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gaiussleechtank · 3 months

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It was one of those nights: the peaceful ones where both King and Court Warlock could shed their titles and just exist as two friends sharing cups of wine beside a fire. Both were silent as they nursed their drinks and basked in the dim lighting the fire provided Arthur’s dark chambers.

Merlin was lying across the floor on top of countless pillows and blankets, parallel to the hearth of the fireplace. His feet were bare as he had kicked off his boots hours earlier and the cords of his tunic were pulled extremely loose. Merlin’s legs were crossed one over the other as one hand played with a lock of his own hair as the other blindly traced the engravings of his goblet.

Arthur was sat his chair above Merlin, facing the fire and looking down at the peaceful man. He was glad that Merlin’s eyes were closed because it allowed the King to openly stare. For someone who was regarded to be so aware of everything all of the time - Merlin has not once ever cottoned on to Arthur’s gaze on him. In a way, it was reassuring that Arthur didn’t have to fear being caught by the very man he was observing. But it another way it was far too frustrating: Arthur nearly wanted to be caught and then in turn be forced to admit his reasons for staring.

For the Goddess’ sake, how could Arthur not look anywhere but Merlin with the man lying so enchantingly in front of him, doused in the golden light of the flames?

How could he lay his eyes elsewhere when nothing and no one else brought him nearly as much happiness and fulfilment in his heart than Merlin?

How could he when Merlin was everything that he loved?

The nearly empty goblet rested on his lap with his hands encircling the rim, it would be stupid to say it.

“Merlin?” Arthur broke their silence.

Merlin hummed in response, he didn’t move nor open his eye, but the tone of his voice easily told Arthur that he was listening.

“I’m in love with you.” Oh, fuck.

The body in front of him stilled. Merlin’s hand retracted from his hair as he slowly sat up. Arthur couldn’t tell you when the Warlock’s eyes had opened but he could give you a thousand words at least on what it felt like to be under their unending gaze. Merlin didn’t look away from Arthur as he got to his feet and came to stand in front of his King.

Merlin might not have ever been aware of when Arthur’s eyes were on him - but Arthur was far too aware of Merlin’s piercing stare. The King averted his eyes and stared down at the lingering mouthful of wine in his cup, listening to Merlin’s few footsteps.

A hand slid underneath Arthur’s jaw and half cupped the side of his face: hesitantly, Arthur let himself be guided to look up at Merlin. Had it been anyone else, this would have been so dangerous - to willing put his heart and mind at risk by giving someone else so much control over him would have been a death wish if it were anyone else.

Yet this was Merlin, the one person in his life that he would faithfully trust the world with to the ends of time.

It was sad eyes that Arthur saw. Not angry. Not disgusted. Not hurt, or even happy. Sad, sad, eyes that Arthur would nearly say were brokenhearted.

Merlin sighed with a pained and defeated expression. “Not again.”

“What?” Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.

Merlin smiled with a soft pain, his thumb stroked over Arthur cheek as he said, “You don’t love me, Arthur.”

“I- I do.” Arthur stammered, he hadn’t anticipated out right refusal, denial and disbelief as an outcome. “I do love you, Merlin.”

Merlin swallows and seemed to choke back tears.

“No, Arthur, you don’t.” He repeated. “This is a love enchantment, this has happened before. You aren’t in love with me.”

The words were far too rehearsed, Merlin’s expression too knowing and understanding. Arthur felt like a petulant child being gently corrected on the truth. Had this really happened before? Had Arthur been enchanted to be in love with Merlin before?

“Merlin, I know my feelings, please believe me.” Arthur begged in futile.

“I don’t think you realise how badly I want to, but I can’t.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s confession - even though the feelings were reciprocated, Arthur was still being rejected - but he saw it. He saw all of the held back and restrained love Merlin held in his eyes for Arthur. He finally was bearing witness to Merlin’s affection, only because the Warlock was allowing him to.

“Is it really so unbelievable that I love you that you are convinced my mind is under the control of a spell of potion?”

“I know you love me - in the way friends love one another, brothers even.” Merlin stressed, his words clearly hurting himself. “But you don’t love me the way I want you to, you never have and you never will.”

“You do want me to love you like this?” Arthur countered.

Merlin closed his eyes and shakily let out a sob, his hands ran from Arthur’s jaw and face, around the King’s neck and weakly grasped at the back of Arthur’s head. He pressed his face into Arthur’s hair, Arthur pulled Merlin in closer and strung his arms around the Warlock’s waist and back: he could feel Merlin weep.

“You won’t remember this conversation, you never have, so why not?” Merlin muttered with a bitterness that surprised the King. “I have loved you for years, Arthur, what I feel for you goes beyond the devotion of prophecy and bond of friendship. I’ve always known that you will never feel the same.”

How his heart ached on the verge of breaking: Merlin loved him. He was in love with Arthur. He felt the same as Arthur but clearly awful past experiences that Arthur cannot remember are preventing him from acting on the truth.

Arthur tried to speak but was cut off before he could even utter a syllable.

“No, Arthur, please stop.” Merlin said, slipping out of Arthur embrace. He looked so guilty.

Merlin believed Arthur not to be in control of his mind and actions, he believed Arthur to be susceptible to anything. Though Merlin was nowhere near the kind of person to take advantage of someone under the influence of something mind altering. Even though this ‘supposed potion or enchantment’ was giving him what the Warlock wanted, Merlin still held back and refused.

Even such a simple embrace, the kind of embrace that was becoming more commonly between them as the years progressed seemed to wreck so much regret through the man - Arthur wanted to shake him and scream at how wrong Merlin was: that he could and was consenting to any any hold or touch Merlin could or would give him.

Arthur stood up and met Merlin far too closely. Their faces were mere inches apart, dangerously so. The King saw how badly Merlin wanted to give in, he could see the arguments and thought process that Merlin was going through.

His hand hovered over the side of Merlin’s face as leaned in closer.

“Don’t.”

He froze.

“You’re not in the right state of mind.” Merlin breathed out, more for his own sake than Arthur’s.

Arthur hand fell to his side but he didn’t move away.

“Please tell me how I can prove my honesty.” He asked.

Merlin looked down with resignation and then turned away to the doors.

“Come, Sire, follow me.” Merlin murmured as he left.

He hadn’t called Arthur ‘Sire’ in years, not even in heated arguments did Merlin enforce that distance between them. It spoke tales to Arthur on how hurt his best friend was. He dashed after Merlin, it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of weary footsteps.

They were heading for Merlin’s laboratory. Arthur caught up with broken hearted Warlock and joined their hands together - Merlin allowed it.

Met with the smell of dodgy potions, old books, strong herbs, ash and numerous other smells that Arthur had grown familiar with associating with Merlin’s experiments, Arthur saw and felt Merlin relax slightly. They were on his ground now, they followed his rules.

Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand and took his chair that he always sat in when observing Merlin work.

“You stare a lot.” Merlin said as he leafed through shelves of bottles - no doubt searching for a cure-all potion that he had concocted in earlier years.

“I always have, you’ve just never noticed.” Arthur replied honestly.

Merlin sighed for the thousandth time that hour and stood up straight and returned to Arthur, bottle in hand. It was a small vial with opaque pink liquid filling less than a third of the bottle. He stood on the other side of the work bench and handed over the vial of anti-serum.

Wordlessly and without hesitation Arthur uncorked the bottle and drank his mouthful. Setting down the bottle, he leaned closer to Merlin, head propped up by his elbow, hand under chin, staring at Merlin patiently.

The Warlock also leaned closer, gold creeping into his eyes without a single incantation as he analysed Arthur’s reaction to the potion. The world seemed to hold its breath as it waited for the two men to get onto the same page.

“Well, am I really under an enchantment?” Arthur asked after a very long pause.

Merlin’s mouth fell open as his brow and eyes once again creased into tears.

“No… You aren’t.” Merlin managed to say, covering his face as he cried.

Arthur stood up and joined Merlin on the other side of the workbench. He pulled the shocked and relieved and sobbing Warlock into another hug. Both holding onto each other equally tight.

“I love you, Merlin.” Arthur promised his Warlock firmly.

#it’s so late #should be asleep #merthur brainrot when i should be asleep #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #angst #fanfiction #merlin fanfic #merlin thoughts #court sorcerer merlin #king arthur

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sepublic · 5 months

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In lieu of my latest reblog about people taking compelling characters and projecting their writing onto some other (usually white) dude, I want to bring up a post I had drafted all the way back from April, but never posted because at the time I still had enough patience not to. But now is different. I do think this analysis is a bit outdated because it doesn’t consider the mediocre white dude angle of Belos that I find paramount, but it’s good enough for my repurposed point.

I find it funny when some people complain that the narrative was unfair to Belos despite his “trauma” and circumstances, like there aren’t multiple characters out there who parallel his issues, and get sympathy AND a redemption, in all but one case! Belos is narratively condemned not for what he has in common with others, but for what sets him apart, particularly his stubborn ego. Cases in point;

“Belos deserved to have sympathy for having an unhealthy attachment to his more confident sibling that was mixed with resentment over being abandoned for someone else, culminating in guilt over hurting them and regretting it!”

Lilith exists. She’s motivated by a massive inferiority complex with Eda, Gwen favors her. She’s clearly salty about Eda going off to have fun with Raine, and claims to Luz that she’s Eda’s ‘real’ family. She cursed her sister and felt enormous guilt over it… But in the end, Lilith IS given sympathy by the narrative, and the chance to redeem herself. And she takes just that.

A lot of the people claiming Belos deserved better theorize that stabbing Caleb was an accident, and you know what? So was the permanence of Eda’s curse, Lilith expected it to only last a day and certainly not transform her sister. But Lilith still owned up. And she learned to make other friends while respecting Eda’s boundaries.

“Belos was an orphan raised in a culture that encouraged genocide and a hatred of wild magic!”

Caleb exists, he went through the exact same childhood as Philip, but still chose to change. And while they weren’t orphans at the time, Hunter and the Collector were also raised on genocide, taught to find wild/Titan magic apprehensive. But they loved it instead.

“But Belos actually lost his brother, his loved one died!”

So did Hunter’s! And he was shown to be snappy and aggressive, pouring himself into a mission to cope! But he still owned up, apologized to Willow for rebuking her. He lost Flapjack, and instead of making replicas of his lost loved one to keep to himself, discarding anyone that wasn’t close enough, Hunter made a diverse array of palismen for other kids, to give them the loving relationship he lost! Even his own palisman was clearly carved to be different from Flapjack, reminiscent but still their own thing.

Then there’s Darius, who lost his mentor the previous Golden Guard; His own ‘Caleb’, so to speak! And he was also unpleasant about it, he took his grief out on Hunter, who had nothing to do with this! The canon audio diaries even confirm the apprehension has been going for a while… But Darius realized he was wrong to have projected onto Hunter, made up for this by practically adopting the kid and giving this kid the happy ending his mentor didn’t have; Passing the cycle of kindness the Golden Guard started. And his own grief is pointed out to the audience by Hunter himself.

“They should’ve shown how having a hero complex and a desire to live out a fantasy can corrupt anyone!”

Luz and the Collector. Luz herself makes these comparisons for Belos, and there were times where she hurt her friends trying to live out her fantasy, and/or planned to leave them under the impression she was doing the ‘right thing’. Luz makes a legitimate consideration that she could’ve been Belos, if she refused to listen to others and change. But Luz owned up! As did the Collector, whose escapism and wish to play the role of the ‘hero’, in this case Luz, causes them to do some pretty terrible things. But they still change after being called out, and are still given sympathy over the loneliness and trauma that fueled their escapism, as was Luz.

"Philip struggled with getting over a different type of fantasy, one that relied upon him conquering and hurting others!"

As did King! And King got over that, he quickly learned that other people would always be more important than his fantasies, even if the 'sacrifices' were a lot more minor. King started off the same, the difference is that he still grew up and that's why we judge his antics as so much more light-hearted.

“Well that’s not fair, Philip’s examples were more extreme!”

How about Eda’s curse? Belos never brings up his other sources of trauma as an excuse for his actions, but you know what he does invoke? His curse, claiming to Hunter and Luz that it forced him to act certain ways. But we see Eda, who got a rawer deal with her curse; She didn’t bring it upon herself, as Belos did. She legitimately loses control when it takes over. She scarred and disabled her father because of it, and you know what?

Eda never uses her curse as an excuse. She never lets that justify what she’s done to people, and she even befriends the creature at the source of her curse, the Owl Beast. The curse she deals with is objectively worse, objectively more unfair, than Belos’. But it’s only Belos who actually cites his curse as an excuse, and the palismen at the source of it? He kills them.

“Belos’ cursed form is treated as ugly and evil!”

The palismen amalgam in his mind looked almost exactly the same, to the point where Hunter, who had seen Belos’ cursed form in person before, thought they were identical. But in the end, the palismen amalgam, despite resembling Belos’ cursed form, is a sympathetic and tragic victim who is murdered. Luz and Hunter mistaking him for Belos is justified, but it’s also still regrettable that they are judged by appearances.

“It hurts people to sacrifice their morals for the greater good, you know!”

Raine did that, they felt compelled to drag Darius and Eberwolf (one of whom was a childhood friend) into a murder-suicide, because as far as they knew, they were already going to be caught and executed, so may as well take their oppressors down with them! And they aren’t called out for it, because they couldn’t have known about Darius’ actual intentions…

Because in the end, sometimes you have to punch a fascist, and sometimes you have to oppose a friend or loved one because they took the fascists’ side. It’s why Lilith is expected to change for Eda, not the other way around. Raine is not the aggressor here, it’s all from the principle of self-defense for themselves and the isles as a whole.

And in the end, it’s because Raine is approaching from a place of actual good intent and moral concern that there are lines they still refuse to cross; As soon as they learn about Luz and King, they sabotage their own plans because they refuse to orphan these kids they just found out about for the ‘greater good’. When one of those very kids, Luz, makes Raine promise to keep Eda safe, you can see the conflict between their morals and their obligations in their eyes as Eda accepts the Bard sigil, and ultimately Raine powers through the draining spell to save Eda’s life, simply because Luz asked them to.

I’ve talked since their debut of how Raine has some similarities to Belos, in particular how they both work their whole lives to infiltrate a group from within to topple it, even as they publicly support it as a celebrated leader. They both had to lie and work under the radar, and make effective rhetoric; They each wear their own masks. Raine has to constantly lie to and rebuke Eda about being brainwashed, and we can see the moral agony it gives them!

