#only ever had it used against me once in regards to my desire to physically transition

[darkcranefiction]

Injected Nightmares

PART: TWO

FOR: JONATHAN CRANE X RAEDER INSERT

WARNING: MENTAL DISORDERS, NON-CONSENTIAL SMUT, TWISTED STUFF, MEDICAL PLAY, REALLY DARK SMUT, CRANE BEING A PREDITOR

NOTE: DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

As the sun began to set over the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the sky, the once bright and airy room you knew to be yours now felt darker and more suffocating than ever. 

You had been at the asylum for two weeks and had undergone several humiliating examinations, both mentally and physically and, much to your distress, Dr. Crane had taken an unusual interest in you. 

"You are going to be mine" were his words during your last examination and, ever since, you were plagued with insomnia.

You tried to get some sleep, but your heart pounded rapidly within your chest, palms sweaty, as you anticipated the moment when the darkness would consume you completely. 

And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, there was the sound. A slow, deep breath from the other side of the room, followed by a gentle footstep on the creaky wooden floorboards. You knew then that Dr. Crane was approaching, his presence casting a looming shadow upon you. He had visited you at night before, but this time was different.  You could tell.

The heavy door opened slowly, revealing his imposing figure. Slender and dark. 

His angular features seemed almost predatory, as if he were a creature born from the shadows themselves. With each step closer to your bedside, his menacing presence intensified. Your heart raced wildly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him.

"What are you doing here, doctor? It is almost midnight" you asked nervously, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Oh, don't worry about the time," Dr. Crane replied, his voice oozing confidence. "We have plenty of night ahead of us." His hand brushed against your shoulder, sending a shiver through your body.

"I will give you a few more moments to rest" he continued, his eyes flickering over your form with an intensity that sent a wave of unease through you.

"A few more moments before what?" you wanted to know, your voice quavering with apprehension.

"Before I claim you." Dr. Crane responded coolly, his eyes narrowing in a predatory manner. "Your body will soon become mine, and I will mold it as I please."

A chill ran down your spine at his words, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

"No, please..." you pleaded, trying desperately to convince him otherwise.

"Please, Dr. Crane, I cannot bear any more of this treatment. My body aches every day from all of these experiments. My soul is aching too, and I am scared."

Dr. Crane regarded you solemnly, his eyes conveying a mixture of pity and contempt. "Trust me, my dear. Don't be scared. I will help you overcome your fears," he murmured softly, reaching out to stroke your cheek tenderly. 

The thought of spending even more time under his care made your stomach twist with dread.

"What I am going to do to you tonight will be bring me great pleasure while, for you, it will be just like another experiment, but this time, without the metal tools," he promised you with a wicked smile. "Remember, you're no longer just a subject, but my patient and pupil."

"I will teach you how to submit to your fears, how to endure pain, and how to bend yourself to my will," he continued, his voice cold and emotionless as he slowly removed the blanket covering your shivering body. 

Your face flushed with shame as his fingers gently traced the bruises and cuts left by his previous torments. The sight of your battered body only served to fuel his desire to inflict more suffering upon you. "You will learn to appreciate what I do for you," he insisted, the corner of his mouth curving into a sadistic smile.

In a sudden burst of anger, you screamed out loud, "No! I won't!" before trying to get up and run towards the door, not realising that Dr Crane had already locked it, trapping you inside this room.

As you struggled to escape, panic growing inside of you, Dr Crane calmly approached you with a sadistic smirk.

"Please stop, I beg you!" you cried, tears streaming down your face. "Please, anything but this!" You cried, realizing what he would do to you.

With a devious grin, Dr Crane responded: "Alright, my dear. Tonight, I'll let you decide on the method of our bonding. But only because it is your first time."

He then pulled out a syringe from his lab coat pocket, containing a green substance.

"Tonight, I will do to you that we have spoken about during our last appointment. You know, the thing a man does to woman on occasion. I am sure you remember?" he said, holding the syringe up for you to see. "And before engaging in such intimate act, I can either inject you with this special serum that will block all pain and stimuli, allowing me to break you in properly or I can tie you down to the bed using leather restraints. The choice is yours," Dr. Crane proposed with a devilish grin. "Though, I strongly suggest choosing the serum, it will make you completely numb. You won't feel a thing," Dr. Crane explained, his eyes burning with intensity. "That way, it will be easier for you to accept what comes next because let's face it my dear, you will not be leaving this room with your virginity intact."

Your mind reeled with indecision, knowing that whatever decision you made would alter the course of your life forever.

"It doesn't matter, Doctor," you finally decided, swallowing back your fear. "If it means getting this over with, I'll choose the serum," you said anxiously and with tears running down your face.

"Good choice, now lay down on the bed," Dr. Crane commanded, his tone cold and unforgiving.

You complied, lying down on the iron bed frame, trembling with fear and anticipation.

Dr. Crane grabbed your arm, expertly inserting the needle into your vein, injecting the green serum into your bloodstream.

The world around you began to blur, becoming increasingly difficult to focus on. You felt your body start to go numb, losing sensation in parts as the serum took effect.

You became aware of the implications of what was happening, but you couldn't react, as your body had been rendered useless.

"Don't fight me, my dear," Dr. Crane murmured, running his hands along your limp body. He unbuttoned your hospital gown, exposing your breasts to his gaze. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he took hold of them, fondling them roughly. 

Dr. Crane's hands then moved downward where your white cotton panties covered your innocence. 

He grasped the fabric tightly, ripping it away from your body as if it were nothing.  Your mortification was evident, your eyes filled with horror at the invasion of your privacy.  You tried to struggle, but the serum paralyzed your resistance, leaving you helpless beneath his touch.

With your panties torn off, Dr. Crane stood up, stepping back to admire his work. 

He took off his coat and unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes. 

"Have you ever seen an erection before?" Dr. Crane inquired casually, his voice dripping with curiosity.

"N-no, I haven't," you stuttered, your heart racing wildly in your chest. The reality of the situation struck you like a bolt of lightning, sending waves of terror coursing through your veins.

Dr. Crane chuckled softly, his expression a mix of amusement and arousal.

"Well, let me rectify that for you," he replied in a low, husky voice before pushing down his pants, revealing his throbbing manhood.

As he approached your helpless form, his intentions were clear: he wanted to take advantage of your vulnerability. His eyes glazed over with lust, making your stomach turn with revulsion.

Feeling completely violated, you fought against the paralysis, trying desperately to find any part of your body that still functioned. But there was none.

You watched as Dr Crane placed a condom and a bottle of lubricant on the bedside table and, despite your horror, you were powerless to resist him, frozen in place by the effects of the serum. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to comprehend the reality of the situation.

"Lets position you properly shall we?" Dr. Crane's voice was laced with a perverse pleasure, his hands reaching out to you.

You felt your heart race with terror as he began to pull you towards the bottom edge of the bed and push your knees apart so that he could kneel in between your spread legs.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with a dark intensity that frightened you even more.

"Are you on birth control my dear?" Dr. Crane asked with a sneer, his hands moving down to your legs, spreading them wider.

You nodded meekly, tears streaming down your face. "Yes, Iam."

"That's good," he muttered, his eyes full of malice. "This means there is no need for a condom then, is there?"

Dr. Crane's voice was laced with malevolence, as he leaned closer to you, his hot breath causing you to shudder involuntarily.

Your mind raced, wondering what he meant. Was he going to ignore protection? You didn't dare ask aloud, too afraid of what his response might be.

Feeling powerless, you stared at the ceiling, fighting against the encroaching darkness of despair. The realization that you were completely at his mercy left you feeling utterly defeated.

"Are you ready for me to make your worst fear come true?" Dr. Crane taunted, relishing in your discomfort, not expecting an answer. 

He slid onto the bed, hovering over you as you laid motionless beneath him. Your body still remained numb, though your mind was far from being so. Panic surged through your system, the sheer terror of what was about to happen consuming you whole.

He pushed his hips forward, the head of his erect member teasing the entrance to your womanhood. You whimpered in distress, attempting to squirm away from his touch, yet unable to move due to the serum's effects.

Dr. Crane chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Relax, little one. It'll be over soon," he whispered in a soft, soothing tone, but it did little to comfort you.

As he pressed his weight onto you, the mattress creaked under the strain, adding to the discomfort you already felt. He gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself as he started to penetrate you.

"Thanks to the serum, you will feel pressure, but not pain," he assured you, his eyes burning with a hunger that terrified you.

Your body went rigid with shock as he broke your hymen, the pain cutting through the serum's numbing effect.

A cry escaped your lips as you felt his entire length slide inside you, taking you beyond the point of resistance.

Your body convulsed in pain, a sharp contrast to the serum's numbing effects elsewhere.

Dr. Crane held you down, refusing to allow you to pull away from the agony he was inflicting upon you.

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he saw your tears flowing freely, your body struggling to reconcile the conflicting sensations of pain and numbness.

"There might be some blood my dear, but this is perfectly normal after this kind of experiment," he whispered reassuringly, his hand stroking your hair, a mockery of tenderness. "It's just another rite of passage in your journey towards womanhood."

As he thrust deeper within you, his pace growing faster, you found yourself wishing for the numbness to return, for anything to take away the searing pain that consumed you. Your cries echoed throughout the room, muffled by the single lightbulb above, giving the illusion that no one could hear your plight.

Yet your pleas fell on deaf ears, for Dr. Crane continued his assault on your body, determined to complete his mission.

Your heart pounded frantically in your chest, fear consuming you whole. Each thrust of his hips drove home the horrifying reality of your situation, your body betraying you in its struggle to protect itself from further pain. As his thrusts grew more forceful, your body buckled under the assault, the numbness giving way to a wave of searing agony.

The sounds of your tortured moans filled the room, punctuating the brutality of Dr. Crane's actions. The walls seemed to close in on you, their stark presence reflecting the horror of your situation.

"Not long now, my dear. I will be done soon," Dr. Crane hissed in your ear, his words a cruel promise of relief from the pain you were enduring. However, you knew all too well that his 'relief' would only bring on a new set of torments.

