-like way. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m pretending to be a loveable stray.’

The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same.

He also provides Harry with real resources that can help him:

‘I want you to take this,’ he said quietly, thrusting a badly wrapped package roughly the size of a paperback book into Harry’s hands.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘A way of letting me know if Snape’s giving you a hard time. No, don’t open it in here!’ said Sirius, with a wary look at Mrs Weasley, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. ‘I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?’

‘Sirius’s knife,’ he said. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has –’

Sirius isn't inclined to pity. He respects the choices of others. His care is expressed in this – he knows people's strengths and trusts them to do their job. He thinks Hagrid will be okay because Hagrid is tough. Why worry?

‘Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid,’ said Sirius hastily, ‘it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be OK.’

And he respects the choice of the twins' father, though many find Sirius's words harsh:

‘We don’t care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.

‘It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!’ yelled George.

‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!’

But it's not cruelty or indifference, it's respect for their father's choice, as an agent of free will.

Sirius even treats animals this way. Look how he got on with the cat. And yet he understands that animals are defenceless and need support. He doesn't expect danger from them and often finds comfort in their company.

‘This cat isn’t mad,’ said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks’s fluffy head. ‘He’s the most intelligent of his kind I’ve ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he’s been helping me ...’

Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.’

Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. ‘I’ve just been feeding Buckbeak,’ he added, in reply to Harry’s enquiring look. ‘I keep him upstairs in my mother’s bedroom

Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak.

He became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called ‘fits of the sullens’, in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

Sirius befriended the cat, treated it as an intelligent being, and constantly cared for the hippogriff. Sirius is very closed off from people (after Azkaban, he only opens up to Harry and Remus), he builds a tough armour, but easily opens up to animals and easily cares for them in a nurturing manner – and they love him back.

In conclusion, Sirius respects the free choice of others. For him, pity towards another is demeaning. Sirius hates pity – neither for himself nor for others. To pity = to demean, to pity means to acknowledge the other as incapable and weak. And Sirius doesn't meddle in others' relationships, he well separates his zone of responsibility, and care for him is to give resources and information so the person can act. And he's good with animals, and to animals, he can show a different attitude – nurturing, because acknowledging animals as weaker doesn't demean them, because animals truly are weaker.

This character trait of Sirius isn't for moral judgement, just that's how he is, and it's important to understand that.

#sirius black #the marauders #sirius black meta #the marauders meta #hp meta #sirius and harry

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ryder-writes · 5 months ago

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Those Who Play with Fire Get Burnt- Dabi x GN!Reader

Summary: Dabi realizes that you are his weakness. Any of his enemies could easily use you to lure him into a trap. He loves you, but he loves his dream more.

CW: This is pure angst. Warning now. Toxic ending of relationship, manipulation (kinda), kidnapping, ends in death by fire, betrayal of trust. Also Dabi a little ooc (I say that cuz I don’t think he would be in a relationship to begin with lmao)

A/n: I just want to say, THIS IS NOT MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS! Pls stay safe y'all <3

WC: 1.1k

You were scared. Scared, tired, and confused. You didn’t know where you were. You assumed a bag was over your head, as you couldn’t see. Your hands were tied behind the back of the small wooden chair you were sitting on. Your ankles tied to the legs of the chair. The air smelled like rust and mold. It was humid as well, which made you think you were in an old, abandoned building of some kind. You were correct. However, your spirits were not completely broken. You knew that your boyfriend would come and save you. Dabi loved you. You were his world. He would fight for you; he would show up. And, he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Dabi stood in the doorway; leaning against the broken framing of the door. He felt bad. He really did. It was his fault you were here in the first place. He had stupidly decided to seek refuge in a random apartment after being chased for what felt like hours, and he stupidly chose yours. You had grown closer, and your apartment became a place of refuge for him. A home he never had. But that was his mistake. He hurts everyone he gets close to. Whether the hurt is his doing or not. He didn't want you to get hurt- but it had to be done. Anything that could negatively affect his plan must be taken care of. He stepped forward toward you, his boots enhancing the echo of his footsteps. You perked up. Sweat started to form on your forehead, threatening to fall down your face.

"You do anything to me and my boyfriend will burn you to the ground!" You yelled, trying to sound intimidating (you failed). Dabi laughed internally at your attempt. He stopped in front of you and slipped his right hand under your chin, lifting your head up. Your breath hitched in your throat in fear, and before you could protest or move your head away, he lifted the bag off of your head. Your fear dissipated immediately on seeing your boyfriend. "Dabi! Oh thank god!" You put your weight onto his hand. He smiled.

"Let me help you there, sweetheart." He let go of your face and went to untie your legs. Once he was finsihed, he stood back up. You looked up at him expectedly.

"You gonna untie my arms, or…?" You looked at him confused. He simply shoved his hands in his pockets. You sighed. Of all the times for him to be acting childish. "Dabi-"

"Touya." He interrupted. "My name is Touya."

"Oh- uh, okay. Touya." You were confused as to why he told you now of all times, but your emotions told you that it didn’t matter right now. "Can you untie my hands?" Touya sighed.

"I love you." He locked eyes with you. You were slightly taken aback.

"I- I love you too, Touya." You smiled up at him. "More than life itself." His breath got caught in his throat. Was he really doubting himself? He mentally shook himself off and regained his focus.

"Do you know who my father is?" He asked. You shook your head. You had never pushed Dabi to tell you about his family and he never shared it. "My father is the great hero," He bent down, and inch way from your face; " Endeavor." Your eyes widened in shock. He chuckled as he stood back up. "I know, I know. Crazy, right?"

"But- your fire-"

"It burns my skin. Yeah. A gift from my gracious mother and her ice quirk."

"Oh." You didn't know what to think. "Wait, why are you telling me this?" You snapped back to reality. Dabi wouldn't tell you all of this without reason. He ignored you and kept on talking.

"I have a plan. A plan to get revenge on my dickhead of a father. A plan that cannot have weaknesses." He looked down at you. "You, my love, are a weakness." Tears started to cloud your vision.

"So, you're breaking up with me? Why did you save me then?! Are you even telling the tru-" He put his pointer finger on your lips, making you stop talking.

"Shhhh. Patience." He removed his finger. "I can’t risk my father using you to get to me. To trick me."

"I can leave." You spoke up. "I don’t want either of us to get hurt." He grabbed you under your arms and pulled you up so you were standing against him. He looked down at you. Even through the hurt, suffering, and conflict, you could see the lovesick look in his eyes.

"When I said I would never break up with you, I meant it."

"What do you plan to do then?" You asked. You trusted Dabi, but you were scared. He was still a villain after all. He sighed.

"I led you here for a reason." You choked on your own breath.

"You- you- why?"

"I needed to be someone where no one would find you." He whispered. He leaned down, lips grazing yours. You could feel his grip on your waist tighten and his breath on your lips. You started to feel warmth down by your feet. Your heart started to race even faster as you realized your fate. You locked eyes with him. He hated how the last look he got of your gorgeous eyes was them coated in fear. "I'm sorry." He whispered. He crashed his lips onto yours, giving you as much passion and love as he could muster. You returned his kiss, your shaky lips showing the same amount of love. You felt the heat grow. Your legs started to burn as tears ran down your face. The pain was intense when mixed with Dabi's powerful kisses. You were overwhelmed. Screams of pain were cut off by his lips and his hands kept you still. You wished you could hold him; grab onto him and never let go. He wished that he could keep making out with you, loving you, for as long as possible. However, he knew that the longer he did that, the more painful it was for you. He opened his eyes one last time to see your beautiful face. Your beautiful, perfect, tear-stricken face. He closed his eyes again and let the fire consume you. You felt overwhelming heat. Then blinding pain. Then, everything went dark.

Touya felt you go limp in his arms. He finally left the fading warmth of your lips and kissed your forehead. He gently led your body down, supporting your head as it hit the concrete floor. He had made it so most of your body was still intact (even if it was scarred beyond belief), unlike most of his victims, who immediately turn into ash. He stood up and dusted himself off, sighing.

Dabi walked away, wishing that he had the ability to cry or at least mourn your death properly.

A/n Pt. 2: Hope u enjoyed reading! I know this is a lot darker than my normal fics, so if u want some fluff/comfort feel free to check out my masterlist :]

#dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi angst #dabi x reader angst #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha angst #mha fanfiction

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countryclubkook · 2 years ago

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Him or Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, topper being a slight asshole, small mention of parent death and absent parent, not proof read so potential grammatical errors, slightly ooc/fanon Rafe I think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anymore I should add

Summary: when Topper finds out his best friend Rafe is secretly dating his sister behind his back, all hell breaks loose. Will they be able fix their relationship? Or will the betrayal be too much to recover from?

A/N: This is the first story i’ve written in months so i’m still a little rusty. I wanted to get something out though to get back into the groove of things. Italicized means flashback, this also is meant to take place in season 1 after Sarah and John B are together so I hope you all enjoy🤍 I left the ending of this slightly open for a potential part two if people want it/I decide to write one (Topper is 19 and reader is 18 for the sake of this story, Rafe is his canon age in the show)

“You know I’ll take care of you right?” he spoke with such certainty. How could you not believe him?

It was never supposed to be this way, you and your brother's best friend being together, but when he gave you those bedroom eyes and whispered those sweet nothings in your ear how could you resist? The both of you kept it a secret from Topper as long as you could knowing his overprotective nature when it came to you. He had found out when he saw the two of you kissing at the country club, that was a bad night for the three of you.

“My fucking sister dude? Are you kidding me? You could have any girl on this island but you go after my sister?” the vein on his neck popping out as he screamed at Rafe. Neither of you had expected him to be home, let alone for him to be waiting in the living room for you two to come back. As soon as Rafe stepped into the door he was thrown against the wall by his neck, a very angry Topper staring at him with pure hatred.