�� But Raine is opposed to a legitimate threat, whereas Belos is completely making one up; Raine has to work under the micro-management of tyrants with control over them, Philip has been free from his colony for centuries, and even after finding out Gravesfield gave up on its witch hunting mission in the present, still traps himself of his own will. Belos feels no guilt for any of his ‘necessary evil’.

Raine had actual morals unlike Belos that they did sacrifice, for an actual greater good, and they actually hurt over these choices. They dedicated their whole life to stop a dark and twisted parallel, which makes their inclusion in the finale as the only person outside of the core trio to help against Belos all the more deserved; They even help deliver the killing blows. And Raine is rewarded for all of their effort, allowed to see it come to fruition and rest happily afterwards, because they really were sincere, and actually did make sacrifices, something Belos preaches but never follows. Most importantly, Raine knew they couldn’t justify everything even for their morally-justified mission.

“Belos was still legitimately wronged by Caleb for nothing, he didn’t deserve to be abandoned!”

Even if we believe Caleb did ‘abandon’ Philip or whatever; The Collector was legitimately wronged by the Titan, imprisoned and isolated for millennia despite being innocent. But while he justifiably calls the Titan a bully, he never takes this out on King, or any other Titan for that matter, remembering the rest with love. Nor is the Collector expected to forgive the Titan; The Titan accepts she made the wrong call. After all, imprisoning the Collector left them in a vulnerable state to be exploited by Belos, and give him the draining spell…

The Titan and Caleb’s mistakes were very much that, but the Collector matured for others, without needing an apology from the dead person who wronged him. And based on what we see of Belos’ memories, Caleb probably DID get to deliver that apology when he was alive, and Philip still insisted on being bitter!

“His only childhood friend just ditched him for someone else!”

That’s what happened to Willow, and that’s how she understood it for most of her life; Amity leaving her behind because she was too weak, and kids like Boscha and Skara were more popular, stronger, etc. But not only does the show say her rage against Amity is totally warranted and that the onus is on Amity to apologize, even if she didn’t choose to leave Willow (keep in mind she still saw Willow as a weak person to protect without input, as we later see in Labyrinth Runners)…

Willow is still kind. She still opts to be compassionate to Gus, and to Luz, and in general a nurturing person despite her abandonment. And when Willow is given the chance to take revenge on Boscha by stealing her glory in Grudgby, she doesn’t kick the girl while she’s down to do so; But Willow is also allowed to still hold anger towards Boscha, as we see in Season 3. And assuming Caleb wasn’t malicious about leaving Philip behind, we clearly see how he welcomes his brother back and wants things to get better, just as Amity does; He had his own side of the story. And Willow doesn’t kill Amity despite being primed to very easily do so…

"But imagine finding out they CHOSE to leave you, when you thought they didn't!"

Camila?!?! In fact, Camila was THE precedent for this, and people went and applied her tragic scene to Philip to make HIM into some angsty sadboi! And last I checked, Camila didn't exactly murder Luz... Plus, Philip had infinitely more time to see Caleb and Evelyn interact, and thus figure out that Caleb wasn't being kidnapped or brainwashed; Compare that to Camila who is just dunked into that situation out of nowhere, and is barely even adjusting to Vee's existence on top of finding out Luz was someplace else the entire time, and dealing with Jacob.

"A lot of family members at least start off as well-intentioned when hurting loved ones, they could've shown that!"

Bold of you to assume that Belos' selfish entitlement towards Caleb is the same as Camila or Gwen's legitimate concerns for their daughters; They did unconditionally love and they were misguided. But when shown they were causing pain, they actually shifted gears instead of focusing on how they were fight because they knew better. And what they were doing WAS still harmful, even though they DID care.

“Belos was probably a weirdo himself, and suffered from internalized hatred for his deviancy!”

Lilith dyed her hair to fit in with the coven, and be taken seriously. Amity suppressed herself to be a stoic perfectionist, constantly trying to justify her own existence as she says; She had to work to be good at magic while others like Gus, Emira, and Edric were naturally talented, and was made to hate those who weren’t successful as witches. Hunter too loathed his own lack of bile magic!

Most tellingly, Camila herself was taught to hide her weirdness, grew up thinking she was successful for doing that, and even tried to impose the same on Luz because of that misconception! But Camila realized what was done to her was wrong, and the same applied to her daughter; Accepting Luz’s weirdness meant accepting her own.

“Even if he still chose to double down in villainy, Belos could’ve at least been given a moment where he was sympathetic, where his sadness was shown, before nevertheless deciding his fate!”

Kikimora had an entire episode where she agonized over her obligations to a mother that seemed low key abusive, given her threat to disown her. We see her hesitate, cry, and be legitimately disappointed when she’s rewarded for staying with Belos by ‘getting to live’, a reward that doesn’t even last by the Day of Unity! Even after Kikimora makes her choice to betray Luz and Amity, we still get a final scene of her looking uncertain and even regretful of her decision, before she commits. Kikimora isn’t redeemed but is still humanized, despite being less human than Belos, so to speak.

She’s even a dark parallel to Lilith, having jealousy towards the Golden Guard, an emotionally abusive mother, and an inferiority complex towards other members of the coven despite working directly with Belos! And she is given many chances to escape Belos, a few months where she is legitimately free from him, and chooses to remain in her ways because Kikimora’s difference with Lilith isn’t that life was more unfair to her, it’s that she refused to change.

Now this is a bit out there, but there’s also the other Coven Heads! Mason, Vitimir, Hettie, and Osran! The show was shortened, so who knows what they could’ve provided for the story… Mason, Hettie, and Osran especially, since they’re not included amongst the coven head loyalists who still cling to power, even after Belos’ death. The show could’ve easily set up sympathetic moments to indicate a possibility of change, paying off in the epilogue; But because of Disney, you can’t blame the writers for not delivering everything they could’ve.

“How about a character who was just… an asshole, no outside reason given?”

Boscha, who was popular and privileged. While she does allude to some pressures that motivate her, as far as we know, there wasn’t really anyone or anything that made her be so cruel towards those she perceives as lesser. But despite this, Willow doesn’t see any point in trying to take Boscha’s spotlight as a Grudgby captain, when offered by her teammates; She doesn’t kick Boscha when she’s down. And Boscha is ultimately still recognized as unhappy with the loss of her friends, so even if she does do egregious things during the Collector’s reign, Amity offers Boscha the chance to become better and improve, as she did. And she takes it!

“Well, none of these characters had to grapple with having done things nearly as bad as Belos!”

And why do you think that is? Why are Belos’ sins so monumental in comparison, how did they get so bad? Because he kept refusing to change, kept refusing each opportunity, and got worse because of that. His first confirmed murder was Caleb, who right beforehand embraced his brother during what appeared to be a manifestation of the curse. But Philip still chose to commit his first sin despite receiving such unconditional sympathy, because he wanted control, not happiness. He didn’t start off as a genocidal dictator, he worked his way up to that over centuries.

“They make it seem like Belos was born evil!”

Our earliest chronological appearances of Philip are as a happy, carefree child who plays games with the brother he loves and looks up to; That isn’t the portrayal of someone ‘born’ evil. This is the portrayal of someone who became that way, over time, because he refused to concede anything to anyone, and wore away what decency he had across centuries, until we see the Emperor that Belos is when the show starts.

An evil dictator who ravaged an entire world for hundreds of years came from an innocent little kid, and Luz becomes self-aware of how this can apply to her, even as she’s reminded that she also ISN’T like Belos because of this critical reflection and willingness to listen. Belos, on the other hand, consciously cultivated an echo chamber for centuries, killing any Grimwalker he felt disagreed with him, despite their unconditional love and support. He deliberately shut himself off from the isles and ignored the kindness of others.

Bump reminds Faust that it’s disingenuous to project malice onto children who often simply don’t know any better, and just need to be given a chance to be taught and educated. But kids also have to take initiative to mature when they get older, hence why we hold adults more responsible; The established logic is that Belos wasn’t an evil child, he was simply a child who never grew up and that’s where his evil came from, rather than being some pre-existing source.

To be honest, I think the narrative doesn’t bother showing sympathy to Belos over his trauma because he’s already HAD more than enough sympathy, across centuries, from his brother, the Grimwalkers, his followers, even Luz and the Collector! So the story doesn’t feel the need to waste tears on someone who already got them, and instead focuses sympathy to characters who haven’t received as much, if any; People like Lilith, Amity, Hunter, etc.

Belos is the culmination of other characters’ traumas (who prove you can still choose to be better and happier despite these things), and was practically coddled by the people in his life for it. But he still chose to be bitter, never opened up to accept help, and his rejection brought even more pain that he could only blame on himself. Belos’ only tragedy is his refusal to change for the better; Even the narrative has made it clear he had chances, tears wept for him by people he knew.

He is a mirror to so many characters, what could’ve happened if they looked at their own pain and used it as justification to continue lashing out, because clearly they are the underdog heroes who have been wronged and are fighting against an injustice, right? The hero of their own story, if you will. Hell, we still also get that with Kikimora, as I just said! What I’ve listed is not a double standard, but rather proof that Belos was not uniquely condemned by his circumstances, for he is alike many characters as I mentioned. And Belos does not need to be portrayed “sympathetically” in order for the audience to understand the relevance of these parallels; Namely, that Belos has no excuse to still be like this when those similar nevertheless choose not to be cruel, and will accept others’ compassion.

And besides, with how the show was shortened… Who’s to say the writers didn’t plan to throw Belos a sympathetic moment of genuine loneliness, before doubling down? Not that they really would’ve needed to. But if they planned it, the writers had to leave it out to prioritize the weirdos this show is actually about, due to the shortening.

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #lilith clawthorne #caleb wittebane #the owl house hunter #darius deamonne #Luz Noceda #the owl house collector #king clawthorne #Eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #raine whispers #camila noceda #the owl house boscha #fandom salt #white favoritism

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azullumi · 10 months

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“heart to heart” ; ayato, cyno, diluc

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — ayato, cyno, and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1460

note — this is part 1 out of 2 !! here’s the next part with a different set of characters <33

;; AYATO

“—and i want a garden full of tulips.” you declared, a smile creasing the line of your lips, and he admires you ever so lovingly while listening to each one of your words. “why a garden only? we could have a mansion overlooking the sea.”

a hum escapes your lips as you think of his answer, “but mansions are huge and often lonely. i want a home, a warm one, big enough for us and our children and i want a garden where they can play.”

he smiles, gently, eyes gazing at you as if you’re the most lovely thing he has seen and you really are—the moonlight dances and rests on your skin, emitting a soft glow on your features, and you look much more breathtaking than ever. “we can be the ones to plant the tulips,” he elicits a light laughter from you, “mhm, we definitely should.”

it is late now, the both of you are a little bit tired resting underneath the sky peckered with stars. and right now, in the past, and future, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

“i love you, ayato.”

his breath hitched, like his heart has crumbled at his hands, you were there bloody and withering away on his hands, like a flower that had cut off its stem. and just like how quickly the world can be created out of three words, it shattered right at his hold.

“please don’t say that.” his voice breaks, faltering, compared to the tight hold he has on you as he desperately wishes that this warm embrace can help you even for a little bit. “why?”

not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you aren’t supposed to die like this, you weren’t supposed to leave him, not right now, not ever—not when he still hasn't accomplished all of the things you two have talked about underneath the night sky.

“you’re saying that as if you’re going to die.”

you chuckle, “because i am.”

“this isn’t the time to be joking around.” but he knows the reality of it, he just refuses to accept it. “what about our plans?” he knows it from the way you struggle to find the words in your tongue, from the way you smile at him as you listen to his voice coming apart, “what about the tulips? the garden? you promised me,” from the way your breathing slows down and eventually—

“i… i’m sorry.”

—it stills.

a brief moment of silence and a broken sob came, “you promised me…” that you’ll be there, that you’ll plant the tulips with him. “i love you,” that’s why he mourns for you and the promises you made.

;; CYNO

“i think that’s all of them?” you walk over to his side, feeling the soreness of your body hit you. bodies were found laying all around you but they weren’t dead, just knocked out as if they still have to be taken in for questioning.

“yes but nevermind that, are you hurt?” he asks him in a flat tone, despite the nature of his words, worry didn’t lace his tone. “it’s not that bad,” you say but half of your body feels numb, your side is damp, aching as it continues to bleed—it’s just a small wound.

you weren’t going to die even if your line of work requires you to be put in danger at times, you will never die for anyone, you’ve sworn that to yourself. it may be a selfish idea but you had promised yourself that you will always choose yourself because no one can be more than you. your existence is way too important for someone else’s to have it for their own—nobody can and nobody will.

but not the general mahamatra, not your love, not him as you willingly took a hit for him which left you at this state but he doesn’t know the severity of your situation as you chose to hide it. you didn’t want the man to worry—you were selfish not until it came to him.

your vision blurs and you feel your head spin.

“cyno—“

it happened so fast. you, suddenly collapsing to the ground and him, calling out to you as he towards your direction to catch your collapsing figure before it hits the cold floor.

he cursed underneath his breath, panic washing over him as he noticed your wounded side, covered with blood and it was then that the realization had dawned upon him—you were severely hurt since earlier and he just wants to berate himself, not you, for being so careless and ignorant.

“no matter what happens, don’t you ever dare risk your life for me.”

he trembles, recalling those words in his mind. it was you who had told him that and yet, you’re here, “keep your eyes open.” he pleads in a broken tone.

“i’m sorry…” you try to fight off the growing feeling of your eyes becoming heavy and your slow breathing, fighting off the ominous being cloaked in black standing at your foot. you weren’t going to die, you promised yourself.

you were getting weaker so is the sound of your voice, your vision seems to blur and darken in each moment that passes by and oh god, how much you fear not being able to see his face, not being able to see him completely in your last moments with him—thoughts came drifting in and out of you, asking what kind of expression does he have at this moment. does he still have that same calm expression you adored?

you coughed once more, fading eyes looking for the warmth of his own, “i love you, cyno, from the first time we met until forever. remember— remember that.”

“s-stay with me.” a command, but his breaking voice fails the firmness of his words, his tone could only be so soft as he spoke. “don’t you—don’t you dare close your eyes, that is an order.”

but the light of your eyes had already disappeared and at that moment, not only you had died but also him as you breathed out your last—even in death you still held his heart.

;; DILUC

“a hug, please?” you beckon with your arms wide open for him as you sit on the edge of the bed, your bed and his. the red-headed man only smiled before

“why do you need a hug all of a sudden?”

you hum, “nothing, i just want to feel you.” and in which, he huffs out a chuckle, “you can feel me as much as you want, my love.”

he could spend his life just with you in his embrace alone. oh, how he would choose to be alive by your side over anything, over everything. nothing could beat the solace of your hands on his own, of your lips in a kiss, of your skin at his touch.

but fate could be so cruel.

