#nothing can capture the magic of watching it happen
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ONE CRITICAL ROLE SCENE PER EPISODE
C3E4: On the Trail of a Killer
#critteredit#criticalroleedit#fearne calloway#ashley johnson#liam o'brien#laura bailey#sam riegel#robbie daymond#taliesin jaffe#matthew mercer#marisha ray#critical role#c3#~#1k#crscene3#these fearne scenes truly don't hit the same in gif form#nothing can capture the magic of watching it happen
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Okay, this have been on my mind for a while now…
So! MC in the manga is a sheep (get turn into a sheep because they aren’t familiar with the magic? Idk). I was just wondering that at the end of the exchange programme how would the boys react to Mc’s “true form”
This is such an interesting thing to write 🖤
By the way, this is another request stuck in my drafts, I promise I'll try to make up for it and post more :')
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Their reaction to Sheep MC changing into their human form at the end of the exchange program
Warnings: Slightly suggestive, no proofreading, wrong grammar, spelling errors, kind of long
Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters
Links: Masterlist
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LUCIFER
It was the end of the exchange program and he's seeing you off
A large portal behind your back
For you, it might be the portal that will lead you to the freedom and whatever normality this program took away from you for a whole year
The portal that you've been waiting for
But for him, it's nothing but a spiral of magic that takes away the only comfort he has
The comfort that he seek for
And his twisted heart aches whenever he remembers it
But he hides it off with a smile and a wave
He waved at you one last time before you turned around
"Uhm... I feel weird-"
What?
The extreme feeling of despair left his body for a second and was covered with confusion
That soon turned into worry as your sheep form completely fell to the ground
The noises you're making is not normal and they're all panicking because they've never heard of it before
And the fact that you started glowing didn't ease their mind.
Could it be that some higher demon planted some spell inside of you?
IS THAT SPELL SUCCESFUL?!-
MC..?
He looked at you shock
No, more like-
He looked at your new form, shocked.
The way your naked body is laying on the ground right in front of him...
Right in front of them..?
He can't help but sigh and thought that, everything would have been fine, perfect even, if you turned into this form in front of him
But no, you just have to turn into your original self in front of everyone
Now he can't even embrace you.
All he did was take his coat off and throw it to your body as his face flush red.
You turned around to look at them as you clutch his coat with that adorable expression before you run off and enter the portal
He's left there, shocked and speechless
He didn't know what the hell just happened
But what's he's sure of is that he's going to get you back
And you're going to show that expression to him one more time
But that time, it will just be the two of you, alone.
MAMMON
This man is bawling his eyes out
His original plan is to watch you leave as he cries and once you're gone he will walk it off like a real man, with tear stains of course.
He set his mind to it, gambling for the whole week after you leave so that he can forget you
Even for just a moment
But no,
You won't even let him have the peace of mind
Or leave him with a nice memory
Instead your sheep body dropped to ground and made everyone think that you're about to die!
But you know what more you did?
You turned into a human!
Your human form!
Naked!
He went from 😭 -> 🤨 -> 😮 -> 😭 -> 😳 in a mere minute
He just stood there with a flushed face
A blushing dumbass who don't know what to do but watch as Lucifer threw his coat on you
And watch you run away with that cute expression, embarrassed expression on your face.
Gosh
You drive him insane
Now he's all fired up, willing to destroy the mortal world just to get you back in his arms.
LEVIATHAN
This one too is bawling his eyes out
While holding his camera of course
He's filming every part of this
He's standing there like "WAHHH MCCC! W-Wait is the angle r-right..? I need to capture how b-beautiful MC is..." while sobbing words out.
His hands are holding the camera shakily but the movement suddenly stopped when you said you feel weird...
His eyes shot open and his tears stopped
Are you okay..?
. . .
He's malfunctioning the moment you dropped to the ground and started to glow
And he malfunctioned even more when you turned into your human born, as naked as the moment you were born.
Now his sniper instincts came in and the camera is as focused as a laser
He's staring at you wide eyed, face as red as a tomato and his mouth agape
He doesn't know what's happening
But what he's sure of is that he needs to film it
Everything
The moment you grabbed Lucifer's coat and hugged it to cover yourself
And the moment you stood up and looked at them with that cute expression
But the moment you left, he hid the camera
This film is for his eyes only...
He's gonna need this for a 'project'...
And you know what else he needs?
Tissues.
SATAN
He's smiling everything off as he watches you leave
But you know deep down some anger is boiling
Considering how hot his pact mark is getting
Because, why do you have to leave..? Did he fail to satisfy your standards..?
He can't help but roll his eyes internally
But in the middle of his self talk, you spoke
"I kind of... Feel weird-"
And then you dropped to the ground and he's suddenly panicking
Any other feeling except for confusion flushed out of his body
He ran up to you immidiately but the light dimmed down and your naked body lay before him
He can't help stop in his tracks and just look at you and blush
Before he can even register anything, Lucifer's coat is already hugging your body
Which causes another wave of wrath to hit him
He just glared at Lucifer and saw that he's not even paying attention to him
He's looking at you
With a foreign expression in his face
So he also looked at you and...
Why the fuck did you have to look so majestic..?
You met his gaze and your face flushed before you ran out and entered the portal
He just remained still
Looking at the ground where you once sat
He can't move, he's shaking so much...
He feels like he's about to explode...
ASMODEUS
"WAHHH MCCC!" He whined out as he openly sobbed
He loves you so much!
Just why do you have to leave him!
He can't help but pout at you as you say your final goodbye
But what about him?
Why do you have to leave him too!
I mean it's understandable that you want to leave them because they're all such nuisances to you why him?!
He can't help it-
What do you mean you're feeling weird?
He's slowly walking to your direction
But you started to glow..?
Suddenly he's bearing his teeth expecting enemies around
Oh wait...
Oh...
You're...
Naked...
His mind is scrambled
He completely stopped working
And he'll probably be out of service for the next few days.
BEELZEBUB
He's probably standing there with Belphie in his arms
He's giving you his infamous puppy smile hoping that you'll give him what he wants
Hoping that you'll fall for it like the usual and ran up to him an dsay he's cute instead of leaving
But there's a part in his heart that knows you won't
He's sad and happy at the same time
He's happy because you'll finally live the way you do back then
But he's sad because you have to leave to do so...
Huh?
You're feeling weird..?
You're glowing, MC!
He's shaking Belphegor awake now
What's happening to you-
. . .
He'll be one of the most respectful and cover his eyes
But he's secretly peaking through the gaps
Your flushed face...
Looks so cute...
You look...
You looked delicious...
Just enough to eat...
Now he's hungry.
Hungry for something... New?
Something that includes you.
BELPHEGOR
He's awake actually
He watched everyone, he heard everyone gave their final speeches to you
But when you were about to leave
He forcefully shut his eyes and leaned on Beel
Hoping that his sin would take over and he fell into some deep slumber
But why of all times... Why isn't it cooperating..?
His brows are furrowed as he forces himself to sleep
But suddenly everyone dropped silent...
So you finally left?
Wha- why is Beel shaking him?-
MC?!
Why the fuck are you glowing now?!
No no no...
Is it the work of some demon?!
Who-
. . .
You're... Naked...
In front of everyone...
Haha...
Beel better hold him back or else he's about to run after you and do what his brothers can't
But he knows you won't like that.
So he clinged to Beel-
Haha...
Why do you look like that?!
That's his last thought before he ran and almost caught you but the portal closed
Immidiately.
"Hmm... What a shame~"
He'll make sure he'll catch you next time.
#obey me fluff#obey me headcanons#obey me nightbringer#obey me scenarios#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me angst#obey me x reader#obey me crack#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me smut#obey me suggestive#obey me sheep mc
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Captured
Azriel x Reader
Word count: 2018
Synopsis: The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be.
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“What is it?”
“An obscura camera, I think we called it.” You turned the device around for him to see the little hole to look through, let him hold it. “It means ‘dark room.’ Light travels in through here,” you pointed to the lens, “and an image is captured using refraction and shadows.”
Azriel frowned in disbelief, making you laugh.
“Watch,” you said, gently taking the Obscura from his hands.
“What do I have to do?”
“Nothing,” you smiled, positioning it before your face. “Smile for me.”
He gave a small, tentative smile. The distrust in his eyes had you laughing again, which made Azriel chuckle genuinely.
You clicked something. A shutter sounded, light flashed, and Azriel’s eyes widened. You pulled the obscura away as it rattled, producing a thin strip of rectangular film. Azriel’s frown returned. “It’s black.”
“It has to develop,” you plucked it away and placed it facedown. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”
“This is what you’d been working on with Nuan?” he asked, referring to the alchemist who’d been in town for a few weeks.
You nodded. “It’s an early prototype, but it mimics the way light enters the eye.” A mixture of her trinketry, your crafty impulses, and some magic. “All this work so we can finally capture your pretty face,” you teased, enjoying the pink dusting his cheeks. You turned the piece of film to him, relishing Azriel’s shock upon peering down at the photograph.
That sincere smile you’d managed to capture was how you often caught him looking at you. A sweet, receptive earnestness lighting his normally cold face. Eyes that beheld you like he missed you even when you hadn’t gone anywhere. Now etched permanently into a photograph for you to cherish.
It was your turn to blush. Playful words aside, this truly did catch his beauty.
He met your gaze. “Teach me how to use it.” You demonstrated, pointing to shoot the nearby bookshelf, but Azriel shook his head. “I want one like that,” he nodded to his headshot.
Your nose crinkled. “I don’t photograph well, Az.”
He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you?” He positioned the obscura over his eyes like you had.
You covered your face with your hands, hiding. “I don’t like the posing.”
“Come on,” he cooed, laughing. He reached to move your hair where it fell forward as you ducked your head, then gently held your wrists beneath your chin, broad hand easily cradling them between a thumb and two fingers. He tilted your face up with his hold. You peered at him through your fingers, rosy cheeks peeking through digits. Still holding your wrists, he took the photo effortlessly.
You uncovered your face, still blushing. He wondered how you didn’t see what a perfect subject you’d be. How you could invent the obscura and deprive him of its most obvious benefit.
Azriel studied you, and you saw the gears turn in his head. “Can I borrow it for a while?"
You laughed. “Okay, Az.”
~
It started off rather clumsy, and it took a few tries for Azriel to figure out that lighting mattered. That snapping photos with light in the immediate background ruined the film. He tested his hypothesis by capturing a bewildered Cassian, the confusion frozen making Azriel chuckle. He understood why you’d been laughing at him before. Next, he found that distance was important; that he could shift the angle of his photography. A practice shot of Feyre losing herself in a painting, so focused that she didn’t turn to wonder about the shuttering sound. Rhys landing on a balcony after training. Nesta reading ferociously by the fire.
He got the hang of it and was ready to really begin.
I don’t like the posing, you’d told him. He had no issues with that whatsoever.
The first one happened in the kitchen. The early morning hours were typically shared by the both of you on the grounds of a close friendship. You’d been sipping on coffee like it was medicinal, the light of the sun softening everything. Eyes closed, hair still slightly undone from sleep. He loved seeing you in your fancy dresses, your fighting leathers, but something about seeing you in soft, utterly personal nightwear—linen pants, knit cardigans, slippers—it spread warmth through his chest brighter than your revered sunrise. Today he'd even caught you in his t-shirt you must’ve swiped. Carefully positioning the Obscura over his face where he stood at the doorway, he snapped his photo before inconspicuously joining you, inquiring about the theft he quietly adored. Adoring your answering smile even more.