“Topper stop, let him go. Please.” you pleaded with him but it was no use, his grip stayed the same and he acted as if you weren't there. They were in their own world at that moment.

“Fucking relax man, I chose her for a reason. I love her, and you're not going to stop me from seeing her. So if you're going to hit me and tell me to stay away from her, do it so we can get this over with.” he was visibly annoyed by this as his tone confirmed it. Sure they were friends, but you meant more to Rafe than anyone else so your big brother trying to prevent your relationship was simply just an inconvenience that had no real effect at all.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, nostrils flaring and veins so visible you were getting concerned about their health. It wasn't until Topper let go of Rafe with a small scoff that you felt you could breathe again. You've never felt more shitty in your whole life than you did when Topper looked at you with such betrayal and hurt. He just shook his head and stormed out of the house, the front door slamming behind him.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't know he would be here” you say as you rush over to him and examine his neck that was now red (and would inevitably bruise) from the grip Topper had on it. He watched as you examined him with such worry and such a gentle touch that it reminded him yet again why he was with you, that you were worth whatever argument ensued because you showed him love nobody else would.

“Baby, I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you being okay than my neck.” grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears and your breathing slightly uneven. Your relationship with Topper was different than the one Rafe had with his sisters, it had always just been the two of you since you were growing up. Your dad had died when you were babies and your mom was a piece of shit who was never around so that left the two of you to protect and raise each other. Hurting him felt like the biggest stab in the chest and you felt terrible.

“I-” your sobs overpowered your voice before you could finish as you broke down in your lover's arms. His shushed comfort helped bring you some peace but not nearly enough to stop the feeling in your chest from growing. He had moved you over to the couch and held you in his lap until your cries eventually stopped and your breathing remained calm.

“Baby?” he asked quietly in case you had fallen asleep. When he got no response, he gently laid you on the couch and covered you with a blanket before kissing your cheek and heading out to find your brother. Rafe was probably the last person he wanted to see but he would try to talk to him for you.

That “talk” didn't go very well. You didn't know what was said, all you know is that Topper came home bloodied and bruised and didn't say a word to you. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together when you saw Rafes bruised knuckles the next day and his excuse was that he “wanted to try boxing without his gloves”. But a few weeks had passed since then and you thought it would be fine, you and Top would go back to normal and eventually he and Rafe would reconcile like nothing ever happened. If only it was that easy.

Topper had grown increasingly hostile toward you when he decided to acknowledge your existence. His responses were always short and snappy like you were the most horrible person to be speaking with. You knew the only way of fixing this was breaking up with Rafe but there was no way in hell you were doing that so you instead just tried to give him space when you could. But one day he decided that ignoring each other wasn't enough, he needed you to know your options.

‘We need to talk’ one text that always has the ability to make your heart race. You stare at it for 10 minutes trying to figure out the right response before you type back a simple ‘Okay’, his next text telling you he’d meet you at the house in ten minutes. You felt like throwing up and your anxiety was through the roof. You knew what he wanted to talk about, that's what made you nervous. It felt like hours had passed when you finally heard the front door open and heavy footsteps approach the kitchen. Your heartbeat had become very quick when he came into your peripheral vision.

“Hi” a simple word used to greet people now had a more hostile meaning behind it. You finally looked up to see him but he was already looking at you. He still had that same look in his eyes he had that day. Betrayal, disgust, anger, every emotion you had hoped you'd never see him have towards you.

“Hi” your voice much smaller as you tried to avoid his hard gaze. An awkward silence passed for a few moments before he finally spoke again. There was clearly no small talk to be made so it was now or never.

“I'm giving you two options, and I never thought I'd have to say this to you of all people but I guess you really can't trust everyone. I understand you think you love Rafe and that he loves you, but you don't know him like me. Rafe Cameron doesn't ever love someone, he uses them to his advantage until he no longer needs them around and then he leaves them in the dirt. I'm not staying around to watch that happen to you so it's him or me.” his voice was stern, there was no hesitation in his words. He meant every last thing he had just told you.

You stared at him for a moment trying to process what you just heard, did he really just give you an ultimatum? You half expected him to laugh and tell you he was just fucking with you, that he was still upset you hadn't told him but as long as you were happy so was he, but that moment never came. Instead, he continued to stare at you with a pierced gaze waiting for your response.

“Are you serious right now Top?” you chuckled in disbelief. There was no way this was happening right now.

“As serious as a heart attack” no hint of amusement in his voice. Your emotion quickly changed from guilt to anger as his words finally registered.

“You have no right to do that. None. Rafe and I do love each other, we don't think that. You don't know our relationship and this was exactly why we didn't want you finding out. I'm not a baby anymore Topper. I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions about things, including who I date. If that backfires that's on me and I learn from it. You don't get to decide that for me.” your face had turned red and you felt hot. How dare he make you choose between them.

“Y/N you don't understand okay? I know how he works, I've seen it happen. He's only going to hurt you when-” he tried to argue but you cut him off.

“No. You don't understand. He treats me better than anyone else ever has, he makes me feel loved. You don't know anything about love, that's why your girlfriend cheated on you with a fucking pogue.” his face fell at the comment. You knew it was harsh and uncalled for but you were too upset to care.

“Fuck you Y/N. I'm giving you one last chance to make the right choice” you knew he meant that.

“Fine. You want me to choose so badly? I choose him, I'll always choose him.” your breathing was heavy as you yelled at him. There was no taking it back now so you could only hope it didn't end badly for you.

“Okay” he scoffed “just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart. You mean nothing to me anymore” he spoke with such disgust that it took everything in you not to cry.

“I won't. He's never going to do that to me” you spoke to him with the same voice he had spoken to you. The two of you staring at each other with anger and a look of disbelief that this had happened to you. Topper gave one last shake of his head before going up the stairs to what you thought was his room. It wasn't until you heard a loud thud a few minutes later that you realized he was in yours.

One by one, bags and boxes of your things came flying down the stairs. Topper was standing at the top with his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face.

“You want to be with him so bad you can go stay with him. I don't want a lying whore living with me.” his words hurt you more than would ever admit but you swallowed your tears and began packing your car with your things, getting in and starting the car to drive to Rafes once the last thing was thrown in.

He hadn't expected to see your text but all he could do was worry when you’d told him you were on your way to him. The only thing comforting him was pacing around the room and thinking of all the ways he could try and help you. He heard your call pull up and almost broke the door getting to you and his heart shattered when he saw you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes red and puffy, you looked destroyed.

As soon as you were in his arms you broke down, the both of you falling to the ground as your sobs echoed in the warm air. The familiar smell of Rafe's cologne made you feel safe, a feeling you hadn't fully felt since Rafe and Topper's fight. It felt like you were finally home and could relax, the war was over and you could just live again.

“Shh baby it's okay, you're safe now. I've got you” he said as he rested his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly. There wasn't much that could be said to help you feel better about the situation but knowing you weren't alone did help to make you feel good. Topper was just jealous he didn't have this type of love with Sarah.

You'd finally calmed down enough to unload your things into Rafe's room. Ward adored you so letting you stay with them was absolutely no issue which you were so thankful for.

Hours had passed and your tears had long stopped. You had taken a nice long shower and now you were in bed with Rafe, it felt natural to you. He gave you a small nudge to get your attention and your eyes met his. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face” your eyes widening slightly worried you had forgotten to wipe some makeup off your face.

“No no it's not that, it's just… I could get used to this you know? It feels right” his voice was much softer now.

“It does, doesn't it? Maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all” it was very bad, but maybe you could convince yourself otherwise if you said it enough.

Rafe could see you thinking about the situation again despite what you'd just said so he grabbed your face to hold it in place. His eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“You know I'll take care of you right?” and you had no doubt he would, fuck Topper. You just needed Rafe. He would never betray you like Topper, he would never hurt you the way your brother did. He loved you.

“I know” you smiled sweetly at him before giving him a soft kiss, both of you enjoying the moment of peace before pulling away to turn the lights off. Sleep slowly engulfing you as you relaxed into the others touch. This is how it was meant to be.

If only you knew exactly what getting involved with Rafe Cameron would turn into.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x thornton!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #obx angst #obx imagine

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molinaskies · 1 year ago

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Sonic and the Mirror of Trauma: Scrapnik Island

Scrapnik Island is by far the most intriguing and impressive IDW Sonic miniseries so far. Daniel Barnes wrote an excellent story about recovering from trauma, struggling to escape your past, and facing the setbacks that come with both of those, and Nathalie Fourdraine and Jack Lawrence produced some beautiful art.

On its surface, the story has the potential to be a cheeky, cliché one-off akin to a spooky Halloween story (that started in December… hehe). But, when you look deeper at the plot and some of the tropes, and once you remember that it takes place between issue 56 (which I’ve crucially discussed at length) and issue 57, it suddenly becomes so much more important.

Mecha Sonic is a version of Sonic who has been forced to address the pain of his life and dabble with the consequences, and he represents the moment that Sonic has to face his own trauma—and that scares him.

Scrapnik Island sets off with the Scrapniks pursuing Sonic to help him, but Sonic, of course, has missed the memo. Mecha Sonic is hottest on Sonic’s trail, which stands out to me as not only is Sonic visibly afraid of Mecha (both from his sudden presence and from his memories of their last encounter), but he’s actively running away from his trauma, his past, his fear.

Even after Sonic’s been set straight on the Scrapniks’ deal, he’s still put off by Mecha Sonic’s silent demeanour and their history. So, Sonic treats him coldly, and this animosity triggers something deep within Mecha that he fights to starve off.

There is lots of visual storytelling to indicate that Sonic and Mecha Sonic are meant to be literary foils, but below is my favourite example. A flashback of a decommissioned Mecha Sonic fades into a present shot of Sonic “taking it easy,” but more so getting fed up with his situation.