“do you remember the first time we met? i was also in your arms, you caught me when i was about to fall.” your tone was soft, fragile, as if anytime soon you’ll break and give in. “please—stop talking, save your strength, please. my love, you cannot leave me, you are not going to leave me.”

he spent so much of him guarding and driving danger away from the beloved city of freedom only for him

to not be able to protect you against those, it was injudicious on his part for not thinking that those very perditions that he fights were lurking at the comfort of his home. cruel, cruel, cruel, how could fate be so cruel? how could people be so selfish?

a dry chuckle and a weak response, “we know much better than that, ‘luc.”

how could you still look breathtaking even at the hands of death? how is it that you still manage to enamour him with blood staining your lips?

“i know that i’ve always belonged in your arms, even in death.”

he’s as warm as you remember him and you are cold despite his embrace, you remember—or perhaps, know—the expression on his face as you took your last, remembered the way he feels on you, remembered the way he speaks to you so lovingly, remembered everything about him and burned it your memory in hopes that you’ll know him in your next life, if there is one.

“i love you.” he mumbles as he brings you closer to him, tears that he had been holding back had now came pouring out of his eyes, the words he had told you were laced with warmth and affection—with hurt and poison.

but you are still cold and now, lifeless as you lay in his arms. beautiful, captivating, darling—dead.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin x you #genshin #genshin fanfic #ayato x you #cyno x you #diluc x you #azul.writes

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glorified-red · 1 year

Text

Petnames (Damian Wayne x Reader)

summary: Damian calls you by your name while grocery shopping instead of the usual petnames, you're not a fan.

word count: 1,330

warnings: a vaguely suggestive sentence This is entirely based off of a TikTok I saw, I wish I could link it but I lost it. I really wanted to go more into Damian's Arab culture so this is the start :)

You rolled the cart forward, leaning your body weight onto the handle bar. Shelves stacked on top of shelves obscured your vision, aisles filled to the brim with expensive foods you didn’t even know existed.

Who cooks with saffron? Like seriously.

Damian insisted on going grocery shopping today and you didn’t hesitate to tag along, enjoying the peaceful company that his presence always brought. He was currently sifting through the tiny bottles of herbs in front of him.

Sesame seeds were gently placed in the cart alongside the lemons he picked out earlier, taking his time finding the perfect one for later tonight. Cumin found its way in the cart as well, set down right next to the yeast.

Damian’s cooking was one you had come to adore. He spared no expense when it came to providing you with a proper meal. He was fueled by his desire to provide, the act of service lover in him thrived on the sensation. So as he began to explore his culture’s cuisine, you were a constant support for him.

His new favorite pastime was experimenting with different flavored spreads, trying to perfect his own recipe so he could write it down in the household recipe journal right next to Alfred’s iconic banana bread and Tim’s new tofu recipe (created the second he learned Damian steered clear of animal products as much as possible, a vegetarian leaning slightly vegan if he could).

Damian had spent hours trying to learn how to craft dough from scratch, the fragile pita was a task he was willing to overcome with patience. Each time his hands would be covered in flour, the kitchen turned into a warzone of attempts. One batch was cooking, one was cooling, one was in his hands, and one was set aside to rise. You’d join him every time, sitting pretty on the counter while he worked, listening to the soft hum he let out as he concentrated.

Damian would kiss you in between, his cheeks dusted with flour that he barely noticed.

“You’re gonna get flour all over my clothes,” you’d whine in the kiss, complaints falling onto deaf ears as he kissed you deeply. His hands would settle onto the counter on either side of you, caging you in with his body.

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine,” he’d smirk.

His sleeves would be rolled up after you insisted he wore an apron, he refused until you put it on him yourself. You’d tie the apron around his waist, the second you finished he’d pull you into a kiss in thanks. You’d blink and his hands would be under your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with the soft words of “I’ll need a taste tester.”

He’d hand you a small spoon every so often, watching your reaction with so much intensity it almost made you laugh with how serious he was about this. His eyebrows would furrow into the scowl as he waited for your feedback while you tasted the creamy hummus.

“It tastes amazing,” you’d gush, the flavors bursting to life on your tongue with how all the spices meshed together.

The satisfaction on his face was always worth it. It was small, but the pride blossoming inside of him was always so endearing to you. Your word of praise sunk straight into him until his heart felt lighter.

You’d flick flour at him as the night trailed onwards, smearing wet dough right on the tip of his nose so you could see him go cross-eyed.

“Oh you are going to regret that.”

“Am I?” you’d feign, holding back your own laughter.

By the end of the night, you’d be out of breath with giggles, socked feet sliding across kitchen tiles as he chased you. He’d always nab you, wrapping you so tightly against his body with no hope for escape. You’d fight until your clothes were covered in just as much flour as he was.

He’d smell of freshly cut herbs and the feeling of home. His tongue would taste of his marvelous cooking, an addicting essence you’d chase after well into the night while your dirty clothes lay discarded as an afterthought.

The clink of glass against the metal cart brought you straight back to the grocery store. You could feel the tingle on your lips from the memory. You coughed, looking up to find Damian deciding between two types of chickpeas. They slowly became a staple of the household, an easy protein substitute for Damian alongside tofu.

“Y/n, did you end up liking this one?” He turned to you, holding up the lightly colored kabuli package. The peas rattled against each other as the bag shifted.

You went to respond but your brain stuttered to a stop.

“What?”

Damian quirked up an eyebrow before repeating himself: “Did you enjoy the last hummus I made with these or did you prefer the other kind?”

“No, before that.”

Now Damian was really lost. “I said nothing before that, we haven’t spoken since I last asked you about the oils.”

You remembered, debating between the traditional olive oil or the more expensive avocado oil.

“You said my name.”

Damian nodded slowly, looking at you with a bewildered expression, one he used when he was trying not to call you a fucking twat.

“I did, yes.”

“Why did you call me that,” you almost pouted. “Are you mad at me?”

He scoffed, taken aback completely. “No,” the syllable raised with his surprise but he held it firm, reassuring you solidly. “It’s just your name.”

The chickpeas were long since forgotten, his hands falling beside his thighs as he leaned against the cart.

“What did I do?” you asked, your heart sinking.

Damian couldn’t tell if you were being serious or messing around with him. He spoke slowly, “Am I not allowed to say your name?”

You fully pouted, your words feeling embarrassing the more the conversation continued. “You just always use a nickname like beloved or love, you only ever call me by my name when you’re mad at me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, a playful feeling settling behind his eyes. He didn’t realize how much those names meant to you, he’d remember that next time.

“No I don’t,” he remarked, the playful retort falling from his lips easily.

“Yes you do!” you laughed, if you were closer you would’ve punched him in the shoulder (not like he would’ve moved or anything, but it got the message across all the same). “Cmon, Dames, what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Damian said. “I merely wanted to grab your attention so I could know which flavor to buy.”

“Then take it back,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

Damian looked at you with a bored expression. “Excuse me?”

“Take it back,” you demanded, standing firm in your words. “Call me something else.”

“Is that really necessary?”

You pleaded with your eyes, willing every ounce of puppy dog sadness into your gaze. Damian narrowed his eyes in return. You were playing a dirty trick, knowing his weakness and exploiting it. He stood unwavering for a single moment, staring straight into your eyes with his own.

But in the end, those eyes would always make him cave.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance. “Beloved, darling, love of my life, habibti,” the arabic term of endearment rolled off his tongue with ease, it always made your chest flutter, “What flavor would you prefer?”

You smiled wide, a big toothy grin that made your eyes sparkle.

Damian tsked, “Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes,” you beamed, your hands falling from your chest and back onto the cart handle. “And the desi one, it’s creamier.”

Damian plopped the bag into the cart. “You are such a dork.”

You hummed, “You love me, don’t lie.”

“Do I, Y/n?” Damian smiled, turning away to exit the aisle.

“Aye!” You followed after him, hearing the soft chuckle from afar.

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

#Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x you #Damian Wayne x y/n #Damian Wayne #robin #robin x reader #robin x you #robin x y/n #dc #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #batboys #fluff

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coeurify · 1 year

Note

drabble req about abby being lowkey obsessed with the reader in the wlf her thinking you don’t even know she exists, then much to her surprise when she finally gets the courage to talk to you gasp, you know her name! and you think she’s very cool and talk about successful patrols she’s had double gasp and you ask her to spar with you triple gasp 🍰

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: straight up fluff. 18+ still.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: CAKE ANON I JUST LOVE THIS. PLZ ENJOY. i made reader a bit idk like outgoing and she teases abby a bit ok? ok.

Abby liked looking at you from afar. Maybe it seemed a little odd to put it like that, but really, it infatuated her.

Like seeing you from across the mess hall, deep in conversation with someone. Abby always wishes she could know what it was you always got so passionate about. What made your eyes get that sparkly type of look to them— what made you lean forward, hands motioning with lips she couldn't follow. Often her cheek would rest in her palm, forgetting whatever food served that day because of your presence across the room. She tried not to stare too obviously as you went on one of your tangents, but you never seemed to notice anyways.

She liked seeing you walk around the Stadium turned base, hearing your voice call out to friends as you hurry around the close corners of the stairs, lined with different zones, weaving through the areas to find whatever your always wandering mind seemed to be searching for that day. Abby would catch you randomly during these times, sometimes stopping in the same stand preparing food, looking for people in the same hidden corners, or down on the grass near the livestock. So many times she could have said hi.. and didn’t.

She never got close enough to talk to you, usually easily avoiding it due to never sharing assignments. But whenever she was caught looking a little too long, blue eyes wandering off from the face of whoever was speaking to her to instead follow the sound of your voice passing by.. people always asked why she didn’t just introduce herself. Most times these comments came from Manny or Nora, which Abby easily shrugged off. The blonde would claim she had no time and didn’t know you well enough to strike a conversation.

Honestly, Abby was a little scared to talk to you. There wasn’t much a soldier like her was nervous for, not that she would admit to at least, but you were one of them. You didn’t even seem to know you existed, flying high in the clouds above Abby’s feet always planted firmly into the ground. Why reach for the sky when you can just look up at it in admiration instead?

Things stayed this way for a long while, until a smaller group formed in a training section off to the south side of the stadium one night, chatting at tables with cards and drinks. It was a gathering of some of the younger faces around the WLF base, of which Abby had never even seen most of. She didn’t mind it too much, being properly glued to her seat near Manny, who was going on and on about something that had happened with the scars that day.

Abby of course was more focused on the top of your head across the area, which nodded quickly as you spoke to Nora. Your nose scrunched at something she said, and Abby had to force herself to look away before she felt any more sickeningly childish. She had a textbook schoolgirl crush on you, down to the refusal to even say hi. The butterflies in her stomach always present, heart always searching for any bit of attention from you. It was sort of humiliating for her.

“Abby, are you even listening?” Manny asked, tapping her arm with a pointed finger. “Ah,” he sighed dramatically, “Of course you aren’t, she’s here.”

Abby’s chin turned down as she shook her head, a small section of her braid that had snagged out following the motion, “Oh my god, Manny can you not right now? I’m listening, swear it.”

Manny shoved her shoulder gently, “You definitely weren’t. Just go say hi before she catches you staring. Get some of this..” he pushes a small cup toward her, grinning, “In you and go. Or I might call her over here myself.”

Abby’s muscles tightened immediately, eyes falling on Manny with a certain warning sign that anyone who wasn’t him would probably back off due to. Manny just pushed the cup closer.

“God, Manny you make me miserable,” Abby muttered, sliding out of her seat as her hand gripped the cup, a disgusted look tugging on her lips as it slid down her throat with a gulp. “Don’t judge my tastes,” Manny called after her as she walked.

If Manny wasn’t watching, Abby would have promptly turned around the moment she saw your pretty eyes flick up as she walked closer. Unable to do so, she found her own way to be a bit of a pussy— staring only at Nora when she stood in front of the two of you. Her stomach was a mess of knots she couldn’t dream of untangling upon feeling your gaze on her.

Abby tried to avoid the small sound her throat made as she cleared it, “Hey, uh— Nora I just wanted to check on you, heard your rotation today was shit.”

Nora’s eyes seemed to falter for a second, pinching her eyebrows together, not understanding why Abby had waltzed over so uneasy looking. Then she remembers who she's sat next to, Abby’s eyes obviously avoiding glancing that way. “Yea, they had us packing shit from the hospital all fuckin’ day,” Nora shrugs— awaiting some sort of greeting for her friend next to her.

You beat her to any sort of acknowledgment of your presence with a large smile, “Abby! Hey! Come sit with us, we were just talking about how crazy everyone’s assignments have been.”

Abby thinks she may have floated up to the clouds you so often rested in right there. She swears she can feel the sun on her neck as your mouth falls open to speak. The way her name came from your lips was enough to send her down into the seat, trying her best to seem nonchalant. But you knew her fucking name. She wouldn’t have been able to fathom that fact at all before now, countless days and nights gone wondering what it may be like to hear you say it, see your smile reserved for only her— and now it had happened.

And Abby was absolutely screwed because of it. She knew this the moment your lips stayed in that cute smile as you watched her sit. She knew it right away when you tilted your head to include her in the conversation with Nora. If she had spent too much time thinking about you before now, it was about to be astronomically worse. Now she could detail the spots on your face, the way your cheeks moved with your grin, your eyelashes, everything and anything Abby could take in was committed to memory at that exact moment.

“Hey,” Abby greeted you gently, your name rolling off her tongue easily, if Abby could have known the way your own heart sped up at the realization she knew your name, she would have lost her damn mind. All she got however was the slightest movement of your legs, knees pointing toward her.

Nora took in the sight of you two together for a minute, to which Abby wished she could give a big fuck you for. She was not subtle at all, unfortunately for Abby. After a second, she spoke, “Yea. It’s been awful lately, but Abby’s doing great as always out in the city, right?”

Abby wants to chastise her friend for the all too obvious attempt at wingmanning, but any frustration the blonde may feel falls out of her mouth and into the air with a breathy laugh when you make an exhausted sounding noise.

“Oh I’m sure,” you shake your head, “Heard so much about that group you always go with.. hm who else is it usually? Manny and some others right?” Your eyes point straight at her, unafraid to make eye contact with the shifting blue ones.

Abby spreads her legs a bit, gearing up for a story of some sort. “Yea it's usually Manny. Isaac’s got us doing all the real long missions lately. Can't even tell you how many groups of scars we’ve run into.”