His movements became more erratic, more frenzied, his breath coming in short gasps as he pushed his limits harder. His muscles bulged with exertion, sweat beading on his forehead as he continued his assault on your innocence until pushed all the way against the entrance to your womb, stalling.

"There you go sweet girl," he groaned loudly as, finally, he filled you with his seed.

His body shook violently, his muscles tensing in release.

As he collapsed onto you, your breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, your body trembling from the physical and emotional trauma.

You could feel the warmth inside you, his semen mixing with your blood, your virginity lost forever.

He then pulled out of you, his eyes glinting with a sense of accomplishment. He was now the one who had taken your innocence. You cried, overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil that engulfed you.

He cleaned himself off, his movements precise and efficient, a mixture of arrogance and sadism in his eyes.

"Rest now, my dear," he said, his voice cold and distant as he pulled your arm towards him again and injected you with another strange substance.

His hand moved swiftly, administering the drug with practiced ease. You couldn't help but feel a deep dread as the world around you began to blur, everything becoming unfamiliar once more.

"You will not remember this when you wake up." Dr Crane's words hung heavy in the air as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

Despite your loss of memory though, your body ached in ways you never imagined possible, leaving you feeling exhausted and violated. In the midst of the darkness, you struggled to regain control of your life and come tomorrow, you would be more confused than ever. 

#dr crane x you #dr crane smut #dr crane x reader #dr crane #dr jonathan crane #cillian murphy smut #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fanfiction #johnathan crane

[invisibleoctopus]

calling people freaks online because they like dirty fictional content is not the activism or praxis you think it is lmao

#le p2iigh #also some ppl literally consider it a slur #idk if its my place to agree or not #in terms of how bigots would use the word i am... in the target audience to say the least #only ever had it used against me once in regards to my desire to physically transition #anyway im about to pass out from exhaustion finally

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. ���I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling x reader smut #sab #sab show #sab netflix #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone x you #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #ben barnes #imagines #my works #x reader #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

Caleb has, verbally, shown so little bloodthirst regarding the people who wronged him. He doesn’t know how he feels. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants them to change, he wants the pain to stop. He wants to rehabilitate all these murderers under Ikithon because he was one of them and he wants to believe he’s not alone in this, he wants them to get better.

He also takes three steps into the place where he was sealed away like some kind of animal, full of simple (if skilled) guards who are so much lower on the food chain than the assassins Caleb knows... and for the first time ever he starts crushing people to death. Gone is the soft talk and hesitant hope. He asserts that they knew what they were doing. That they were not innocents.

He spent eleven years there. He can’t remember it. He also can’t think of the people who did that to him as people, whether they were actually the ones that guarded him or not.

I think Caleb’s trauma and his ability to react with extreme prejudice when confronted with it often gets underestimated both by the audience and Caleb himself. There’s a really interesting dichotomy that seems to go on with him, in that we’re constantly taken somewhat aback by these breathtaking displays of violence of his, even though they keep happening.

I realised it when we first met Astrid, actually. I don't know about anyone else, but the revelation that Caleb’s reaction to watching his parents die wasn’t running in to help them, or screaming himself, or even dissociating, but was instead attacking his peers? It surprised the heck out of me.

I don’t think anyone thought that would have been his reaction. All the pieces of fiction or art or meta about that moment that I saw assumed he had a much more passive or help oriented reaction. Even the cast themselves animated that moment as Astrid and Eodwulf stoically walking away from a silent Caleb on his knees in their own animated title sequence.

The fact that we all accepted the image of Caleb, on his knees, silently watching his family burn, is interesting to me. Because I do get why.

When Caleb is forcefully reminded of that moment of extreme grief, he dissociates. He doesn’t react violently when lost in his trauma in that particular way. Add to that that Caleb brushes over the immediate aftermath of his parent’s deaths, which makes it seem like his foggy, clouded state in the Asylum was the instant result of his trauma, and the idea that Caleb reacted passively to his parent’s deaths is a very easy assumption to make.

At this point I believe it’s also indicative of how Caleb sees himself. Caleb hates (hated?) himself, yes, but he doesn’t actually seem to see himself as a violent person. When asked to impress a high level mage from an alien culture, he chose the versatile reskinned Bigby’s Hand, Cat’s Ire. When trying to be intimidating, he uses his words, or points to his friends as threats, or uses Frumpkin as a prop.

He doesn’t seem to give his ease with violence much thought or weight in his own view of himself. I think he assumed he was passive during his years at the Sanitarium, and so therefore assumed that his “breaking” was similar. And if that’s what Caleb thought of himself, why would we think any different?

People don’t tend to think of Caleb as a fighter, least of all Caleb himself. The common view of him is that he’s a hesitant support character. He’s not someone who fans or other characters alike would easily call “bloodthirsty,” especially with him confronting and discussing the man who ruined his life and refusing to commit to killing him.

Everything about how Caleb verbally approaches these traumas shows that he’s not vengeance driven. Revenge has never been part of his game plan, never been something he cared enough to pursue. And because of that palpable lack of bloodthirsty vengeance, because of his soft spoken, cautious demeanor, Caleb is not someone who would generally be picked as having extreme, unrelenting violence as his knee-jerk reaction.

Except that’s exactly what Caleb does when backed into a corner. That’s like his biggest move. Wall of Fire and Fireballing Avantika and her crew on a hair trigger? Bleeding, on the verge of unconsciousness, out of spells, and still managing to deal the killing blow on Lorenzo because he chose violence over any other action? Opening the final fight against Obann by smashing through the window and burning half the cultists to death, because they were that desperate to get Yasha back after two failed attempts?

He woke up after eleven years of being addled, confused and not himself, and immediately killed a guard and broke out of the Assembly’s own Saitarium in the heart of Rexxentrum. He unexpectedly got stabbed by a full-fledged Scourger, and his instant reaction was to beat her over the head with a rock. 

And now, he’s infiltrated that same Sanitarium where he was kept only to flip from his desire to redeem those under the Assembly’s thumb to murdering half the people he came across in there with extreme prejudice.

His lack of interest in long-term vengeance is interestingly balanced by his frequent choices to pursue short-term retribution. It’s both his way of protecting his friends and himself, removing the threat and discouraging other threats, but it’s also, in my view, frequently an outlet for his heavily suppressed anger at the people who hurt him and his friends.

Caleb can be a good diplomat, but Caleb rarely chooses to be a diplomat. Caleb can be charming, but Caleb doesn’t like being charming. Caleb can be a good support caster, and Caleb is a support caster! But when he’s too compromised for strategy, when he stops thinking, he starts burning everything in his way. Because Caleb? He likes the way fire feels.

Caleb spent his formative years training to respond to conflict, physical or political, with lethality, and on a much more fundamental level, he is and always has been a man of action. 

He took action to get out of the Sanitarium as soon as he was capable. He took action in the Bright Queen’s throne room, made a risky ploy instead of letting them be arrested. He wanted to take action retroactively against his parent’s deaths the second he regained coherency.

Despite what we all assumed, doing nothing in the face of his parent’s deaths was never an option for Caleb, and he wasn’t taught anything that was going to help his parents once the house was on fire and the screams started. So what else was he going to do, after two years of growing into the Scourger mould? When he loses his mind, his ability to think, two of his reasons to care?

Of course it was violence. Of course it was lashing out at the people he must have thought, on some level, as being in his way. Of course it was fire. What else would it be?

And though these circumstances here aren’t the same... there are enough similarities. He’s once again in those familiar halls (in that familiar mindset) where he was treated as a weapon, nothing more. He’s with the people he loves and he knows they’re in danger, again. In fact, they’re in danger from the same people he spent eleven years feeling threatened by, that he viewed as obstacles, whether consciously or not.

He doesn’t want his loved ones to be in danger. He doesn’t want to be surrounded by the guards who he associates with his own helplessness. He especially doesn’t want those two things to go together. And he has never been able to sit idly by when he can act. But what kind of actions can he take? What can he do to get these guards away, away from him, away from his friends, out of his way, right now?

The tried and true method. Not burning, not here, not now, let’s not set a building on fire with his loved ones in it again (though it happened anyway). But no matter. He’s learned a lot of tricks in the last few months.

And hey, don’t worry, Caleb’s not angry. He’s not still working through his own pain and rage at these people. He really does want to heal, not hurt.

It’s just that these ones deserved it.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c2e127 #c2e89 #ramblings #caleb #speculation #its interesting because he has such a good hold on his temper and he tries to think through most situations #which means he DOESNT get pushed to that breaking point a lot #and its usually only that breaking point that showcases how easily he wields violence #which is another factor in why he doesnt get regarded as a violent character #because he isnt! he really doesnt get violent often! its just something thats instinctive for him #his instinctive reactions though are not often seen bc he usually has a pretty good control over himself and situations around him #and i think its really really telling when he gets pushed into that mindset when theyre NOT at deaths door #hey caleb i dont think you're as ready for forgiveness and moving on as you think #theres a lot of buried rage in caleb and you can quote me on that #ive been saying it for months (years?) and ive only grown more confident in that assertion since then #sorry if this is an incoherent mess #does this make sense? i dont knoooow im sick of looking at it

[sukuna-slut]

teacher’s pet - pt. 1

yan!sukuna x reader x yan!gojou

as you fall deeper into an unusual relationship with the king of curses, your favourite teacher becomes increasingly worried for your safety.

warnings

mild depictions of injury, abuse of power, infantilisation, noncon

rating - teen

word count - 1558

What was happening? As a Jujutsu sorcerer, you had lived by the affirmation that you would not regret death once it came upon you, but you never prepared for the possibility that death would sneak up on you when you least expected it. Before stupid Itadori crashed into your world like a bull in a china shop, you were Tokyo Jujutsu Technical High School’s most promising student. That freaky Okkotsu kid had that super-powerful Cursed Spirit living inside him which automatically made him Special Grade, but with your extraordinary natural talent for jujutsu, you were sure to one day reach his level if you just worked hard enough. Gojou-sensei had said it himself, you were a rare talent. You still had so much further to go, so much more to achieve, so why were you now bleeding out in some random alleyway with nothing to show for your sorry life but a few empty words of praise?