Sonic is also particularly distrustful (and afraid) of Mecha Sonic, compared to the other Scrapniks. However, as time runs on, Sonic comes to an initial understanding of Mecha’s changed ways and wants to make peace. However, right after this, Mecha Knuckles attacks, Mecha Sonic defends and, in a way, sacrifices himself for Sonic, and things fall apart from here.

After Mecha Sonic is triggered during his battle with Mecca Knuckles (after a forceful encounter with Mecha Sonic’s past that sends him down a path of relapse), Mecha Sonic loses his ability to starve off Eggman’s primary programming. He turns on Sonic once again, but instead of serving Eggman, he strives to serve himself. While Mecha is falling victim to his traumatic past and coping mechanisms, the unfortunate thing about this is how it all reads to Sonic: another betrayal of his trust. It all calls back to Mr. Tinker, Metal Sonic, and Surge.

Mecha Sonic’s plan is to swap bodies with Sonic so that Mecha can use Sonic’s speed to escape the island, but the Scrapniks attack before the transfer can complete. This leaves Mecha and Sonic in an in-between state where they hear each other thoughts and feel each other’s feelings.

Even though Sonic states that the anger and sadness in his head is not his own, he’s still clearly shown to be feeling those feelings. They don’t originate from him, but their presence mingles with his own emotions to produce something darker and more irritated. Their presence also acts as a gateway of sorts, where the latent anger and sadness that Sonic can’t suppress makes it harder for him to put away his own feelings. Couple that with his physical pain from his sprained ankle (on the same leg he busted up a few issues prior), and soon, Sonic snaps for the first time in the entire IDW comic’s run.

I love whenever Sonic’s anger is allowed to shine because he is never enraged for petty reasons. Sonic has an attitude that often leads him to cranky comments, but Sonic is genuinely angry here because it hurts him to see someone speak so lowly of themselves, to have been hurt by the world so poorly. Mecha Sonic is also yet another person who has been created by Eggman’s terror specific to oppose Sonic. It’s another example of Surge’s “I will kill you or die trying” with the added complexity of Mecha’s attempt at redemption being corrupted by the trauma of Eggman’s influence. This puts pressure on Sonic because these impositions put Mecha, Surge, Kit, and others like them in direct opposition to Sonic for reasons entirely of no fault of his own—and that angers him. All Sonic strives to do with his life and his gift is help people, and to have so many people come out of the woodworks to say that the only thing he can do to help them is to kill himself is absolutely devastating to him. Not only because he believes in the direct opposite—that the only person who can give one purpose is oneself—but because it threatens to strip his own purpose away from him whenever these notions are unearthed.

Sonic isn’t angry at Mecha, personally. He’s angry at the system created to hurt them both.

The most important thing to remember is that, unless I fully missed something*, that strange mind-link thing between Sonic and Mecha Sonic is never undone. After Sonic cries Mecha Sonic’s tears, the story cuts to Tails officially deprogramming Mecha Sonic and Mecha Knuckles from Eggman’s directives, but it’s never explicitly stated that Mecha Sonic’s and Sonic’s mental link was reversed.

It can be reasonably assumed that it occurs off-screen (off-page? Outside of what is shown to the reader) because that would make general sense, but then again, so did the reprogramming, and that was explicitly mentioned. Further, it’s a general rule in writing for media that if you want something to be known about your story, it needs to be shown to the audience if not alluded to or directly referred to having happened. So, this is either an oversight, or it’s entirely intentional.

* The only way I can imagine this being accounted for is that the machine that linked Sonic and Mecha’s brains, the Egg Noggin, is (obviously) an Eggman device. Thus, whenever Tails removed Eggman’s programming from Mecha Sonic and Mecha Knuckles, perhaps it also restored Sonic’s brain to normal. This, however, feels like a bit of a stretch because we never see or hear of Sonic needing or receiving any treatment, but I am willing to consider it to be a viable reason. Either way, I think the point I’m about to make still stands as either a physical change or an emotional change in Sonic’s character.

This experience, this sharing of minds in such an intimate way where they can both so clearly hear each other’s hearts, taught them something. I read this as some sort of floodgates being opened, where while Mecha Sonic can more easily feel compassion and listen to the good in his core, Sonic now more clearly feels his anger and has a harder time suppressing his emotions. Whether there is lasting physical damage left in Sonic or he’s simply reeling from the depth of his emotions felt in this adventure, there’s been a clear impact.

Even if Sonic isn’t fully delving into things just yet, he’s taken a lesson away from all of this.

(From the IDW Endless Summer One-Shot, set between issue 64 and issue 65 and after the 900th adventure one-shot)

If nothing else, Sonic clearly understands trauma better now. Sonic is absolutely traumatized by his experiences with Eggman and other high-stakes adventures, but again, due to his tendency to push away his darker emotions, he hasn’t processed much of this. Sonic puts all his sadness and rage and fear and confusion into box after box after box before shoving everything onto a big, cluttered shelf, never to be seen again… until now. With such a clear look into the mind of someone actively reeling through trauma, a trauma so like his own, that shelf has collapsed, and now everything is spilling onto the floor before Sonic, quick as can be, can stop it.

Sonic is finally starting to understand the bigger picture, but I don’t think he’s fully on the path of self-awareness. I think there’s more boiling under the surface, more than even he realizes. And if Sonic keeps taking these micro-risks (instead of his usual Hail-Marys) that are fueled by his anger, like storming the Eggperial City too soon, then something will have to give.

Scrapnik Island is incredibly important to the IDW storyline because it showcases not only Sonic learning the depths of his pain and the pain of others but also yet another nail in Eggman’s coffin.

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scoonsalicious · 7 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, manipulation, one last super soldier betrayal.

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: You and Bucky finally have the long-awaited talk.

A/N: Ew, Steve.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

There was a gentle knock on the hospital room door, and Steve stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said softly. “Tony said you were awake. Is it okay if I come in?”

You shared a quick glance at Bucky, who shrugged. “Sure,” you said.

Steve shuffled into the room and stood awkwardly at the end of your bed. “I’m so glad to see you awake, Pocket. You really had us scared there for a minute.” Steve was using his official Captain voice, which immediately put you on edge. Why?

“Why are you acting weird, Stevie?” Bucky asked, and you were glad he also seemed to sense it.

Steve coughed into his fist. “I was, uh, actually hoping I could speak to Pocket alone for a minute, Buck.”

Bucky looked at you, then made a move to get off the hospital bed, but you held your hand out, stopping him. “No, Buck– stay; we’re not done.” You turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry, Steve, but I’m not ready for him to go just yet.”

“Oh, okay… well, I can come back later…” he began, but his manner was so bizarre, he now had you on your guard.

“I’m sure whatever it is you have to say to me, you can say in front of your best friend, Steve,” you said carefully, taking Bucky’s hand again.

Steve closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right, Pocket,” he said after a moment, “considering this concerns him, too.” You and Bucky exchanged a glance, both curious and a little wary of what the captain might have to say.

Steve gripped the bottom railing of your bed, as if relying on it for support. “I owe you both a sincere apology,” he said eventually. “You have to know, it was never my intention for things to go as far as they did; I never meant for you to get hurt, Pocket. You have to believe me.”

You were stunned into silence, not knowing what exactly Steve was referring to, and not sure you wanted to.

Bucky’s eyes widened in realization and he sat up straighter. “You son of a bitch,” he said, catching on to something you obviously hadn’t grasped yet. His entire body tensed up, and he spoke in a tone you’d never heard him use with Steve before– low, and angry. Furious. “I can’t believe you would fucking do that to us. To me. After everything.”

Steve looked down, refusing to meet Bucky’s eye, and you saw his cheeks redden with embarrassment. And shame.

“Uh, maybe it’s the after effects of the anesthesia, or the extensive blood loss, or all the recent head trauma, but, uh, I am not following,” you said, looking between both men. Bucky was staring daggers at Steve now. “What am I missing? What are you apologizing for, Steve?”

Bucky’s jaw was hard, and you could practically feel him grinding his teeth next to you. “You wanna tell her, Rogers, or should I?”

Steve swallowed, then eventually looked back up at you. “I was the one who approved Jade for the Russia mission. I… I made sure that she didn’t get on the Quinjet until it was too late for Bucky to get her off, so that he’d have to take her along.”

“What?!” you practically shouted. “Steve, why would you do that? You saw what happened to Rhodey because of her! Why would you put Bucky in danger like that?!”

“The same reason he put her in the room next door to me, doll,” Bucky said. “And the same reason he insisted I’d be the one to train her, even though I begged him to do it when she started becoming a problem.”

You frowned, not sure what to make of what Bucky was saying. Surely Steve wouldn’t… he couldn’t…

“I didn’t make you do anything, Bucky,” Steve said softly. “I just… manufactured some circumstances. You made your own choices.”

Things were slowly clicking into place for you. “Hold up,” you interjected. “Steve, are you saying you deliberately put Jade in Bucky’s path?” You looked at him, waiting for a response, but his silence and avoidance of your eyes was answer enough. “Why would you do that, Steve?” you asked, suspecting you already knew, yet not wanting to believe.

“When Bucky and I were younger,” Steve began, continuing to avoid your gaze, “back in the ‘30s and ‘40s, Bucky never stayed with one girl for very long. Didn’t want to settle down, commit himself.” Steve sighed and you felt Bucky tense up beside you. “He never meant to break anyone’s heart, but it still happened, all the same. When the two of you got together, I knew it was only going to be a matter of time… before he got… bored, and moved on.”

“Now listen here, you fucking punk,” Bucky began, moving to stand. You put a hand on his thigh, urging him to stay seated.