Abby doesn’t miss how your gaze follows her head as it shakes, feeling her stomach turn inside out at the small notion you may be paying extra attention to her. This sickness only worsens when you lean in closer, Nora scoffing gently as she becomes a slight third wheel.

“I’ve been training lots lately to try and get on those sorts of assignments, seem so cool,” your tongue licks over your top lip in concentration as you think, Abby’s eyes following it. “I'm getting tired of the farm work.”

“Not sure you wanna offer yourself up for that type of stuff, it’s real hard,” Abby shrugs, leaning back against her seat. The stiffness in her body was disappearing slightly, easing into the conversation— one that she thought she would never have. She was still very aware of every movement you made, the way your shirt stretched just lightly as you tilted your body, glancing at Nora. The way your eyes rolled just a bit at her words.

“She doesn’t think I can handle it, Nor..” you sigh dramatically, stealing all that relaxation straight out of her body, watching as she sits straight up again, searching the two girls next to her with frantic eyes. “What? That’s not-”

Nora chimes in, “Well, Abby doesn’t think anyone but herself can handle it, y’know? She just doesn’t get that not everyone can crush a runner’s head with their own foot.”

“Her foot?” You gasp, shaking your head sadly, “And here I am with only a gun.. definitely too hard for me.”

Abby had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep the blush from clawing it’s onto her cheeks, now far too aware the two of you were teasing the way she must come off.

“That's not- '' Abby tries, starting again after a few scrambled attempts at words, “Not what I was trying to say. The assignments just suck..” The blonde says it all rather quickly, scrambling to shoot down the idea she had meant anything differently. You definitely found it cute, that sparkle in your eye returning as she spoke.

“Just messing with you Abby,” you hesitantly lean to press a small pat to her shoulder, “Know what you meant blondie.”

The nickname only makes Abby feel more heat in her face, if possible. You were playing with her like you had known her for years. All this time she had been too scared to utter a word to you, and here you were making it natural as ever. She doesn’t show that heat creeping on her cheeks, sitting up a little taller, arms crossing over her chest.

“I do need some help training if I wanna get on a team like yours; though,” your eyes narrow just a bit, a playful glint in them now as you look directly at Abby, “You think you could show me that foot move? Or treat me to some regular sparring at least?”

Abby thought she may die on the fucking spot.

#rins reqs ❀.#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n

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craxkbaby · 20 days

Note

Antares reader here! Got something good so probs a hurt/comfort?

Dick Grasyon x Adopted son of Deathstroke (who's a mercenary as well???)

HEAR ME OIT HE ANGST POTENTIAL IN THIS IS OVERWHELMING!

"Why are you avoiding me?" "Because.... Because i think im falling in love with you okay?" TROPE OMG FKDNDRN

Or "Fuck you!" "Later. Now listen here you little shit-"

IM SHAKING AND BEGGING YOU

HELLO! If it’s okay, I’m just gonna call you Antares anon :3!! I did get your other request, and I am working on it!!! CHAT SCHOOL HAS BEEN KILLING ME!! I was listening to Once more to see you and Cop Car by mitski. And omg.. dawg it lowkey made me emotional!!!

Why would Nightwing himself want to be involved with a guy, the son of Deathstroke? It was a moment of weakness. He shouldn’t be involved with you. You were trained to be a hired gun. A mercenary just like Deathstroke, you do it for the money.

He shouldn’t be involved with someone like you who is connected to a person who wants Batman gone. But it hurts to avoid you. It hurts knowing he will have to get you locked up one day.

Though the chemistry you two share is unavoidable. The small talks on the rooftops during Dicks patrol, the cat and mouse chase you two share. But it’s all platonic right? It’s not. But that’s what Dick wants to believe.

He can’t afford to have these feelings towards you any longer.

But you don’t feel the same way.

The thought of you finally having someone in your life that wasn’t just training you to end lives was refreshing. You wanted the daily night meetups to continue. You loved them, being able to have small breaks with a person you slowly grew to love felt enjoyable.

But you had no clue on how Dick was such against the idea.

He didn’t want to be against it.

But he had to. He was slowly melting onto you, completely sticking onto you like glue. Unable to be tore away. He secretly wished you would change.

Change just so he can be with you, how selfish, he knows. Wanting you to change just so he can be with you the way he likes it. When he knew you weren’t going to change just for him, the avoidance started.

Avoiding you at any cost, stopped meeting at your spot. Stopped answering your calls and texts. Started ghosting you. You obviously noticed this. How can it go unnoticed?

The word “read” under every text you sent suffocated your heart. Then the overthinking started.

“Hey.” Read.

“You okay?” Read.

“Did I do something wrong?” Read.

The overthinking, did you upset him? You probably said something wrong. He probably needs space! From what though?

How were you supposed to know how he felt? He was being childish. Childish in a way, refusing to communicate, refusing to acknowledge you any longer.

Refusing to acknowledge your text, refusing to acknowledge your missed calls, refusing to acknowledge your voicemails, refusing to acknowledge you.

Then the hatred started. All those months of getting to know Dick, and just for him to completely shove you off. Ghosting you for weeks straight, you grew angry with him.

You tried not to think about it, but it was eating you from the inside out. It was hurting like a breakup. Your life fell silent once again.

Dick completely walking out of your life without a reason, without an explanation! Oh and how it irritated you.

You waited for hours at the spot you two usually always met at. Staying out all night just for a no show. It’s like Nightwing never even existed.

It was just all apart of your imagination. Imaging a friend you finally had who was a hero.

You knew him and you being so close wasn’t the best idea, you two had completely different career paths, but still decided to stick to each other.

Though Dick was the one who broke that cycle. The way he always caught himself staring at you for long period of time, his hand always on you somewhere.

It wasn’t going to work out anyways. He always thought.

He convinced himself that you felt the same about the situation. Manipulating himself just to get out of a situation he put himself in.

Those text messages and missed calls didn’t even matter.

But oh when you caught him. It’s like his whole world crashed;

“Dick.”

His name being spoken from the distance, it was obviously you. You caught him, finally finding him after almost a month. You sounded angry, pissed. You had every right to be.

“You aren’t going to say anything? Seriously?”

Dick couldn’t even turn around, couldn’t even face you after such a long time. The guilt started to wash over him like a wave.

The silence was so loud, the only light providing you was the moon. Gotham was settling down for the night, hardly any noises coming from the city. It was like it was just you two in the whole entire world.

“Did I do something wrong?”

No, he didn’t want you to think that. But he caused it. He caused those thoughts to flood in your mind. He didn’t mean to, but he made it happen.

“No, of course not..” He finally said something, slowly turning to you just to see your face scrunched up with confusion and anger.

You found that hard to believe, did you really not? “Yeah, I ghosted you for a whole month. But you didn’t do anything wrong! Makes sense right?”

That’s exactly what you heard from what he said.

“Really? So, my texts didn’t mean shit to you?” You said, stepping closer towards him just for him to back away, like you were some type of disease he couldn’t risk having.

Dick tried to say something, but stutters only came out. He couldn’t make up an excuse. How was he supposed to tell you?

“We can’t see each other cause you kill people.”

“I can’t be seen with you.”

“It’s just your father.”

“I’m trying to save my own fucking reputation.”

He didn’t know how to word it right. He found it impossible. The silence he was giving you was slowly bringing tears to your eyes.

You didn’t want to fucking cry in front of him, you feel embarrassment fade over you. This situation was stressing both of you out. Oh please, cut him some slack.

“It’s complicated.” Dick mumbled. It was, so complicated. Your feelings, his feelings, they weren’t complimenting the situation well.

Dick not giving you a valid explanation irritated you, it made your breath hitch and just made you go silent. The way he was avoiding your eyes, the way he looked anywhere but you.

“Listen—“ He started, but failing horribly to even complete his sentence. The look of your face just made him carry more guilt.

He should’ve been mature about this, instead of ghosting you he should’ve talked to you about the problem. Surely you’d understand, right?

Probably not.

“We can’t be seen together.” Dick got out.

His words sinking in your bead, the words overlapping in your thoughts. Were you really that bad? That bad that Dick is completely avoiding you?

“You can’t be seen together.” You repeated. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Dick let out, a slight harsh following his tone shortly after.

ALRIGHT BRUH LIKE I ACTUALLY HAD TO GET RID OF THIS, WHY DID I HAVE SUCH HARDCORE WRITERS BLOCK?? IDK! BUT HERES THIS PART AND I PROMISE ILL FINISH IT WHEN I HAVE THE TIME.

#dc comics #batman #nightwing #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson #writers block #sigh #i tried

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

Text

Prologue: ~His Brother ~ (Explicit Grabber x Reader & Arthur Harrow x Reader Multi-chapter fic)

His Brother

Will also be uploaded on AO3: JokeringCutio

Story Summary:

When his brother Albert joins the cult, Arthur asks you to be the girl to comfort him. You’re a tool to keep Albert in check. Or could there be more to it?

~ * ~

“Tell me, is it because I was a sinner once? Did you sent me someone to love, someone who needs to be rescued from themselves, So I can learn from this process, how to heal myself? Someone I need to find an anchor for? I don’t see the solution. But I know it must be here.”

~ * ~

Prologue

Whispers about a new face in the community spread fast, like wildfire among those who lived within the compound. You heard them before you saw him. A man who was physically so similar to your leader that it made your heart flutter in confusion.

“His brother,” the whispers said. “Arthur’s blood.”

Arthur was never truly near you, and you only caught sight of him during ceremonies or meals. You thanked whatever God might exist for that. If you ever had a religion, it was now a shattered faith. The pieces of it were like shards in your hands, the pain reminding you of how you got here and how you couldn’t leave.

Ammit was your goddess now.

You’d been a fool, but you would make the best of your stay.

Time ebbed by slowly in the community. You worked a job that had never crossed your mind or been your dream. And your free time was spent taking care of the elderly in the community or babysitting the youngest. Like a nanny and a nurse. It wasn’t as if you could refuse. Everyone who followed the Goddess had to pull their weight and show their worth somehow. You had chosen the easy way out, willingly taking on the role of a caretaker when the alternatives were far worse. You much preferred helping out others over more physically challenging labor. Or indeed, over chores that would possibly be mentally scarring.

That is why, the first time you saw him, you were on your way to help out an elderly couple who lived two blocks away. You paused in your tracks to study him, still far away on the other side of the road. His multi-colored vest and brown flared pants made him look completely different from the leader of your group. But still, you saw the similarities. How could anyone miss them?

It was when his eyes suddenly turned to you that you quickly looked down at your feet, clutched the bag filled with groceries that you were holding tighter to your chest, and hurried to the address you were wanted at.

You caught glimpses of him at times, when he was at work with the other men. Either lumbering wood, or when he sat at the same table with your leader for a meal.

During one of those shared dinners in the compound, Lin nudged you.

“He’s been looking at you,” Lin said. She lived in the same apartment building as you did and was one of the few people you considered a friend. It wasn’t hard, the two of you had your rooms on the same floor and shared a kitchen and shower. You felt like you were living in some kind of student house, not at all where you wanted to be at this stage in your life. But it was the card you’d been dealt.

You slowly turned to look in the same direction she was looking at, only to find that the man she talked about had turned away from you. No eyes upon you there. She must have imagined it. he leader’s brother was listening to the leader himself. Arthur seemed to have no eyes for you either, and with a sigh, you turned back to your plate. You wished the shared meals weren’t a necessity. That you would earn enough to stand on your own two feet and eat self-made dinners at home.

But it wasn’t how things worked within the compound. Everyone was expected to come here and showthey still shared the same faith. You already skipped so many of the sermons, missing out would turn you into a sinner.

The days stretched since Arthur’s brother’s arrival.

You still didn’t know his name and only ever saw glimpses of him. He looked the same, you thought, cheeks flushed as you tried to avoid him. It became harder, as you found him stumbling upon your route more and more often when you went to your charity jobs. He just happened to be there, watching, when you left your apartment to go to the elderly. He would be in the same building, fixing leaks and whitening the ceiling when you had your shift looking after the kids while their parents were working.

You felt his cold blue eyes upon you, burning.

But whenever you turned to look at him, his gaze was gone.

You seriously started to wonder if it was all inside your head. If your brain had made up new fantasies about this stranger because he looked so much like his brother, the man you wanted to love.

As said before, time passed ever so slowly within the compound. Your routine seemed never-ending. A dull circle of tasks. But those you helped were grateful.

Until one day you made your way to the dining table in the common hall where most of the followers living in the compound would come to have a meal. You were still filling your plate when behind you, you heard the familiar voice of your leader.

Arthur.

His warm voice hummed pleasantly, sending tingles of longing down the pit of your stomach to come to rest between your legs. You squeezed your thighs while you tried to ignore the honey-sweet low rumble as he talked.

His words were too far away to decipher. You prayed he would not step closer, that he would go away and leave you be. And you took your time scooping up soup and adding from the menu, all ever so slowly in the hopes of avoiding coming face to face with the man who made your body react so fervently against your mind.

Still, curious, you peeked over your shoulder. Arthur was talking to Lin. You could see his lips move. Sensually, you thought, and with a blush on your cheeks quickly looked away. Thoughts warred in your mind. On one hand, you were scared of him, because you knew what his mere presence did to your body. On the other, you were upset that he was giving your friend attention. Why did he never speak to you that way? He always seemed to ignore your presence.

He hadn’t been so distant at the start. When you first came here as a tourist, a traveler from afar, he had even placed his hand upon your shoulder and convinced you to do the judging ceremony. Of course, he had convinced you. From the moment you met, you’d been madly in love. You saw things clouded, heard the praise the people here sang of him, and thought that giving into his request could do little harm.

Naïve, you thought. You’d been so naïve. It had all been a trick to capture you, make you part of the knitted construction that was this depraved little society he had formed around him.

You quietly made your way toward one of the long tables and sat down. You’d gotten in too deep. And you wondered if you’d ever get out again.

“We are expected to attend tomorrow’s ceremony,” Lin said while she set her plate down on the table next to you. “Both of us.”

Then she sat down beside you and made herself comfortable, sitting a little too close, her arm brushing past yours. She gave you a sidelong glance and smiled. “You’re coming, right?”

“Of course I am,” you grunted, not at all that happy that you’d be forced to attend another ceremony. But staying away would be an insult now that you had personally been invited. You glanced behind you to see that Arthur had indeed retreated. He was no longer standing in the hall or anywhere near you. Instead, he sat at the far end of the room at a table with some of his close followers. His brother was there as well, all of them emerged in conversation.

You sighed and let the spoon dip into your soup. Another one of Victor’s recipes. You knew that he cooked for the group most of the time. Though there were days you were served meals prepared by Arthur. Apparently, he enjoyed cooking. You’d never caught him standing in the kitchen or talking to Victor though.