The next shot was on the rooftop. He’d caught Cassian bandaging you up after sparring. You were sat on the bench, smiling bloody and beautiful. Laughing as Cassian cracked jokes, allowing him to tend to you. He was kneeling on the ground before you, cleaning the cuts on your brow, wrapping your bruised knuckles. The sheer glee in your laugh, the way you sat so comfortably with his brother had Azriel reaching into the pocket realm for the Obscura, capturing the sight of his favourite people bantering fresh out of the ring.
One night after Rita’s, Rhys had offered to fly you home after winning a drinking game against Azriel. He’d winked at the bested Shadowsinger, taking you into his arms and shooting to the sky. Azriel grumbled at first until he’d realized the opportunity he had mid-flight with Rhys ahead. You reached to the skies above, stretching like you could grab the very moon, safe in the High Lord’s arms. He wished the Obscura had the power to capture the sound of your laughter as well, but he’d gladly settle for your silhouette marked by the Night Court stars, their beauty dimmed in the face of your exquisite joy.
The next photo was stolen after a Hewn City mission. You’d been in a billowing dark gown, face so ethereal, so striking and utterly beautiful that he’d struggled to look at you face-on. Everyone had taken to sprawling on the couches after coming home, still in formal attire, helping themselves to drinks as they winded down. You’d fallen asleep at some point, stretched comfortably across the sofa with your head nearly hanging off, hair cascading around you like a halo and down the sofa to the ground. Feyre mentioned wishing she could paint the sight of you, sleeping like some spite or nymph, some woodland creature of beauty, your dress ballooning around you like a nightshade flower. Azriel silently pulled out the Obscura, taking his time levelling the device so the light of the hearth illuminated your face.
“What is that thing you keep doing?” Cassian asked lowly.
Azriel focused, capturing the shot. Taking another one just for good measure. “Nothing.”
His favourite photo was of you and Nyx. You’d been playing with the boy on the balcony, blowing bubbles as he tried dutifully to pop them. They’d land and settle in his hair, making you laugh boisterously, head tipping back as Nyx laughed with you unwittingly. It was like the sun loved you, how it always shone upon you, doing the work for Azriel. He took the photo, falling into the easy routine. Once that photo developed, his heart skipped a beat at its sight. At the promise it captured that he wished was his.
He was a lucky bastard to have this gift—a device that finally allowed him to freeze the light that you were in his life, to etch the sights he so sincerely loved. God, you were special. Azriel had to walk away from the balcony, still staring at the little strip of film, more invaluable than precious jewel. How lucky he was to witness you. Luckier still to capture you in still frames, while you unknowingly captured his heart.
~
Azriel found you in your room, sitting at your vanity. He handed the obscura to you. “There’s no more film.”
You laughed. “Wow. How many photos did you take?”
He shrugged, smiling roguishly. “A handful.”
“Can I see?”
He handed a few.
You rifled through them, gasping at the quality. “These are amazing.” He’d captured Feyre descending the stairs in her regalia, beautiful like a divinity of legend. Nesta pouting playfully, glaring right at the camera. Mor putting earrings in before an outing. “Their mates would love these,” you murmured.
“They would,” he agreed.
You shook your head, stunned. “God, they’re beautiful.” Azriel didn’t know if you meant the photos or who he captured in them. “I wish I photographed this good.”
He would’ve laughed at the absurdity if he could resist his scoff of disbelief. “You do.”
You just shook your head, sneaking a quick glance at yourself in the mirror before eyeing the photos again.
Azriel’s heart stuttered. “You do,” he repeated. “I—” he reached into the pocket realm. “I took some of you as well.” Handing over a few photos, he watched closely as your eyes widened. You took your time studying each photo, brows pinched. He didn’t know if it was in dislike, or—
“Wow,” you breathed. You met his gaze. The fragility in them told him it was awe. “Azriel,” you breathed again, assessing the shots. “Wow. You make me look…”
You faded to silence. “What,” he gently nudged you.
“Pretty.”
He tried to speak. A breath puffed out of him. “Y/n,” he couldn’t stop the reverence in his tone. “You’re beautiful. What do you mean?” He didn’t care how it came off, how saying it warmed his cheeks.
He’d only pulled out a few of the tamer photos. The ones of you with his family or in mundane solitude. He immediately pulled out the rest, laying them before you. The pinch deepened between your brows, looking at the one of you after Hewn City. “Oh my god,” you breathed. You had no idea you could look so… “beautiful.”
“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Beautiful.” He pointed to the one of you in the kitchen, freshly woken up. “Here as well.” Always.
You took your time studying them, unable to find it in you to care about how stupidly vulnerable this struck you. Too busy grappling with the comfort of feeling this seen. You finally met his gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that look in his eyes was…
If you were well and truly self-indulgent, you may have called it how you felt inside.
Azriel wished he had just one more piece of film to capture the look on your face. The depth of fondness in your eyes, like he was worth seeing. His heart stuttered again, holding that stare like he could pour his affection directly from his eyes to yours.
“Will you be keeping these?” you asked about the photos.
Azriel chuckled. “Yes. Try taking even one away.”
Oh.
You blushed, breaking his stare. A fine line to toe with your friend indeed.
But Azriel enjoyed that conviction on your face when you saw yourself as he did. “Okay,” he let up, exhaling in mock annoyance. “You can have a few.” He took most of the photos back, making sure to leave you with a copy of the Hewn City one. “I mean, I can always take more.”
You laughed, standing to retrieve your satchel, pulling out spare film. You showed Azriel how to load it in, but before handing the Obscura back, you eyed the first photo he’d taken, with his hands holding your wrists. “I want one like that,” you said, reaching for his face.
He laughed but didn’t bat your hand away, to your pleasant surprise. Only standing firm, albeit leaving his face uncovered. You cradled his face gently by the chin in one hand, resting your fingers on his cheeks, barely pressing. He smiled warmly at you, looking right through the camera at you. You captured him.
“There,” you handed back the obscura. “Now I got you,” you held up his matching photo.
He liked the sound of that. “I have you too,” he raised his collection of your photos in his hand in reminder. “And I’ll be keeping you with me.”
~
taglist:
@iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @bakananya @deep-forest-creature @itsswritten
#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel fanfiction#azriel/reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfiction#azriel x you#acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azrielhours
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long time listener, first time caller
saw the piss thing and… do you do pissing inside? alastor cockwarming on the radio show, having to let out some tension, not wanting to get up and move to do it… maybe even lucifer on his thrown… just a thought 🫣
this is so good! Thank you for the req!
IMAGINE
(ik I use this gif all the time.. leave me alone)
PISS WARNING ⚠️
Sometimes when Alastor does his radio show, having you nestled on his cock is the best to get out his most confident work. And he loves the way you squirm. He'd always end up having to use his tentacles or some sort of magic restraint to refrain you from moving.
This time around however, he had forgotten to do one of the most important things before sitting you on his cock.
Go to the toilet.
It wasn't a big deal, really. He could probably hold it, and he didn't need to go that badly. However as he was talking about some recent news in hell, an idea popped into his tar black mind.
"And we have some acid rain scheduled for this afternoon! Make sure you get inside, or the cannibals will eat your body after it's rotted in the rain. Or I may eat you myself! I have been hankering for some sinner meat recently.." Alastor says, reciting the last thing on his news list for the broadcast.
"Any how, let's get some music playing shall we?" Alastor says the name and creator of the song before tuning his voice out, turning off his mic so he can organize the next part of his script.
Yet as he moves, he can't help but feel his bladder clench.
"Ngh.. Alastor, how much longer..?" You ask with a pathetic whimper, trying to wiggle your hips. Alastor's tentacles tighten around your thighs as this, ensuring you won't try to shift again.
Chuckling, Alastor smooths your hair back, giving you a dark look that causes goosebumps across your bare skin.
"Hm, well I do have to urinate..." He says, looking off into the distance in a sort of thoughtful way. Your face brightens, thinking he may end his show early and go to the bathroom... Then he'd fuck you silly, just how you like it.
"Really? Well then end the show!" You say, tugging on his coat. Though Alastor captures your wrists, placing them onto his shoulders.
"Now now, that wasn't what I was implying at all, fawn,"
Your eyes widen.
"Huh?"
"Stay still for me, hm?"
He presses his hands to your hips, pushing them down so your body's are completely connected at his cock. You shriek to yourself, realizing what he's about to do. Now you weren't going to object, no no, in your own way you were more excited than anything.
"Ah!"
Before you know it, with a sadistic gaze Alastor begins releasing his piss into your hole. You cry out, clasping your hands over your mouth as you lean back against the end of his desk. You can feel it all, warm and hot as it fills you to the brim. It tickles you in ways you can hardly imagine, making you see a myriad of twinkling stars as the liquid starts to seep from your full cunt.
And it just keeps coming, his cock twitching inside of you as it releases its last few spurts of urine into you. Alastor's pants are warm and soaked with his piss, but he doesn't make a move to take you off of his cock. Instead he just keeps you there, continuing his radio show whilst pretending that nothing happened at all.
"Alastor," you begin as he puts on another song. He hums in response. "You're all soaked.." You whine, pressing your hands to his soft and slimy tentacles.
He chuckles, pinching your cheek and watching you flinch. "Just how I like it, dirty. Now hush or I won't fornicate this full cunt with my seed, hm?"
You obey without a thought.
#proship#senseichaos#antishippers dni#senseichaosdrabbles#proship fanfiction#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel smut#smut#hazbin smut#alastor smut
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Obliviate.
✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst
Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.
A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺
Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish
The Daily Prophet
Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom
By Rita Skeeter
In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.
The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.
"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."
Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.
The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.
"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."
The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.
You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.
You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.
“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.
“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.
Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.
Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.
“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.
Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.
"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."
Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."
But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"
Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.
He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.
“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.
“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .
Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.
"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.
-•-
“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.
“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.
“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.
You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.
“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.
“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”
He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.
"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood
For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
-•-
You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.
“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.
You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.
Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.
“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.
-•-
It’s not fair.
It wasn’t fucking fair.
Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.
He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.
He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.
“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.
“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.
As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.
He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.
His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?
He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.
“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.
He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.
Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.
As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.
"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"
Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.
“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.
You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.
His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.
“Obliviate.”
The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.
Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.
You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.
But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.
Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.
As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.
He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.
Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.
You were obliviated. And it was your idea.
When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.
And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.
He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.
Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.
Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.
People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.
You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.
Take care of him.
You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.
Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.
Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.
And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.
It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.
The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.
But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.
He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.
“Incendio.”
#slytherin#slytherin boys#tom riddle#harry potter#draco malfoy#lorenzo berkshire#slytherin boys fic#theodore nott#blaise zabini#pansy parkinson#mattheo riddle angst#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo riddle x you
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it has been days and i haven't seen ANYONE mention this so fine, FINE, i will be the one to do it
"We'll see how tough this Mario is when he watches me KILL HIS BROTHER!"
THIS LINE ALL BY ITSELF FELT VERY SCARY AND I FULLY UNDERSTAND WHY THERE WAS NEVER A MOMENT WHERE BOWSER COULD ACTUALLY TRY TO MAKE GOOD ON THIS THREAT, THAT'D BE TOO INTENSE FOR THE TONE THEY WERE GOING FOR, BUT...
WHAT IF...