Your opponent let out a rumbling peal of laughter. ‘Oh yes, I love that one… you know, of all the expressions people show me before I kill them, anger is my favourite.’

Even with the tattoos crawling up his arms and extra eyes blinking on his face clearly marking him as Ryouma Sukuna, you couldn’t help but hate Itadori for once again ruining everything. Gritting your teeth, you ground your twitching palms into the cold asphalt in an attempt to push yourself up, but your elbows gave out, making Sukuna laugh even harder.

‘I’m not… done yet,’ you spat, blood spilling down your chin in direct betrayal to your words.

‘Yes, you are.’ 

Sukuna turned to leave and you attempted to will away the black spots clouding your vision. Despite your pride, you wondered when your life was going to flash before your eyes like it was supposed to.

‘Such a waste… you might’ve had a chance if you’d tried a little harder,’ he murmured with a slight chuckle. ‘A small chance, but who knows.’

Huh?

The shock you felt at his words momentarily numbed the pulsing pain in every muscle of your body, giving you the strength to prop yourself up on one elbow.

‘What… do you mean?’ you forced out.

‘Hm?’

He turned his head with a slight raise of his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t expected you to still be alive.

‘My technique was perfect,’ you insisted.

Itadori’s features morphed into a derisive smirk unbefitting of the cheerful boy.

‘Who told you that? That irritating teacher of yours, no doubt,’ Sukuna laughed. ‘So much untapped potential… if only they taught you how to really use your powers, you could even rival dear Itadori.’

Your eyes widened. You had potential to match Itadori, the vessel of the most powerful Cursed Spirit in existence? Sukuna was turning away again but you couldn’t let him leave, you had to stop him. Ignoring the screams of your body, you pushed your weight back until your butt rested on your heels, your arms stretched out in front of you in a deep bow.

‘Teach me!’ you begged with every bit of energy you had left.

Sukuna paused where he stood, turning to regard you with an expression of utter shock. It was only there for a moment though, melting as soon as it had appeared into raucous laughter.

‘You want me… to teach you?’ he managed between cackles. ‘Interesting! Maybe you’re worth keeping alive a little longer.’

He took slow steps towards you before crouching to lift your chin between his thumb and forefinger to gaze into your teary eyes, silently pleading for his help. You were barely holding onto life at this point, yet he seemed to be in no hurry, a grin stretched wide across Itadori’s face.

‘A teacher, huh?’

The last thing you saw before you blacked out was Sukuna’s extra eyes and tattoos melting back into his skin, his malicious expression replaced with your classmate frantically calling your name.

Gojou Satoru was livid. Staring at the swirling mahogany of his desk, he forced his bloodlust down to a simmer and fixed his face into a painful smile with which he regarded the snivelling boy before him.

‘You lost control,’ he accused, ‘a mistake which nearly caused the death of your classmate. What do you have to say for yourself?’

As Itadori began blubbering apologies, Gojou’s mind returned to the sight of you lying in a hospital bed, a mess of wires and bandages around the gaping wound in your stomach that nearly cost you your life. The image of you, his bratty little (YN) looking so defeated made his blood boil with the desire to tear whoever was responsible to shreds. Unfortunately, the perpetrator was the very student he had insisted on keeping alive. Was it worth the risk? What if losing you was the risk?

You came into his life bright-eyed and brimming with terrifying reserves of untapped potential. Whether or not you were aware of just how much power you possessed, you had an inexplicable desire to distinguish yourself which reminded Gojou of himself at your age. While others were irritated by your brashness, he found himself growing fond of his latest protege. He liked to think that he was the only one who truly understood you. When he informed you of exactly how exceptional you truly were, your face lit up with such fervent excitement, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of the sudden increased blood flow to his nether regions in that moment. He ended up complimenting you whenever possible during his private sessions with you just to see that face again. He loved the way you lapped up his praise like a cute little dog, he loved how you treated his word like gospel… eventually, he came to terms with the realisation that he just loved you.

Even so, you scared him sometimes. At first he had lived to see you shine whenever you discovered a new ability with his help, but with every milestone, he felt you edging further and further away from him. At that rate, you would surely become a Grade One Sorcerer, and then… you’d have all these responsibilities, responsibilities he honestly wasn’t sure if you could handle with your weak constitution, responsibilities that would lead you away from him.

So he altered your training program a little. Taught you to unknowingly hinder your own abilities, just enough so you’d still need him by your side. Maybe it was underhanded, but you were the purest thing in his life and he wasn’t about to let you leave him so easily. But his selfishness had backfired. With your stoppered abilities, you were unable to defend yourself against Sukuna, and because of him…

Gojou buried his face in his hands.

‘Sensei?’ Itadori asked nervously.

He shook his head, donning a carefree smile.

‘You shouldn’t apologise, Itadori. After all, I’m the one who miscalculated when I assumed you would be able to sustain Sukuna’s growing power.’

‘Am I going to be executed?’ Itadori’s face turned sheet white.

Gojou had considered killing the boy himself when he first saw your beaten body. Itadori’s hold against the ancient Curse had been gradually slipping ever since he ate the fourth finger, but he had been so consumed with capturing Sukuna, that he failed to see the situation for the disaster it was.

However, logic soon overruled his desire to destroy anyone and anything that hurt you. The inconvenient truth was, they had no hope of stopping Sukuna without Itadori’s body. But in order to mitigate the risk…

‘No, you won’t be executed. But you will be detained, at least until we figure out a better solution. For the time being, your responsibility will be reduced to being a vessel for Sukuna, nothing more.’

Itadori hung his head but did not protest.

It had been a whole week since you were discharged from hospital, yet Gojou-sensei still refused to let you train. Before, when his presence had been fleeting due to his foremost duty as the strongest sorcerer calling him away every other day, you had craved his attention, but now you wished he’d just disappear.

‘(YN)-chan, you should be resting!’

You had barely taken seven steps down the hallway before he intercepted you and corralled you back to your room, gripping your upper arms firmly as if he were redirecting a wandering child.

‘I should be training!’ you protested, noticing with no small amount of irritation the way his lips drew tight. ‘I’m almost fully healed, the nurse said I could participate in moderate physical activity the day after I was discharged. It’s been a week, Gojou-sensei! When are you going to stop treating me like a- mmh!’

Suddenly, your lips were captured in a suffocating kiss. Gojou-sensei wasted no time pushing his tongue between your unprepared lips, the wet muscle surprising you with its coldness as it invaded your mouth. At some point, his hold on you had tightened to the point of being painful.

‘S-sensei!’ you exclaimed, shoving him back.

His blindfold prevented you from gauging the full extent of his emotions, your teacher raising a hand to his parted lips as if shocked by his own actions. Before he could regain his composure, you bolted down the hallway, your only goal to get as far away from your attacker as possible.

#yandere gojo #yandere sukuna #yandere gojou #yandere gojou x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere smut

[mrsgiovanna]

The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)

A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.

TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour

Word Count: 2.7k

Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.

You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.

Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.

Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.

“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.

“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.

In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.

“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.

“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”

“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.

“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.

“Don…”

“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”

“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”

“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.

“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.

You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.

“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.

“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.

“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.

“Well (y/n) … you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”

“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”

“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.

“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”

“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.

“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”

“You… you threatened them all, you…”

“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”

“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”

“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”

“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.

“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…

#giorno giovanna #giorno #don giorno #don giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #yandere giogio #yandere giorno #jjba yandere #yandere jjba prt 5 #yandere x reader #jjba giorno giovanna #giorno x y/n #giorno x you #giorno giovanna x y/n #giorno jojo #giorno giovanna x you #yandere jjba #soft yandere #giogio #jjba fanfic #my fic #my words

[crispycrimebrulee]

HI! Can i request chrollo with prompt 12? Thanksssss <3

Prompt #12: "I Miss You" "Don't Lie, I Know She's With You." [Angst!] [TW: Cheating] [Also Available on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/31658609 ]

Absence Makes The Heart Grow...Fickle.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Indeed, a statement that every relationship comes to meet, a milestone, a test of faith across miles of land and oceans, for if your love can withstand distance, surely it can withstand time, turmoil, and anything else.

And yet…

You find yourself, staring out of a raindrop riddled window, the soft hush of rainfall on adding fuel to your thoughts, watching your worries become realities as a pattern emerged from his constant actions…

Or lack thereof.

Could you blame him, though? Chrollo Lucilfer, feared among thieves and civilians alike, ruthlessness without bounds when he’s set on getting what he wants, going to any distance, metaphorical or physical to obtain what he wants most. You couldn’t really fault him for his distance; his distance in miles, being thousands of miles away gallivanting with his spiders on yet another quest, continuously building his legacy. You couldn’t blame him for his emotional distance either. He was an intense man to reach, to truly reach and understand and get close to. It would take ages of hard work and commitment to get him to share even a fraction of a clue of his own troubles to you. Not to mention, he always had something on his mind, a new quest, a new artifact, a new theory from his books, a new gang to silence, debts to collect...oh was he a busy man. You couldn’t blame him for being so far away, so distant…

And yet…

In the past he’d always made time for you, always called and made sure you were safe and taken care of while he was away. You’d been his top priority, his ultimate treasure, all quests and roads lead back to you at the end of a day or the end of a month, it was always your heart he returned home to and you welcomed him time and time again, how could you not? Everything about him was captivating, you’d be a fool to not let him in and have all that you are, albeit slowly and carefully, weary of what he was capable of.

Not weary enough, it seems.

You’d let him in, opened your doors to him and allowed him to gaze at what you thought was everything he wanted. Sure, it was everything he wanted, more than that by far. But as thieves go, they take without bounds and leave the door ajar, only a little so that they may slip in and steal whatever is left whenever they please, and you can do nothing to stop them seeing as only a fool lets a thief in their home.

He’d taken valuables beyond obtainable prices.

Love, time, faith, gentle smiles and gentler words, secrets of hopes and dreams and fears, all of it. He’d taken all of it without remorse on the basis of ‘your love could never be replaced’ promising he would only and always come back to you…

And.

Yet.