Victor was the other person you considered as close to a friend as you could make within the community. Although he was a firm believer in Ammit, he knew how to make you smile and tell funny jokes. He alleviated some of the pain and sorrow you felt when you remembered you were trapped in this cult. He made you forget.

You looked up and smiled when he passed your table, clearly on his way to the men’s table that harbored Arthur at the far end of the room. “Taste’s good, Vic,” you called out, loud enough to catch his attention.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you with a bright smile. “You think? Thank you,” and then he took a step closer to your table. You felt Lin press herself closer to your side. For some reason, she didn’t like Victor that much. But then again, she hardly ever saw or spoke to him. How well did she actually know him, you thought.

“You should accept my offer to come and help me out in the kitchen one day. I’ve got a thing or two in mind that I could teach you,” Victor said, adding a wink at the end.

He characteristically carried a kitchen towel in his hands, which he now flung over his shoulder playfully. The towel draped like a cape. A real chef, you thought. He did not just have the skills, but also the looks of one.

“Thank you,” you said, but then you shook your head with a smile. Victor’s smile drooped a little, already knowing the answer you were going to give. Truth be said, you liked the idea of helping Victor out in the kitchen. But it would increase your risk of meeting Arthur. What if he just happened to come to cook that day? Your heart could not take it. It would shatter, pretty much like the life and the dreams you once had.

“I know,” Victor said with a sigh. He placed his hands on his hips and shortly glanced away. “You’re too busy.”

You silently watched as he looked down at you again and his smile returned. “You should really learn to say no, missy. You’re always so busy helping others out. You need to think of yourself for once, do things that you would enjoy. We’re only young once, you know?”

When you didn’t reply, he shook his head smilingly and excused himself. “I’m expected at the grand table,” he jested, “so if you’ll excuse me, ladies,” and with a deep mocking bow, he left.

Next to you, you felt how Lin sat up a little straighter again and heard how she snorted. “I’m glad you didn’t agree to help him in the kitchen,” she said, rolling a pea across her plate with the use of her fork, not quite eating but rather playing with her food. “But I do agree that we should go out more. If only there’d be parties here.” She paused, then looked up at you in thought.

“Do you think we’ll be allowed into the city for a night out?” she suddenly asked, voice a combination of cheerful and hopeful.

Now it was your turn to snort. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” you said, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Besides, I am quite content filling my nights reading books or watching silly shows. Sort of replaces the dreams that have left me, you know.”

Lin froze, her elbow poking into your ribs without intention. “God, you are so morbid sometimes,” she said.

“That’s why you like me,” you retorted with a small smile before taking another sip from your soup.

“Yeah,” Lin sounded thoughtful while she turned back to her own meal. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between the two of you while you ate, each lost in your own thoughts. You’d noticed how Lin kept using the word 'God' while she was supposed to be a faithful follower of Ammit. Pretty much like you, you thought. She was just as cynical, just as skeptical. Just as much lured in as you had been.

If you ever needed an ally to get out, she would be it.

“He’s watching you again.” Lin’s voice made you look up in confusion, thinking she spoke of Victor but hoping it was actually Arthur who looked your way.

When you followed her gaze to their table, you saw that it was neither of them. It was the man next to Arthur who was looking your way. His mirror-self. His brother.

His eyes were upon you all right. Blue-grey orbs roved over you, then slid to the man at his side. His attention had wavered and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Didn’t that make you feel uncomfortable?” Lin asked while she wiped her lips clean with a handkerchief. She turned her back towards the table of men so she could focus solely on you.

Worry sounded in her voice. You loved that she was this protective of you, but even you knew that there was only so much protection she could offer.

Besides, this was but a stranger looking your way. A short glance. What harm could it do?

“No,” you lied. You turned back to your plate to poke the last of your food, appetite long gone. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Arthur’s eyes were upon you, dark and stormy.

You didn’t notice.

Notes:

Happy New Year, fellow Black Phone, Moon Knight and Ethan Hawke lovers. Here's a promised multi-chapter fic in which you will be married off to Albert, Arthur's brother. Prepare for some forced marriage/relationship Albert Shaw (Grabber) x Reader that will turn into a more romantic situation and that will go from dub-con to con. But also prepare for Arthur Harrow x Reader. And quite possibly both brothers at the same time if I get in the mood to write it :3 There will be Mentions of Past Abuse for the brothers Arthur/Albert/Max, probably. Reader will be on Birth Control for a large part of the fic, though I might have one of the boys take her off of it eventually.

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#Arthur Harrow x Reader #Albert Shaw x Reader #The Grabber x You #Albert the grabber x you #the black phone #Moon Knight 2021 #Arthur Harrow x you #Arthur Harrow #ethan hawke x reader #Ethan Hawke #Fanfiction #The Grabber #Albert Shaw

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gabbasposts · 5 months

Text

]I’m not him…[

Lies of P: P x Fem!Reader

Warnings: !!SPOILERS!!Angst, no use of Y/n, arguments, P stands for pissed and the boy very much is 💀

(Gif not mine)

A/n: I’ve yet to write angst for Lies of P, so basically here’s a little angst from a P x Reader fanfic I’ve been working on.

For context, this takes place right after P collects Sofia’s Ergo, but Reader and P get into an argument because he has to remind her that he isn’t Carlo, and trying to “help” him remember being him when he simply is his vessel is wrong. (Again everyone has their own headcannons on the lore, personally for this fic, I wanted him to be his own individual and co-exist with Carlo who’s Spector lol)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“C- I mean, P!” The moment the name slipped past her lips, she rushed to cover her mouth, but it was too late. His ears had already registered her words, and his expression told her that much…

His eyes stared at her with a look of hidden rage, as his body tensed. She could only stare as her heart began to race and the shift of his gears filled the sudden silence that had interrupted.

She adverted her gaze, her eyes scanning the ground as she stood there trying to mentally shift through the right responses that could hopefully help ease the tension of the situation and make him understand that she regretted it…

“You don’t understand me at all…” The stillness of his voice suddenly came through, and she lifted her gaze to his face. It still held a look of indifference and stoicism as he continued to stare at her with unblinking eyes, but even behind his mechanics she could sense the hurt and anger that bubbles just beneath his exterior…

He suddenly took a step forward. The action immediately making her take one back in response. She had never seen him angered before despite how he fought, but even then she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and neither would he…

But he had to convince her to understand him. To listen to truly listen to him, because as much as he wanted the strong and intense emotions he felt for her to be love, he couldn’t deny the fact that she… hurt him to an extent.

Not physically of course, but her continuous implications and refusal to see he didn’t like being compared to Carlo, was taking a toll on him and not for the better…

“I’m not him. I’m not.” He spoke softly, and for the briefest of moments his face softened. But it wasn’t long before his eyebrows furrowed and he glared at her.

“I’m not him. I wish… I wish I could’ve remained clueless to the fact that every piece of me was constructed in his image… I even have his heart, yet I’m nothing like him.” There was an edge to his tone now, and every word stung and couldn’t help but to wrap her arms around herself in a effort to calm herself, as she also fought the urge to advert her gaze from him.

“Ever since Romeo’s message, you imprinted this idea in your head that I must have to remember something from when I was him, to be me again… to find myself when the truth of it all, is that I am a separate entity from him.” He spat out, feeling himself grow more angry but even in his rage, he didn’t want to hurt her. But a small part of him felt good seeing his words finally set in place in her mind.

She recoiled from his tone, turning her head from him in shame, but he didn’t let her. “Did you know Carlo or something? Tell me. My father or more so my creator, has already lied to me enough and now I have to face him. It feels like I’ve been surrounded by nothing but lies since I woke up at Krat station. I’ll have it no more… so tell me.” He hissed and she couldn’t help but to scoff in disbelief, her hurt evident in both her expression and words.

“You know I didn’t! P, I’m sorry, after we found out about the ergo, I-I… I assumed that his soul” she began start, but he cut her off from her explanation quickly.

“-His soul keeps me conscious, and who I am now, but I am not him. You know this.” He bit out, causing her lower her gaze. She felt her eyes brim with tears, and she hated herself for it…

Before this argument, she had wanted him to speak more, and to express himself more around her, but not like this… not in anger that she was the cause of more importantly.

“P… I-I’m sorry-“ she tried to apologize turning to face him, but he scoffed taking a step back.

“From now on, I’ll deal with Geppetto myself. Stay here, and help Antonia or anyone else.” He turned from her, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he made his way down the hall to the main entrance.

She stared at him as his back, watching as his now grey and silver like strands moved with him, as he almost rushed to get away from her…

#lies of p x reader #lies of p carlo #lies of p #gabbasdumbthoughts #angst #I like to imagine that P is the type to be scarily call when he’s pissed

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year

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an idea, how about yuu getting a cold in the monster au? how would the staff react to it?

*going back through the backlog of asks to answer stuff I couldn’t think of a response for at the time* I really need to clean up my inbox and answer some of these things. Sorry for the delay! 😅

Anywho~!

Much like animals in our world, the monsters in the monster!AU have a tendency to hide when they’re hurt or sick due to an old instinct to hide away and “lick their wounds” so to speak. Nowadays though, monster magicians and witches cannot afford to stay sick or let injuries last longer than necessary due to their own stubborn nature and will seek aid. Of course, there are some who refuse to do so due to pride, so the staff (both living and ghostly) have learned to pinpoint the signs right off the bat so they can react accordingly.

So when the school’s resident endangered human stumbles onto campus looking like someone dragged them through the Underworld and back…welllllll…

Crowley:

It was another beautiful day, and just as he does every morning, the headmaster greets every student with a cheerful smile. And just like every day, the students ignore him–not that this bothered him. After all, he is a mature adult! Such trivial things didn’t bother him in the slightest. And at least there was one student who was surely happy to see him: “Ah, good morning, Yu–GREAT MERCIFUL SEVEN!!! Are you alright?!”

As shifty and mysterious as he could be at times, no one can say he doesn’t care about his students. So the moment he spots a sick Yuu looking like a member of the undead, he immediately escorted them to the nurse’s office for a check-up. He may have fretted over what the researchers might assume if they thought the school had been neglecting the human. That would be a blemish on the hospitality and care of NRC! (Calm down, Crowley, or you’ll start molting early. >.> )

Even if it turns out to be a simple cold, Crowley makes sure to visit them frequently to monitor their recovery. Whatever Yuu needs, he’ll make the arrangements: fresh flowers to brighten the room? Only the prettiest and most fragrant, chosen by the Pomefiore students for quality aesthetics! Soup for the cold? Of course the cafeteria ghosts know and can make the best soup for the soul to ease any cold! Clean linen? Changed out every day with pillows fluffed for maximum comfort!

When Yuu’s fever finally broke and they were able to recover, Crowley heaved a sigh of relief. Sure, part of it was from worrying about the backlash from the research institutions if Yuu took a turn for the worst, but he was genuinely relieved to know that Yuu was recovering well. Now, he just needs to make arrangements for a visit with a doctor to get immunizations. No need to risk the only human in existence to get sick from some illness not native to where they came from…

Crewel:

The moment Yuu stumbled into homeroom, he immediately turned them around and said, “Nurse’s office. Now.” His tone suggested there was no room for argument, and at this point, Yuu knew better than to disobey him. It wasn’t until a break between classes that he came to check on them, listening to what the nurse had to say and coming up with a plan to help them recover.

All throughout the day, the werewolf professor would check in on Yuu, bringing the nurse herbs and potions to help with the symptoms. He would bring their homework to them and spend time catching Yuu up on the lessons they missed, stopping when he noticed them struggling to focus so they could rest. If they wish to do after-school or weekend lessons, he will have a talk with the other teachers to make it happen.

Once Yuu starts gaining their energy back, he’s pleased to know that one of his pups is going to be okay. He is, however, going to make sure that they’re taking care of themselves.

Trein:

The moment he learned that Yuu was sick, he was brought back to those days when his daughters caught a cold. As a father, he knew how difficult it was to keep little ones (and sometimes teenagers) on bedrest. If Yuu happens to be one of those who can’t stand to be sick in bed doing nothing, he’ll bring them books from the library and even his own private collection for them to read. He may or may not have allowed their friends to slip in a comic book or two.

During the times after school or during breaks, he would bring Lucius along with him for some animal companionship. With paws kneading biscuits on the blankets and the sweetest purrs, the matagot will be happy to lend his assistance if it means Yuu will recover faster. Combined with Trein sitting beside them reading aloud from one of the books, it’s enough to keep Yuu engaged and resting without feeling the need to move around.

Even when Yuu is back to normal, he doesn’t mind still reading to them and Ortho whenever he and Lucius are in the courtyard. It’s been ages since he’d helped care for someone in need since his daughters moved out of the house, and he was proud to see them full of life again.

Vargas:

Yuu’s sick?! Oh, he knows just what they need to get back on their feet: lots of rest, soup, and water mixed with sports drinks for electrolytes!...what? Did you honestly expect him to force Yuu to try and do workouts or drink and eat the things he does when they’re sick? Absolutely not! He knows that a magician’s physical abilities can improve their ability to cast magic, but he understands that resting is important too.

“If I wouldn’t expect you to walk on a broken leg, why should I expect you to be at your best when sick or mentally exhausted?” he’d explained to the very confused human as he mixed water into a cup with their favorite flavored sports drink. “Maintaining your physical health is important, but knowing when to rest and recover is something you need to pay attention to what your body is telling you. You aren’t being lazy if you’re resting your mind and body. So focus on taking care of yourself first and foremost…got it?”

While he does make sure they get plenty of rest and nutrients in their system, he can help make sure they will have an easier time recovering by helping them stretch out those sore muscles using techniques he’d learned from a physical therapist. Even when they’re given a clean bill of health, he’s not going to just toss them back into exercising at full-tilt. Building back up to where they were before is going to be exactly what he has in mind, and he’ll make sure to get them there!

Sam:

Oh dear, the little imp has a nasty cold? Well that’s not good! Don’t worry, Yuu: Sam has anything and everything you need. IN STOCK! Thermometers and cooling patches for your forehead? In stock! Cough and cold medicine in liquid or capsule form? In stock! Air purifiers and hot steam vaporizers for those stuffy noses? On sale! Anything that Yuu could possibly need to be more comfortable during their recovery or things they used before, he’ll have exactly what they ask for or will find something close enough/better. That’s the Mystery Shop guarantee!

Even though he runs the shop, he finds ways to make time to visit and brings just the thing Yuu was going to ask for. How? Well, he can’t reveal all his secrets, now can he? After all, Yuu is one of his best customers, and he wants to see them back up to their mischievous selves!