“Let him talk, Buck,” you said calmly, much more calmly than you actually felt. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

The look Bucky gave you was pained, as though he was terrified you were buying into Steve’s excuses. Steve seemed to think so, as well, because he continued, seemingly emboldened: “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt like that,” he went on. “I thought it would be better, for the both of you, if you realized it sooner, rather than later, when you’d both gotten in too deep, that it just wasn’t meant to work out between you.”

You gaped at him, speechless, while Bucky clenched and unclenched his fists beside you. “When you got shot, Pocket, when I saw how Bucky reacted to the idea of losing you, I… I realized his feelings for you were the real thing, that I never should have meddled. Not only did I help set you up for needless heartbreak, but I put you in danger. And I’m sorry.”

“You’re full of shit,” Bucky said, standing up now. He walked over to Steve, poking him in the chest. “You can pretend you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart all you want, but I know better. I know you. What was your endgame, huh? Swoop in and play the white knight? Be a shoulder for Pocket to cry on until she was vulnerable enough to give into you?”

Steve swallowed thickly, and you could hear the unspoken answer in it. Yes.

“I never meant for you to get hurt,” Steve said, looking to you with pleading eyes. “You have to believe me.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done!” Bucky shouted at Steve. “What you cost her, us!” He shoved Steve backward with both hands, and Steve took it. “She almost died– twice! She got shot, she lost our baby, all because of shit you helped put in motion! I don’t know how I can ever forgive you, man!”

“You’re not innocent in this, Bucky–” Steve began, and then realization overcame him. “Wait– what do you mean, ‘lost your baby?’” He looked to you. “Pocket, you were pregnant? Bucky was the father?”

This was too much. “Get out, Steve,” you said quietly, with no emotion in your voice.

“Pocket, I–” Steve tried, but you interrupted him. “I said ‘get out,’” you reiterated. “You may be my captain, but you and I? We can’t ever be friends again. Not after something like this.”

Steve looked distraught. “But you can forgive him?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward Bucky. “He fucked her, and you’re gonna let that slide?”

“Language, Steve,” you said mechanically, almost as if automated. “And whether or not I forgive Bucky is none of your business. All you need to concern yourself with is that I don’t forgive you. Now, please; get out. I can’t stand to look at you.”

“Pocket, please–” Steve tried one last time, but Bucky started backing him up toward the door.

“She said ‘out,’ Rogers.” Bucky said, holding the door open. “And if you don’t want me wiping the floor with your ass, I suggest you do as she asks.”

With a final, forlorn look in your direction, Steve Rogers turned and exited the hospital room.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

Text

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 11

Summary: You, Shane, Rick and Carl have split from the group to continue the search for Sophia in the woods.

warnings: child abuse (daryl)

see notes at the end of the chapter

You can’t shake the uneasy feeling twisting in your gut as you follow Shane, Rick, and Carl deeper into the woods. It isn’t just the worry about Daryl and the others—though, if you’re honest, there’s always a part of you that feels on edge when Daryl isn’t with you. No, this was something else. Something more ominous.

You tell yourself it’s the small numbers. The quiet. The thick brush of the woods making it easy for threats to hide. The fact that you’re stuck walking beside Shane, and things haven’t felt right with him since that night at the CDC. You’ve been weary of him ever since.

Rick and Carl are a few paces ahead, Rick’s hand resting protectively on his son’s shoulder, but you can barely focus on them. Your attention keeps flicking back to Shane, who walks in tense silence beside you, his gun gripped tightly in both hands. The air between you feels heavy, thick with something unspoken. If you still had your knife, you’re sure you could cut through it.

Shane's voice cuts through the stillness, “You go on ahead for a minute, Rick. We’ll catch up.”

Rick looks between the two of you, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Don’t wander far,” he says quietly, his hand tightening on Carl’s shoulder before they walk ahead.

You turn to Shane, your grip tightening around the hatchet at your side. He faces you fully now, his shoulders heavy with something you can’t place. After a long moment, he finally speaks.

“I didn’t mean for it to end up like this.”

A bitter laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “What, you didn’t plan on me showing up out of the woods? Or you didn’t mean to shove me against a wall and threaten my life?” The sarcasm drips from your voice, but inside, your heart is pounding.

Shane’s eyes flash with something—guilt, maybe—but just as quickly, his face hardens. “I acted outta character. People make mistakes.”

“Yeah, out of character…” you mutter, looking to where Rick and Carl disappeared. You swallow hard, turning back to him, your voice shaking slightly. “Shane, was I ever important to you? Did you even look for me when it all went down?”

“Of course I did—”

“Then why?” You interrupt him, voice cracking. “Why all of this? Why lie? Why tell Rick I was no one to you? You didn’t hide Lori—everyone seems to know what you two had going on before Rick came back.” You can’t keep the edge of betrayal from your voice.

Shane steps closer, towering over you, his face inches from yours. His voice drops low, dangerous. “I told you never to bring that up again.”

You stand your ground, refusing to flinch, though your heart hammers against your ribs. “Why hide us, Shane? What we were?” Your throat tightens, emotions clawing their way to the surface. “You told me you loved me.”

He sighs, voice quieter now but still defensive. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple,” you shoot back, your voice trembling. “I let my best friend push me away for you. He was always there for me, Shane. Every day, every night. And now… now he still feels far away, even when he’s next to me. You’re acting like I meant nothing, like we were nothing. And now you’ve made sure he’s too distant to even be close anymore.”

Shane clenches his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “That boy was no good for you. He still ain’t. The only thing he’s good for is shootin’ walkers and finding this girl. You had a future, and he was draggin’ you down, stuck in some trailer park with his junkie brother. You needed out.”

You scoff, the bitterness rising in your chest like bile. “Some future,” you say under your breath. Then, louder, “You don’t get it. You never did.”

Shane’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, something cutting, but then his expression shifts. “I was tryin’ to protect you,” he says quietly. “Even if you can’t see that.”

“Protect me?” You shake your head, the tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “You didn’t protect me, Shane. You broke me. Took away my only lifeline and threw me out once you had me,”

Shane flinches at that, but just like every other time, he doesn’t apologize. He just clenches his fists, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

And you can feel it—the answers you need will never come from him. The trust you had in him, the feeling of safety, even. It’s all too far gone. You start walking away from him, and after you take a few steps, you hear him follow behind.

As you’re finally catching up to Rick and Carl, Rick turns quietly to you and puts his finger up to his lips, quieting you. Immediately, your heart leaps out of your chest–expecting the worst. You feel your palms go clammy as you wait, expecting walkers, strangers–anything out here. You notice Carl slipping ahead of the group, eyes locked on something up ahead. At first, you think it's just another walker, but then you see the softness in his expression—something rare for him these days—and you follow his gaze to the buck standing still in the clearing.

Without thinking, you follow him. It feels almost instinctual, like some shared understanding in the silence. Carl’s still just a kid, and you know how quickly the world has forced him to grow up. This one moment, this quiet, peaceful sight in the chaos, feels like something he needs. Something maybe you need too.

So you walk beside him, neither of you saying a word, just taking it in together. A break from the constant fear. A smile spreads across your lips as you look down at Carl, who looks up at you at the same time when you reach next to him. You put a soft, guiding hand on his back to move him directly in front of you. You both freeze when the deer suddenly looks up at you, finally aware of the two of you. But when it doesn’t flee from whatever lack of instinct, you both take slow, steady steps to it. Carl lifts his hand, trembling in anticipation to touch the soft fur of the animal. You can hear the steady, careful breaths of the deer in front of you. It’s so close that you can make out the glistening moisture of its nose, the soft wisps of whiskers coming from its face , and the roughness of the adolescent antlers protruding from its head. Its ears twitch at the sound of something behind it.

A deafening crack suddenly splits the air–and everything goes black.

x Flashback x

Daryl

Daryl’s leg bounced as he anxiously waited for Merle to return home that afternoon–he had made a promise that today they’d go out and get burgers from the drive up spot that just opened up in town. Merle made fun of him when he asked, but Daryl remembers his brother’s eyes softening after a moment of thought, and promised he’d be here the next day. William Dixon was sitting in the living room too, unaware of the plans the boys made that day, a beer bottle hanging from his fingertips on the old recliner. The TV was on, his father cursing the newscaster briefly before reaching his hand up to change the channel. Daryl glanced over, hoping his father wouldn’t catch his eyes on him. His father was lean, but gangly. Merle took after him, being lean and muscled making them both intimidating. Daryl watched his father bring a cigarette up to his lips, and accidentally caught his eye.

“‘Chu lookin’ at, boy?” he said gruffly. Daryl’s body stiffened, his heart began pounding against his ribs. He mumbled ‘nothing’, looking down at his own hands in his lap. Where was Merle?

“Don’t you got nothin’ better to do than sit here twiddlin’ yer thumbs? Go get yerself a job, boy. Make yourself useful for once ‘stead of bein’ a free loadin’ punk takin’ up space in my house,”

Daryl was used to the harshness from his father, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when he heard it. Sometimes the words whipped him harder than his father’s belt, leaving far deeper wounds than you could see with a naked eye.

“Dad, I’m 6 and a half, I can’t—” he began quietly, but his father’s voice boomed over him.

“When I was yer age I was workin’ in the fields, making money for my family! Had to provide, see? Unlike you and your useless brother. Where is Merle, anyway?”

Daryl simply shrugged, looking down at his hands again. His father got up suddenly, grabbing Daryl by the shirt and dragging him through the house. Daryl’s skin lit on fire from the fear of what could happen next– what tool would his father use on him this time? Belt? Spatula from the kitchen again? But instead his father opened the front door and threw him onto the porch.

“Get outta my sight,” he growled, “don’t wanna see you again til you got yerself a job, hear me?” he slammed the door before Daryl could say another word.

He got up after he could steady his breath, his skin flushed with embarrassment, fear, and humiliation. He didn’t know how to cry anymore, really. Nothing ever came even when he felt like he wanted to scream and wail til his throat burned out. He made his way down his front porch steps, carefully avoiding the handrail that always gave him splinters. He suddenly realized as he approached the bottom, that Merle was probably never going to show. So instead of waiting at the house, he began to walk down the quiet street toward his only sanctuary–the woods.