You already knew his heart and his eyes had wandered, from missed calls to missed dates to missed events to ‘forgetting to tell you he’d returned home’, to hearing whispers from shop owners mentioning they’d seen him with Her, his hand resting on the slope of Her hip, his eyes resting on Her hands as She held gifts from places he’d been, places he knows you could only dream of visiting, gifts that were seldom for you. He’d already tested the waters with another, already given in to a special kind of temptation, a one sided selfish temptation. What had you meant to him? Were you only someone to play with, something to fill a gap in his desires, desire for a sense of stability? Had he only spent years with you to play house with a docile routine only to put you on the shelf when the gap had closed, a new one opening where you did not fit? Were you another object he had to have, something to join a collection of used dolls, a worn out plaything, a gemstone now frosted and without luster, something to be given away with lesser value?

Of course, you little fool. What else would he want with you?

Only souls with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts think ruthlessness with no bounds have bounds in regards to another, and that they’ll be the special one, the one that gets spared and cherished. Do thieves cherish? Do thieves find things special beyond monetary value? What monetary value did you hold?

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

You could only think about what She’d done to coax him away, or what She hadn’t done at all. You thought about it as you would walk to the store, the park, the bank, and glimpses of Her would cross your eyes clear as day, the scent of Her perfume, the clatter of Her bracelets, the sound of Her shoes on the pavement going to wherever Chrollo was, wherever he wasn’t with you, the place he said he would always return to. And at first, it was merely suspicion, something you talked yourself out of on nights where he was home but away from you, nights where he failed to call, night where you’d caught glimpses of them out late at night as though you wouldn’t notice.

Ruthlessness without bounds.

Suspicion only lead to confirmation by others and by your own eyes, accidentally of course, when he would come home and find Her earrings in his pocket, love letters in his jacket no longer addressed to you, Her perfume lingering on his shirt and pressed to his skin, catching the notes of sandalwood and citrus as he dared to sleep beside you on nights he could not sleep beside Her.

You could blame him.

And you did.

Your caring, your desperation and sorrow and attempts to reach out to him while he was wrapped up in satin sheets with Her only added fuel to his ill willed fire. You simply stepped back, two can play at that game.

You stopped wearing the foreign gifts, stopped reading the dull love letters, stopped sending calls and messages to someone who clearly did not care to receive them or not. To lose power, leverage, the damage it does to know what the ruthlessness of an old lover can do.

Being so easily let go, like the treasures he sells, was too much for him it seemed.

So much so, that your phone rang, his name lighting up the screen. You looked at it, letting the ringing pass through you as you considered if you should leave him wondering and falling apart.

Wondering too long, the call fell, the abrupt end to the rings bringing you out of your thoughts as you went back to watching the rain fall.

No more than 5 minutes, it seemed, before the phone rang again, Chrollo seemingly desperate to reach you now, more so than he ever had.

Once, twice, three times your phone rang before you picked it up slowly, a somber hello drawn out from you.

“Y/N… I haven’t heard you in some time-”

“I know.” you cut him off, your voice soft but stern and unamused.

He was silent for a moment, the sound of rain on both ends prodding at your thoughts again.

“You’ve been well, I hope? I’ve sent some things over to you from my recent trip.”

“Mmm… I never got them.” you lied, of course, knowing the small packages remind untouched, sitting outside on your balcony getting soaked by the rain.

“I’m sure I sent them, y/n, a few things I know you’d enjoy.” he hummed as he seemed to be lacing his words with sweetness, too much for his own sake, really.

“I’ll look out for them.”

Although you knew you wouldn’t.

He sighed, a rare sign from him, the sound of him sitting down from wherever he is, making the audio crackle.

“I’ve been gone a while, y/n.”

“I know. I know more than anyone.”

“I haven’t called as much as you’d like me to, it’s my fault my love.”

“It is your fault, Chrollo.”

Silence.

“Y/n…”

“Chrollo.”

“I miss you.”

You tilted your head to the side, watching the raindrops race down the window as Chrollo lied his finest lie.

“Don’t lie, I know She’s with you.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you could sense the shift in the atmosphere, was the shift from losing his chance to reconcile? Losing his chance to explain? Or from being caught like a rat in a cage of his own making?

“Y/n there's-”

“Tell me, Chrollo...do you miss me when you run your fingers through Her hair?”

“...”

“Or when you kiss Her hand and walk Her home?”

Deathly silence from someone so brazen...

“Do you miss me when your lips brush against Her skin, do you think of me then?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you ended the call, knowing the damage on both ends had been done. You wouldn’t answer his calls, late or early, for the next few days as you planned to find a new place to stay, somewhere he wouldn’t find for a little while. His gifts provided ample financial help when traded in pawn shops, allowing you to gather yourself quickly and vanish in the same fashion that he did.

Your doors were closed, now, less of a fool for a thief with no bounds.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it leaves the rest of you lonely.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter prompts #hunter x hunter anime #hunter x hunter angst #hunter x hunter drabbles #hxh #hxh headcanons #hxh chrollo #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo angst #angst #anime angst #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x reader

[09kags]

Happy Haikyuu Day! 

Sorry for the bad quality first off T^T I keep having to resize these so that they’re smaller for Tumblr and it ruins the quality. But more importantly, happy Haikyuu day! (at least it is Japan already!) This edit embodies some of my favorite moments within the series and below, I’ve written some of the thoughts that went into this piece/my feelings on these moments! Manga spoilers ahead (I'm pretty sure I’ve kept them to a minimum but just to be sure, please proceed with caution!), and I hope you enjoy this edit! (Overlays: accio-glow, aulia-chan on dA; PSDs: hurtears, hallyumi, yangyanggg on dA) 1. “Today might finally be the day we get the chance to let our talents bloom… it could be tomorrow. Or maybe next year. Or maybe it’ll finally come when we’re 30. I’m not sure if physique has anything to do with it but I do know for sure that if you don’t believe that day will come, it never will.” This quote is a testament to Oikawa’s growth and is a symbolic representation of Oikawa freeing himself from the shackles of “geniuses” and “prodigies.” So what if your opponent is a genius? So what if they possess more innate talent? As his mentor and inspiration Jose Blanco states, “Are you saying you know what the limits of your abilities are already? Even though you aren’t yet finished growing physically or mentally? Even though you haven’t mastered all the skills you can master? If you’re going to complain that someone with more talent than you will always be better than you… no matter how hard you work, how many tricks you learn and how many great teammates you have… do that only after you’ve given everything the very best effort you have.” There will always be someone better in the world. But to claim that you cannot hope to compare to the likes of them is to resign yourself to a predetermined defeat as well as dismiss both your own efforts and theirs.    There’s no guarantee when your efforts will pay off. As Oikawa declares, it may be today, tomorrow, or even when we’re 30.  But if you don’t believe in yourself first, if you don’t believe that you will bloom in your own time, “that day will never come.”  The flower in the background is the iris. It is known to represent trust, faith, and hope amongst many other ideals. I chose this particular flower because of the manga cap used in this panel. I cannot emphasize how much I love the bond between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, especially this particular moment when Oikawa points at Iwaizumi with such authority and determination as if saying, “This ball, this moment, is meant for you.” Not to mention the pairing with the iconic “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you hone” quote. An absolutely masterful sequence of scenes that always gets my blood rushing. 

2. “Don’t look down! Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up!” This moment gives me chills every time. It’s something so fundamental and simple and yet, when Ukai yells this,  it instills that feeling of “You can do it.” It makes my heart flutter and I feel so excited because it’s such a beautiful way of saying “Don’t give up, it’s not over yet.” And even if the ball has dropped for the last time or you have lost this match, there’s always tomorrow. There’s always the next match where you’ll have to look up. This quote gives me the same feeling as when Takeda-sensei says, “For the rest of your lives, you can do anything you set your mind to!” You only truly lose when you stop trying or you give up.  3. “It hurts. I’m tired. This is painful. I don’t want this to ever end.” / “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!” Whenever Haikyuu characters say “Just one more!” or “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!”, the tension and desperation is almost palpable. It’s so incredibly moving to see them strive to save that ball just one more time, to focus purely on what is in front of them. Even if they don’t all pursue volleyball as a professional career, the passion they all have for the sport is real. That sort of passion is beautiful to watch and admire, and I wish I could have that kind of passion for something in my life.  4. “The underhand only uses two hands. The overhand uses 10 fingers. That’s all the more to support your spikers with, which is what it means to be a setter.” / “To cut through the wall that looms before your spikers, that is the purpose of a setter.”  This particular panel depicts the two ideologies of Atsumu and Kageyama respectively, two of my favorite setters and characters in general. Atsumu “may be pretty cocky at times, and overwhelm his teammates with his thirst for victory, but he treats his spikers with more sincerity and selflessness than anyone else.” He may be overbearing and an asshole at times, but his love for the sport and the art of being a setter is second to none. On the other hand, there’s Kageyama who’s so damn cool with his one-liners. Kageyama’s passion and drive to win may blind him to his surroundings and teammates but he truly believes that the setter is the one who clears the path for their spikers. When their spikers feel cornered and the walls are closing in, it is the setter who “cuts through the wall that looms” ahead. The old Kageyama who was a prisoner to speed is no longer, and his growth as a player brings me to tears every time.  5. “Someone once asked me, ‘Do you ever feel bitter over the fact that you’re not a regular on the team, and amongst your juniors there’s a genius to boot?’ I never understood the exact definition of what it was to be a genius to begin with, but upon hearing the question, I understood the general gist of what they were getting at.  Every so often there will be someone who thinks that ‘people like Atsumu’ were ‘good’ from the get-go. But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’  They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that. Even if they fail, even if they are hated and get ostracised by others, no matter whether they’re right or they’re wrong, even if they subvert something the rest of us hold in high regard, they’re the kind of people who can’t sit still without giving it a go. Even if they start coughing up blood from their lungs, they’re the kind of people who want to keep on running, no matter what.  There’s going to be a lot of people in this world who make you go ‘Wow, I’ll never be able to defeat them,’ and it’s only natural that you think they’re amazing people. I think that to be able to keep charging ahead is a talent in and of itself. You can call people like them whatever you like, the term ‘genius’ isn’t exactly an insult. That said, to think they were ‘good from the get go’ is to condemn yourself to a predetermined defeat without even playing a match against them, and I also think it’s very rude.”  This quote, hands down, is one of my favorite quotes of all time. It is not genius or natural talent that makes individuals truly great, but it is grit. Without a doubt, people are not born equal. There will always be someone with more innate talent or latent capabilities. We all begin at different starting lines. But those who truly stand out are those who go the extra mile, like those dubbed to be the Monster Generation (Kageyama, Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Oikawa, etc.). To others they may seem like natural prodigies but behind their flawless technique and precise ball control lies countless hours of training. They trained harder than anyone else, sacrificed in order to hone their abilities, and ran farther than the rest of the pack. They’re the type to fixate on what lies before them without much regard to anything else.They eat, sleep, breathe, and live volleyball with every waking second. They’re always trying new things (Atsumu pulling off the freak duo quick in the middle of the Inarizaki match) and continually looking for ways to improve (“But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’ They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that”; Kageyama keeping a volleyball journal). It is not what they were born with that makes them great; it is their overwhelming desire to win.  6. “‘Yesterday’ has already disappeared behind us. Many, many yesterdays have become a part of our muscles. What shall we do, today?” This quote, chills. There’s no point ruminating about the past or what has already passed; you can’t change it. (In retrospect, I wish I included another quote from Inarizaki in this panel: “One time is enough. We rise to the challenges of today.”) You learn from the mistakes of yesterday and use them as stepping stones for tomorrow. I wish I could eloquently phrase how much I love this quote or my interpretation of it but alas, my writing is fancy Garbage.  7. “But if… just if… that moment comes for you, that will be the moment you really get hooked on volleyball.” If you didn’t get chills when Tsukishima blocks Ushijima, I have no words for you. Tsukishima-it’s-just-a-club Kei, Tsukishima-I’m-the-normal-guy Kei — Tsukishima Kei, who always underestimates his own capabilities and relies on what he can see in front of him, blocking the Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top three high school aces nationally. The character development from someone who did the bare minimum (as noted by other players/coaches at one of the training camps) to someone who finally had their moment to get hooked on volleyball is one of my favorite progressions of all time. Seeing him fall in love with volleyball gradually and then all at once is truly heartwarming and beautiful to witness.  8. “No matter what other people may say, we are the protagonists of the world.” This quote is incredibly empowering to me. Even if your days consist of mundane activities, you are the protagonist of your own story every day. You may not be the main character in a shounen manga or an adolescent seeking to usurp the government in a dystopian novel, but this is your story. No one can tell it like you do and no one can replicate your story. It is yours and yours only.  And that concludes my Haikyuu word vomit! I really do wish I could have properly conveyed my pure adoration and love for this series better. I truly do love Haikyuu so very, very much. It will always have a special place in my heart and I will never forget the memories and lessons it has taught me! Thank you, Furudate-sensei, for such a beautiful story. And thank you Haikyuu, for everything. For all the losses and victories we shared. For all the smiles and laughter, and for all the tears we shed. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