(look, all i'm saying is the angst gremlin inside of me came ALIVE for a hot second and started imagining scenes playing out in different ways where Bowser DOES have this opportunity with both brothers together before the final battle and it is extremely heartwrenching stuff, OKAY)
I was originally gonna end this post here but welp, now I brainstormed a whole alternative scene under the cut
Imagine this: we're on the Rainbow Road. The blue shell hits! DK does still fall into the ocean (maybe yelling "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAUUUUULT" at Mario as he goes down) but Mario is thrown back by the explosion onto the side of Rainbow Road with Cranky Kong and the other Kongs (he is definitely injured, though) and lands there as they freak out about DK. Peach and Toad are still safely on the other side.
Mario is thus captured with all the other Kongs and taken to Bowser's airship (Peach and Mario call out to each other worriedly but there's nothing she can do and the flying Koopas are coming after her too so Mario yells for her to run and her and Toad have to flee, waaah)
(This would also let Bowser and Mario actually get to meet before the end, which I think would have been nice! Not absolutely necessary, I think the movie works fine without it, but it would have really driven home the threat/stakes a little harder and created a stronger Darkest Moment, I think)
Bowser, seeing that Mario is captured, is just FILLED with hateful glee and wants to break this little man down so badly after he DARED to get close to HIS princess, and he asks Kamek to bring out Luigi from the prison
Mario, now in the airship and restrained, gets to actually SEE Bowser and register how big/menacing he is and they have some banter where Bowser is FURIOUS and Mario is honestly just kind of confused, like, "dude, what is your problem with me??? I just came to this world two days ago???" (He's scared, of course, he's never seen anyone quite like Bowser before, but he also knows his type right away - he's a bully, and Mario's dealt with his fair share of bullies, that's for sure)
But then of course the conversation comes around to "WHERE IS MY BROTHER, LET MY BROTHER GO" and then Luigi is brought in, hands bound, and the brothers can't help but have big, teary smiles and call out happily for each other
But that happiness ends QUICKLY because Bowser advances on Luigi and Mario realizes all at once what's going to happen and he tries to run at him but Kamek drags him back with the magic
And like...I am not one for anything TOO excessive here, I wouldn't want it to be TOO far outside what a movie like this would include, but Bowser does start to hurt Luigi - picking him up and throwing him down, kicking him, scratching him up, and Mario is just in AGONY and desperately struggling to pull free from the magic and begging Bowser to stop, please, if he's mad at someone, hurt HIM, beat HIM up, whatever he wants, but please, don't take it out on his brother, PLEASE, he'll do ANYTHING
But of course, that just makes Bowser taunt Mario more, because he CAN'T do anything. He wants to see Mario broken down and a pathetic mess and begging HIM, the great Koopa King, for mercy because the princess would never be attracted to someone like THAT, how could she, how shameful! Bowser will be sure to tell her ALL about it when he proposes, he is delighted
(oh man, Bowser could even say something like that "whatever happens to him is YOUR fault, you brought your dear brother down with you when you dared to meddle in my fairytale wedding!!!" And it's a ~*~THEMATIC CALLBACK~*~ to Mario's dad, waaaah)
And finally, it looks like Bowser is going to strike a BIG blow but Kamek gets distracted or Mario just becomes desperate enough to pull free of the magic's influence with the power of BROTHERLY LOVE and he gets a punch in on Bowser that knocks him back!!!
And then Mario is helping Luigi up, holding his bruised face sweetly and reassuring him that it's gonna be okay, they're gonna get out of here and go home, and they try to run but they get dragged apart by guards/Kamek/etc again
Bowser is EXTREMELY MAD but manages to calm down and says that he actually appreciates Mario interrupting him with his pathetic little punch because he almost acted too rashly. After all, if he kills Luigi now, he'll be one prisoner short for his ritualistic sacrifice for him and Peach's wedding! Can't have that! Too bad Mario's gonna miss it! And then he grabs Mario and carries him out while Luigi is being carried/dragged back to prison and they're both horrified and crying out each other's names desperately as they're separated AGAIN
Mario gets thrown off the airship by Bowser into the ocean and left for dead (Mario probably gets one more defiant line where he swears he's gonna stop Bowser and Bowser tells Mario that'll never happen but not to worry, him and Peach are going to be very happy together and Mario and his brother will be reunited soon enough - in DEATH [evil laughter])
And then Mario gets swallowed by the eel and DK is already there and things start to play out the same way as the movie from there EXCEPT that when him and DK snipe at each other, Mario starts to break down a little and the line "Well, at least your brother's not gonna die because of you!" has a LOT more emotional weight to it and it's just a longer, more heartwrenching Darkest Moment scene in general, sob)
(and you could also have a scene with Luigi back in prison where he is obviously extremely shaken up and hurt and not knowing what happened to Mario, what did Bowser do with him, is his brother even still ALIVE, why was he so WEAK and unable to do anything, unable to even protect himself or help Mario, etc etc and that helps him have a character beat that maybeeeee makes his surprise rescue of Mario at the end feel more earned????? HMM)
I'M SORRY, I LOVE ANGST (that eventually ends happily) AND IT COMPELS ME
i'm gonna have to write this as an actual, full-fledged fic, aren't I, lolol
#mario movie spoilers#super mario bros movie spoilers#mario movie#super mario bros movie#you all already know from my previous speculative fic that bowser directly targeting luigi as mario's weakest point makes me WEAK#and that line in the movie just made the worst impulses in me flare up I'M SORRY I CAN'T HELP IT#cherrysip hc's & rambling
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TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV
Ezra Goldspire - Who Knows Best
Name: Ezra Goldspire
Nicknames: Ezzie, Killifish
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/him
Sexuality: Homosexual
Birthday: May 7 (Taurus)
Age: 362 (In canon and AU)
Height: 5'11 or 179cm
Voice Claim(s): Caleb Hyles
Twisted from: Mother Gothel/Esther Gothel of Tangled
Unique Magic: "What Once was Mine" Through the use of magical herbs and alchemy, Ezra is able to capture the likeness of himself and other individuals. He can share and change other's physical features with these concoctions, ranging anywhere from shoe size to facial structure to vocal coords. These changes last as long as he desires as well as under his own set conditions at the cost of requiring outside materials to complete. Typically the magic is contained in what appears to be a type of spice or powder, and the change leaves a mark/tattoo on the individual which the magic is cast to indicate what exactly was changed.
Grade: Primarily teaches Sophomores and Juniors
Class: Teaches art and music, along with being the homeroom teacher of class 3-D.
Hobbies: Alchemy, botany, herbology, singing, painting, playing the harp, improv.
Likes: Broadway, theater, pasta alla gricia, small spaces, spring, jewelry, floral arrangements, experimental learning, any music.
Dislikes: Crickets, wrinkles, scars, wasted talent, mumbling/whispering, tracking time.
Fears: Aging, other Changeling Fae, not being recognized by those he cares for, forgetting people.
Summary: As the most easygoing teacher on the entirety of campus, many of the students and fellow staff members view him as a scatter-brained daydreamer. However, his dreams filled with immense passion, as he desires for nothing more than to watch his student's talent blossom... and keep the bloom contained and protected in a glass case.
Now, don't get him wrong! He has the best intentions, of course. There are many, many scary people and places out there in this Twisted Wonderland. People who would take advantage of such bright minds. He is simply preventing that from happening. The man has been around for a long time and has been through his own share of ordeals, so he would most definitely know.
He has a big heart. While he goes about an odd, constrictive way of showing it, he does truly care. He has a hard time letting things go, and he simply wants the best for those he cares for. Ezra would spoil every single one of his students rotten if he were able. Even as a rather new professor at NRC, he wishes to guide every single one of them on the right path.
Outfit Inspiration
Author's Notes: ARGHHH MY BOY... Ezra is a very new character I made only a few months ago. He was created specifically for TCOAV, but alas I have grown attached. Given we already have quite a few gaslight gatekeep girlboss type characters over here, I decided to focus more on twisting different aspects of Mother Gothel. I particularly focused on her parental tendencies as well as her means of "caring" for Rapunzel. Whereas whether Gothel truly cares for Rapunzel or not is still up in the air, and they truly had a toxic relationship nonetheless, I wanted to make Ezra a more misguided but good individual.
#boopshoopsoc#twisted wonderland#twst#twst oc#disney twst#oc#twst wonderland#original character#oc art#ezra goldspire#digital drawing#digital doodle#digital art#oc profile#character art#original character art#boopshoopsart#boopshoopswriting
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The Grabber x Hufflepuff (f) Reader [1] (Explicit, warnings)
Because I noticed an astonishing amount of my Grabber readers have this one thing in common. It's the house. Hufflepuff. They all have Hufflepuff on their profiles.
Summary: You're a Hufflepuff student and you get caught by the Dark Lord's infamous snatcher known as The Grabber.
Fandoms: The Black Phone, Harry Potter
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, clad touching, non/con or dub-con touching, Reader is a Hufflepuff, Reader is Innocent. Reader is a virgin, Reader is a Mudblood/Muggle-born, use of little witch/littlegirl/little one, Reader is of age, Grabber has an innocence corruption kink, Reader gets kidnapped.
Harry Potter 2nd Wizard War AU.
Grabber x Hufflepuff [ 1 ]
The Room of Requirement shimmered with the focused intensity of young witches and wizards, secretly preparing for the fight against the Dark Lord and his followers. You were among them, your wand tracing arcs in the air as you practiced defensive spells like all others. Some students here were younger than you, some slightly older. But everyone was practicing with the same passion. The air was thick with concentration, punctuated by the occasional crackle of magic gone awry.
"Hey," Ginny's voice cut through the hum of activity, pulling you aside. She was in the same year as you, although you hadn’t truly talked until you joined Dumbledore’s Army. Her eyes held an edge of urgency. "I need you to fetch some Hellebore Herb from the Forbidden Forest."
You nodded, a quick, sharp motion. "I can do that," you murmured, feeling the weight of the task settle on your shoulders. Slipping out of the school was a grizzly task nowadays. Students weren’t allowed to leave as it was said to be too dangerous out there now that the Dark Lord had returned. But you knew danger lurked inside the walls of your school as much as it did outdoors. Most of the staff at Hogwarts was sympathizing with the pure-blood radicals. If one of them caught you sneaking out of the school, they’d be taking their time punishing you with heavy torture spells.
Luckily, you were quite skilled at being silent, always alert, and excellent at not being noticed. Ginny knew this. It was why she usually asked you or Clementine Felley, a Ravenclaw with similar skills but a year below you two, to do these sorts of assignments.
Because you’d been doing this for a while, you had grown confident in your skills. In the shadowy corner, you slipped into your school robe to protect yourself from the cold outside. You made sure to flip your hair from underneath it before donning the hood and hiding it again.
The yellow and black of Hufflepuff covered you, and you were glad you belonged to that house. Somehow, the yellow became just another shade when you were out in the dusk or dark, resembling green or brown and adapting to your surroundings. You ran your fingers over the emblem, feeling the rough embroidery against your skin, before you grasped a wicker basket, its weave tight and firm.
Creeping out of the Room of Requirement, you clutched the fabric of your robe close. The corridors loomed silent and watchful. You knew the stakes — capture meant punishment, Crucio, or worse if the Carrow siblings got their hands on you.
As the doors groaned closed behind you, you drew a deep breath. Every shadow could hold a spying eye, a guard, or an enchantment meant to betray your step. But like so many times before, you made it out of the school with practiced ease.
The Forbidden Forest loomed, a dark maw ready to swallow you whole. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, but you pushed forward, feet whispering over fallen leaves and twigs.