He was setting up a snare for a rabbit he heard passing by when he heard fast paced footsteps coming from the trail. He was well hidden off the path, behind a giant willow tree that kept him from sight. As the panicked footsteps came closer, Daryl peeked around the safety of his tree to see a girl, probably the same age as him if not a little younger, racing down the path. She was frantically looking over her shoulder at something, knees scraped raw and cheeks flushed. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail that was falling out as she pushed it back out of her face. She froze on the path, head whipping around to find a good place to hide from whatever was behind her. Of course, the best tree in the immediate vicinity was the one Daryl was crouching behind, holding his breath. He watched assess the tree, accepting it as a suitable hiding spot when her eyes snapped to him. He pulled back to hide further behind the trunk, and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut in utter mortification that he’d been seen. He heard her before he saw her–her feet slamming into the ground and the brush that chafed against her legs. She came around the tree quickly, stepping on the snare he was working at, and pressed herself up against the back of it. Her breaths were coming out ragged, chest heaving and sweat coming off her face. She held a finger up to her lips as she looked down at him, wide eyed. Daryl didn’t know what to make of it as he looked up at her, frozen in place. Then he heard the voice of an older boy, deep and taunting.

“Come on out, pretty girl,” he yelled into the empty woods around him, “I know you’re in here,” he could hear the leer on the boy’s face, picturing the evil smile that twisted his features. Daryl looked up at the girl again, whose panic had her frozen in place, plastered up against the trunk of the willow. Her chest still rising and falling at an alarming speed, but she was still as a statue otherwise, eyes dissociating into the woods beyond them. The heavy footfalls were coming closer and closer, and Daryl suddenly felt this overwhelming anger coming up his throat. He was angry already at Merle, at his dad, and the state of his snare now, that he rose up to his feet, his fingers twitching and eyes narrowing. The little girl snapped her head to him, watching him with those wide eyes as he stepped into the eye line of the older boy. He was stocky, chubby even. His blond hair was spiked up with some sort of gel in it, the pimples on his face an ugly, bright red. When he looked over at Daryl, confusion flitted across his features before he wrinkled his nose,

“Who’re you?” the boy asked aggressively. Daryl was silent, waiting.

“I asked you a question, kid,” the boy said again, now coming closer to Daryl standing in the path. Daryl’s body began to shake, the anger silent but ready to strike. He wanted this kid to throw a punch, something—he wanted to fight.

Daryl clenched his fists at his sides, the heat of the moment igniting something deep within him. He could sense her presence just behind him, small and vulnerable, and that alone was enough to fuel his rage. “Like pickin’ on kids? Why don’t you go findah’ girl yer own age?” he shot back, his voice low but steady, surprising even himself.

The boy laughed, a sneer twisting his lips. “What’s wrong? Scared for your little friend?”

Daryl took a step forward, the world narrowing to just him and this bully. “She ain’t scared. You are,” he said, not breaking eye contact. In his peripheral vision, he could see the girl peeking from behind a tree, her eyes wide and worried. That look was all it took; he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. This kid wouldn’t get near her again.

“Yeah, come on, throw a punch,” Daryl challenged, his heart pounding. “I’m right here.” He wanted the kid to hit him, to give him an excuse to let it all out.

The bully hesitated, confusion flashing across his face. Daryl took another step forward, almost daring him. “You think you can scare me? Go ahead. I’ll take it for her.”

The boy surged forward suddenly, and Daryl, knowing his punch would come swinging, ducked and pushed his elbow into the kid’s stomach. He fell back, and Daryl began kicking at his sides. He heard the rush of the girl come over then, standing over the boy and watching Daryl. Something like courage must have washed over her as she stomped on the boy too.

“That’s what you get, jerk!” She yelled, throwing her fists on him now. The boy was whimpering, covering his face, and when the two of them pulled back, they looked at each other. Without a second thought, Daryl grabbed her hand and they ran.

Daryl was pulling her through the woods off the path–he knew these woods better than anyone by now, and behind a rock formation he got to know in the days Merle had left him. He brought her beside him, the only sound was their breaths coming out in heaves. They were looking at each other, smiles bigger than their faces could handle.

“Thanks,” she said, looking at him fully then. She had freckles across her nose, a cute nose and big eyes. She looked like she had just lost a tooth by the gap that showed in her teeth as she smiled. Her frayed t-shirt had a faded pony on the front, with denim shorts that looked a size too big on her. The sneakers she wore were covered in splatters of mud and faded grass stains. There were drawings in marker along the sides, clearly of her own doing. Her skin was tanned from probably spending a lot of time outside, the flush across her cheeks bringing out the sunburn she had on her nose.

He had never seen a girl like her before.

As they both caught their breath, Daryl’s smile faded and he looked down, realizing he was still holding her hand. As he went to release her, she held on tighter to him.

“What’s your name?” she asked, looking at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen in her whole life.

“Daryl,” he grumbled, he couldn’t help the small smile that came from looking back at her, “what’s yours?”

She grinned even more, Daryl amazed that it was even possible for her smile to get bigger, “Y/N,”

notes: in the next chapters to come, we're going to veer off cannon for a bit. The events will mostly stay true to the show, but with some changes here and there, more than they have been. hope you enjoy :)

#daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl one shot #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl twd #the ruins of us

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khuzena · 2 years ago

Text

Take my heart with you

Kaiser x fem!reader♡

Summary: you're the itoshi brothers' little sister, what could go wrong if you secretly dated kaiser?

Warning: the itoshi brothers hate each other but if anyone hit on their sister they team up rq, fluff to Angst. Kaiser being a sweetheart. Rin being the better brother🔥🙌. I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER AT THE END plS I SWEAR. Kaiser professing his love for reader in the most poetic way possible 🙌 possibly OOC but we dc

A/n: this is so stupid. Let's pretend they actually understand each other 💀💀💀. I swear I tried and I really love those old Rin, Sae and reader sibling hcs or chat fics i used to see on tumblr and i was like how about i add my own twist but reader dating kaiser.

You sneaked out of the house to go on a date with Kaiser. What could go wrong?

Answer: Everything.

You arrive at the restaurant, patiently waiting for Kaiser until you feel a hand on your shoulder, flinching by surprise.

"Shall we?"

"Y-yeah…"

Michael Kaiser who treats you like a gentleman for the entire night and spoils you, getting you anything you wanted in the restaurant.

"I kinda want macaroons but it's kinda expensive—", you say, complaining to Kaiser about the prices but a waitress walks to your table and you hear him whispering something to the waiter.

"Yes, madam we'll order some macaroons"

"What."

Michael Kaiser who surprises you with a Birkin bag for your 1 year anniversary, you're still surprised Sae and Rin haven't found out about the relationship.

"I— how am I supposed to explain to my brothers I randomly got a Birkin???"

"Easy, just tell them we're dating, it's not like anything bad is going to happen" Kaiser rolls his eyes thinking what could go wrong if your two brothers found out you're dating their rival.

Michael Kaiser who wears an awkward disguise but it surprisingly works well. Though you can't help but stare at him, his eye glasses accentuate his already good looks.

"Staring at me, schatz?" He teases, intertwining both your hands as you two enjoy the scenery in front of you.

You'd be lying if you said he didn't look good in those glasses, "W-well… the glasses suit you." Shyly looking away. The two of you have been dating for a year now but you still stutter and stumble when you're caught by surprise by him again and again.

"I know" he says confidently while pushing away your bangs to place a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Michael Kaiser who takes off his disguise and leads you two in a quiet area with no other person other than you two.

"You know if I had the chance to turn back time to fix my past I wouldn't change a single thing." He chuckles before pulling you closer to him by the waist.

You raise an eyebrow, not knowing what he meant. "Huh?" He leaned down to your level, holding you close and lips inches apart from each other.

"Because if I changed something then there's a chance I wouldn't be able to meet you, I'd rather go through that pain as a young footballer rather than live my life not meeting you." He whispered, smirking at your reaction. How could he say that so casually and expect you to act normal.

Michael Kaiser who takes you shopping and promises to take you out on another date like this.

"Kaiser, I don't wanna go home yet" you muttered quietly, hugging him as he patted your back.

Kaiser smiles at you, pulling away so he can cup your face with both his hands. "I know." He pulled you into a deep kiss before your phone rang and interrupted your moment.

Your eyes widen at the contact number.

"Oh shit it's my brothers… should I check the message?"

"Its okay go ahead"

Kaiser reads the chats with you, absolutely baffled by the brothers' efforts to stalk you.

"What the fuck." You both hear behind you, it was Sae's voice.

"I swear I can explain!" Yelling at the two but it's no use when they glared daggers at you and Kaiser.

Sae forced the two of you to ride back home, talking sternly to Kaiser while driving; Rin is still mad at the betrayal but he won't admit it.

"How long have you been seeing my sister?" Sae demanded an answer, still pissed for 3 reasons.

1. Not telling Sae you're seeing someone (he just wants to keep you safe)

2. You dating Kaiser (Sae and Rin absolutely do not trust that man)

3. The traffic

Kaiser gulps, looking back at you and looking back at Sae, never had he imagined meeting your brothers face to face again like this.

"Since last year"

…

"What." Rin felt his eye twitch, his nerves popping out of anger and confusion.

You hold your boyfriend's hand nervously, the atmosphere is so dreary it feels like your skin is getting grated every second from the anxiety prickling at your skin.

"You're gonna fucking use my sister and leave her crying like shit after you're done with her? The fuck do you want with her?"

"R-rin— that's enough…"

"I'm not done yet."