#happy haikyuu day! #819 #haikyuu!! #haikyuu gfx #haikyuu coloring #hq!! #hq!! edit #kagehina #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #oikawa tooru #kenma kozume #miya atsumu #tsukishima kei #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #karasuno #fukurodani #i'm still trying to figure out tumblr don't mind me DLKFJ #gfx #anime #anime gfx #anime graphics #mine #mine: graphics

[forwantofamohawk]

Selfishness, Selflessness and Reciprocity

Or: An essay on why I think that Coderra has more potential as a relationship than people give it credit for.

As a foreword, I would like to say that this applies equally to romantic and platonic Coderra. Many of the building blocks for a romance are the same as those for a lifelong friendship. All I want, at the end of the day, is for Sierra to be happy. 

Now you could alternatively call this essay “Cody’s tendencies in relationships and how that changes in Planes Trains and Hot Airmobiles” because the first item of focus here is his relationship with Gwen, and how and why it fundamentally doesn’t work. While Gwody is generally not well-liked as a relationship due to his creepy, entitled and stereotypical “nice guy” behavior, those aren’t the reasons why it doesn’t work. They’re effluences of the real core problem with his Cody’s behavior and that mentality, and I’m going to call it out right out of the gate: Cody is selfish. 

For him, it’s never about what Gwen wants or who Gwen is as a person that matters. She is an object to be attained, an ideal girlfriend that will make him cool by being with him. His first notable interaction with her is making a pass at her during the talent show- he more or less thinks he can “get” her with a bit of flirting, without putting in the legwork of actually getting to know her. Compare this with Trent’s first major interaction with Gwen in The Big Sleep as a counterpoint. Watching this scene, what strikes me the most about how Trent conducts himself here is that there is no flirtatious undertones to his approach, no overt, eye-wagging, shit-eating-grin “hey babe, you’re so cool and I’m totally into that”. No, he just talks to her. Talks to her about whatever she wants to talk about, lets the conversation naturally go where it goes, and it gets her to open up, if only just a little. Cody, on the other hand, never does this with Gwen, he never understands this, and every interaction he has with her until Up the Creek, and then resuming in World Tour, is about trying to obtain her as an item.

In World Tour, his selfishness and desire to have Gwen reach new levels and really show how little he actually cares about her as a person. During the episode in Australia, Gwen acts hurt because Duncan is acting jealous of Alejandro “hooking up” with Courtney. Cody’s first instinct is to offer her his vote, but with the implicit subtext this game alliance is a means for him to hook up with her. Gwen is not actually hurt here, she’s playing him for a vote, but he doesn’t know that, he thinks Duncan has actually hurt her. She says to him “ Can you make the pain go away?” and he nods and tells her he’s there for her and that he’ll make everything better.

This is Cody at his absolute lowest. Here he is seeing someone he thinks is heartbroken and vulnerable and all his first reaction is to manipulate it to get into a relationship with her. 

Now this may all sound very anti-Cody, and I certainly don’t apologize for or condone this behavior. But I also now move on to my next point, which is that it is a learned behavior which makes sense in the context of his upbringing, and that he has the capacity to change this behavior.

A bad childhood does not excuse bad behaviors as an adult, or even a young adult like Cody, but it does provide a level of understanding how and why he does the things he does. There is a substantial body of canonical evidence that Cody is a neglected child, manifested most famously and notably in the show by the revelation that his parents (nor anyone else for that matter) never once remembered his birthday in Awwwww Drumheller. Interestingly it seems the Dramarama spinoff has taken this idea up as well, with Cody having said “It feels like a mother’s warmth, or least, so I’ve been told” which in context seems meant to indicate that Cody is unfamiliar with motherly affection. But what he lacks in parental attention is made up for in material wealth- his TDI bio speaks of a plethora of the latest tech and gadgets paid for on his parents dime. This is where the root of his selfishness in dealing with Gwen comes from- having never received love in his life, only things, he can only conceive of a relationship as a thing to be had, not love to be shared between people. Because the latter concept is utterly alien to him. But it’s alien to him because this mentality is learned, taught by years of neglect and being spoiled. And what can be learned, can be unlearned.  

Enter Planes, Trains and Hot Air Mobiles. It is all good and well to argue that Cody is the way he is because he is a victim of parental apathy and absence, but unless this amounts to meaningful change in his behavior, it is meaningless. Here we see that Cody in fact has the capacity to change and to be better than he was, and it’s in his relationship with Sierra that we first see this.

The Total Drama Jumbo jet has been demolished to smithereens, and at the epicenter of the destruction was Sierra. The episode begins with her eliminated, incapable of walking, buried under rubble and with most of those still present utterly uninterested in her plight. Cody, Alejandro and Heather are tasked with racing to Hawaii by whatever means they can find, but Sierra is left with no provisions for her return home. Let’s be clear here- Cody is supposed to get to Hawaii, not Sierra. 

At this point in the game he’s only barely started warming up to her the last episode, and otherwise has rebutted her at every turn since the game began. She cannot move on her own, no matter what means he uses to travel she’s dead weight. With his chosen method of travel, the balloon, Cody can get farther and go faster if he goes alone. He has every logical reason in the world to be selfish here, from a competition standpoint. 

And yet he doesn’t. He takes her with him, an act that I would argue is his first truly selfless act in any of his canon relationships with anyone. He gains nothing by bringing her along, or at least, nothing that is immediately apparent when they set off. He risks his victory in the competition to ensure she has someone to take care of and look after her. He prioritizes her needs and the urgency of her situation over his wants, and even his personal feelings for her at this moment- despite everything she has done to him that has made him feel violated and uncomfortable, by taking her with him he has forgiven her, and without words said that her life and wellbeing are worth more to him than his own feelings about their past. This does not absolve Sierra of responsibility for these acts, but Cody’s forgiveness is an important step in giving her the opportunity to atone for them. It is a profoundly mature moment for Cody, the most mature he has ever been in the entire series since Up the Creek. 

Later on in the episode, something incredible happens. Something called reciprocity- an exchange of mutual benefit to all parties involved. And it’s when their hot air balloon has crashed and they are stranded in the middle of nowhere somewhere in North America, with no apparent means to continue the race. Along with a box of fireworks, Sierra motivates Cody with a rousing speech, and importantly tells him that “You want a number one fan? That comes with responsibilities!”

This is a first for Sierra, in that she is demanding something out of Cody’s side of the relationship. For all the time she has been on the show with him, she has taken care of him with no regard for getting anything out of it in return. She has saved his life at risk to herself numerous times, and while she exacted a toll in physical affection she had never previously called upon Cody to do anything for her, personally. Here that changes.

She demands that he continue the race not for his sake, but for hers, and for all the fans she represents. This transforms the act of continuing the race from a selfish one for Cody, into a selfless one, as he is no longer doing it out of self-interest, but to fulfill his obligation to his relationship with Sierra. And for the second time in the episode, Cody shows the ability to be selfless and consider the needs and wants of others. He is not a fundamentally self-centered person at heart, and his bad habits can be unlearned in the right circumstance with the right people. 