Like you had hoped, nothing happened. You weren’t spotted. There was no alarm raised. And the deeper you got into the forest, the more at ease you started to feel. Not that there weren’t countless of dangers here, but with your wand and your knowledge of spells, you felt you could handle the forest’s creatures.
The underbrush crunched beneath your knees as you knelt, fingers sifting through the damp soil. You found the Hellebore — a sinister beauty with its deep green leaves and delicate blooms that belied the poison lurking within. Your breath came in careful puffs, visible in the twilight of the forest.
"Aren’t you a brave girl?" The voice was like gravel, grating against the hushed whispers of the trees. It struck a chord of fear, sending a shiver down your spine.
Your gaze lifted, heart beating high in your chest. There, a few feet away from you, a devil's mask leered down at you, eyes hollow pits of malice. You instantly recognized the foul creature from pictures in the newspaper. Moving images of the same mask, two hands raised next to it, showing the same rings you saw now glinting on his fingers in the light of the moon.
The Grabber.
His name slithered through your mind, conjuring images of snatched souls and vanished faces. His jacket hung open, revealing a swath of bare chest, skin pale in the moonlight, betraying he was just another man.
“What are you doing, lovely?” The voice was so deep and low that you felt it deep in your core. You squeezed your legs together uncomfortably, hoping the man didn’t notice the gesture, as you slowly rose from your knees.
Even standing, the man was at least a head taller than you. If not more.
“Well?” He tilted his head, the mask mocking you as it slanted.
"Collecting herbs," you managed, voice a mere wisp of sound. You tucked the Hellebore behind your back discreetly.
"Oh,” the man made a mocking sound that was almost called gentle. “Sweet thing, aren't you? Voice like honey." The Grabber cocked his mask, angling it in such a way that his eyes could trace you up and down. You could feel it, felt his gaze as it roamed over every inch of your body. It felt intimate, the way he studied you.
He stepped closer, the scent of earth and something darker emanating from him.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell the big bad man what kind of herbs you are collecting out here, on your own, at the cusp of midnight?”
You knew he had you there. No student was allowed in this part of the forest or indeed allowed to roam outside at night. In fact, no students were allowed out at all. And by your robes, he could easily tell you were still a student, that you belonged to the school nearby.
A man like him, working for the Dark Lord himself, would not let you go unpunished. He would either hand you back to the school, or he would dish out the punishment himself. But with his reputation for being a man who tortured his victims and made innocent people disappear, you had a feeling which one it would be. The others wouldn't get their herbs today. You had failed them.
For a short moment, you wished one of the Carrow siblings had caught you on your way out instead.
“I-I will,” why was your voice trembling? Why did you stutter? Were you truly this scared of the legendary snatcher who was said to be more demon than man?
“Very cute all the stumbling,” the man interrupted you. “I don’t care what you came here to collect. All I care about is that you are being naughty. Being out here, on your own, late at night. There are all sorts of bad men prowling about. Hadn’t you noticed?”
You blinked, clearly confused by his words because he obviously was one of these bad men himself. Why else would he trod around wearing a demon’s mask, bare-chested, in the middle of the night? He was out here, hunting.
Did that mean that others were nearby? That you somehow had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the ones he was chasing. People the Dark Lord wanted to see dead.
“I-I am s-so sorry. The H-herb I needed only grows at night and I thought-" you lied.
“Hellebore Herb,” he interrupted, cutting you short yet again. Of course, he must have caught sight of it. You nodded, realizing that although you had been trying to hide it behind your back, there was some more Hellebore near your feet. It would have been an easy guess.
"Well, well” he muttered, and you watched as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. The way his jacket swayed about revealed a hairless stomach with trained abbs, slightly pudgy but you supposed that came with age.
“Are you a full or half-blood?"
Huh? It was a sensitive question, but you could guess why he would ask it. The Dark Lord wasn’t keen on anyone not considered pure. You could lie to him. You knew you should. But something about the glint behind the dark holes of eyes in the mask told you he already knew the answer.
"Neither,” you reluctantly admitted, hanging your head in defeat. The herb dropped from your hands, fingers outstretched behind your back. “Muggle-born," a reluctant whisper and most definitely a death sentence. To lie was folly; he would know. To think all your bravery and good intentions would end here, tonight. That your defiance would be squashed down by one man and an unlucky encounter. Fear danced along your nerves, yet you forced stillness upon your frame.
"Charming," he murmured, surprising you as he closed the gap between you. The brush of his fingertips against your hair sent an unwanted tingle down your neck. "I would love to take you home."
You stiffened, the words wrapping around you like chains. There was no mistaking the implication, the threat veiled as a compliment. He wanted to snatch you the way he had done so many others. But there was something else underneath, something thick with arousal.
His presence loomed, a specter of dread. His breath grazed your cheek, slipping out from underneath the mask as he studied you with a sidelong glance. You let him touch your hair, let him believe he held sway. Inside, your thoughts raced — plans, strategies, hopes all tangled in a desperate knot.
"Would anyone miss a sweet little muggle-born witch?" he cooed, playing with a lock of your hair.
His closeness disgusted you, but you tried to use it to fool him. Your hand slipped into your robe, ever so carefully, and searched for your wand, mentally preparing to knock him back with a spell.
"Everyone is missed by someone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.
"Ah, but will they look for you?" The Grabber's tone was a taunt, a predator enjoying the quiver of his prey.
They would. They had to. Ginny and the others would notice if you didn’t come and deliver the herb. They would alarm the others, start a search for you, make sure your parents were informed. And then, the true search would start. No matter how influential the Dark Lord was, he couldn’t stop your loved ones from searching for you. They would, you just knew it. You were loved.
You clutched your wand in your fist, preparing to attack.
"Let's find out," the moment the whisper reached your ears, his hand left your hair. You felt how his hand slipped into yours, disarming you by taking your wand. How had he known that you'd reached for it? That you held it?
"You don't need that, little girl. Wands are for grown-ups," he teased, voice sing-song. And you silently fumed because you were an adult. Even if it hadn't been for that long. How belittling the man sounded, how he seemed to take pleasure in making you feel small.
Then, his mask came closer again, forcing you to lean a little more backward.
"Run, little girl," the Grabber hissed, and without a second thought, you spun on your heels and you ran. With a twist of your body, you broke free from his grasp, feet pounding against the forest floor as you sprinted toward safety.
You could hear him, the laughter that bubbled up from his throat, rich and deep and terrifying.
"Run, little witch, run," he taunted, delight evident in each syllable. "I do so love a chase."
Branches whipped against your face, leaving hot, stinging trails in their wake. Your lungs burned with exertion, the distance between you and the safety of the school shrinking with every desperate stride.
You could reach it, you had to. At this point you didn’t even care if any of the guards spotted you and if they crucioed you until you wished you had never been born. Anything was better than this. Anyone was better than this man. This demon who you’d read about.
Kidnapping. Torture. Unethical spells.
If he got you, you’d never see the light of day again. You’d be done for. You'd die a horrid death.
The outline of the school loomed into view. Just a little further. You pushed yourself beyond your limits, limbs stretching, going faster than you ever had, before your freedom was snatched away. An arm snaked around your waist, making you tumble. His hands clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape. Together, you crashed into the underbrush, his chest, a wall of heat and hardness, pressed against your back. The scent of him enveloped you—earth and sweat and something darker, unnamable.
You fought to breathe, feeling the strain of his fingers against your lips, pushing tightly so they couldn’t even part. You tried to wiggle out of his grip but he only tightened it, hissing in your ear as something hard poked against your butt and you instantly came to a still, eyes wide open. That wasn’t…?
"Shhh," he hissed as a guard's lantern light flickered in the distance. "Not a sound."
You had no choice but to wait in his embrace, feeling his chest heave rapidly up and down behind you. His palm warm against your lips, his heart hammering against your spine. Sweat from his naked chest brushed against your robe.
The moment stretched, an eternity wrapped in seconds, until silence returned and the light of the lantern disappeared into the dimness of the night. Then he rose, pulling you with him, his grip ironclad and unyielding.
"Be silent. Don't make this difficult," he commanded, his hand was upon your arm, gripping you tight, as a wand was raised by the other. It took less than a second for you to realize what was about to happen, but you didn’t have time to counter his spell or try and get away.
You knew what came next—the sensation of being squeezed through an impossibly tiny space, the world blurring into darkness. Apparition. A forced journey to an unknown hell.
You now stood somewhere else, in someone’s living room by the sights of it, too busy taking in your surroundings to stop how the Grabber replaced his hand from your arm to your neck. The squeeze was painful, bringing tears to your eyes, and your hands darted up to try and alleviate his grip. But to no avail.
The man forced you to walk from the living room to the kitchen. Standing in front of a white door, you couldn’t distinguish the soft muttered words that were muffled by the mask, but it was clear he was using some kind of magic to unlock and open it.
A deep and dark room appeared, a staircase leading down to it. Like a basement full of concrete. Then he pushed you through the door.
The grip he had on your neck was firm enough that it became difficult to breathe, as he guided you down the stairs and into what seemed to be a grey and mostly empty room.
The basement was a tomb of dampness and decay. You were thrown onto a mattress that reeked of rot, each spring groaning in protest. He loomed over you, a shadow stripped of humanity.
"Let me have a look at you," he demanded, settling before you and reaching out without expecting an answer.
You felt like a trapped animal and tried to crawl away, but your robes obstructed your movements. And where would you go? There was only a wall behind you, the grey concrete looked chipped and filthy, but also sturdy. You’d need your wand to get out of here.
The man’s hands were already untying your robe, pushing the cloak aside at both sides. Fear twisted inside you, a serpent coiling tighter with every passing second. Veins were visible on the male’s hands. He must be an older man, you thought. And strong.
You tried to struggle and pushed your hands against his arms in an attempt to stop him. But he only stopped his movements to shush you, angling his mask your way before his hands slid past the fabric of your clothes once more.
"Yellow and black," he mused, fingering the edge of your school robe with a touch that was both reverent and mocking. "I always had a thing for Hufflepuffs... loyal, kind, innocent. Wouldn't harm a fly." His voice dripped with sarcasm even as his fingers delicately parted the fabric to reveal your uniform beneath.
You held your breath, trying to shrink away from his probing gaze, but here there was no safety for you. He leaned in closer, heat radiating from his body as you deliberately tried not to look at the bulge he was sporting in his pants. "But innocence is often just a facade... physically they are pure. But mentally," here he chuckled.
"Please..." The word escaped your lips as a whisper, a feeble attempt to preserve some dignity.
A low growl rumbled from the depths of his chest and his nails pressed into your skin as his grip on you became more bold. “I like it when you beg. Makes you look cute, honey.”
You whimpered sadly, realizing that begging wasn’t going to save your life.
"Quiet now," he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. "You won’t need this."
The robe was pushed down your shoulders without a fight.
"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers sliding up the sensitive flesh of your bare thigh, just above your stockings, causing an involuntary flinch.
His coarse fingertips traced dangerously close to your skirt now. You couldn’t help it. You weren’t a fighter like the Slytherins or Gryffindors were, but you had your boundaries. With a sharp movement, you brought your elbows down to harm the man, but the Grabber was quicker. He caught your wrists with just one hand. A sad realization that his hands were large and strong enough to subdue you. You wiggled ineffectively, feeling the grip around both your wrists tighten.
"Cute," he chuckled darkly, taking pleasure in the shiver that coursed through you.
"See," he breathed out, his hand venturing beneath the pleated skirt, touching you where no one had ever touched before. "You are going to love this." His words were poison, staining the rawness of the moment with vile certainty.
