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characterreaderwriter
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denki teehee
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characterreaderwriter · 8 months ago
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characterreaderwriter · 8 months ago
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THE LOST ART OF KEEPING A SECRET. jade leech & floyd leech
The aquarium receives new additions perhaps once every two weeks; usually they are cute little things with rainbow fins and gem eyes. These two are not cute little things; they're huge and they have human faces. "Well I've got a secret, I cannot say" - Queens of the Stone Age, Track 2 on Rated R. a gift for @hallowed-father; based on their beautiful fanart 💕
tags: aquariums, late night conversations, captivity, situational humiliation, dehumanization, mutual pining, dubious ethics, kidnapping, vivisection, nursery rhyme references, eventual happy ending
word count: 12,668
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The first two times you try seeing them, all you see is your reflection. 
It makes sense unfortunately. With the lack of any light, you are going to have a hard time seeing them. Cloudy black settles over the skeleton and hair shaped vegetation. You can turn your head on a swivel (which you do on the second try) but there is no way to discern what swims through darkness. Instead, all you see in the aquarium tank’s water is your face. 
Each uniquely human feature of yours squints in the nebulous, oscillating dark. To an observer, it would seem that you think if you flatten your eyes into pressed almonds something will reveal itself to you. Nose scrunching, you squint in a grandmother who lost her glasses way that is simply laughable. 
There must be something inside the exhibit.
Nothing. Nothing but your desolate reflection. 
On a small plaque, the words no use of flash photography wags a censure finger at you. Besides the cerulean halo on the corners where the wall meets ceiling, the room must remain dark at all times. Even during operating hours – or so you have heard from Deuce – they refuse to allow any other light in the secluded room. 
Besides the ultramarine ouroboros, the oval-shaped room is dark beyond dark. An extreme that is on another level than what you are familiar with. As a nightguard, you are familiar with the dark. Quite familiar. 
For example, there is one aquatic animal that you managed to see that other people cannot find nine times out of ten. In the shadows, spider crabs hide. They call their environment interestingly enough: the twilight zone, a part of the seafloor that gets little light and is very cold. With only three crabs in a sizable aquarium, it is understandably hard for others to find them. While the guests that linger after hours or closing staff puzzle over their location, you find them with ease. Behind the ship, by those bones, in the left corner no no higher in the left corner;  your eyes have long since adjusted to the nocturnal proclivity of your job. 
(One of the closing staff employees joked you were like a cute, little opossum. You think he meant it as a flirt; you found it insulting. Pressing your shades higher up on the bridge of your nose, you clocked in with your head down, vexed.)
However, in the tenebrous depths before you, you are like a disgruntled archaeologist standing in a desert of Swiss-cheese holes. Unable to locate anything. Tilting your head in a slightly different direction, your eyes squeeze into petite slices, searching. 
The flashlight in your hand is a heavy temptation. If you just raise it, the absence of light will readily receive it. Melted pinks and greens of vegetation will pop, brown and amber of decorative rocks will shine, and whatever colors lie on these new fishes will certainly look like a gorgeous splendor under visible light. It would take the smallest wrist motion. Your reflection held in black water stares back at you, glaring daggers. ‘C’mon, do it,’ your reflection urges.
Light slugs over your sneakers, contemplative. ‘Perhaps not,’ you think with regards to the penlight. You know that you loathe having any type of light in your face; do unto others as you would have done onto you. The button of your tool clicks off. By now, you should already be down by the stingrays. 
‘Third time might just have to be the charm,’ you think with a frown. 
In the fishbowl glass, mummified with shadows, your reflection mimics that childhood disappointment.
‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’
Turning to leave, spine to the aquarium tank, you miss the first instance of light emerging out of dark. 
It pulls upward like an ember blown skyward out of a campfire pit. The movements of it are languid. Flickers of yellow orbit in a whirlpool, lazy like they have just woken up. That clean circle becomes distorted, shrinking and growing like window-shades are being maneuvered over it. Then, a twin of yellow joins the first, a hair keener than the first. Both circles of light hang in the shadows, not brightening or shining beyond an intensity that is noticeable. Shrewd with their intentions.
When the door to the oval room clicks close, the window-shades pull down like a blink and the aquatic water changes from being speckled with playful yellow back to tenebrous black.
As it turns out, the phrase ‘third time's the charm’ holds an eternal merit. Because the next night, which is the third time you look into the aquarium tank, your wish is granted. 
The unluckiest charm; the unluckiest wish.
The aquarium gets new deliveries once every two weeks. As the nightguard, you are not kept on the up-and-up unless Deuce Spade is working. And as an honor college student, Deuce is usually scheduled – during daylight hours of course – on the weekends when exam season is not keeping him occupied. So, you missed the news about this new delivery initially. All you knew about them was from the very insightful texts of Deuce Spade (two in total):
The new deliveries can’t be around light. Think it's anglerfish? 
and
Apparently not anglerfish, those have to live under pressured water. Why do people act like that’s common knowledge to know??