It is this relationship that carries a feeble weakling and a crippled girl to the finale against all odds. It brings out the best in both of them and takes two people who on their own would have zero chance for success, and allows them to lift each other up and help each other move forward. This is the potential of Coderra, as a romance or a lifelong friendship. It’s only two, maybe three episodes where we see a glimpse of it, but I think that together they can be a little less broken and start to defeat their worst demons. 

#td #tdi #tdwt #total drama #total drama island #total drama world tour #td cody #td sierra

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain

A/n finally writing that Kaz Brekker x reader angsty-fluff where the reader is all sunshine-y and Kaz is dramatic as always lol 

Might make this a blurb series bc i like this dynamic so much lol

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y reader 

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Kaz has a conversation with the reader (who’s a runaway princess) about what happens to people who stay near him. 

-- 

He once said that he didn’t believe in Saints. A moment later he conceded that perhaps they existed in order to appease Inej, but he was quick to tact on that if Saints existed they didn’t care about him. Inej and I had exchanged a look, she pleaded with me in silence to let him be. I opened my mouth despite the look in her eyes, but he had walked away before I could get any words out. 

He believes that the Saints don’t care about him, but as soon as he was dragged in by Jesper, bleeding and more broken than usual, it had started to rain. The rain is a promise. The rain is a sign that he will wake up. 

I tap a finger against the forgotten book on my lap, ignoring the dried blood I’ve been too anxious to wash off. When Kaz wakes up he’ll either scold me or partially tease me for waiting here by his bedside. The rain continues, cascading down invisible hope. 

“Save your prayers, even for you the Saints won’t regard me.” Kaz. His voice is raspier than it should be and his slight condescension is blighted by the tired flatness of it. But it’s him. He’s speaking. 

I tear my gaze away from the window, almost forgetting to tamper down my relief before finally looking at him. I haven’t known him long enough to see him in any level of defeat, but I’ve heard enough stories. The fictional exaggeration of those that fear him have made him seem so immortal. Some part of me must have internalized that because to see him like this, to see him so human is too intimate. 

“Don’t be so narcissistic.” Something about Kaz always leaves me feeling challenged, like each comment is some kind of dare. I adjust my posture. “I wasn’t praying because I knew you’d be okay.” 

His expression is unchanging. “So much faith in me?” 

There’s a soft edge to his words, an attempt to twist some kind of awkward denial out of me. Some days I don’t think Kaz enjoys anything and then other days I think he enjoys any misstep in my words. 

I shrug, pushing down the flood of relief still attempting to crawl out of my chest. “You’re always okay.” I scratch the back of my wrist idly. “It seems the safe bet.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been taking gambling advice from Jesper.” 

I half roll my eyes. “No--Jesper and I don’t play together anymore.” I let out an easy sigh. “Last time I beat him he bordered on a hissy fit.” There’s the slightest hint of upturning at the corners of his lips. “I should go tell Jesper and Inej you’re awake.” 

“I think you should change out of that dress first.”

He was more likable when I thought he might die at any second. “Wow--Kaz Brekker the professional stylist.” He has no right to judge the formal gown I’m in. Yes, my outfit is ridiculous, but I’m only wearing it because the Crows needed someone they knew at a merchant’s party for a part of some scheme they wouldn’t share the details of with me. “Yes, I’m aware that this dress is more tulle than anything else, but I’m only wearing it because I was helping you.” 

I wait for some retort about how he could have managed without my assistance or some kind of comment about how I didn’t need such a large dress to flirt and distract the guards as the Crows snuck into the merchant’s private office. “You fit in there more than you said you would.” 

From anyone else, I’d consider this an insult. “I was making an effort for the sake of your plans.” 

“I saw you before I went into the office, you knew the dances, the man took your hand.” 

That’s the weirdest observation I’ve ever witnessed someone reflect on. “That’s how those dances tend to work.” I don’t hide the confusion in my expression. “How much blood did you lose?” 

Kaz’s piercing gaze drops to the blanket on his lap. “Not a concerning amount.”

“Why do I feel like we have different definitions of ‘concerning’?” 

His eyes flit upwards, a partial smirk playing at his lips. “We define a lot of things differently.” He pauses, “You defined the life you slipped into so easily tonight as something you could never do.” 

“I can’t.” What is his problem? “One dance is different than an eternity of planning teas and marrying some man who only keeps me so I can rear his children.” 

“You’d end up marrying someone who could give you things.”

He better not be implying I should be having children. I’m seriously starting to hope he did lose a significant amount of blood because that would be some kind of explanation. “I don’t want anyone to be giving me children right now, but I guess your concern is ni--”

“No, no,” he screws his eyes shut for a long second, “You know what I meant.” I stay silent. “You’re technically a princess, y/n, you could have more than the Barrel.” There’s an odd silence as he pauses. “Someone like you should have more than the Barrel.” 

He speaks like his word is law. That’s the one habit of his I can never seem to forgive. Is Kaz telling me to go home? To go back to a mother who dreams of marrying me off and a father with a temper that often leads to violence? He may be Dirtyhands, but he is no one to tell me who to go back to. Not after I risked my anonymity to get him into that merchant’s office. 

I shut my book and stand in one swift motion. “I’m going to tell Jesper and Inej that you’re awake.”

“Y/n.” I ignore him. “Y/n.” Again, I ignore him, approaching the doorway. The rustling of sheets leaves me frozen, hand on the doorknob. “Y/n.” 

Without thinking, I turn on my heels while glaring. There’s no way he’s proud enough to have climbed out of bed wi--and he’s standing. Standing almost directly behind me. 

“Kaz Brekker, I am going to say this one time and one time only.” I keep my words measured and my tone flat. No room for argument. “You just had nine stitches put in near your heart, get your ass back in bed before that is no longer your only injury.” 

He pauses, lips pressed together into a tight white line. And then his mouth opens, pried open by an oddly light sound. Did he just--Did Kaz Brekker just laugh? He doesn’t laugh. I didn’t think he was physically capable, and now he laughs while I’m threatening him? I should hit him on principle alone and damn the consequences. 

“Did you--” I’m gaping at him with a rage I am not accustomed to. “Did you just laugh?” 

Kaz is quick to shut his mouth. “You did swear you’d get me to laugh one day.” 

Saints--now he chooses to have some kind of sense of humor. “Not while I was threatening you for being an idiot after saying my lineage means that I’m meant to be trapped in the life I desire least.” 

“I didn’t say that.” I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t deserve more than this because of your family, you deserve more than this because--” He cuts himself off with a sharp sigh. “Do you remember what happened the day we met?” 

He had wanted to return me to my father for the money. I had managed to convince him I could be more useful working for him without profit. The first day had been tense, I had sworn to myself that I would hate him forever. 

“I remember really hating you.” I remember thinking him beautiful despite his darkness. “I remember it started raining on our way here.” 

“You had a hood, but you pushed it off your head to feel the rain.” I don’t remember that because indulging in the rain is instinctual to me. “You looked at the rain, and you smiled--and then you saw a woman with a child and you took off your hood and gave it to them.” 

“What does that have to d--” 

“Watching that felt like intruding on an intimate moment I had no business knowing about, but it wasn’t that to you. That moment was nothing to you because that moment was who you are.” 

I don’t understand what he sees in something I can barely remember. “Kaz, what does that have to do with anything?” 

“I’m the monster that children believe live under their beds, I’m the bastard of the Barrel, I’m someone who gets blood on everything near them.” His gaze is harsher than I’ve ever seen it as he focuses on the dried blood splotched across my hands and arms. “And then I can’t even help you wash it off.” 

Those last words are the closest to broken I’ve ever heard him sound. “Kaz--”

“And you’re the girl who looks at the rain like it’s a gift from the Saints.” 

Is he implying what I think he’s implying? Even if I believed him such a source of evil, even if I felt like touch mattered that much--why would he care? I keep the much more frightening implication at bay as I exhale. Clarity will only make this conversation worse. “That doesn’t matter.” The words leave me in a low whisper. 

I stare at the ground until his silence is something I can no longer bear. Looking up as cautiously as possible, I take in his expression. I’ve never seen him look so--so enraged. “It doesn’t matter?!” He doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s practically seething. “I’ve viewed your presence here as temporary since you first came and despite that, when I saw you there…” The breath he lets out is practically pained. “When I saw what your life is meant to be--I didn’t want you to go.” 

The admission breaks something hard in my chest. “I never wanted to go.” My eyeline drops to the ground. “I didn’t want to go when you were trying to make me, I didn’t want to go when it was only for that evening.” I swallow a lump of emotion restricting my throat. “When you were bleeding out and Jesper had to carry you back here I let myself imagine what it’d be like if you died. And it hurt. It hurt so badly I asked myself if I would rather never know you than feel that pain.” 

“Would you?” His voice has gone hollow. 

I finally look up again. “No.” That word leaves me more bare than any physical touch ever could. 

“I stain everything that stays with me,” his voice has seamlessly shifted back to a tone meant for business, “Me wanting you to stay is more than enough reason for you to leave.”

My chest aches as emotions I’ll never be able to place a name to pound against my chest. “I’m a princess that ran away from her family and tried to befriend her kidnapper--you can’t possibly be narcissistic enough to believe that you’re what’s corrupted me.” 

“Y/n,” his voice is gravely again, the way it was when he first woke up. 

“No. What could you possibly think I’d say to that?” He’s insane--I’m not even sure I understand what he’s implying. “You know I’ll never agree with what you’re saying, so I have no idea what kind of reaction you’re looking for.”

“Maybe a genuine one.” 

The comment is so frustrating I can’t help but roll my eyes. The irony of Kaz Brekker asking for a genuine reaction to an emotionally heavy comment is almost laughable. “My genuine reaction is that you’re acting like an idiot because I don’t agree with anything you’re saying, but calling someone an idiot after they’ve been stabbed in the chest is a little insensitive so I can’t give you my genuine reaction.”

Kaz half-scoffs, “You don’t agree? Y/n--are you hearing me!? I want--I want you to stay.” Even angry, the admission warms me. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “More than that I want--” 

“What?” 

He shakes his head once. “I want something that can never be because I can’t give what needs to be given to get it.” 

“Kaz, if it involves me staying you don’t need to give anything for that because I don’t want to go.” 