Kaiser entered the Itoshi household, he knew if he chickened out or shit the brothers would never approve of him. He took his shoes off and wore the slippers you offered him, you and Kaiser sit down at the couch and it's already making you uncomfortable.

"Listen here you German shit." Sae snarls at him, Kaiser has met Sae and Rin before and used to piss the two daily at blue lock, now he regrets ever doing it because it ruined his chances of getting along with his future brother-in-laws.

Anyone could tell Sae was pissed as hell, venom seethed from his throat and he swears if he could just smash the living shit out of Kaiser he would.

On the other hand though, Rin is absolutely avoiding your gaze. He's madder than Sae because he feels like he failed as your brother. That he wasn't good enough for you to share your secret with him.

"If you break my sister's heart I'll break your limbs at the next world cup. You hear me?" The eldest brother glaring down at Kaiser, if looks could kill Kaiser would've already been dead.

"And you." Gulping as you stare at the ground when Sae mentions you, hoping that this'll all end.

"Why the fuck did you think it's a good idea to hide a relationship like this for so long?"

"Because I knew you'd blow up like this— you're always so overprotective yet you were never here with me and Rin!" The two of you went at it, insults and insults, uneasiness filling the gaps of each corner. "What the fuck do you mean never here? I was working my ass off in spain to chase my dreams- to make you and Rin's life fucking easier!"

"I never asked you to do that for me! You're the worst person ever, I wish you weren't my brother." It accidentally slips out and Sae's eyes widen. When you look back at him you could see his breathing become uneven— that look in his eyes. The look of betrayal and guilt. He was taken aback at your reply.

You burst into tears before taking Kaiser's hand, pulling him out of the Living room and going outside.

"Michael lets go." You mumbled, it was freezing but none of it mattered. Tying your shoes before taking your shit with you.

Kaiser feels like needles were stabbing his chest, it felt like it was his fault that your relationship with your brothers strained even further— if it ever existed in the first place.

He says nothing as he watches you pathetically cry and run away from the household, catching up to you while pulling you closer to him.

"Shhh it's okay, breathe."

Kaiser rubbed circles on your back as you hyperventilated; tears streaming down your cheeks as you hugged him, looking for the comfort you could never find in anyone else but him.

"I-it's all my fault— I'm sorry for dragging you into this.."

"Breathe," he raised your chin, making you stare at him. It pained him to see you breaking down in his arms like this, "Breathe in and out, it's gonna be okay."

The two of you walk to a nearby playground, hand in hand as you two sit on the swings. Kaiser looks over to you… confusion, pity and sadness coming to him all at once. Maybe it was right that he should've left you alone when you first mentioned that you were an Itoshi.

"I'm sorry… I didn't expect it to go this way— I really am sorry." Sobbing as you hugged your legs together and cried onto your knees.

Kaiser only stares at you. His mouth goes dry as his mouth was left agape, his mind racing and he wants to say something but he doesn't know the right words that he should say. He could make you feel much worse and he didn't want to add to your stress so he kept quiet.

You two stay at the playground for hours until you hear footsteps slowly coming closer.

"Go home now, please."

Your eyes were dead, tugging onto your shirt as you shivered in both anxiety and from the cold weather. "R-rin?"

Rin looks over to you then Kaiser, feeling guilt. He should've said something earlier but he's always been a coward, always been a bad brother.

"Let's go home and eat dinner. You're hungry and you Kaiser… let's talk privately later." Rin's voice was hoarse, you could tell he's been crying. You nod and stand up, walking back home with Rin as Kaiser follows behind you two.

You three entered the house quietly, making sure to not disturb Sae. Rin looks down at the cold soup he made earlier, picking it up and reheating it while you and Kaiser wait at the dining table.

"Here… beef stew." Rin places the bowl down, preparing the dinner table. You watch Rin do all the work, you tried to help him but he refused. You could tell he was trying to ease the atmosphere. "So… when did you meet my sister.?" He asked, Rin was too ashamed to look any of you in the eye.

"I met her at the Blue Lock party a year ago then…" Kaiser pauses, looking over to you for affirmation as you nod at him, "We hit it off and she was nice, we exchanged numbers and we went on a date. She mentioned she was an Itoshi and I got nervous." He continued before taking a bite of the beef.

"Oh." Rin replied, it was awkward for everyone at the dining table. Just the clanking of the utensils against their own plates and whirring sound of the electric fan can be heard. But it's better than the deafening noise of continuous fighting with Sae.

"I know we fought a lot at the world cup and Blue lock but I'm willing to put that aside for my sister." Rin trails off. Rin was never good with words but he knew if he can't make amends with your lover then he'd hurt you in the process.

Kaiser takes a deep breath, his hands still clammy and sweaty. "I— me too."

You only watch the awkward interaction between the two, you were glad they were slowly starting to get along.

"Kaiser." Rin looks over to Kaiser and they stare at each other, but it wasn't hatred in their eyes, just regret.

"Promise me you won't break my sister's heart?" Your brother asked with desperation in his voice, you're the only one he had left and he couldn't and wouldn't bear to see you heartbroken. The first he's ever seen you heartbroken was when Sae came back from spain and abandoned you two. He doesn't want to see you break down over anything— anyone, ever again.

"I would never. I've known her all my life." The two Itoshis raised an eyebrow at his bold declaration.

"When I was a child I would pick flowers off the neighbor's lawn and imagine myself giving it to the girl I would love. When I grew older I would take pictures of breathtaking sceneries and hope that maybe I could bring my soon to be lover to those places again. When I got my first check I saved enough because I hoped to god I could meet the love of my life and spoil them with everything I have." Kaiser stares down at his plate, trying to avoid their gazes but he then looks Rin straight in the eye, his eyes brimming with a fiery determination Rin swore he only ever saw from other football players when their vision narrows on the ball, like an adrenaline rush.

"And I'm sure I've known her all my life and I'll spend my life meeting and learning to love her over and over again— so please. Let me be with her. I won't ever hurt her, if I ever did I would stop playing football because I dedicated my goals just for her. If I kicked and rolled the ball without meaning I'd rather not play it at all."

Rin's always loathed Bastard München's ace, Kaiser. But he feels his heart soften at his persistence to be with his sister. Never in his life has he seen a man so dedicated to ever go after his sister. Rin hates Kaiser for sure but he promised to put their past behind just for her.

"Alright… I'll let you have my sister but… keep your promise. She's the only one I have."

Your eyes soften at the scene unfolding Infront of you, happy that the two most important people in your life are getting along but there's one person left, Sae.

You all finish eating then helping Rin clean up the table. In the corners of your eye you noticed Kaiser wiping the table. "K-kaiser you dont have to!"

"It's nothing."

"W-well… I'm gonna go upstairs and uh get my stuff…" you gave a weak smile to the two, slowly walking up the stairs to talk to Sae.

The lights were dimmed and Sae wasn't in his room. Almost stepping on a sock you looked over to Sae, he was sitting down on the staircase; his hair messy and his eyes puffy.

"What do you want?" Aggression and hostility in his voice, he looked up to you. A few hours ago at the fight, Sae was beyond pissed at you but now… he looked broken, as if he realized something.

Note: sorry if the intro was so bad i dont know how to write anymore im cryigngggg. I mean i know how to but i def downgraded compared to my past fics istg. Sorry if there are too many mistakes, I'll try my best to satisfy my readers in the next part of the fic. 🙇‍♀️ Hope you enjoyed!

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#blue lock x reader #blue lock fanfic #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #itoshi rin angst #blue lock ansgt #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock #bllk angst #bllk fluff #what have i done #pls comment any suggestions im begging you guys #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock fluff

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ghenry · 7 months ago

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Rewatched the Avatar TLA series with my partner recently, and fell in love with the world and characters all over again. I especially love the journey Zuko goes through the show as a character.

Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai. He seems pretty by-the-books at first as this angry villain, but something that makes him immediately unique for this kind of setting is his young age. He's barely older than Aang, our child protagonist.

"You're just a child." "Well, you're just a teenager!"

Although early on you start getting the idea that there's more nuance to him than this villain trying to incapacitate our protag, he shows some depth in his character here and there, usually through his uncle Iroh, a wise warrior that's there to aid and comfort his nephew, joining his banished trip on his own accord. While he's on the villain's side, it's worth noting he never hurts or intimidates innocent people, only ever fighting those already attacking or threatening him.

Even so, Zuko made it blatantly clear what his intents were. "I must capture the avatar to regain my honor." And he barely changed his mind about this throughout the entire first season, even when the two helped each-other out of hopeless circumstances, hinting that they're not meant to be sworn enemies.

"If we knew each-other back then, do you think we could've been friends too?"

Knowing the show and how it transpires across all 3 seasons, it's interesting seeing the intent the writers and showrunners had for these characters, and their hidden depth, all the way back in this first season. One of the finest examples would be Iroh sharing Zuko's history with fellow soldiers. A history which helps said soldiers --and in turn, the audience-- empathize with him.

Behind Zuko's scarred face is a story about a boy already feeling lost and unsure of himself, stumbling into a tragedy where his father --in sheer arrogance-- abused his son to a high degree in front of all his subordinates, in a heinous act he would call punishment.

Ever since then, he was banished to travel across the world to search for the avatar, a task his father felt was worthless, but was the same as leaving him out to die. This isn't the origin of a villain, but a downtrodden individual who couldn't find his place in life.

What Zuko called "honor" over and over again wasn't that, but his father's love. He already lost his mother, and instead yearned for his father's approval and affection. This culminated to his ultimate betrayal, siding with his sister and turning his back on his uncle, which lead to his imprisonment. During a crossroad and moment of insecurity, he threw his uncle Iroh to the wolves because he thought he would regain his honor and earn his right to be a part of his family once again.

Zuko would be welcomed back into his family, he retrieved what he thought was his honor --and what he thought was genuine love from his father.

"You have redeemed yourself, my son."