"Stop," you tried to command, but it came out as a whimper, your own body betraying you under his invasive touch.
His fingertips stroked past your covered folds, the crotch of your panties dampening with each intimidating stroke. The pressure was just right, pressing down tightly enough to stimulate your clit through the soft cotton layer until he had you squirming. Soft mewls escaped your lips instead of pleas while he still held your wrists up with one hand, making it impossible for you to fight him off or crawl away from his touch.
"Ah, there it is," he whispered triumphantly as his finger traced over your damp core. "Your mind's as filthy as they come, little witch."
Panic clawed at your insides, yet amidst the terror, a spark of rage ignited. You hated him, hated his touch, his violation of all you held sacred. You loathed the way he made you feel; exposed, vulnerable, and worst of all, responding despite yourself.
"Doesn't this prove your point?" you spat out with venomous defiance, despising the trembling of your own voice. You were wet, you could hear it now. You felt your nipples peak underneath the fabric of your blouse, their tips pressing through the layers of clothes you were still wearing. But you had no doubt he had caught sight of it.
“Who said I wanted to prove anything?”
For a moment the two of you sat in complete silence while his fingers still rubbed your clothed core. Slick sounds emerged from between your legs while the Grabber stared at you. Was he waiting for an answer?
You tried to control your breathing, thankful when he finally lowered his other hand and with it your wrists. Your arms were starting to feel sore. Yet, that didn’t distract you from the warmth that was slowly building up inside your core. A tight coil was inside your tummy, your legs started to tremble. Whatever function your panties were supposed to have was rendered nihil as he flicked and fondled your clit through the now-soaked-through piece of garment. The fabric clung to your folds, making it easier for him to brush his fingers and the cloth deeper inside, even being as bold as to try and dip a fingertip in until you moaned and thrashed against him.
You turned your head aside, unable to look at him and his devilish mask as an orgasm was rapidly approaching. Your body trembled under his touch as the finger pushed against your entrance once, twice. And then suddenly withdrew.
Shaking, you sat there, blinking confused before you turned your head to face him. Your body felt hot, between your legs, it was burning with desire. The orgasm was so near that you could feel the first tremors already racking through your body. But he had stopped on the cusp of it, withdrawn as a form of pure torture. Leaving you undone, a trembling and whimpering mess on the dirty pale mattress.
You looked up at him, cheeks red and eyes full of arousal. Even forgetting to lower your arms now that his hold on you was gone. Not that you wanted him to have sex with you, but you were the epitome of a woman on the cusp of ecstasy - eager to have your bodily desire fulfilled. You wanted to feel good. Your mind was now conflicted, torn between wanting him to finish and wanting him far away. You looked at him, flushed, eyes begging him to finish what he started. No wonder a low groan escaped him while he squeezed the bulge in his pants as he rose to stand tall again.
“So innocent,” was all he announced before trying to run a hand through his shoulder-length hair. It must be a habit, you realized, mind still hazy with lust, because the movement had no purpose. The man’s mask was clasped behind his head with several bands. His fingers couldn’t properly run through his hair, and he had to halt his movement and lower his arm again.
You smirked up at him, as if you’d just found out a secret about him.
If you could undo those clasps, you could see his face. If you could escape, you could pass that information to the others. He’d finally be an easy prey.
A sudden movement shook you out of your thoughts when he suddenly dipped his hand inside the pocket of his own jacket. Your wand slid out, the hand in which he held it still glistening in the dark from your juices.
"M-My wand," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips.
"Shhh, little Hufflepuff," he cooed mockingly before holding your wand up high, seemingly to study it.
And you finally propelled into action. Your wand was an extension of yourself, of your magic, and it shouldn't be in his possession. You scrambled onto your hands and knees in an attempt to jump up and snatch the wand out of his hands, even if he was that much larger and even if you probably couldn’t reach it when you jumped anyway. But you had to try it. You had to get it back.
Your wand was the only thing that could get you out safely.
The Grabber seemed to have predicated your move. It only needed a whisper of his lips, and you sat frozen.
“It works well,” he muttered, words muffled by the mask. And you had no choice but to watch as he lowered his arm. Your breath caught as his fingers, rough and calloused from years of unforgiving work, slipped into the pocket of his dark robes, taking with them your wand—your lifeline.
He patted the pocket of his jacket as if to taunt you, the jacket smacking against his hip as it still hung open to reveal his naked chest. You could see his belly roll with each deep breath taken. He was still aroused, taking delight in playing these games with you.
A whimper escaped your lips, unbidden, raw with the fear of helplessness.
"Isn't that just adorable," the Grabber mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the cavernous basement. You watched, heart pounding, as he prepared to leave, the satisfaction in his stride unmistakable. "Don't worry, pet. You won’t be needing that while you’re here."
You watched him as he made his way to the door. If only he hadn’t put that spell on you and you could still move… But as it was, all you could do was sit and watch as he carried your only hope for survival with him.
“I think I’ll just add your name to the list of deaths," the low husky murmur of the Grabber surprised you. It came unasked, just another way he was mentally manipulating you, you guessed.
"No one’s gonna ask for you. But you know, future reference. In case anyone decides to start prowling,” he paused, turning his mask to face you from over his shoulder. “It'll just be another whoops. My hand slipped. Killed a pretty little girl out in the forest. Mud-blood witch. I had my orders.”
Anger raged inside of you, boiling under the frozen surface. You wished you could grit your teeth, curl your hands into fists, growl even. But you could do nothing.
He'd report you as another casualty, another life claimed by the darkness he served.
"It’s a cheap trick, but it works every time," he said casually. "Mostly had boys before you. This will be new." The implication hung heavy in the stale air, a sentence without an end, and it was suffocating.
Why? You wondered. Why not just kill them? Why take them home?
The Grabber paused, the mask changed direction until it almost looked like the demon grinned. "I like to play a game. Only with the cute ones though.”
Panic seized you and you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t just read your mind, had he? Merlin, please don’t let him be a Legilimens.
The Grabber fully turned back to you, the demonic mask’s expression seemed to have changed. But surely, that must be your imagination. Or had he cast a spell on it?
“Want to know what it’s called?” he taunted. And you thought. No. No, I don’t want to know what the game is called.
But instantly after, a different voice inside your head said otherwise. What game did he play with his victims, you wondered?
You almost heard the smirk that was hidden underneath the mask. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, confirming your fear that he was someone who could read minds.
“It’s called the naughty game.”
Then he smoothly turned on his heels while a thousand thoughts clouded your mind. You watched him, his back to you as he ascended the stairs, leaving you to contemplate the twisted rules of his game. What happens if you're naughty? you wondered, a desperate plea for some semblance of understanding.
He halted, his silhouette framed by the dim light at the top of the staircase.
"You lose," he answered, the words echoing ominously off the walls.
And with that, he disappeared from sight, leaving you alone with the chilling silence, your wet panties, and your racing thoughts.
~
AN: More?
~
~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~
#Reader x The Grabber#Grabber x you#Grabber x reader#the grabber x reader#the grabber x hufflepuff reader#the grabber x hufflepuff student#the grabber#Black Phone#Harry Potter#albert shaw#Albert shaw x reader#albert shaw x you
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Bell's Hells had a mental health crisis on the eve of their deployment to the global crisis front lines, and went to a HAG for help. Protected only by being with her granddaughter (mob boss's granddaughter core). Specifically one who delights in voyeurism of bumbling awkwardness and failure. She treats people like her own personal soap opera. Allura said she's known to feed off misery. They tell Mori her intervention could influence the entire fate of the gods and the world.
FCG makes a deal with the hag and ASKS to have their memory wiped so they'd get to be surprised about what happens. Likely the payment was them being sufficiently interesting and dramatic for her because they implicitly trust her to help them.
The hag then tosses a magic lens into an ordinary feywild ravine with three magically enforced rules: they must bring her the lens to win. If they speak truths, a path will appear upwards. If they tell lies a new thing will go wrong for them. She then watches them escalate her high-stakes truth or dare game into telling each other their rawest internal shit they were keeping to themselves but were coloring their feelings. Fair or not. They do this remarkably willingly under her trap.
Then she sets them up on a video game platformer challenge where you have to physically navigate a path overa casm blind protected only by your friends in co-op chat looking the map. She sets up thunder hornets nests to punish themIf they have natural human reactions of concern. They win two rounds and then lose one. So she makes a new rule that they can take the loss (and unknown consequences) or try one more time but instead of it being safe game rules it's now potentially deadly. They agree. This time they win through expert teamwork and suppressing their emotions.
Last the hag sets them up with a game of TF2 vs. a spy team but no one knows who's missing. They have to capture three briefcases while KNOWING some of their team mates are working against them. Orym has to execute those contingency plans while uncovering whose a traitor and who's actually on his side but as sketchy as usual.
This is what they've all discussed as their nightmare scenario. This is what they are so afraid to go through that the misery is tearing them apart. She's forcing them to go through the thing they least want to face. As a practice run. Because the fear underneath is not just of betrayal, but failure. That if they can't work together they will fail to save the world, and thus everyone in the world. What's that really look like if that happened and you could lose for real? And not know what happens to them if they fail.
Some A+ reality TV content produced by Mori Entertainment. They might win an Exandrian daytime Emmy. Look at all that abject bubbling missery being created. An incredible feast willingly given. All they have to do is be normal for them in her vicinity and they basically asked her to feed off them as a favor to try an unsanctioned new therapy method on humanoid subjects. If she does nothing to hurt them except giving them games they asked for, she still gets a gourmet meal.
Nana Mori is simultaneously being a doting grandmother and a terrifying fey nightmare and Bell's Hells are like "please grandmother I think your death traps could fix me."
Will dopplegangers fix them? That remains to be seen. Depends on how they handle it. But they'll have a trial run to know for sure. That gives them time to break for real or adjust. Mori IS the fate stitcher, and thread came to her begging to be sewn. She plucks the strings that she finds most interesting. And whatever else they are, Bell's Hells are very interesting.
#critical role#critical role spoilers#critical role meta#critical role campaign 3#Bell's Hells#Nana Mori
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Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.
Case 1: How to Soothe Gilbert When He is Upset
Gilbert: "Is that all everyone wants to say?"
All the important officials in Obsidian were gathered in a large conference room.
At the gathering where military personnel of all ages and genders were present, Gilbert, seated in the upper section of the room, was clearly seething with anger.
(I'm not surprised.)
The reports and agendas they were discussing were all filled with an unbearable stench of corruption.
It wasn't because the officials were lazy or incompetent; it was because of the corrupt practices deeply embedded within Obsidian.
(Every time I see Gilbert fighting alone like this, it feels like my heart is being crushed.)
Gilbert: "I'm getting nothing but half-baked progress reports. What do you expect me to do with this?"
Gilbert: "Your job is to complete the tasks assigned to you. If you can't even do that, then you're neglecting your duties."
Male officer: "With all due respect, Prince Gilbert, the issues we're dealing with are一"
Gilbert: "If they don't change their attitude, then it's better to introduce a new system. You just need to create a draft proposal for that, yeah?"
Male officer: "You're right, sir."
Gilbert: "Why do you impose restrictions on yourselves, calling things impossible and reckless?"
Gilbert: "There is not just one way to achieve a goal."
Gilbert: "If I believe I can accomplish something, then I surely can. You people just lack the capacity."
Gilbert: "Those filthy trash are probably laughing while you all remain at a standstill like this." **
Gilbert: "You know what will happen the next time you give me a report like this, right?"