“I-want-you-to-stay-with-me.” The admission is pried from him by some invisible force. He speaks so fiercely the sentence comes out as one angry word. 

He speaks so quickly a part of me is convinced that I misheard him. I watch him as he moves back to the bed, sitting down in a way so resigned I wonder if I blurted something out on instinct. 

“Kaz,” this is embarrassing, “I wanted to stay with you even when I wanted to hate you.”

I take in his measured expression, the only thing implying any kind of reaction is the way his eyebrows draw together. “Don’t say that, you don’t understand what that means.” 

“Why? Because you’re convinced you’ll ruin me?” 

“Y/n, we’d be together with a wall between us, keeping us from ever touching.” 

“I will tolerate any amount of damage you’re so convinced staying with you will bring, I will stay with you and never touch you and think nothing of it--but I will not stay with you just to stand in front of a wall.” I let out a tired breath. “I will stay with you but my one condition will be that you have to let me know you.” 

Kaz’s intense gaze wavers. “The first thing you’ll know is that me allowing you to stay is a testament to my greed.” 

I give him a sharp look, “It’s not greed if I want to be here.” 

He half sighs, leaning against a pillow as he turns to look out the window. “It’s raining,” he muses, “The Saints must have done that for you.” 

The sentiment is so soft my heart feels like it’s constricting. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Saints.” 

“If they exist, they do so for people like you.” 

I push past the emotion in my chest as I move to sit in the same chair I was in earlier. “I was honest when I said I didn’t pray for you.” I scratch the back of my arm, a coldness passing over me. “I didn’t pray because I knew you would be okay because you had to be.” 

“They wouldn’t have saved me,” he mumbles, “Or maybe they would have for you.” 

I shake my head once, staring at the rain with more fascination than before. 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #six of crows imagine #six of crows netflix #six of crows show #soc #soc imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #grishaverse #grisha #grishavers x reader #grishaverse imagine

[an-ambivalent]

Yandere! Claude [WMMAP]

WARNING:  This post contains yandere themes and mentions of other toxic behaviours that can be triggering and uncomfortable to read. So, read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not condone this behaviour irl. And uh, PSA, I haven’t been writing for a long time so its rusty :’) ok thanks. 

Fandom: Who Made Me a Princess 

Pairing: Reader-Insert

No beta, we die like men. 

dedicated to my friend @spiritualotaku​ 

First Meeting 

~ After the betrayal of his brother and his first partner, and then losing Diana, the only time Claude would be able to “love” again is after the black magic he casted upon himself has done its job and erased the memory of his last deceased partner. Even though he had hoped to freeze his heart so he would not be hurt anymore, a part of the spell worked but in a twisted away. So, the next time he does love someone else, his feelings were going to be different than how he may have felt for Penelope and had felt for Diana. 

~ There’s not really a particular scenario to exist that would be a catalyst for his “interest” in you. That would be something that would develop over time, so you would have to be in a position where you interact with him frequently. Nothing like a maid or something because Claude always keeps these types of servant roles at an arm's distance. It would have to be a role where you are able to interact with the Emperor, but not significant enough that he would become aware of you right off the bat. Perhaps you’re the blacksmith responsible for the royal guards’ weapons, or the assistant of the magician who is the healer for the knights; being in an occupation that allows you to have regular interactions with Felix, who is completely trusted by Claude and friendly with you, would allow Claude to have a more favourable first impression of you. 

~In this instance, let’s assume the role of the assistant healer. The royal guard magician healer and you were scheduled to visit to conduct the regular health check ups that happen for the guards. Since Felix was not there, you were told by your senior to go find and do his check ups and they would look after the rest. One of the castle workers guided you to the royal garden where you see your client, and the cold ruthless Emperor he is assigned to protect.  

“Blessings and Glory upon the sun of the Obelian Empire,” you and the maid greet simultaneously bowing, and both Felix and Claude’s gaze shift towards you. Recognition flashes across Felix’s face when he sees you, but the coldness glistening in Claude’s bright blue jeweled eyes is unmatched and new, as a murderous aura starts to radiate off him. You and the maid freeze under his overwhelming terrifying presence. 

“You must not value your life so much if you barge in here however as you please and disrupt my peace,” he said stoically. From the corner of your eyes, you saw the maid beginning to tremble in fear. Along with this, although your face was looking at the ground in order to avoid the Emperor's gaze, you felt a spike of magic from him. You didn’t mean to, but you subconsciously released your own magic output, and put up a defensive shield around you and the maid in case the self-entitled Emperor was going to harm her or you for “disrupting his [poor] peace.”

This, of course did not go unnoticed by Claude who narrowed his eyes at you, wondering how you could be gutsy enough to usher him a challenge like that. Luckily, the situation did not escalate to that point since Felix jumped in. 

“Your Majesty, please don’t harm them. They’re here for me, I had forgotten I am meant to see the magician today. I ask that you do not hold them accountable for this.” 

Claude fixed his cold stare on Felix for a few seconds, who was accustomed to it, so he was able to hold his ground. And then,it was obviously evident that his gaze was fixated on you with the way you felt goosebumps rise at the nape of your neck. 

“I wasn’t aware the magician was a woman,” Claude pointed out, and the way he stated this made it seem like an accusation of some sort because everyone flinched as he had spoken. Felix stepped in front of you and the maid to act as a shield, and addressed Claude with a stern tone. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble that’s been caused for you because of me, Your Majesty. To not be of inconvenience to you anymore, we will excuse ourselves.” Felix bowed, and then led you and the maid out of the garden. You would have breathed out a sigh in relief and thanked Felix, but your breath and your words were stuck in your throat (coronavirus). Because for the entire time until the garden was out of your sight, the cold and intense gaze of the royal jeweled eyes, stayed fixated on you. 

How it happens 

~Although your first meeting with the Emperor had started off with a slight rift to say the least, other employees in the castle had noticed that an odd acquaintanceship had developed between you and Claude. Actually, it was an acquaintanceship in their eyes. In reality, it was completely one-sided because you entertained his whims to stay alive. He was the Emperor who could have your head whenever he wanted, and you were forced by your magician boss to interact with him in hopes that you making a good impression on him would somehow benefit him. 

~Claude’s interest in you had developed from the things he heard about you from the knights. They spoke of how attentive you were to their care each time, and whenever they were suffering from a painful injury, you made sure to numb the area around that injury to reduce their pain as much as possible. They spoke kind words about your humour, and the homemade sweets you always brought with you to give to them once their check up was over; it was a small action, but the thought behind it was really appreciated by the knights. You conversed, informed, and asked for their consent each time before you did something unlike your boss, who just wanted to finish the job as soon as possible. 

Claude also recalled how you had instantly jumped to the defense of that incompetent maid when he had unleashed his mana to intimidate her -- you had done this as if it was second nature to you. You had acted against him and not even paused to consider the consequences you may have faced for going against the Emperor. It intrigued him and he wanted to understand you. Although Obelia’s residents’ quality of life had improved after Claude became the sovereign and reduced the corruption from his father’s and brother’s reign, there were still many greedy and power hungry scum that he had to deal with. For this reason, his desire to approach someone seemingly as kind as you became stronger. 

And so, your regular tea time with Claude commenced. 

Yandere  

~Once Claude develops affection for you, he would have possessive traits as a yandere. He has lost so much already too, to make sure it does not happen again, he would want you to belong solely to him. He would keep you away from everyone else. 

~He will be clingy; there is no respect or regard for any boundaries you set. If he wants to touch you, hug you, and show affection, but you find his touch aversive or ever try to pull away, he will simply ignore you and force you to comply with him. If you struggle too much, he will use a spell that acts a relaxant to cease your thrashing. 

~Although Claude is rather temperamental and threatens people easily, he would have a bit more patience with you. But, he will not hesitate to threaten you if you give him too much trouble. If anything or anyone else tries to hurt you or take you away from him, he will hurt them. Ruthlessly. 

~He keeps you isolated so the chances of someone else trying to steal you away from him are low. However, in any instances you were out in public, he expects you to stick to his side and not initiate or respond to anyone. He expects you to stay quietly and obediently by his side, and let him do the talking for you to keep you fully to himself. 

General things 

~Once your relationship has been there for enough time, he will gift you your own palace. But even before that, he will spoil you lavishly with the most beautiful jewels and clothes he wants to see you in, or think you will look beautiful in. 

~When it is just you and him, he prefers you to wear simple robe dresses that are revealing and easy to access. When he wants to cuddle you, and with any physical intimacy, he enjoys the touch of your warm skin against his own. 

~When he is stressed, he likes you to lay down on your lap and nap while you play with his hair. 

And Claude is a boobs man

#yandere claude #wmmap #who made me a princess #yandere x reader #claude de alger obelia #wmmap fanfiction #claude x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #wmmap headcanons #yandere claude de alger obelia #yandere wmmap #claude de alger obelia x reader #possessive #jealousy #ambivalent writes

[mandakatt]

The Dragon Prince Fic - Aaravos - Liberosis

A/N: Something I have been working on for awhile for @thetrueenemyofhumanity​​ - I managed to get this done in time for christmas at least! =3 Hope you enjoy it Doll!

Characters: Aaravos x Gender Neutral Reader Warnings: Hurt/Comfort ( Protective Aaravos ), Abuse of Authority, Self Worth Issues, Self Confidence issues, Reader is getting unwanted attention Word Count: 1707 Summary:  You have come to Aaravos with a very strange request... You no longer wish to feel. Surprised by your request, Aaravos finds himself teasing you--much like others had, and that causes you to storm out of his room in anger because he just confirmed to you that you are nothing but something to be used. Aaravos finds himself instantly angry at this idea. You are not. You are more than that. And now, he needs to make it right.

“I beg your pardon?”

Aaravos watched you with an almost unreadable expression as he lifted a brow at your request. He was surprised that you would ask for him to do such a thing. Did you not know, nor understand that humans were meant to feel. They were meant to have a wide range of emotions. To feel pain, despair, anger...it is what made you so identifiably human. 

And yet your request struck him as odd.

“Yes,” you spoke softly as you were unable to lift your eyes enough to look at him. “I wish to no longer have a heart that cares.”