But even then, he still felt lost, alone, and without a sense of direction. Nothing changed, his soul still felt incomplete.

"For so long, I thought that if my dad accepted me, I'd be happy. My dad talks to me, he even thinks I'm a hero! Everything should be perfect, right? I should be happy now, but I'm not! I'm angrier than ever, and I don't know why!"

It took him a long time (about 2 and a half seasons) to realize he didn't need this sense of "honor" and what he was chasing was just a farce. His father only showed Zuko "love" when he seemed useful, an asset that was helping his fascist conquering of multiple nations by killing the Avatar.

All of this drew to an enthralling, terrifying, heart-wrenching moment between him and his father during the day of the eclipse. He used the minutes they could not fire bend as an opportunity to let out the truth and his own epiphany. He admitted that he never killed Aang --didn't even try, for that matter-- and that he's going to help him defeat his father's regime. Ozai immediately despised Zuko for this, proving his 'love' was conditional and hollow. And at that moment, as soon as the eclipse ceased, he attempted to kill his own son right then and there in a moment that never fails to draw tears out of me as soon as it happens.

Zuko survived his father's lethal attack, only by sheer will, and a lighting-redirection technique his uncle happened to teach him a while back, emphasizing how important Iroh is to him. Iroh is the father figure that truly loved Zuko unconditionally. Ozai, his biological father, could only grant him death. His uncle Iroh, at that moment, inadvertently granted him life.

And Zuko's story (mostly) ends in the middle of the 4-part finale. With the help of his friends, he tracked down Iroh who escaped from prison. The moment he sees his uncle, he breaks down as he's horribly ashamed of his actions, expecting Iroh to shun him as he feels he does not deserve his uncle's love after what he did to him.

"I was never angry with you . . . I was sad, because I was afraid you lost your way."

But Iroh doesn't hesitate to embrace him. Like I said, his love is unconditional. He knew Zuko wasn't evil, he was only being manipulated by the likes of his father and sister. He knew Zuko would find the right path, restore his own honor, and come back to him. It's such a beautiful moment and the soul-piercing conclusion to Zuko's story, a story they were building up since the literal first episode.

Of course, there's also Azula, his sister. She was considered a prodigy with her amazing fire bending abilities, mastering the skill of bending lightning, something only her father and uncle were able to do before her.

She was a spitting image of her father; fierce, manipulative, wrathful, the only thing she shared with her brother Zuko was their sense of determination. But we don't learn what really drives Azula until the finale. It's similar to Zuko. He felt incomplete without his father's love. While this was implied before the finale, Azula felt she was missing her mother's love.

While I think the argument could be made that this was just her own projection, it's important that this shows how --despite her more respected place in their family and nation-- she was just as broken and spiritually lost as Zuko. While Ozai showered his daughter with praise for all of her life, Azula felt her mother didn't love her, which ate away at her, deep inside. Much like Zuko, who felt he was fighting to earn his father's love.

Azula, to me, represents Zuko's future if he let his father manipulate him, just like Azula did to him. Would he have become this tyrannical fire lord if he just listened to his father, abandoned his inhibitions, and ensured his nation's regime? Maybe. But like Azula's interrupted crowning, it would have been shallow, lonely, and without any real sense of self-worth. Nothing to show for it but a broken mind.

Instead, Zuko became the fire lord on his own terms, and with the entire world in support of him, as he helped this quest for peace and balance across the nations. He earned his place in life through his own will, his own actions, and his amazing uncle who only wanted the best for him. He restored his honor himself, with lifelong friends by his side.

That's it, that's all I wanted to write about. This show rules.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #prince zuko #azula #uncle iroh #fire lord zuko

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hetafice · 10 months ago

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Yesssss yandere hetalia!! Can I request yandere Russia

hey! i’m combining this with another request that asked for ivan with an introverted s/o. hope you enjoy nonetheless.

yandere!russia headcanons :

Ivan is a man who contains innumerable facades. Vulnerability is hard to get from him, which is why he is so taken aback when he meets his darling. Anyone special enough to catch his attention and keep it must have some sort of hold over him -- and he cannot have that.

He would initially try to distance himself from you, and then after realizing that does not work, he would try to exercise as much control over the situation as possible.

He takes an almost managerial role, employing the use of strict guidelines and occasional punishments to gain a semblance of control.

Once he acknowledges his feelings towards you he will sit and machinate ways to get you to reciprocate his feelings. He regards you as an object that he needs to get sooner rather than later. He would understand that it might be difficult to get you to come off your own volition, so he is not entirely against using force to get you to be with him should his attempts at courting fail.

Ivan often finds himself exhibiting certain behaviors not because he wants to, but because he thinks that these behaviors are what a normal person would do. This leads him to think that presenting himself in a certain way would make you feel comfortable around him, or win your romantic favor -- in reality, they end up coming off as stilted and strange.

If he ends up entering a long-term relationship with you, he’ll likely stop putting up airs, leaving you interacting with someone much more stoic and withdrawn.

Contrary to popular opinion, he is not really hotheaded or quick to violence, and will not let his true emotions overtake his carefully curated mask very often. He is a quick thinker and will remain efficient under pressure. However, should you do something to upset him, he will act quickly and decisively. He loves you deeply, but to him, to truly love someone is to try and bring the best out of that person. He will do so by whatever means necessary.

That isn’t to say that he’s always cold though. He’s happy to dote on you should he think the situation calls for it.

Ivan, however, is no stranger to betrayal. Should you try to leave, exhibit suspicious behaviors, attempt to undermine his authority, or oppose him politically -- there will be dire consequences.

Unlike other yanderes, he has no qualms about hurting you. Ivan witnessed extreme horrors during his childhood, and as such is desensitized to most violence. He will not harm you unprovoked, but should you test him, you will find out how cold and cruel he truly can be.

A more introverted partner may actually suit the life he has planned out for them. Once he finds love he is likely to whisk his partner off to the countryside for a time, rarely to be seen in public.

In the event of an extended business trip, he may take you along, depending on the location. Like countless things before you, people will try and use you against him. Because of this, he would never expose you to an enemy. Should he have a trip domestically, or somewhere he deems low risk he will take you with him. If not, you are expected to sit content in your idyllic countryside home until the two of you can bask in each other’s company again.

Ivan is not super controlling, but he does have a set of rules that you are meant to abide by.

He also places importance on appearances, so you would be coached on how to conduct yourself in formal situations so that onlookers would have nothing negative to say about the two of you. That is why he may implement dress codes, or designate certain discussion topics as off-limits.

After sequestering you away in the middle of nowhere, if you perform well enough, he may move back to the city. He can use extreme methods, but he is not a complete monster. On a deep subconscious level, he craves normalcy. So seeing you navigate life around other people but still choosing to come back to him “willingly” may help him feel vaguely fulfilled.

He is the type to allow you to pursue most hobbies, and would not stop you from expressing individuality or possessing a sense of self. He does however want to make sure that you constantly view yourself as not just an individual, but as a part of a unit. With everything you do, there needs to be a consideration of how it’ll affect both of you.

In his more subdued moments, he treasures domesticity and would like to occasionally dote on you. He'll be pleased if you occasionally let him cook for you or pick out your outfits.

On the same token, he wants to feel as though you depend on him. Not enough to where you can’t exist without his constant care, but enough to know you are appreciative of all he does for you, and that you are hesitant to leave him.

If you follow the rules and do not awaken his feelings of intense paranoia, you can live somewhat normally.

#yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #yandere russia #hws russia #hetalia #requests are still open!#hetalia headcanons #i'm gonna hide this in the tags #but i hate the interpretation of russia as some unhinged madman #like yes he is deeply traumatized but he still has his wits abt him #like to me he is a deeply intelligent man #idgaf the tortured madman troupe is derivative #anyways hope u enjoyed

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deletarius-draws · 2 months ago

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A sketch composition of Solus Aximand (one of Tavs) during his time as a mercenary and gladiator. Nicknamed "Mountain Dog of the Pits".

Everyone else are faces he used to work with at the stage of his life as a "Critmin" Gladiator and Mercenary.

It’s a quick concept art piece that’s meant peek into Solus’ more chaotic lifestyle, to serve as imagery for a section of his backstory. I wanted to provide quickly sketched imagery along with some character lore and bios, so it’s not just words. That aside I’ll go ahead and get into a condensed version of Solus Aximand’s background, more so his Mercenary arc, before his joining into the Monk Monastery.

Solus' time as a mercenary was miserably grueling and filled with perpetual battles. He would push himself to his limits, spurred by the desire to never feel weak or vulnerable again. His survival guilt and determination to become a capable warrior would fuel his relentless training and combat efforts.

Solus struggled with the immoral actions of the mercenary group. Often finding himself at odds with their ruthless methods, leading to internal conflict and a sense of isolation.

Due to their moral and personality differences Solus would maintain a professional distance from his fellow mercenaries, seeing them as nothing more than necessary allies rather than friends. He would avoid forming close bonds, fearing betrayal and further emotional pain.

Solus' intensive militaristic training by his uncle Nemeus and determination would earn him respect, but his reluctance to fully embrace the ways of The Critmin Mercenaries made him a target of suspicion and distrust.

Solus' develops feelings for Kharmine. The female human barbarian that found him. He would be drawn to her strength and resilience, seeing her as a beacon of hope and stability in his chaotic life. But this is an unrequited Love.

Despite his deep affection, Kharmine would not reciprocate Solus' feelings. Kharmine only sees him as a useful asset and a loyal companion but would remain emotionally distant and unattainable.

Kharmine's Manipulation: Kharmine often exploits Solus' feelings to her advantage, using his loyalty and devotion to further her own goals and those of The Critmin organization. This manipulation would deepen Solus' emotional turmoil, leaving him feeling used and betrayed. Her only intent was making him a loyal attack dog, she knew no matter how dire the heat of combat escalated, he'd be willing to take risky and reckless actions to ensure her and The Critmin's victory. Kharmine's only focus was The Critmin Mercenary organization's well-being and the ambition of their fanatic leader.