He’s happy to have Yuu back in the shop once they get over their cold, bringing out their favorite snacks he’d saved just for them at a slight discount. Don’t forget about the bonus jam-filled shadow skull cookies he made–Yuu will be the first to taste-test a new product he plans to sell! On the side, he takes note of the items that helped Yuu’s recovery, making sure he has a way to get what’s needed in case of an emergency.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #dire crowley #divus crewel #mozus trein #ashton vargas #twst sam

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cloverdaisies · 10 months

Text

SLOW IT DOWN: LEE JUYEON pt 1

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

# Slow it down, make it bouncy, 지금부터 fly좀 다른 spicy, 청양고추 vibe

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

a lee juyeon x reader imagine

contains mature themes e.g risks, violence, dangerous driving, suggestive themes reader discretion is advised.

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

hi (your name) you’ve been invited to play RACEFORTIME!

… \

Do you accept the invite YES OR NO?

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

… \

CONGRATS! you chose the right option and escaped permanent elimination let me search for a party to put you in…

… \

FOUND! you are now apart of party 11.. enjoy the game…

“y/n i know you didn’t just join that fucking game” kevin, your best friend looked over your shoulder to the computer screen resting on the desk beneath.

“why not? it looks fun.” you replied with a chuckle watching as his face exploded in horror.

“it’s not fun until you’re either- you know- killed by it or I DONT KNOW killed doing something for it.” he choked on his words slightly, pacing the room and throwing his hands dramatically in the air.

“that’s just a myth, some people just get addicted to it and end up being killed because they go to far.” you rolled your eyes, turning around to scroll through the game rules.

"that's because you literally cannot the leave the game! do you not remember johnny? he tried to leave the game so he could go to his math exam and suddenly dropped dead in the theatre?- LISTEN i’m not even meant to mention that in case they end up coming for me for talking about it! why? why did you do thi-”

“listen kevin, it was my idea and johnny already had existing health problems it was just a coincidence, plus since school is over i’m bored and want some fun in my life.” you laughed at the boy’s concern and patted the top of his peachy little head.

“listen if you do this to yourself i want no part in it. you might be my best friend but i’m not risking my life for that game.” he sighed, but was shortly cut off by a jovial tune that hummed from the speakers of your laptop.

…/

hey! (your name) you have your first task to complete! remember there’s clues all over the city! don’t skip any pointers!

../

- find the key hidden in a mailbox the west corner of 67th street

…/

- your mode of transport is linked to a chain and lock near the bike shelter on west avenue.

../

- hop on and join a specific competition in town as a rider and win

…/

- meet player #109 without explicit mention of racefortime

../

you have 3 hours to complete!

WIN OR LOSE? good luck!

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

“kev, you have to take me to 67th street now.” you turned around with a glimmer of adrenaline lighting up in your eyes.

“i’ve literally just said i’m not getting involved.” he folded his arms in an indefinite refusal, but softened his posture as your soft puppy eyes shone back up at him.

“i can’t drive! and there’s no way i’d get there in time without you. plus if things were like you said, wouldn’t i die if i didn’t complete the task.” you were using his own words against him, in a cruel way but yet you found it still unconvincing that a game had some sort of sorcerers ability to kill people

“fine. but that’s it! i’m out.” he grabbed his car keys, observing the 2:58:54 that lit up both your phone and laptop screen.

——

kevin drove you into the city, picking up speed wherever he could as the dark night had settled in and by the time you guys had reached 67th street the timer hit 2:36:43.

“it could be any of these mailboxes y/n! this is a death wish!” kevin put his face in his palms out of stress before exhaling and parking his car on the curb of the west corner.

“it’s a branded game kevin, there has to be a clue somewhere.” you laughed observing each mailbox, as you strolled past them until you saw a smiley face sticker with the eyes crossed out with graffitied handwriting which read “good luck!”.

“calabunga.” you smiled, using the lever to open the box and retrieve the black key placed inside. “let’s go.”

kevin huffed as you sprinted back to the vehicle eager to feel the adrenaline seep through your veins.

——

kevin dropped you off at west avenue, giving you a hug before explaining his reasons for not being able to stay.

“take care of yourself and don’t get hurt. please call me if you need me.” a line he had gotten used to saying at this point considering your lifestyle he was used to your flighty antics. but it seemed like this time you’d gone a little too far.

there were multiple bikes chained up near the bike shelter on west avenue, but it wasn’t like you had time to eliminate each one. one motorcycle stood out in particular, it was jet black, clearly a brand new build with a huge silver smiley face pad lock attached to a clunky metal chain on the side.

you inserted the key in hopes of it being the right one and sighed in relief when the chain loosened and lock burst open.

“nice bike.” a butter smooth voice hollered from behind you, you turned to see a pink haired boy behind you, covered in tattoos and piercings.

“thanks. just got it.” you replied with a chuckle, pushing the bike forward out of the shelter.

“do you know how to ride it?” he asked cocking his eyebrow up slightly.

“not really but my dad used to ride em, so it can’t be there hard.” you laughed nervously, swinging your leg over the seat and settling on board.

“how about i drive you into town, since i think i can see what you’re playing and you take it from there?” he suggested, watching your face contort as you battled the decision in your head.

“i don’t know. i think i’ll be fine.” you replied, not trusting his sinister appearance and judging eyes.

“how else would you get there without having a clue how to ride it?” he made suspicious eye contact with you, his facial expressions seemingly trying to tell you something.

he’s a player.

he must had been told to pick you up and take you into town.

“ah. i get it. yeah, sure you can take me into town.” you smiled, clocking his nervous movements and sigh of relief at your acceptance of the offer.

“thank you.” he puffed out in gratitude quickly hopping on the bike, and handing you the singular helmet hung on the side.

“do you not need this?” you asked hopping on the back behind him. he turned around with a look on his face that read “are you serious right now?”

“no, who where’s those? now quick we only have 1 hour and 50 minutes.” he shrugged off your words and with that he started the engine, waiting for you to pull the helmet over your head and place your hands around his waist before speeding off onto the main road into town.

——

hollering, yelling, the sound of smashed bottles and a heavily a intoxicated crowd lit up the nightlife in town as they all gathered round main street gearing up for one of the most exciting street races in town.

pulling on the brakes, the pink haired boy slowed arriving at the riders bay at the beginning of the street, there were multiple boys who were just like him, accessorizing in tattoo sleeves and thick silver jewelry.

“okay, the main race starts in 10 minutes. don’t talk to anyone, there’s some wrong people around here.” he told you within a genuine tone, seemingly as he frowned.

“why are you-” you were about to ask why he was telling you this information before he started the gas on the bike again.

“i’m sorry.” he spoke just above a whisper in remorse.

“for what? you’re not stealing my bike, are you?” your tone rose slightly, eyes lighting up red in the reflection of the brake lights.

“RIDERS GEAR UP.” a loud voice chanted through a megaphone as each motorcycle began lining up down the street.

“i have to.” he laughed, driving away from you as you attempted the run after the boy.

“shit.” your legs soon grew tired and it was no use running after him at this point considering he was driving away at what felt like 90mph.

if what kevin said was true, you were dead.

you had no bike to race with and time was ticking down like sand, 1:05:34, the clock on your phone read with a sad smiley face beneath it. “uh oh” a robotic voice echoed through your speakers. it knows my bike was stolen?

you shrugged it off, watching as girls jumped on the back of their boyfriends bike ready for the race to start. you ran past each rider, asking if you could just by any chance, hop on the back of their bike for the race. but you knew you couldn’t mention the game, or the time you had left in your phone and most of them refused laughing at you pathetically.

“hop on mine.” a sultry sweet voice beckoned from behind you, a jet black haired boy with sharp facial features and a silver lip ring faced you, seemingly catching a glimpse of your phone screen which read 1:0:30.

without a second thought, you stuffed your phone in your pocket and slid on to the back of his bike.

“thank you.” you sighed in relief, looking around for a helmet to wear but there wasn’t one. “do you not have a helmet?”

“RIDERS YOUR RACE BEGINS IN… ” the megaphone voice echoed through the street, riders reviving their engines and the crowd spitting, hollering in excitement.

“no. just put your arms around me. hurry the fuck up there’s no time.” his tone grew serious and you rushed to wrap your arms around him as the traffic lights flicked between red and amber.

“READY.”

“SET.”

“GO.”

each driver released their brakes, shooting down the street at speeds above 100mph with no fear of consequences.

that rush of adrenaline you craved, rushed through your vessels as the motorcycle sped through the night, passing each street lamp at exhausting speeds, eliciting high pitched whistles and screams from the crowd behind the barricade.

the kind boy driving you wasn’t rushing yet, he capped his speed at 90mph for the first lap falling to the back of the hoard of vehicles crowding at high speed.

“we’re behind. we have to win.” you yelled into the boys ear over the overwhelming sound of roaring engines.

“i know but just wait until-” he shouted back but was largely cut off by the sound of screeching metal and a silencing crash as two riders brutally collided.

“THAT. that’s why you want to be behind.” he silenced you as you looked back gobsmacked at the fatal scene. shards of metal and bike parts still flying in the air almost decapitating you and the boy.

it was almost the final lap, riders being eliminated by obstacles one by one, crashing and setting fire to their vehicles.

turning the last corner, the boy picked up speed, racing towards the front of the competition, neck and neck with the rider beside you. looking to your left you saw the familiar pink haired boy, racing on the stolen bike towards the finishing line. he smirked, leaning to his right and almost clashing with your vehicle.

“Juyeon doing charity work? Awhh.” he cooed over the racketing sound of his engine, giving a name to the boy that had helped you enter the race.

“Fuck off, thief.” you hollered back, watching him smile and and shake his head, eliciting an overtaking match between Juyeon and himself.

00:00:30

“Juyeon! We have 30 seconds left!” you shouted over to the boy in front, he nodded and ramped up the speed one more time.

with that, the pink haired boy fell behind, the finishing line within arms length, the thrill of winning biting at you.

a tacky horn sounded as you crossed the finish line,

00:00:00

YOU WIN!

your phone screen lit up with digital confetti, the flash light turning off in a staccato pattern as the bike came to a hault.

“Yes! We win!” you squealed, hugging the boy as a thank you, he smiled slightly looking up to something with a cocky grin.

“Yes, we did indeed.” he spoke mysteriously, you followed his eyes up to the large billboard screen on one of the skyscrapers in the city.

both yours and juyeon’s face lit up on the big screen with a banner that read:

“POWER COUPLE? RACEFORTIME BIKE RACE WINNERS”

you covered your face in embarrassment, shying away from the camera as juyeon wrapped an arm around your shoulder smiling and waving - eliciting the crowd of girls gathered around with their phones to squeal.

“remember to upvote me, as your favorite player!” he said into the camera, giving it a heart which contrasted his dark mysterious appearance, leather jacket and piercings.

your phone began to chime with notifications, follows on instagram, messages from classmates, and a score in the top right corner began to rise.

Congratulations! (your name), you’ve surpassed 1000 supporters on RACEFORTIME.

“you gain popularity from this?” you asked curiously watching Juyeon smile back down at you.

“hell yeah. you’re talking to the most popular guy in the game.” he showed you his screen with a proud glint in his cat-like eyes.

player #109: JUYEON LEE

WINS: 25

SUPPORTERS: 1.3m

“what’s your name?” he asked clicking on to the search bar of the app.

“y/n.” you replied with your name and username, a banner notification popping up at the top of your screen to say he’d followed you.

“thanks by the way, juyeon.” you smiled at him, watching him check his bike for scratches crouched on the floor.

“no problem, if you need anymore help let me know. it’s hard to survive this game.” he spoke solemnly, looking over his shoulder at the pink haired boy sat at the sidelines with his head in his hands.

as you began to walk off, you looked up to see kevin stood at the sidelines with a look that replicated death itself. an appalled, gobsmacked “o” for lips and eyes sunken in fear.

“you’re so dead when we get home.” he whacked you over the back of your head slightly, and escorted you back to his car despite distressing that he wasn’t coming to pick you up at all.

you turned back one last time to catch eyes with the mysterious juyeon lee, hopping back on to his motorcycle yet still watching you walk away.

you waved shyly, seeing a smile creep on to his face before he lifted his hand to wave back.

hopefully this wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

hello my daisies !! dedicated to @winterchimez for a late bday present <3 ahhh i love this concept so much and hope you enjoyed too!! this is one of my favorite storylines yet <3

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ ✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

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xanadontit · 2 months

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Hey @tap-shoes I got you!

Dear Care and Feeding,

My husband and I have two kids, ages 14 months and 2 years old. Ever since the second was born, I’ve been kind of uncomfortable with the fact that my husband is NEVER alone with both of them, outside of me going to the bathroom or taking a shower.

Anytime I have somewhere to be, he has at least one of his parents come over or he goes to their house or his sister’s house (they all live locally) with the kids. I’ve been hesitant to bring it up because I don’t want to try to control the time he spends with the kids, and when I mentioned it to my close friend she said I should take it as a gift because I find his family a bit overbearing, so he gets the time with his family, his family gets the time with the kids, and I don’t need to spend extra time with them. But it has made me wonder if he is comfortable with our kids on his own, which any parent should be.

Very early this morning I received a call that my mother was being taken to the hospital in serious condition. I am her medical proxy and live about an hour and a half away. I immediately got up to get dressed and told my husband I needed to go and would make sure I was back in time to pick up the kids from daycare at the end of the day as I always do (he drops them off). He got panicky and asked me to give him a minute to call his mother because he needed her to come over in case the kids woke up and to help with the morning routine. I told him that was ridiculous; I can understand wanting a hand with the morning routine, but she didn’t need to come over at 2:30 a.m. to sit on alert while the kids slept, especially since they both sleep through the night on their own 95 percent of the time. He said he wasn’t comfortable being there alone with them and he needed me to wait to leave until one of his parents got there. I said no, I had an emergency to deal with and I would be going, he could handle two sleeping kids and should just go back to bed himself until his alarm, and I left. Twenty minutes later I saw a notification on our security cameras that his mother had arrived at the house.

It’s a few hours later and I’m sitting in the waiting room waiting for an update on my mother’s surgery and for my siblings to arrive and I just don’t even know what to think. I’ve tried texting and calling and he didn’t answer. I just don’t understand how you can be uncomfortable taking care of your own children and think just constantly having someone else around is an acceptable solution. He only ever seems to have regular new-ish parent worries, not over-the-top anxiety. What’s the best way to address this when I get home? I know he will be mad I left, but I’m mad he put me in a situation where I had to choose to leave. Shouldn’t you be able to take care of your own children? Did I miss something I should have seen?