Your available information is: they are not anglerfish. That is all.
You really are left with no hints to what hides in murk. After two weeks, no plaque detailing the species is nailed to the wall or statued on a slanted board. The room is void of identification. Perhaps that is the reason your body seems so magnetized towards deciphering this mystery. No identification by now is unusual. Plus, night shifts drag like limping feet; why not try to stall off boredom?
This time around, you power off your penlight before entering the room. Instead of letting the light stamp a circle of itself on the ground, you enter pure darkness. Blue vibrates above you. Not complete darkness, you correct, stepping on the path that limited blue illuminates. 
The room and tank resemble an egg with a cut-off top. The room is oval shaped but missing a quarter of its full shape, the top half knifed off to make room for a tank full of about five hundred gallons of water. When you reach the wall, the length is forty feet, this sliced egg-top, you place determined hands in your slacks pocket. 
And squint until the muscles in your eyes quiver with strain.   
Penguins must be kept in cold waters. Vents are constantly blowing cold air into the exhibit to keep it under forty degrees. As your breath comes out in a puff of frosty air, you wonder deeply just what kind of species can be kept in such frigidness. Deep sea penguins? That would certainly be interesting. 
Your reflection challenges you with a mimic of your squinting. Keep dreaming, it says. No matter which way you look over tenebrous shadows of vegetation and rocks, nothing is making itself clear to you. This time you risk inching closer. From this distance, you can count the vertebrae-esque leaves of a winding ludwiga. Ice seems to heartbeat off the glass, kissing your features. 
What can you see?
Nothing. Nothing but your desolate reflection.
That is until a little organic lantern – small like a dragonfly– comes alive in the water. Despite your excitement, you keep yourself frozen and still. Your tiny gasp bleeds out your mouth and hits the glass gradually. The dragonfly powers on and off in two blinks. Morse code for ‘I’ but you doubt this animal knows that – you just happened to take a college elective for Morso code. You watch this single, pinprick lantern with great interest.
‘I think it really is an anglerfish. I mean, it makes complete sense. Deep sea water temperatures. The utter lack of light. Maybe, the researchers found some way to replicate the pressures, and the staff just doesn’t know yet. That would be revolutionary.’
Then, a second dragonfly joins the first. On a black-emerald and black-turquoise torrent, the ember dips down low. Glittering like a sun-rays on water, it slithers closer with curious intent. It was leagues keener than its twin, metaphorically hexagonal instead of circular. This dragonfly too powers off and on in quicker blinks. Four blinks which is ‘H’ in Morse code … useless knowledge. 
Anglerfish cannot communicate. The entire ecosystem of a brain from fish to human is different, like trying to compare a tropical amazon to a winter wonderland. Just far too different to understand one another.
But, it is impressive that the aquarium was able to get such a deep sea creature to survive in a simulated habitat. 
“Hi there.” You wave your fingers. Pressing yourself closer to the glass, you wait for your eyes to adjust and register the razor teeth and fat jowls of an anglerfish brown face. Cold air starts to swim under your jacket, your body’s tilt causing the material to slip. Then, you make eye contact.
Eye contact? Eye contact. Turns out those lantern-shaped dragonflies you are looking at are not the bait anglerfish have attached to their bodies. It is not a hunting evolution you openly leer at. Rather, you look them in the eye. 
All the fire of your wonder extinguishes like a pinched match.
As if the vents are working overtime, a sudden chill falls over you. Goosebumps settle over your shoulders. You jump back and misty gray air (your gasping breath) explodes in front of you. It is not your desolate reflection that swims in front of you. Someone else’s face is in there.
There are creatures in there; that is undeniable. What fights to make itself conclusive in your reeling mind is the image of the creatures. Creatures – so completely alien when compared to the mixture of muscles that make up an anglerfish– with human faces. Human features. A nose. A pair of lips. A pair of squinting eyes, staring right back at you. 
One of them throws their head back in laughter when you fall to your ass, reeling inward and outward. What the fuck is a human – two humans! – doing inside an aquarium tank at 2 A.M.!
You climb back up to your feet with all the grace of an injured crab. Your left arm feels longer than your right; you feel like the ground has morphed into quicksand and is suckling on your right boot; all of your world has become disoriented. In your jacket, your penlight weighs down your left side like a brick. Pulled by a mental riptide, you wrestle until you finally stand on two (trembling)  legs like all bipedal humans should. Earth tilts as you watch the one who laughed move forward, blue blanketing him. 
He taps the glass. Exact over the bullseye point of where you stand, reeling, in the glass from his point of view. In intelligent acknowledgment of you.