“And why do you wish to no longer have feelings?” 

He gently placed his hands behind his back as he slowly started to circle around you. He could hear your heart race, see the pulse of it beat rapidly in the hollow of your throat as he took in your posture. The way you refused to look up from the floor. The way your shoulders were slumped and you no longer carried yourself with that aura of confidence he’d come to adore. He stopped in front of you once more, and brought his fingers up to your chin to grasp it gently to tilt your head back and he waited till your eyes finally lifted to him. 

“Little star. Why do you request me to remove your heart?”

“It hurts too much. I am in constant fear of what others think. Hearing them say that I am doing the things I am to simply gain your favor.” 

Aaravos chuckled softly. “But that is exactly what you are doing Little star is it not? You—” and his words were cut short when you glared at him and gently batted his hand away from your face with the back of your own. 

“No, I am doing them for reasons other than simply gaining your attention!” you snapped then inhaled a bit sharply as you tried to calm the sudden flare of your temper. “I do not want just your attention. If that was all I had wanted you would have known as I would have tried to tempt you into bed from the start! Considering that is what most think of me...”

“Tempt me into bed?” he said softly as a slight smirk pulled the corner of his mouth up. “I do believe that you have done that once already. Although I must admit that was simply to warm your body from the dreadful cold. Was there more you were hoping for that night, Little Star?”

And the look you gave him made him want to reverse time, and take back what he just told you.

“Tell me, are all Startouched elves as dumb as you?”

Aaravos lifted his brows before they dipped down into a slight scowl. Never before have you talked to him in such a manner, and you were not about to begin now. He took a breath through his nose and opened his mouth to rebuke you, but he found himself unable to say a word as he watched tears fill your eyes.

“I am not what they say I am. I am not...but yet this...knowing you would tease me just the same as the rest…” you then scoffed, and gave him almost a sort of self-deprecating laugh. “And you asked me truly why I wished to not feel. To not care about what others say or think about me, and yet you teased me in much the same way.”

He slowly closed his mouth and his scowl deepened, but he was not angry with you. Oh no, never at you, but he did not like hearing there were such rumors.

“I am a tool. And that, my darling startouched elf is what they see me as. Simply something to be used.” and with a huff you scrubbed angrily at your face with the palm of your hand as you pushed past him. “So thank you, for reminding me of my place.”

Before he could say anything to you, to dispute you of what your place was, you’d slammed the door shut behind you, and he found himself simply staring at it for quite some time, till he took a bit of a breath through his nose and started after you. 

You were not just a tool. Not to him; though you truly didn’t know that yet, and if other humans were thinking you were simply something he used physically or that they could use you made his blood boil. He searched for you quietly, believing by now that you’d had enough time to calm down that he could, perhaps, talk with you. 

That’s when he found you cornered by one of Viren’s men. The two of you were mostly out of sight, the man’s arm hovering near your head as he talked softly, close to your ear. He found himself frowning a little as he paused to listen in to what he had to say to you.

“Come on now, surely the rumors about you and how good you are must be true, I simply want to try you for myself. There’s no harm in what I’m asking you for. You of all people should be used to this. Being used. So, what do you say?”

“No,” you replied softly, your eyes never leaving the ground as the man crowded you just a bit more. 

“No? Oh come on, I’m positive that I will treat you better than some old Startouched elf. Come on, let me just—”

“They said, no.” Aaravos said softly, a slight growl to his voice as he got closer. The man blinked then quickly backed away from you, looking nervous. “And you would be wise to keep your hands off what is not yours.”

“S-Sir!?”

Aaravos gently tilted his head, regarding this man for a moment before he looked back toward you. You had yet to lift your eyes from the ground and you were gently picking at your clothing in a nervous fidget. He took a deep breath in through his nose before he turned to the man once more as a smirk pulled his lips upwards. 

“When I say they are not yours, they are not mine either. They are free to choose whom they wish to be with and if you cannot take no for an answer, well, I say we make a deal,” he suddenly stalked forward, backing the man up into the wall behind him. “You will do your due diligence to remind everyone that has started to spread these wonderful rumors that they are my partner, my equal, and that they are more important to me than your lovely King Viren.”

He chuckled darkly at the way the man whimpered and went wide eyed with fear. He brought his face close to his ear and spoke ever so softly. 

“If I come to find that you have continued to simply think of my partner as a tool to be used for your silly, selfish, bed warming desires then I will make your deaths slower, and much more painful than being locked away for seven hundred years.”

Upon hearing the man swallow audibly and nod his head vigorously Aaravos straightened himself upwards, resting his hands behind his back once more as he gave the man a sweet smile. 

“Now, do we have an understanding?”

“Y-Yes sir!” 

“Good, now, run along,” Aaravos told him in a sing-song voice before grinning wickedly. “And remember, they are more human than you are. Dog.”

When the man had scrambled away and was out of sight, Aaravos turned to you and lifted his brows at the look of surprise he saw on your face. 

“Did I say something that was untrue?”

“I...but you…”

“Hmn?” Aaravos hummed softly as he moved close to you. “Tell me Little Star, do you truly find my actions so surprising? Do you truly believe, in that lovely human heart of yours, that I would simply keep you because I wished to use your body? Your mind? Your magic?”

“...part of me does, yes.”

Another hum passed his lips before he started to chuckle as he grasped your wrist to gently pull you closer to him. “Then it would seem I am still able to keep you guessing on my true motive to all of that which I have planned. Perhaps one day, you will truly know all of my desires.” 

How I want you as mine. But I will let you learn Little Star, that the choice—if you stay at my side, or leave—is yours.

“Viren will be upset with you,” you said softly as you tilted your head to look up at him. 

“And I do not care if he is,” he gently brought his hand up to brush the back of his fingers against your jaw. “He knows that you are to be treated with more respect than his men have given you. So what if I hurt his feelings just a little by saying you are more important?”

He couldn’t help but smile when you snorted out a little laugh, and before you could move away from him, he gently placed his hand to the back of your head and pressed a soft kiss to the middle of your forehead. He gave off a pleased hum at how you tensed in surprise, only to chuckle just a little as you chased after him just a little when he pulled away. 

“Now then, you had asked me to do something for you earlier. Is that still your desire now?” 

Aaravos gave you a soft smile as you blinked up at him, then shook your head gently. 

“N-No. It’s not.”

“I am glad,” and he moved to your side as he placed his hand on the small of your back. “And I promise to not tease you as I did earlier, and that you will come speak with me on things that are bothering you, compared to asking me for something so extreme.”

“...I promise, Aaravos.”

“Good, now that we have come to that as an understanding, how about we make sure that our lovely little dog is spreading the correct kind of rumors, hmm?”

#Meraki #The Dragon Prince #TDP #Aaravos #Aaravos x Reader #Gender Neutral Reader #Reader Insert #Self Insert #This feels kinda dark #but I hope not too dark?

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #azriel #emerie #emeriel #azriel x emerie

[warwaged-moved]

Soreana had solemnly risen to recline on one elbow, a glass of fragrant wine nestled against her palm. Her long hair cascaded down her back and onto the plush pillows, freshly undone from many intricate braids. She regarded her eldest daughter with glazed eyes set in lightly bruised sockets; Soreana never did recover fully from her illness, a waxen cast permanently attached to her skin. Nonetheless, the du Couteau matron offered her a lopsided smile that reached no higher than her nostrils, milky nails seeking purchase against smooth bloodglass. What little time they spent together was usually spent arguing, and this instance was no exception. That she had begun fidgeting was a clear sign she was steadily losing her patience.

“You knew this day would come. People like us only marry for duty, dear.”

IC ASKS MY BELOVED (+ARRANGED MARRIAGE!!) // always always accepting ily for this

They had not often been together for many years.

A blessing, she supposed, especially in light of tension permeating this reunion. Even as a child, Katarina had not been much of what her mother desired in a daughter. It did not matter much, back then. All the young Du Couteau had wished was to be like her father, and though he did not openly show his pride, he nonetheless cared for her training personally. Growing up, her relationship with Soreana only ever grew distant and full of jagged edges; she was not made for politics and pleasantries, for looking pretty and amenable, for soft voices and gentle words. The years of assassin’s training only made her sharper. 

Even the inevitable rift between father and the eldest daughter had not driven her closer to her mother.

Vivid emerald burns as it stares straight into her mother’s eyes. Illness may have affected Soreana physically, but it would be a mistake to think it had affected her mind. Proof of it, that they were here, now; who would have cared to see her wed, if not mother dearest?

The mere suggestion makes Katarina’s stomach turn, yet it is Soreana’s calm nonchalance that truly inflames her rage. The picture of blasé nobility, as she spoke of inevitability and duty --- duty! “ I have no duty to this family, ” Voice raised, her eyebrows press together in a frown; if her mother has the gall to smile, Katarina’s answer is a near snarl. “ None. Not anymore. You don’t get to make that choice for me. ”

“ If you thought you could arrange this buffoonery and have me comply, you are a fool. People like you may be content to sit on the sidelines and have others make choices for them, to agree to a marriage you never wanted and suffer through it, but I won’t. ” The last part may be viciously vociferated, but all of it is laced in venom, chest rising and falling rapidly as a result of her uncontrolled anger. She doesn’t care how it may look; Katarina is angry, and if her mother wished otherwise, perhaps she would have had better sense than to try to marry her off. 

Gaze only leaves Soreana’s face briefly, head upturned as she runs a hand through long, scarlet hair. It does naught to soothe her; when eyes set upon her mother once more, they carry no less resent. “ If you were weak enough to submit to something like this, that is your problem! I won’t accept it -- and if somehow you found a way to drag me to a ceremony and force the words from my lips, it still wouldn’t be enough! I will kill him before I accept this. Noxus will be better with this fucking family gone. I’ll die before helping the Du Couteau line to continue. ” 

#ADA pls write soreana thanks #smooches you #this was so much fun to write #kat is so pissed off 😌 #congrats mom she hates BOTH parents now 💕 #‣ muse { katarina du couteau } — ❝ THE SINISTER BLADE. ❞ #‣ in character { katarina du couteau } — ❝ A TAPESTRY OF SCARS. ❞