—Can’t Leave Him Alone

Dear Alone,

First off, I really hope your mom is OK. That isn’t a call anyone wants to receive, especially in the middle of the night.

Presumably, you’ve come home since writing this letter; I wish we had a Reddit-style update I could pull up, but I’ll have to consign myself to the land of make-believe instead. If you and I were dealing with this in real-time, I would tell you to find a time later this afternoon or evening when you are both calmer and ask him why he feels he can’t be alone with the kids. But you can still have this conversation even though that moment has passed. Try to truly listen to his reasons and see if you can uncover whether this is real anxiety/fear or whether it’s a version of weaponized incompetence (which doesn’t have to be intentional to exist). Explain that while you don’t mind extended family helping out in general, it concerns you that you can’t count on him in an emergency.

If he’s reticent to see the problem, ask him what his plan is when his mom is gone, but you need to be out of town. What if you are the one who gets hurt, or worse? He needs to be able to step up and assume the full duties of parenthood, and not only in an emergency! You should be able to run an errand, get a manicure, or see a friend without making childcare arrangements. If he truly cannot step up because of deep-rooted anxiety, then he needs to be looking at therapy of some kind. I do not mean to be unkind, but this is the behavior of a mother’s helper, not a parent.

—Allison

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kitsunesfandomtime · 2 months

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Hated by Life Itself (Rough Draft/Concept)

Summary: A young AFO wonders why he is still alive and his purpose for his continued existence. He decides to try and figure it out despite everything else saying he should die.

Inspired by: @tengoku-izumi, @kstbj and song this is a rough draft and not the completed fic. I just like sharing since it might change so enjoy~

Completed Version: Link

Since he was born it felt as if life itself abhorred his very existence. Blood and death followed his every path as nightmares of the dead sneered and screamed at him. There are times he wondered if he should listen to their words, grab his own spike and ram it into his throat. To end it all as there is only more death in this world.

Only to remember that Yoichi is still there.

He would die without him, unable to fight or defend himself. While he didn’t care about his own life, always eating second and prioritizing the other, he can’t bring himself to abandon Yoichi. It was a selfish thought, he is sure, that he didn’t care much about himself and yet can’t let go of his little brother. As the only reason he could think of if Yoichi died is, he wouldn’t like it.

Little brother. It was Yoichi that learned that term after he brought all those books. It was also when he chose to name his little brother. As the only kindness the world has ever gifted him despite everything else wishing for his death. Yet he still hasn’t chosen a name for himself, even refusing his little brother's attempt to name him.

He didn’t need one.

A name is something for those that have an identity, a dream, or actually have some light to look forward to. His brother says live peacefully, be kind, even to his own detriment and while at times have gotten annoyed enough to roughly shove or hurt his brother. He admired it, that naivety was in a weird sense sweet because he wished he could live peacefully. What a wonderful thing it would be if he could just live like that, but he knows he can’t.

Every radio talks about a new death, every TV they find has another riot and chaos of people fighting those with powers. There are marches of people who sneer at the paranormal, looking at him and implying if has power they will kill him. Living Peacefully was never an option for them, but he can at least let Yoichi believe in that. It not like he cares what strangers think only that Yoichi lives and is at his side, then its enough.

Though he notes they both have been growing. Yoichi has more comics now after they found a bookstore to hide in. He goes to his side and reads.

And in that moment also realized, like the hero, if they died there would be no one there to mourn them. No one would care about their existence and for once the thought did bother him because it was unfair. Unsure of what to think of these feelings he keeps it close to his chest listening and trying to learn more of the world. Only to learn of the ‘Glowing baby’.

…He was loved. He was born with mutant powers but everyone loved him. They adored him and he made changes. Everyone would care if he died, he would be a martyr.

He saw red, wanting to scream why everyone loves him? Why didn’t anyone help him or his little brother? What made them so different!? His hands trembling as he stared at the screen as this ‘baby’ was actually his age if anything a bit younger. Wanting to ask why he was born so loved while he is in the streets with scraps barely surviving.

Because you’re a monster!

He flinches. Somehow a voice echoed in his head causing him to stumble awat from the TV, knowing he was getting a few looks. His head was pounding, able to hear the jeers and sneers, they were so loud… He just wanted to live for his little brother. He just wants what everyone else has so won’t feel so terrible and is only trying to survive while people keep trying to kill him. Is that so wrong? Was he that terrible?

Why was he even alive?

“...It’s all pointless isn’t it?” He whispers more to himself as he just listens to those voices. A deep breath and a sigh as he looks at the TV screen. Thinking about the comic book they read reminded him of the villain. The villain wasn’t alone. If he's already been a monster since birth then he should embrace that role. Then everyone would have to look at him then when they have nothing, he can show he can care for them.

No one will be able to ignore him. He won’t feel lonely anymore.

He needs to return to Yoichi. Before he does this he wants to be with him, he won’t tell him his plans might fail. If he dies because of failure at least he wants to be sure that Yoichi will be fine for a while. Because in the end if Yoichi dies, no one would even know or even care that he existed either.

________

“Yoichi I brought back food,” The unnamed young man called out with a grocery bag. Of course he had to mug some drunks for the money since no one wants to hire some rats off the street. One of the food though was a nice donation from that kind restaurant, the man always left nice food in the back. He wishes he could pay him back somehow, but if he succeeds then he will try his best to repay him back.

“And not all of it from stolen money. The guy that puts out free food in the back had a full meal out today he must be doing well,” He notes as he takes out that first since is sure Yoichi already making a face at the idea of food obtained dubiously. But the moment he mentioned that specific man his eyes lit up already eagerly holding his hand out to snatch the food. Opening and devouring it with his hand.

“Hey! He brought us forks we should at least try to eat it,” he laughs just a bit and Yoichi stops himself. Looking a bit embarrassed but to be fair they didn’t know manners they only learned by watching other people. Usually through a window and that's how they even learned about utensils, regardless Yoichi did accept the plastic fork and knife to eat his noodles a bit more cleanly. While the older brother sat beside to eat the leftover Katsudon enjoying the meal a bit he thinks about how could set his little brother up.

“Honestly, you can probably visit that guy sometimes too. He usually has a consistent schedule and thankfully not too many people cause trouble there,” He noted. Watching Yoichi look up in surprise as this was the first time he ever suggested Yoichi do anything by himself. “It's just a thought. Eventually I might die so it's good to know how to care for yourself.”

Yoichi suddenly sputtered and choked, looking shocked. Was it really that surprising? There were tons of attempts on their life-

“You aren’t going to die! Don’t just say stuff like that, you don’t want to die do you?” Yoichi questioned with concern and honestly… The older brother was a bit dumbfounded. Staring at his little brother confused at what he means about how he doesn’t want to die. Slowly tilting his head he thinks about how he doesn’t care if he does die but guessed it not like he is actively trying.

“I mean if I obtained an immortal body I guess that wouldn’t be an issue,” he answers quite bluntly. Yoichi’s concern turns to annoyance as he leans over and smacks his shoulder as if had just been tricked.

“You’re an ass! That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Are you just messing with me by talking about death?” Yoichi questions and he honestly just shrugs. Likely only frustrating his little brother more but he didn’t exactly know how to explain it. Thinking a bit more carefully about how he is supposed to communicate his words.

“I am serious. If I was immortal it would be nice, I would be able to take care of you forever without any issues. I’m sure you like being immortal as you could read all the comics and books in the world,” He informed him, though his little brother seemed annoyed. At least he wasn’t saying he wanted to die or anything. He’s just indifferent to the idea if he was honest but he would avoid it if he could. So that should be satisfactory.

“But honestly… If either of us died, the world itself likely wouldn’t care.” The unnamed teen muses and Yoichi freezes. He doesn’t say anything, just a long moment of silence because honestly it's the truth. Yoichi may be smart and probably get along well in society but it won’t allow him in unless something huge happens. They see his white hair and they steer clear of him right away just on the possibility he’s a paranormal.

“...But I don’t really care about the dying part.” He finally admits watching his little brother freeze, “I wouldn’t pursue it of course, you still need me and I would do anything to avoid it as there are things I still want to do. But at the same time, I would rather you live over me if given a chance that’s all it is.”

“Shut up! What is wrong with you!?” Yoichi screams and the anger did surprise him. It was rare to see his little brother so riled up and when examines his face he was trembling. As if hadn’t expected this at all, his words came out of nowhere. “You’re always selfish and demanding the hell you mean you rather I live over you!?”

Selfish…? Demanding…? What does that have to do with this conversation?

Oh! Likely because he ignores Yoichi whenever he tries to stop him from killing their enemies or any of his demands to be ‘good’. He is quite stubborn like that but he didn’t see anything wrong with what he said, not like he has any issues with Yoichi personally either. He’s known that his brother is just like this and he accepts him he isn’t going to stop caring about him. He continues eating like Yoichi isn’t looking on the brink of crying. Honestly confused at why he is making such a big deal about his statement.

“Well, I just wouldn’t like living without you alive.” It was blunt and to the point. To show he is still the same and selfish brother that he always knew. Watching those green eyes widened as tries to register his words. Then they filled with tears and a broken laugh escaped him as if had said something funny.

“The hell is that supposed to mean? That doesn’t make sense… You don’t make sense,” Yoichi whispers and in the end he guessed it was true if he said it didn’t. But in the end he was selfish and didn’t care about what was the correct way to care about someone. Some might think he is being selfless but it is not as if he wants to die for his little brother. He just prefers not to entertain the idea of being completely alone.

“You don’t need to understand it just how I feel. But you probably shouldn’t cry over your ramen. It 's going to end up extra salty,” He points out. Watching his little brother snort as wipes his eyes then goes to eat the remaining ramen. At the least they talked it out even if his brother started yelling at him and getting emotional suddenly. But in a weird way, he did feel closer and he was happy at that moment.

He hopes he can succeed and eventually they no longer have to live off of scraps.

#All for One MHA #All for One BNHA #yoichi shigaraki #First One for All User #Yoly's Rough Draft #Yoly's fanfics

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mirclealignr · 2 years

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misguided preservation | f.o

finnick odair x reader

requested by anonymous with mutual pining and “i thought you hated me” — “nah just playing around”

warnings; talks of death, no pronouns used for the reader, fluff. FINNICK DOES NOT DIE AFTER THIS FIC I REFUSE. SO THEY GET THEIR HAPPY ENDING TYVM.

word count; 1100+

a/n; first finnick fic :)

Finnick had found himself more infuriated than usual. He seemed to have anger built within him, though he did not blame himself for this. Born to a district instead of the Capitol was his only shortcoming as a child, now he made claim thousands.

But, he’d done everything he knew how to find some form of happiness, or some sense of relief. Most of his efforts were in pursuit of you. He knew you only briefly in the second games, due to the unfortunate fact that most of his attention was on Katniss. They needed her out—that was his only reason for existing in the Quarter Quell.

Now in District 13, he began to see a pleasing twinkle in your eye, a charming twitch of the lip, an enchanting beauty he’d beheld only in art. Even with their dull uniforms and strict rules, the light he found in you had not faded, and therefore his own had rekindled. He felt warmth spread over his body when he was near you, wished to tell you a secret of his own rather than someone else’s sinful secret that would tarnish your smile.

“You’re not hungry?” Finnick asked, sitting opposite you and blocking the TV behind him.

“I was distracted,” you said, looking down at your food, “But now you’re in the way so I suppose I’ll go back to eating,” you added dejectedly.

“I’m not a good enough distraction?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Not even close,” you retorted, picking up your tray and dropping it in the trash on your way out.

Visiting Katniss has become a daily routine for you, even after she left her bed and explored District 13. You found it even more important to check in with her then, for it felt as if there were many secrets in the fortress they’d built here.

Katniss fiddled with her pearl as she listened to you complain about the food, and how dull everyone in 13 was. She was not one for idle chit chat, but she appreciated your visits and enjoyed the sound of your voice even if she didn’t know what you were saying. But when she heard Finnick’s name, the pearl in her hand stopped spinning and her ears perked up.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Oh, just Finnick being his annoying self,” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” she said, “You like him,” she stated, having little time for flourished sentences or beating around the bush—she preferred getting straight to the point.

“I don’t,” you shook your head, “I- I can’t.”

“There’s a difference. Which one is it?”

“I can’t like him, Katniss. We’re both as good as dead, sacrificed for the capitol or martyred for the revolution.”

“It’s not certain. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to get Peeta back?”

It felt impossible. It was by mere chance that the two of you had survived your own Games and against the odds that you had both survived the vicious Quarter Quell. Not all of you had been so lucky, so fortunate, to have been in the right place at the right time. Letting yourself love Finnick was too much of a risk for an already broken heart.

“The fact that we might not make it through this should be more reason to spend as much time with him as you can. Because if he does die, you’ll regret this for the rest of your life,” Katniss said with a shrug, returning to the black pearl in her hand.

Such a small token, yet it meant to much to her. Perhaps it was fortuitous that Peeta had discovered a black pearl, the rarest pearl on Earth. Perhaps it was not by chance at all. Either way, Katniss had a symbol for her everlasting love and you had not even a memory.

A warning.

There were so many flights of stairs, you really had no idea just how deep they had dug into the ground. It was incredible and you wished you were taking it all in under more favourable circumstances. The rain beat against your face, each sharp droplet stinging your skin with fear. Your feet began to ache as they stomped against the metal stairs, deeper and deeper underground, desperately searching for the bunker.

As your mind began swirl with frightening possibilities, you lost your footing on the slippery surface, and your grip on the wet railing. But someone’s hands gripped you tightly and steadied you again. The hand remained on your back until you reached the bottom, ensuring your protection. And finally, when you could catch your breath and take a moment to appreciate that your life had not been taken as of yet, you turned face your protector.

“Finnick,” you breathed heavily.

He said nothing, only huffed as he fought for breath. But his eyes met yours tenderly, almost desperately, as his hands fell to his knees and rain dripped from his hair and nose.

You could hardly contain yourself.

“Finnick,” you whispered, marching towards his hunched figure, which alarmed him enough to try to stand full height.

You caught his face and pressed your lips eagerly to his, forcing every piece of you that doubted this out of your heart. Faced with your own mortality, you began to crumble and withdraw, but Katniss was right—you needed Finnick. And no matter the time you had left, you weren’t wasting another moment.

“I thought you hated me,” Finnick laughed, pulling away slowly.

“Nah, just playing around,” you said sarcastically.

He cocked an eyebrow. You wouldn’t have believed yourself either.