He got up from his seat with a smirk, and all the soldiers stood up in unison, saluting him.
The tension was so intimidating and overwhelming that I almost forgot to breathe.
Gilbert: "Well then, let's adjourn. Good work, everyone."
He swiftly walked away.
As one of the attendees, I bowed to the military officers and quickly followed after Gilbert.
Emma: "Gil."
Gilbert: "What is it?"
When I called him, he stopped and turned around to face me.
Despite the tense atmosphere, his smile, which contained all the pent-up tension and hostility, was as refreshing as ever.
(But he still seems tense.)
He probably wasn't aware of it, but his eyes weren't fully smiling.
(I think he's planning to inspect the military exercises next.)
(If he goes in this state, everyone will undoubtedly feel uncomfortable.)
(Now that this happens...)
Emma: "Watch this."
I took a coin from the pocket of the dress he had prepared for me.
Emma: "Right now, the coin is in my left hand."
Gilbert: "I can see that."
I tightly gripped my hand, hiding the coin.
Emma: "Which hand do you think the coin is in now?"
Gilbert: "You want me to say it's on your left, right? But unfortunately..."
He gently grasped my hand and rolled up my sleeve.
Emma: "Hey, that's unfair!"
Gilbert: "You're just inexperienced."
Despite discreetly hiding the coin in my sleeve, Gilbert saw through it instantly.
(Performing magic tricks is really difficult.)
(Or maybe it's because he's my opponent?)
He took the coin from me and flicked it into the air, catching it in his hand.
Gilbert: "Where do you think the coin is now?"
Emma: "I'm pretty sure it's neither in your right nor left hand."
Ignoring his clenched fist, I searched through his sleeves but found nothing.
I tapped various parts of his uniform that seemed like they could hide something, but there was nothing.
(Huh?)
Gilbert: "The answer is..."
He opened his hand, and I saw the coin sitting on his palms.
(I fell for it.)
Gilbert: "Haha, you're too easy."
Emma: "You usually do something crazy."
Gilbert: "Are you disappointed?"
Emma: "A little."
Gilbert: "You're so honest."
He clenched the coin in his hand once again.
Then, when he opened it, there was nothing there.
Emma: "Huh!?"
Gilbert: "Little bunny."
He pointed to the pocket of my dress with his finger.
With trembling hands, I reached inside and felt something hard.
Emma: "Wow!"
I pulled the coin out of my pocket and gasped.
(I don't understand what's going on, but he's really something.)
Gilbert: "You always react like a child."
Emma: "I can't help it. It's just amazing!"
He chuckled, his eyes reflecting that sentiment.
(I'm glad. Even though the magic trick failed, it seems like he calmed down.)
Gilbert: "But was it really that obvious?"
He seemed to have understood the meaning behind my actions.
Emma: "Yeah."
Gilbert: "Fufu, I'm hopeless, aren't I?"
Emma: "Isn't that why I'm here?"
Emma: "So that you can have some peace of mind?"
As the number of times we attended official functions increased, this feeling only grew stronger.
Gilbert: "You're so efficient."
Emma: "!"
Suddenly, he leaned in and pressed his cold lips against my cheek.
His red eyes reflected my profile with affection.
Gilbert: "I'm counting on you."
Emma: "Leave it to me!"
(Lately, I've been thinking that maybe I'm the only one who can make him happy.)
Masterlist ╎ Next Part
#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikepri jp#gilbert von obsidian#ikepri gilbert#ikepri translations#ikepri spoilers
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nepenthe: (n) "that which chases away sorrow".
pre tlt-tlo. luke castellan x child of a minor god!reader. 700 words, prologue.
synopsis: time keeps slipping away. luke slips along with it. you were never important enough to care, anyway.
warnings: godly parent of the reader isn't mentioned but is specified to be a minor god. mentions of luke and reader making out, reader is said to be the eldest out of their siblings, kind of toxic situationship between luke and reader. minor book spoilers? (I haven't watched the show yet)
note: i'm writing on tumblr after almost a year and a half, this isn't that gooduprwefjod. this is just a brief intro to the possibility of a bigger series under the same reader, kinda? if it does go ahead, it will be based on the books! idk how i feel about it so far, but I'm always open to listening to feedback!
At Camp Half Blood, there remain a few things you cannot learn, no matter the amount of harsh, gruesome training you’ve gone through.
For those who look for it, every day is a new lesson. For example, capture the flag: every game tells you more about your opponents and allies when you know how to look for it. With every game you start to notice how the Area kids undermine the minor gods in cabin eleven, almost forgetting their existence. You notice yourself clubbed with children of another minor god, despite sharing nothing with them, you notice the way Luke’s expression goes blank and tenses up when he notices that.
So you ask him about it late at night, away from the campfire and chaos, bodies pressed together and hips pressed against each other. He replies by biting on your bottom lip, you retaliate by pulling his hair. The next thing you know, you’re pushed up against the wall and a little over half an hour later you walk into an empty cabin eleven with a purple bruise blossoming on your neck and lips swollen red.
A corner on the room’s floor is dedicated to your siblings and yourself. and you wonder how long Luke will keep it reserved for them—for you. You wonder, will the treatment end the moment this . . . affair between you two ends? How will you explain this to your siblings then? When you finally need to deal with the jealousy that comes with being somewhat special to a counsellor.
So you learn to adapt, to take advantage of those who undermine you, and to make allies with those who understand your strength. It’s not hard getting your siblings to listen to you, after all, you are the eldest with two quests weighing down on your conscious daily, but having that achievement means little to nothing when your godly parent isn’t an Olympian.
You sit down in the corner of the room, knees tucked in your chest and you look around. You have three siblings on your godly side, a diary hidden under Luke’s (because no one would respect your privacy, yet they wouldn’t dare breathe in Luke’s way like that) pillow containing their names, mortal addresses, mortal family’s numbers and blood types noted down. You wonder if Camp Half Blood would have a proper funeral if any of you—not just your siblings, any of the children of the minor gods—died. Would there be a grieving period? Would someone look for you? Would they even call the families you’ve left in the mortal world or would those who care wonder what happened to you all?
No minor god is as important as Olympians and as much as no one says it, you can feel it—you all can feel it.
A child of Nike can win better than a child of Ares, no one gives them the credit of winning, though, it’s always beginner's luck. Camp survives on the magic and mist of Hecate and yet no one, *not one person* appreciates any of her children. Iris is responsible for most, if not all, of the communication at camp and yet no one includes her children in any conversation. Tyche and Hebe’s children are almost as joyful as the Apollo and Aphrodite campers, yet no one smiles or dances with them. The goddess of luck’s children have none here. Nemesis cradles her children, promising justice and vengeance, and Hypnos lulls his kids to sleep, ensuring no nightmares whilst they sleep, unable to do anything to the bullying when they’re up.
Your parent is amongst these minor gods, and whilst they do care slightly more than Olympians do for their kids, you cannot help but be angry. Anger that you know will be spent on the Hermes counsellor, pushing him till he pushes you back, till you’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths and till your nails scratch red lines down his back, after all, it’s what you two do to each other.
No conversation, no understanding, no labels. You two are just two teenagers angry at the world for taking their parents away. Nothing else to each other, right?
#( ✸ ) half divinity#( ✸ ) pari's works#( ✸ ) not a request#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader
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Worth it
(James Potter / Regulus Black | 1 160 words)
For @jegulus-microfic prompt: Eyes closed
CW: Torture (Crucio), Injury
James is lying on the floor of the hall of Grimmauld Place. He can see the front door. They were so close. He hears Regulus shouting at his mother to let him go, the muffled noise of Regulus banging on the invisible wall that keeps him separate. The desperation in the voice of the boy he loves breaks his heart. He failed him, and now he will pay the price.
Walburga raises her wand at him. Before the pain hits him he thought he knew what to expect. He couldn’t be more wrong. Nothing makes you prepared for this. The pain is blinding. It consumes him. James screams as he feels every nerve in his body lit up in fire. Time stops making sense after a while. He tries to keep his eyes closed because the light is blinding. The last thing he hears before he blacks out is Regulus’ pleades.
James wakes up in his bed. The first thing he sees is the worried faces of his parents. He tries to move, but his body is aching. “James?” His mum whispers.
“What happened?” James is surprised at how raspy his voice is, and then suddenly everything rushes back. “Regulus! We have to go back for him!”
Effie holds him by his shoulder so he doesn’t try to get up. “You are safe, honey. Both of you…”
“James!” the dark-haired boy rushes into view. He has his hand on James immediately. He pats over his body to make sure James is really here. “I’m so sorry. James. I’m sorry.” His cheeks are strained river of tears. James wants to tell him it’s okay, just to make the devastated look of his go away.
“What happened?” James asks.
His father is the one to answer his voice carefully controlled. “You were under cruciatus for some time.” James waves his hand to let them know he is aware of this part. He notices his hands are still shaking. “According to Regulus, after you passed out he succeded in overcoming the magic barrier, and he apparated both of you out. Walburga is in Saint Mungos.”
“How?” James asks because Regulus didn’t have his wand if he recalls it right.
“Accidental magic,” Effie says softly.
James wants to reach out to Regulus. To thank him. Or just to touch him but when he reaches out his hand violently twitches.
Regulus lets out a loud sob. “No! No no no. I’m sorry. It was too long. I was slow. James!” He captures James’ twitching hand. He climbs onto to bed, pressing the hand against his chest until it stops twitching.
“It can be a side-effect of strong crucio. It should go away.” Effie comments, but James can see the worry on her face.
“He is hurting!” Regulus shouts as he starts patting around the bed looking for his wand.
“Darling, he is safe. No one is hurting him anymore.” Effie tries to calm him down, but Regulus snaps at her.
“You don’t understand. The body remembers.” He doesn’t explain further. James’ heart breaks for the fact that Regulus is right. He hates the idea that Regulus clearly knows the feeling first-hand. Every time his hands twitch for a split second the pain is back. “I’m gonna fix it! I’m sorry, I’m gonna fix it.”
Regulus is frantic, mumbling to himself as he takes James' left hand. He points his wand at the veins there and casts a spell James doesn’t recognize. He drops the wand and starts swiping his fingers across James’ forearm all the way to his fingers. The movements are too shaky to be consistent. He repeats the process over and over. Spell. Massaging the hand. Pleads for it to work. Apologies. And repeat.
James really tries not to let his hand twitch just for Regulus' sake, but there is no use. “NO! Please work. I… it has to work. I will fix it. James… Jamie… I’m sorry. So sorry.”
James watches Regulus' fingers. There are several cuts on them. He looks up, and he notices the cut on Regulus' forehead. Why wasn’t he healed?
“Reggie.” James tries to stop him. Regulus doesn’t look at him. James thinks he can’t without breaking. He is focused on his fingers desperately trying to help him. “You are injured. I’m gonna be fine. It's better already.”
Regulus’ breathing is getting more panicked by the minute. James' hand twitches again, and Regulus just folds. He collapses on the bed clinging to James’ hand. He kisses the hurting mussels. “Please work. Why is it not working? I… I have to… James, I’m sorry. Fuck. Why is it not working?! Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
James grits his teeth as he lifts his hand urging Regulus to look at him. He is a mess. This is what a broken person looks like. “Regulus. Listen to me. We are okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I do! It’s my… fuck, it’s my fault. You were there for me. And she… she hurt you. You. My Jamie. She… and you… I’m sorry.”