**Psychological Effects on Solus:**

The combination of unrequited love, moral conflict, and the trauma of Solus' past would leave Solus in a state of constant emotional turmoil. He is haunted by feelings of guilt, anger, and grief, struggling to find a sense of purpose and belonging.

Despite his inner struggles and conflicts, Solus' experiences forged a deep resilience and hardening resolve within him. Driven by a desire to avenge his loved ones and prove his worth, using his pain as fuel for his relentless pursuit of what he'd consider justice.

The revelation of the supposed purpose of his Aximandian lineage and the betrayal by his uncle would leave Solus questioning his own identity and worth. Aximand and/or Axia are forged and destined for war and attrition, something his Uncle tried to deeply conditon into him. However, this would conflict with the heroic tales and stories read to him by his mother. He wanted to be a hero, not a soldier fighting an eternal war of any kind. He would come to realize that certain compromises must be made in order to survive. Even if that results his moral integrity, but he refuses to give in to needless abhorrent acts that his fellow mercenary and gladiatorial members would take part in.

Solus would occasionally grapple with feelings of internal self-doubt and insecurity, constantly seeking some form of validation and redemption. This caused Solus to take on dangerous quests or risky ventures to distract himself from his internal conflicts or other jobs that help distract him.

Solus' inability to form meaningful connections with his new companions and the unrequited love for Kharmine would leave him feeling profoundly lonely. This loneliness would be a constant companion, shaping his actions and decisions as he navigates his new life as a mercenary.

Solus is plagued by survival guilt, constantly questioning why he survived when so many others did not. This guilt would drive him to push himself harder, striving to become a powerful warrior capable of protecting his allies.

The constant exposure to violence and brutality would further desensitize Solus, hardening him emotionally. Kharmine's Manipulation and harsh training would push Solus to become more ruthless and efficient in combat, but at the cost of his empathy and compassion. The immoral actions of the mercenary group would gradually erode Solus's own moral compass. He would find himself making compromises and engaging in actions he once would have condemned.

Despite his hardened exterior, Solus would continue to struggle with inner conflict. The disparity between his actions and his sense of honor would create a deep-seated tension within him, leading to moments of doubt and self-reflection.

---‐---------

[ Here's a Part of Solus' origin after his home town was in ruin, I'll post the full synopsis separately, this post is solely Mercenary/Gladiator Solus info. How Solus met the Critmin mercenary group. ]

(This section starts off upon Solus' defeat against his uncle Nemeus and the eldritch-looking cambions. Everything prior will be in a seperate post.)

Solus declared his Uncle Nemeus a traitor, saying that he would avenge his mother, friends, and other family members. Solus' body is broken and worn, the demon soldiers that relentlessly battered him, mock him as he lies there with half his face in a puddle of blood and mud. His right eye above puddle level, still fixated on Nemeus.

Solus, disoriented and on the brink of passing out, hears garbled noises, prompting the cambions and Solus' uncle Nemeus to leave him there, figuring Solus' wounds would undoubtedly kill him. Nemeus unfolds his arms and orders the oddly eldritch appearing cambions to retreat, the figures walk out of Solus' line of sight before Solus' vision grows dark and he inevitably loses consciousness.

Despite his deadly wounds, Solus survives and awakens hours later, attempting to rise to his feet.

Solus looks around, only to be reminded that his visceral nightmare was real; in deep sadness, he spends his time burying the remains of his loved ones. In the pouring rain, he salvaged everything he could from their broken bodies. He would gather what remembrances he could as well as pictures and trinkets in his backpack before leaving his eradicated home town.

Solus becomes a wandering hermit for months after leaving his ruined hamlet grieving, where he had served as a watchman. A Barbarian mercenary woman and her companions discover him. Solus was curled up in a small crevasse he had made his own in a mountain. His ears twitch as he hears footsteps approaching him, his head tucked behind his bruised and bloodied knees.

Peering down at Solus, She laughs at his vulnerability before ordering Solus to get up. "Well well, look at the size of you, yet so pitiable." She raises her large axe adorned with extravagant gems crested within bands on the handle and points it at Solus' unkempt, coiled hair. Solus flinched with his palms jittery facing forward helplessly. "Rise. You're coming with us, consider yourself a recruit." Solus glances up at her, a large woman with years of battle defining her musculature and posture.

She stood proud and firm in the sunlight that gleamed over and through her tousled hair. Solus could've sworn he saw a halo behind the silhouette of her head. Her face in shade, revealing the intense battle scarring of her face, yet there was still a sense of grace, elegance and allure to her. She snaps Solus out of his trance with her imperious voice, "Do you intend on rotting there in decay...If so, I'll leave you to the wilds then."

She turns to walk away, but Solus mutters short in desperation and struggles to hoist himself up, his wounds not yet healed and his muscles and bones trembling. His curly, kinked hair obscuring his eyes. The Barbarian woman looks him up and down, surprised by his stature, and then cracks a smile "About time. You will call me Kharmine. Come on, lets get some food in you; you're beginning to resemble a 'bagman'." Solus limps as one of the mercenaries approaches cautiously to assist him.

Solus begins a new life as a mercenary and gladiator at age 21 to 24. The mercenary group called themselves "The Critmin". Solus still feels great sorrow and survival guilt as the sole survivor of his uncle Nemeus' betrayal and treachery.

Solus realizes that he must push himself from now on in order to become a skilled warrior capable of protecting and assisting his comerades in the heat of combat and attrition. Solus was a skilled fighter and showed great promise as a child in training, but at a certain point in his late teens (17 -19) he became complacent in his skills. His uncle Nemeus and Town gaurdsman mentors would strongly advise he continues his intensive training. But Solus at the time felt that he didn't have to train as hard since he wasn't an actual soldier. Solus strongly feels that his complacency is why he was ill prepared to save anyone from his hometown.

Solus' only desire is never to feel weak or vulnerable again, and is insecure about seeming inadequate, becoming increasingly terrified of failure.

Solus begins working jobs under The Critmin's name and is involved in an intense yet complicated intimate relationship with Kharmine.

Due to the Mercenaries' unethical behavior and their growing discontent of Solus. He would suffer from impostor syndrome as a result of the abhorrent crimes committed by the "Critmin" organization. Solus would eventually abandon the The Critmin mercenaries at the age of 24, taking with him any recollections and meaningful trinkets he kept close from his hometown.

Although, this wasn't a peaceful departure, Kharmine and other Critmin mercenaries he once deemed comrades would catch on to his attempt to abandon the organization. He was valuable, if a bit merciful when it came to specific circumstances. Solus' abilities and battle experience were beneficial.

They needed him nonetheless, and they don't allow individuals who quit the organization go without a lethal parting mark, or live at all. Kharmine and the others waited for him at a checkpoint he arranged to abandon the Critmin organization. Solus would confront Kharmine and the mercenaries she brought with her. She was tasked with bringing Solus back, but Solus refused to be chained any longer, being used as an instrument for the Critmin's wicked aspirations.

Solus needed a new stable structure, to find another way of achieving his own goals and vengence against Nemeus. Working under The Critmins wouldn't benefit him in any way, they only further damaged and stagnated him. Solus would conclude this arc of his life by battling Kharmine and the other Mercenaries to the death in order to continue his journey. It was a savage struggle in which Solus finally unleashed all of his suppressed rage, bitterness and vengeance. Even yet, it was merely a taste of the High Wood Elf hybrids' 'golden green ire'.

After becoming a vagabond hunting beasts and aiding locals for several months, in search of a new purpose, still grieving and bent on a rage that continues to consume him. He would eventually reach a Warrior Monk Monastery at the age of 25. (Unsure on which Monastery our buddy Solus joins at the moment. Haven't made up my mind on that yet. lol)

A peaceful place, a place that would provide Solus routine, structure, mindful meditations, proper sleep, calming exercises further increasing his strength and mental fortitude. Solus sought some form of peace, however this wanting of peace being what was left of his old self, would perpetually conflict with his deeper feelings of regret, loss and vengence that would also encourage him to seek power. Enduring pain, allowing it to swallow him whole, while ignoring most pleasures. He felt it was the only way he'd stand any chance against his traitorous uncle.

This broiling golden green flame within Solus needed control, the bloodlust of his war addicted Aximandian lineage would need to be quelled for focus and enjoy moments of true prolonged peace and his body needed to be further disciplined. Sculpted into something immovable yet mobile, a tempered weapon beyond that of a blade, axe or hammer.

Meditations would allow Solus to cultivate and focus his golden green ire, increasing focus, calming his Aximandian bloodlust and sharpening his vengeful intent. Solus is less reckless, more in tune and mindful of his emotions. Becoming and remaining calm and unperturbed. Of course the down side to this is that his vengeful intent and latent rage is laid dormant by the Monastery's teachings and training. Solus was growing numb, passion beginning to die...

- To be continued. I'll go in depth further once I've fleshed out his short time as a warrior monk, trying to reignite what had been dimmed, though not fully extinguished. Solus Aximand isn't a typical High Elf and carries a mysterious genetic essence that lies within Aximandian warrior blood. (Somthing Solus has very little knowledge of, and kinda doesn't care much for since it has to do with his Uncle Nemeus' mental conditioning, or anything to with Nemeus for that matter... he hates that man. Lol)

- You've my absolute and humblest gratitude for reading this far. It means a lot, greatly. :)

Any questions, thoughts or feedback is most welcome and appreciated. I'll probably be editing around and added little things to this while working on other information, bios and characters that connect to this.

Also please forgive me if it jumps around a bit. I've been adding different sections over time. It's more of an about Solus during this time rather than a well segmented bio as for right now.

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