“I was just- I didn’t want to get too attached in case-”

“I faced an untimely death?” He grinned.

“In case I got my heart broken. But essentially, yes,” you shook your head with a disapproving laugh.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Realising I’d be heartbroken either way. And it might cushion the pain knowing I’d made the most of the time we had, if that were to happen,” you confessed, “But I don’t want to think about that.”

“No, I don’t either,” he said, leaning down towards your lips again with a little smirk.

They tasted sweeter than you could have imagined. He was more gentle than you had anticipated, more thoughtful. But his kiss was simply a dream, where you floated above the world of pain you knew and settled amongst the clouds.

“Let’s go find somewhere to rest,” he said, offering you his hand.

“Okay,” you replied, touching your skin with his, which was surprisingly warm, and following him into the bunker.

tag list | library account; @mirclesjournal

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #the hunger games fic #the hunger games fanfiction

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nightghoul381 · 2 months

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Dark If ~ Jude Jazza

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

CW: Mentions of blood

I immediately started researching things in the library. About curses and magic.

The knowledge I gained from books every day was all about things I didn’t know, having been raised in an overprotected castle.

Kate: “Time is not irreversible, and space is not absolute.”

Kate: “Like intricately intertwined threads, the past and the future, and one world and another, can be connected.”

Kate: “…Maybe that’s why I have memories of living both in England and in the world of fairy tales…”

Both existed separately, but now they are intertwined as one.

It’s like twisting two threads together.

When I quickly turned the page, I saw that it was written about a wizard.

Because wizards possess incredible power and are rare in number, they often become the source of contention between countries.

It is not uncommon for one’s life to be targeted by assassins from other countries. This is because if you kill one wizard, you will have a military advantage.

(Because wizards can easily plot to overthrow the country,)

(If they refuse to belong to the national army, they are often imprisoned or killed--)

Kate: “…Oh I see…”

(I can’t believe that the overprotective king and military would tolerate such a situation just because he’s a wizard…)

Anger and shame at not knowing anything welled up.

Jude the Wizard: “What are you doing here night after night?”

Kate: “Mr. Jude…”

As soon as I saw him, I felt a rush of regret for the words I had spoken a few days ago.

Kate: “…I’m sorry for saying it was because of your personality that you were targeted.”

Jude the Wizard: “Ah? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kate: “Just as you said, I’ve come to learn how little I knew.”

Kate: “I want you to listen to my wishes…First, we will be able to talk as equals.”

Jude the Wizard: “….ha.”

Jude let out a dry laugh and hooked his fingertips in my collar again, pulling my face closer to his.

Kate: “…ngh”

Jude the Wizard: “I thought that a princess who had been content to be kept in a box for many years would grow up to be a selfish, spoiled brat.”

Jude the Wizard: “Yeah, you see it too. I’m going to make you so frustrated that you’ll cry.”

Kate: “…What was that?”

He is still sadistic and looks down on me. And yet, for some reason, my heart lifts.

(I’m not saying I’m not happy to have received a bit of recognition, )

(But I’m not…I guess.)

Jude the Wizard: “Well, at least you can try your best.”

Jude pulled his fingers out of his collar and left the library.

(--Come to think of it, I was told I was a slave and even had a collar put on me.)

Yet I was never restricted from doing anything other than leaving the castle.

“I’m safe, so please don’t send any soldiers. There will be unnecessary deaths.”

Ellis had also delivered a letter with that written to the castle.

Since then, they have continued to communicate regularly to me to let me know that they are safe.

(If the curse is due to his grudge—maybe I did something wrong.)

(Why can’t I remember…?)

As if to vent my growing frustration, I immersed myself in researching curses and magic.

As I spend my days like that, before I know it--.

Kate: “Ah, good morning Jude.”

Jude the Wizard: “…You did that on purpose.”

Kate: “…Did what?”

Jude the Wizard: “I’ve got bed hair.”

A hand reached out and roughly combed through the tangled hair.

I lowered my head, trying to disguise the pounding of my heart.

Jude the Wizard: “Pfft, Why’re you blushing so much? You really are a child.”

Far from getting used to this arrogant sadist, I was starting to feel a little attracted to him.

(This is phenomenon where the victim falls in love with the kidnapper.)

(It’s not love…yeah.)

Kate: “Mr. Jude, you didn’t come out of the study again yesterday, did you? Are you sleeping properly?”

Jude the Wizard: “Heh, I just called you a child and you’re worried about me.”

Jude the Wizard: “Let’s wait until you fix your bed head and are able to say hello in the morning, princess.”

Kate: “What…”

A finger flicked my forehead, causing pain.

Jude the Wizard: “You like pain, don’t you?”

His lips curve in a mocking manner, almost catching my eye, and I look away.

Kate: “I really don’t like it…now, will you please lift the curse today.”

Jude the Wizard: “I’ll think about it when I’ve had a good day.”

Kate: “Didn’t you say the same thing yesterday?”

Jude the Wizard: “Ah-ah, yapping and biting me, today is a bad day too.”

Jude laughed at my plea and went out as usual.

Time passes without mercy, without any success in lifting the curse of finding what is missing in this world—.

(Jude…?)

In the middle of one night, I felt that Jude had returned after being out for an unusually long time, and when I peeked out from the library,

Jude’s back was just about to disappear into the study.

There were some spots left on the carpet—.

(Is that…blood?)

A shiver ran down my spine and I ran to the study, unable to sit still.

Kate: “Jude… are you hurt?”

Jude the Wizard: “… I told you not to enter this room without permission, didn’t I?”

Jude the Wizard: “It’s not a big injury, just get out of here.”

Kate: “Even if it’s not a big injury, you don’t leave the injured alone. You help and treat them.”

When I forced myself to walk over to him, I saw a pile of papers and documents piled up on the desk.

Kate: “…What on earth are you researching while holed up in your study every night?”

Kate: “It’s why you went out tonight, isn’t it…?”

Jude the Wizard: “…What would you do if I said yes?”

Kate: “If you keep doing this, your body will shut down.”

Kate: “Risking your life for the sake of a promise… it’s just like you.”

Jude the Wizard: “…What?”

Kate: “—It’s like you’re the one who’s cursed.”

Jude the Wizard: “Hah… you say that.”

A hand wraps around my throat, like a snake coiled around me.

I’m cursed by this man—He holds my life in his hands. This is a reminder of that.

Kate: “ngh…ha….rgh”

The tightness of the collar is loosened and my breathing increases.

Jude the Wizard: “I’ve lived a long life, and I’d love nothing more than to be cursed to death by a stupid promise.”

Jude the Wizard: “Don’t worry about me, take it easy—tomorrow you’re destined to fall into a deep sleep, just as you were cursed to do,”

Jude the Wizard: “You forgot, right?”

Jude the Wizard: “If you don’t want to get your head blown off right now, go back to your room, princess.”

The door closes in front of me with a loud bang.

Yes, I realized my birthday –tomorrow—was fast approaching.

(If this continues, I will fall into a 100-year slumber, as per my curse.)

(I still don’t know anything about why I was cursed by Jude, or what is missing in this world…)

As I was suffering from anxiety and unable to sleep, the sound of glass breaking filled my ears.

(Someone attacked again…?)

I’ve gotten used to the sound by now, but—today I feel especially uneasy.

(I hear more people’s voices and footsteps than usual.)

(Ellis is staying the night away to go shopping in the town at the foot of the mountain—and)

(Jude is injured tonight.)

Kate: “…mm”

I hurriedly jumped out of my bed and headed out into the hallway.

Jude the Wizard: “Tch… Why are you here? Go to sleep.”

Kate: “With this noise? Please don’t be unreasonable…”

Soldier: “Miss Kate!”

(--Are these people from the national army!?)

Kate: “Why… I’ve told my father that I’m okay…!”

Soldier: “The deadline of your curse is already approaching tomorrow.”

Soldier: “He wishes to see your face for a second before then, and I have been ordered to take you home!”

(My father…)

Jude the Wizard: ��—I’m sorry, but the princess won’t be going home.”

Jude pushes me behind him with one arm, trying to hide me from the soldiers downstairs.

Kate: “Jude? If you do something like this, you’ll be treated as a traitor and you’ll be targeted even more than you already are…”

Jude the Wizard: “Ha, I don’t need you to worry. Besides, if you go back to the castle now, you’ll die.”

Kate: “Wha…?”

(What do you mean…? The curse that’s triggered by being pricked by a spinning wheel is supposed to cause a person to sleep for 100 years.)

But now, Jude clearly said, ‘I’ll die.’

Kate: “Aside from the curse, are you saying that there’s something that would cause me to die…?”

Jude the Wizard: “…haah. The doctors in the royal castle are really incompetent.”

At that moment, I saw a flaming arrow flying towards Jude--.

Kate: “…watch out…!”

Jude the Wizard: “!?”

Immediately moving to cover him, I lost my balance,

Jude the Wizard: “…Kate!”

--and fell headlong down the stairs.

When I landed—I was in the arms of a soldier sent by my father.

Soldier: “Miss Kate! Are you okay!?”

Kate: “Jude…!?”

When I looked up, a soldier had taken advantage of my falling and pinned Jude down.

Jude the Wizard: “Shit… What are you falling for? Are you stupid?”

Kate: “…ngh, Please! That person is injured… please don’t be rough!”

Soldier: “He will be taken into custody by the national army on charges of abducting and confining the princess.”

Kate: “Wait, please…Listen to me--!”

There was no way my voice would be heard…and we were transported to the royal castle in separate carriages.

(What should I do… Jude was arrested because of me.)

From what I read in the books, I’ve got a good idea of how wizards are treated.

Instead of having the crime overlooked, he will be forced to work to protect the country and attack the enemy.

(Jude still has a promise he wants to fulfill…)

--“Even if I die, I won’t break my promise.”

Kate: “…?”

I thought I heard someone’s voice, and right after that the world around me became distorted.

(Ah…? I think I hit my head earlier--)

I closed my eyes tightly until the dizziness subsided, and when I opened them, I saw--.

An unfamiliar back alley.

Kate: “…what, where…?”

I don’t know why, but the image reflected in the mirror is that of a young girl. She looks to be about ten years old or so.

(Is that…me when I was younger?)

I was wearing a pretty, expensive-looking dress, so it didn’t appear as though I was living in England.

At that moment—I heard the yelling of several adults from across the alley.

Male voice: “Catch him! Catch him alive!”

Male voice: “This… took so much time and effort, but finally--!”

When I looked out of the alley, I saw a boy around the same age as me being chased by adults.

He was covered in scars, but his eyes were burning fiercely as if he hated everything in this world.

The child almost passed in front of the alley where I was--.

Kate: “…Hide—”

Boy: “Wha!?”

I couldn’t help but pull him in.

Hiding behind a wooden box, I hear the heavy footsteps of adults moving away, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Kate: “…It seems like they’re gone. Why were you being chased? Are you hurt--?”

Boy: “…You don’t know who I am. I’m sure I’m wanted all over the country.”

Kate: “Really? How could such a small child…”

Boy: “Small child, you’re about the same age right?”

(Ah…Maybe--)

Kate: “Can you use magic?”

Boy: “—what if I could?”

I could clearly feel his apprehension rising.

It was said “Wizard children are sometimes put on a wanted list in order to keep them around as a valuable asset.”,

I remembered that heartless sentence.

Kate: “I won’t capture you, so don’t worry.”

Boy: “…ha, I doubt that. You look like an aristocrat or a member of the royal family. I can’t trust someone with a lot of money and power.”

Kate: “It’s true! …you were put on the wanted list even though you’re innocent,”

Kate: “It’s absolutely unfair to have your life threatened or your freedom taken away…!”

It reminds me how Jude was attacked almost every day in that castle deep in the mountains.

Before I knew it, the words were pouring out, letting out the frustration that had built up during the days I spent in that castle.

Kate: “Ah… I’m sorry, I just had to say that out loud.”

Boy: “Haha, why are you apologizing to me? No problem, I agree with you.”

Boy: “… your face doesn’t seem like it can tell a lie.”

Boy: “It would make you an evil person to get the bounty through deception, and you don’t seem to have the ability to use your wit—ah?”

Boy: “Hey, show me your face.”

Kate: “Eh? I—”

The boy pulled my face closer to his and looked into my eyes, squinting as if searching for something.

(Cold… but beautiful eyes.)

Boy: “Tsk… Why do people like you end up with such a disease.”

Kate: “Disease…?”

Boy: “You have about ten years left.”

Kate: “Eh, what…!? Does that mean I’ll die in ten years…!?”

Boy: “I won’t let you die, as I owe you my life.”

Boy: “Ten years from now, before you die, I’ll stop time.”

Boy: “I don’t know how many years it will take to find a cure, but I think 100 years will be enough.”

Kate: “Wait…What do you mean?”

Boy: “You’re a dull princess. I’m trying to help you and you’re crying and screaming as thanks.”

Boy: “Even if I die, I won’t break my promise.”

A finger poked me in the forehead.

Boy: “Ten years from now—you’ll prick your finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a 100-year sleep.”

Kate: “W-why do I have to get priced by a spinning wheel…?”

Boy: “Because it looks like that, I don’t know. And you—you seem to like pain.”

A mocking, arrogant smile appeared on his thin lips, and I was taken aback.

Kate: “—You and I, have we met somewhere…?”

--The next thing I knew, I was being rocked by the carriage that I’d been pushed into by the soldiers of the national army.

(Just now… for a dream, it felt extremely vivid.)

I could still clearly feel the touch of his fingertip on my forehead.

“Time is no irreversible, and space is not absolute. Past and future, and other worlds can be connected.”

(The past and present are connected…?)

I was in England, came to this world—and now I made a promise with Jude from the past.

The idea was so farfetched, but the dots were connected and it emerged as the truth.

Kate: “Now, Jude is being held prisoner—The curse, the promise is…”

Kate: “That promise you just made with me…?”

--Flashback—

King: “…You got into a fight with me that night, and you snuck out of the castle. Then, you lost consciousness and collapsed in a back alley.”

--End Flashback—

When I think about it, I can understand why I have no memory of that time.

I met Jude in the back alley because that’s who I am now.

When I came to this world, I made a promise with Jude from the past.

So, before I met Jude from the past, I had no memories of him.

(Still… I didn’t think of the curse as something to be afraid of.)

(Jude didn’t curse me because of a grudge.)

(It was to buy time to find a cure for me.)

In other words, as per the curse, I have to pricked by the spinning wheel.

A sleep to stop death, to fulfill his promise.

Kate: “The spinning wheel…”

Kate: “I have to find the spinning wheel—”

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