“Love. I need you to listen to me.” James urges softly pushing past the pain to swipe his thumb across Regulus’ cheek. “You are hurt…” Regulus opens his mouth to object. “Listen. You are hurt, and I want you to sit there and let my mum heal you. Will you do that for me, please, love?”
“But you…”
“For me. Please?”
Regulus looks like all the fight in him left his body. He walks across the room without another word. “Thank you.” James whispers to his mum.
“Son, we did everything we could. I’m not sure what Regulus was doing. Did it help?”
James shakes his head. “It would have, but he is in too much of a shock to be in control of his magic. I could feel what he was attempting to do, but… Don’t tell him, tho.”
Monty looks at James with a solemn expression. They both are thinking about the reason why Regulus knows the spell. James can’t handle it. It’s too much. Instead, he looks at the boy again. He is sitting in the chair Effie waves her wand around him. James can see him clenching his fists to keep himself in place.
Effie is talking to him in her special soothing voice. Regulus doesn’t respond, but he looks up at Effier after a while. And James can see it. The surprise someone is caring for him. That someone is treating him kindly. He looks like he never experienced adults treating him well.
“Dad, look,” James breathes out not looking away from Regulus who whispers something back to his mum. “Look at him. I mean. He is here. We made it. And he is gonna stay with me. I’m gonna make sure he will finally have a safe loving home.”
Monty puts a hand on James’ shoulder. James looks up at his dad and says proudly. “It was worth it. For him, it was worth it.”
#Someone give them hug#James is so brave#But they will be okay#regulus black#james potter#james potter x regulus black#james x regulus#jegulus#starchaser#sunseeker#jegulus microfic#marauders#marauders era#kiwi2229 writes microfics
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Someone uses the spell that turns them into an animal for a day. What are they and how do they react?
Undertale Sans - He's a blobfish. Welp. That happened. He can't really do anything about it. He's just... there. Strangely, though, he thinks it's not that bad. He's even a little sad when he has to go back to his normal form. It was an experience.
Undertale Papyrus - He's a goose. He's even more loud now, and scaring everyone around. To help Undyne realize he's Papyrus, he actually picks up a knife, to show her he's civilized. Undyne takes that as a threat and now Papyrus is running for his life, screaming, terrified she's going to roast him or something.
Underswap Sans - He's a sloth. He's so frustrated about this. He wants to do things, he really wants to! But everything is just... SLOW. SO SLOW. He wants to scream, run, and jump everywhere but just moving an arm is killing him. He's not going to survive. Please someone save him!
Underswap Papyrus - He's a Tenessee Fainting Goat. You know, these goats who faint at any source of stress? Welp. That doesn't change too much from usual. Except now Blue is having the fun of his life scaring the hell out of him just to watch him fall over, paralyzed. That's actually not funny :( He doesn't like it.
Underfell Sans - He's a very pissed-off hippopotamus. He can't think clearly anymore, all he knows is that he's angry and that he feels like he has to charge anything moving too close. He sent a lot of people to the hospital that day, including his brother and Undyne, then the King and the Queen they called in despair for help to control him. Red is the strongest monster ever created like that. But, as soon as he's returning to normal, he's in big trouble.
Underfell Papyrus - He's a shoebill. He has an angry face, he can makes gun noises with his mouth and he can stare right through your soul for hours. Everyone hates that. At least, it's fitting. Edge feels so powerful. He made three kids cry already and he intends to make many more run in fear before the end of the day.
Horrortale Sans - He's a big round panda. He doesn't know what to do with his body and won't stop knocking on everything in the house, despite Willow begging him to go outside. He just wants to curl up somewhere and sleep but he's just so big that nothing is comfortable. After some time, desperate, he goes outside and grabs a terrified cow to make a pillow.
Horrortale Papyrus - At this point, he thinks the universe hates him. He's a giraffe. Somehow, he's even taller than a normal giraffe. Obviously, since he can't hide because of his size, he got captured and pushed into a zoo, where an old giraffe matriarch didn't stop to parade to breed with him. He prefers to not talk about all of this anymore. Worst day of his life, he even got fined in the morning for entering the giraffe enclosure without any authorization, despite him screaming he was the giraffe all along. Hard day.
Swapfell Sans - He's a peacock. He was fine with it until Rus harassed him to fan his tail again and again and start making random people pay to enter HIS house to see him parade and take pictures. He's not against easy money, but he knows he won't see the color of that money and that's basically abusing his situation. So, after two hours, Nox decides he has enough and starts attacking the children, making them run in fear and terror. Once they're all gone, he attacks his brother lol. Rus has to hide in a tree to escape him. Nox waits for him silently on the floor, staring into his soul.
Swapfell Papyrus - He's an elephant seal... His nose is way too big and he can't do anything except rolling on himself and be loud to complain about the situation. He's too big to fit into the house, but he transformed there. He's literally stuck in the bathtub as Nox threw him there with blue magic to get him out of the way. He's splashing water pathetically, waiting for this nightmare to end.
Fellswap Gold Sans - He's a llama. He's mad. And he won't stop spitting at anyone really. Unfortunately, Coffee saw you can ride lamas on Minecraft and now they're wandering in the city because Wine can't say no to his brother, and certainly not like that. A police officer asks Coffee to put him on a muzzle because he's too dangerous and bite three people in the park who tried to touch him lol. Wine can't believe Coffee agreed. He feels so humiliated.
Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's a fly.... Wine is so scare he might die he locks him in a jar for the day. Poor Coffee is flying in circles all day long, bored. It's not like he can even say he's bored so... Eventually, he falls asleep and spends the rest of the day. The only problem is that his foot stays stuck inside the jar when he grows up again and he has to go to the hospital to take it off lol.
#undertale#underswap#underfell#horrortale#swapfell#fellswap gold#sans#papyrus#undertale ask blog#undertale asks#undertale imagines#undertale headcanons
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Can I ask for 🌹🦋 platonic yandere with Venti?
Title: Neverland
Character(s): Venti (Genshin Impact)
Summary: You always wanted to go to neverland, and you did. But when you wanted to return back home the flying boy did not want to let you go.
Warnings/tags: Platonic yandere, fem!reader, kidnapping, slight manipulation
Note: This has been written with platonic yandere in mind but it is rather open-ended actually and up to the reader on what happened to Venti when you were gone and on what happened to you after. Venti is depicted to be a similar age as the reader (so if the reader is 7 years old Venti is like 2 or 3 years older.)
[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]
You adored fairytales... You were young, after all, curious about the world inside the books. Magic that belongs only to books and not here. You were interested in fairytales like when the princess was captured and taken away to a tower only for a knight and shining armor to save her or a puppet that could not lie because if he does his nose would grow long or a story about a girl who once walked into a home that belonged to a family of 3 bears.
You loved those books but your favorite book, in particular, was about an immortal boy who could fly. It was obvious when you would jump on your bed hoping to fly up to the sky at one point or how you would watch your window for shadows or a boy that would one day show up and take you to neverland.
So when it finally happened, when you saw a young boy maybe similar to your age flying around your room with a small wisp by his side you didn't hesitate to accept his offer when he asked you to join him in Neverland. You didn't think about the people you were leaving, your parents or friends too caught up in the magic. Taking his hand when he promised you a world of mermaids, pirates, and a place you will never "grow up."
"Haha, how about it? Wanna join me to neverland? The place full of songs and laughter!"
You went to neverland and it was all you ever dreamed of as you played with the boy and his friends. Flying wherever you want, sleeping under the trees with other kids just like you, and seeing the prettiest mermaids that wave at you as you waved back. It was just so much fun.
"Yaa-hoo! Isn't this fun?"
But you were a child and in the end, you would miss your parents. Their hug and comfort, you just miss them and wish nothing but to go back.
"Ehhh, homesickness? What is that? You should instead help me make a tune! We are almost finished making that beautiful song, you know!"
"No, I took you to Neverland because I thought you would be with us, Me forever!" Venti, your friend, the boy who could fly and brought you here, refused to let you go, holding your hand tight.
His eyes were teary, lost as he looked straight at you. You didn't understand the madness in his eyes when the small boy looked at you but one thing is for certain was that you understood his words which only means that you could not see your parents and could only pout at the situation.
"We can go apple picking if you want! We can make apple cider, don't you love that drink? I have a secret that will make it extra yummy!"
You were stubborn, maybe too stubborn but all you want is to see your parents so when you find that first opportunity to finally leave neverland you took it. Leaving the place where you would never age back in the arms of your distraught parents who thought that they had forever lost you.
"Friend?.... Hey? Where are you?.... Why did you go back... You were supposed to be with me forever..."
You moved houses you parents could no longer live in that place where they have lost you... when you told them about your story and why you were gone. They didn't believe that you went to Neverland and thought that you somehow wore colored glasses that express a world that wasn't there when, in reality, you were only just kidnapped. Fear that this might happen again, they took you away.
Away from him.
You did not understand why they were so scared back then, yet later as you grew up you could only thank them for wanting to keep you safe.
You were an adult now, you got a new job and the pay was alright. It was a little far from your parent's home, but it was fine because you finally could move out and make a living for yourself.
Years have passed since that incident when you were young, and the memories have become foggy and a blur. You fell in love with someone and decided to marry. You have your own family and something to look forward to in your own reality.
"Found you."
Yet it seems that is not the case for everyone. A pair of eyes watching you as you grow older and older, wishing to give you what you want yet at the same time trying to hold himself back to drag you to his world again. He too, has aged as he continued to look for you in your world. His eyes, which were once clear glass-like innocence, now dark obsessive anger.
When you hear a knock on the window, do not open it. Your family may do so, but they would not find anything there. You yourself, tho mustn't for the moment you open the windows and let the wind it. You will leave nothing behind, but only your house slippers dragged back to Wonderland held by a boy whispering songs in your peaceful, tired sleep.
"My friend, you are finally in my arm! I am so glad that I finally caught you. Let's go back to Neverland alright?"
#genshin#yandere genshin#platonic yandere genshin#platonic yandere venti#yandere venti#yandere writing#yandere scenarios#yandere drabble#yandere oneshot#yandere imagines#platonic yandere imagines#yandere venti x reader#venti x reader#genshin imagines#genshin writing#genshin scenarios#genshin x reader#yandere genshin x reader#tw yandere#yandere x reader
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there's a post that will eventually spit out of my queue about homumado and the subversion of Homura rejecting salvation to impose her own reality on Madoka that kind of captures what i'm about to say, but at the end of the day i'm feral about it because it's all about agency and trauma and the reclamation of power at the expense of others through the viewpoint of wanting to save someone.
I think it's like. The first 12 episodes of Madoka got us feeling like the whole point was Hope and sacrifice and fighting for what's right. and it kind of was. But with the next three movies it reframes everything, and with the trailer we just got I think it just confirms that. Madomagi isn't about hope, it's about power and agency.
Throughout the whole 12 episodes of the original series, Madoka has very little agency. She is tugged around by circumstances, watching helplessly as everyone and everything else falls apart around her. Homura, too, is without agency. She is trapped in an unending cycle where she is ultimately always helpless. It's the feeling of helplessness/hopelessness that drives magical girls to become witches.
Which, makes sense for the whole Themes. Kyubey is offering young girls, adolescents, a time of life where you feel sort of stuck and helpless in a world you're just understanding to be bigger than you thought, an illusion of agency. Make a wish, become a superhero, take charge of your own destiny. Make something happen with your own two hands. Have a measurable effect on the world.
But then wishes always go sour, and the fighting becomes endless and hopelessness sets in and you realize you were never in control at all. You were given an illusion of controlling your own life but in the end you were a puppet of fate and this ending was inevitable. You were always doomed to be powerless. Despair comes from the realization that nothing you do really matters and you have no true effect on the world except to continue its same sad cycle.
Madoka's wish and subsequent ascension is a total reclamation of agency and power. She takes the tools of the oppressor and reframes them to become eternity, to finally take control and become something greater that truly makes a difference in the universe. After watching everyone fall apart helplessly, she matures into the power to do something about it.
Then there's Homura. In the end, her struggle still felt meaningless to her. Madoka was able to ascend and change the world because of Homura, yes, but Homura's wish, her desire for control, was for Madoka to be alive, happy, and human. And that choice was taken away from her by way of Madoka's choice, leaving her to continue her painful slog through reality without the one person she cared about on yet another meaningless, eternal battlefield. She was helpless to stop Madoka from disappearing in the end, and she feels as though her choices are ultimately meaningless.
So at the end of Rebellion, it is Homura who decides to wrest her own agency. Unlike Madoka, who uses the system itself against itself, Homura comes from the outside and shatters the system. She regains control over a chaotic, impossible situation and becomes the power in charge of it.
But by doing so, she steals Madoka's agency, which Madoka worked so hard to develop and choose for herself. She makes Madoka helpless again.
And that is the crux of the story, and the reason why these two star-crossed lovers, at this point in time, are doomed to never be together - both of them desire agency, but their agency comes at the expense of each other. The only way for them to exert control over their own lives is if they put the other into a gilded cage of sorts - Madoka unintentionally, Homura on purpose. They have fallen into a dichtomy of belief that someone must be Saved and the other must be the Savior, and thus, they struggle, because the only way they can conceive of controlling their own lives in a way that gives them agency is through stripping agency from the other.
I sincerely doubt Walpurgisnacht Rising will be the final Madoka movie because I think they'll drag it out as long as possible, but I think the cycle of stealing agency from each other in order to gain their own sense of self will continue until one or both of them realizes that Saved and Savior are concepts that are inherently restrictive and still a part of the system that initially trapped them (see: Revolutionary Girl Utena). And it's going to be brutal for both of them because I think both of them have these ideas in their head of the other person and aren't truly seeing the other as full human beings who deserve to have the freedom to choose their lives.
They're going to continue to circle each other, struggling for dominance until they can break every part of the cycle of helplessness and see each other as true equals, and that's very toxic yuri of them and it drives me absolutely fucking insane i love these unhinged toxic lesbians ahhhhhHHHHH
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Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 3/8
Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?
Enjoy!
"What were you thinking? Y/N, have you completely lost your fucking mind?"
Your hungover crippled every part of your body except for your ears. The tounge lashing you received from your sister did nothing to mend your headache.
"Please can I have a day off." She said, mocking your voice. "My ass! A party. I tell you to lay low and you end up going to a party?"
Your hands went to cup your ears, having heard enough of the noise. Your sister had always been great at lecturing you. She basically raised you since you were kids.
"And you lost your phone on top of that, how great."
"And you..."
She turned to Ruben who stood in the corner, observing the ongoing dispute in the living room.
"Where were you? I thought you were a professional. My sister could have gotten hurt last night."
"It's not his fault." You muttered.
"Damn right it's not, it's yours! Now I've got to cancel important meetings today just to fix the mess you made with the press." She grabbed her purse on the go. "Whatever you do Y/N, don't leave the apartment until I get back alright?"
You nodded. "Fine I won't. I fucked up, I get it. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologies to me, I'm not the one who spent all night cleaning up your vomiting."
As your sister stormed out of the apartment you closed your eyes and sighed. There where a few tears that escaped your eyes, perhaps because you were generally stressed about everything going on in your life.
"I'll be in my room if you need me." Ruben said, leaving you alone in the living room. He was giving you the cold shoulder as well, perhaps because you made his job very difficult the other night. You bet that none of the Dubai sheiks had him clean up their vomit all night.
Determined not to waste the day away, you dragged yourself back to your room. You had the equipments to do your song writing in there, as well as record some of them. You had no problems writing your own songs and for the most part you really enjoyed it. The magic of your music often came to life during isolated moments, and locking yourself in your room seemed like the perfect way to salvage the day. With a cup of black coffee to battle the hangover, you took a seat on your bed and started to dive deep into your thoughts. Hours of solitude passed as you poured your emotions onto paper. Every lyric, every melody, was carefully crafted, capturing the essence of your late experiences. The pain, the joy, the excitement, all woven into a beautiful tapestry of art.
Oblivious to the world outside your room, you sang softly, letting your voice fill the empty space. You barely noticed that the door creaked open, revealing Ruben standing in the doorway. Silently, he observed you from a distance, only knocking on the door to gain your attention once he thought you were done with whatever you were doing.
"Yes?" You looked up from your notebook, suprised to see him there, watching you.
He cleared his throat. "Maria, your chef...."
"Yes?"
"She's leaving in an hour, shall I tell her to prepare you somthing before she goes?"
"Oh." You turned to the window, the sun was setting on the horizon outside. All day had gone by without your knowledge.
"Um...no thanks, tell her I'm okay."
You went back to your pen and paper. However you couldn't help but notice how the door never shut. Looking up, Ruben was still standing in the doorway, watching you.
"Yes?" You frowned.
"You should eat something." His throat moved when he swolled.
"But I'm not hungry."
His eyebrow twitched, followed by an expression impossible to read. He nodded his head but remained steadfast. "You should eat something anyways."
"Ruben, you can't tell me what to..."
"Dehydration is a known cause of death."
"I'm not dehydrated."
Ruben nodded uttering a faint, "Understood." He then left the doorframe, returning downstairs.
You tried to pick up on your songwriting after that, however, a plaguing guilt stirred your abdomen.
"Fuck me." You sighed, chucking your song writing things aside, heading downstairs.
"Senhora."
You entered the kitchen seeing Ruben and your chef Maria deep in conversation. Their eyes widened at the sight of you.
"Am I too late, is there still a chance that you can cook me somthing to eat?"
Maria looked not to comprehend. She turned to Ruben, who to your suprise, spoke to her in a different language, the two of them understanding each other.
"She says, what would you like to eat?" Ruben translated. Apparently he spoke Brazilian.
"I'll have whatever." You said, gesturing to Maria.
She smiled, grabbing her apron and tugging it over her head.
You took a seat around the kitchen island, watching Maria bring out everything she needed from the fridge and so on.
"You changed your mind." Ruben said, resting his elbows before you. His biceps clenched as he did.
"You were right, I should eat something, anything."
Ruben nodded. "Good."
You chuckled. "Great."
Maria threw together a dish you've never had before. It looked and smelled good, however you were a picky eater and not very fond of trying new things.
"It's called Arroz de Pato." Ruben said, as a plate was set before you. "It's like duck rice, a portuguese specialty."
"Right." You said, skeptically.
"Try it, you'll enjoy."
Ruben was given a plate himself and to your suprise, grabbed the chair in front of you to sit down and eat it.
You had never seen him take a break and eat before, especially not together with you. But as he dug in, like a child starved from a day full of adventure, so did you.
"Wow." You exclaimed, as the most soothing flavors watered your mouth.
Ruben nodded "It's good right?"
"Really good." You looked to Maria, hoping that she'd understand you.
"Ela gosta." Ruben said, which made Maria smile and bow her head with courtesy. You two were left to enjoy your meals once she cleared up the kitchen for the day and went home.
"So you're originally from Brazil?" You asked.
Ruben made you wait for him to chew his food before he spoke. "Portugal." He said.
"But you understand brazilian?"
"Portuguese you mean. They speak portuguese in both Brazil and Portugal. "
"Oh." Heat rose to your face. All this time you had been calling it brazilian.
Ruben chuckled.
"It's not funny."
"It kinda is."
"I just love brazilian food so much. I've been to so many restaurants that claims to serve traditional brazilian dishes, but none of them cooks like Maria."
"No? Maybe I can teach you some recepies, I know a few."
"Ruben that would be amazing, but isn't that kind of below your paygrade?"
He chuckled. "I've done alot of things below my paygrade lately, teaching you how to cook won't hurt."
"Yeah, I guess I owe you an apology for last night. I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand I promise." You had told Ruben to trust you, only to break that trust. Now he was never gonna let you out of his sight. You'd be smothered by his constant presence.
"I believe you." He said, setting his utensils on his empty plate.
"You do?"
He nodded. "As long as you don't lie to me again, I have no problem keeping my distance whilst still doing my job. I'm not hired to harass you Y/N, I'm hired to protect and serve you."
His words clenched your heart, especially the way his eyes darkened when he looked at you.
"Ruben I..."
There was a loud knock on your door.
Ruben shot up to his feet, gesturing for you to stay put.
"It's probably just my sister, back from her meetings."
"Your sister has a key." Ruben said and stayed close to the wall as he crossed the living room, approaching the door. You watch him bend forward and peep through the lookout.
"Who is it?"
"A woman." He frowned.
"Open up you fucking bitch."
"And she appears to be intoxicated."
"Let me see." You got up and out of your chair.
"Y/N, don't..." Ruben tried to stop you but you hurried to unlock the door only to be met with...
"Tanya?" You frowned. "What are you doing here."
"How could you do this to me, what do you even need five million euros for, your albums are doing great."
"My what now?"
"Do you know this lady?" Ruben asked.
"Of course, she's my friend."
Declaring that she wasn't a threat to your life Ruben helped you to shuffle the tearful woman into your apartment. She was only dressed in a night robe and exclusive red bottom heels. You brought her to the living room, covering her in blankets as the nights cold had done her no good.
"Don't pity me, Y/N, this is all your fault." She said.
"What are you talking about, Tanya?"
She tossed you her phone, lighting herself a cigarette. The screen was showing a message thread from your number. The messages contained explicit photos of both Tanya and yourself, photos taken at a underground party that the two of you had attended two years ago. It was a nice party, but very adult themed. You rembered Tanya warning you to stick to her side at all times. You watched her do the most unpleasant things to her body, including letting other people snort cocain off her naked spine.
"You don't remember sending me these?" She said, pointing to the screen in your hand. The latest message from you read "Ten million or I'll crop these up and post them for you."
You shook your head. "Tanya I swear I didn't send you these. Those photos..." You looked to Ruben who stood near, overhearing everything. "...I would never share them with anybody, those were the rules, no?"
"Then how do you explain the message Y/N, they're all coming from your number. That's your number right?"
"It is but..." A punch in the gut as you realized. "I lost my phone at Elvis party yesterday."
"Great, so it's that munchkin who's trying to ruin me."
"Of course not, he would never."
"Then who is it then Y/N, because if this gets out I'm done. I have just patched things with my team, I did my time in rehab. Can someone please tell me whatta hell is going on?"
You took the matters into your own hands, typing a message into Tanya's phone.
"Y/N, you shouldn't..."
Ruben caught on what you were doing, but by then you had already pressed send.
The message read: "Who are you – xoxo Y/N."
The reply came almost immediately, taking the breath out of the whole room as the phone vibrated in your hand.
"What does it say?" Tanya said, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth.
Your hands trembled as you showed her the screen. The message read: "It's me, your favorite Dickonataor 3000."
#fanfiction#football imagine#man city#manchester city#ruben dias#ruben dias x reader#ruben dias imagine#footballer imagine#footballer x reader#football angst#ruben dias x black reader#black reader
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