You two lock spheroid eyes, analyzing each other with hell-bent resolve. Mapping the features of each other in your brain’s fusiform face area so you can recognize each other at later times. His human features settle like all the others before him in your cerebrum. Packaged in the inferior temporal cortex, packaged in the fusiform gyrus. The human visual system that specializes in recognizing faces accepts him. 
‘That is a face. I will recognize it later and recall it as one thing only: a face.’ Just like that, your brain, your fusiform gyrus mails you the annotation. 
A part of you wants to cry and the other wants to puke. You do neither. You react with a different system of your body.
Muscles press your flashlight’s button on and muscles move it up quickly when the second one starts to move closer to the glass. You do it out of fear. And with strange, instant regret. 
The one closest to the glass folds into himself, seething. A webbed, tooth-white-with-green-gradient hand covers his eyes in agony. His other hand slams the tank in a tight fist. It knocks the world back into orientation. You flee the scene with your flashlight swinging wildly back and forth with your sprint. 
This time there is no laughter.
You rush out like they are chasing you, laughing over your shoulders. With a harsh crash to the ground, panting in disbelief, you pull trembling knees towards your stricken face. What the fuck – what the absolute fuck! A carapace cloak falls over your brain to ignore knocking thoughts and rationalization. Wordless beyond three words, they swirl in your head. What the fuck – what the fuck.
Your spine lies on another exhibit. Stingrays lie underneath the aquarium’s sand, sleeping and unaware of you. Part of you knows you will not be able to sleep in the morning. 
“What the fuck.”
You unlock your phone with your face when you get home. 
The lamp glows, allowing your phone to register the face identification. As quickly as the string is pulled on, it is tugged off. Dawn rests against your black-out curtains like zombies pounding on doors sheltering food. Brightness on the screen is kept down to the lowest possible setting. You type the name of where you work into your phone.
‘There has to be information on them. You can’t just have that’ – pale-green faces with matching gold eyes – ‘that living in an aquarium. And if it’s in an aquarium, shouldn't that aquarium be like inside Area 51 or the Oval Office. Anywhere but nowhere!’
You click on the website of your place of employment. The types links are highlighted in white bubbles: GET YOUR TICKETS, WAYS TO SAVE, and ANIMALS UP-CLOSE. Your finger follows the last tab and you come across a Let’s Get Started sheet, asking if you are a member and, if not, to start booking. A colorful curse parts your lips.
You return to the home page. Take in the organization again. Okay, there are some links above too: Visit, Animals & Exhibits, Learn, Research & Conversation, News & Events, Support Us, Shop. 
Gravitating towards Animals & Exhibits, you watch as a list unfurls like a scroll. None of them are unusual animals. From beluga whales to steller sea lions, you are looking at a dead-end list of regular animals which you have passed multiple times on your nightguard route. Aquatic animals whose features do not turn your entire morning full of sleep into restless pacing. 
This is nauseating. For piscine features to be manipulated like that. Sea creatures come in a variety of features that are unique to them; eyes that reveal the innate instinct to survive above compassion or companionship, dorsal fins that branch off their body like tiny mountains, or those puckering lips that circle to suction fish-feed from the surface of their tanks. Those features you can compartmentalize with the aquarium you work with well. They belong there with the other undersea creatures. Your heart pangs in disgust.
This is immoral. For human features to be manipulated like that. A face you might see walking out of a movie theater, hand in hand with his girlfriend. A face you could have the possibility of getting to know if you were not a college dropout; someone in your biology or english elective or calculus class that would ask for help with a certain question. Staring into that man’s left umber eye and right gold eye, you realized how all those features made him human. Your heart pangs in sympathy. 
This is? You take a tranquil breath that soothes you like medicine from an inhaler, and the next thought sets your world back on the correct axis. This is out of your paygrade.
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You return because, fucking, of course you do. A job is equivalent to a life. You experience less hardships when you have a good job – which you thankfully do. You have a good job that you must keep.  
One: legally, graveyard shifts pay more than others in your state. Two: it was ideal for the degenerative disease you have. Three: “I need money. Money is good. I need money. Money is good. I need money. Money is good. I need money. Money –'' There have certainly been better mantras sung in your car; though, this melody keeps you sane. Most importantly, it keeps your foot steady on the accelerator. So with three very good reasons – really just two overlapping ones and a single unique one – you return to work the next day like nothing is wrong. 
Thus, you are going to ignore it. Thus, “I’m going to ignore it,” you tell yourself. Thus, you are going to stand in front of the oval-shaped room’s door for the larger half of thirty minutes, studying the steel. Ah, this is far from ignoring it.
It is just … absent of sentimentality, you know that they are only fish. Fish that you see on guys’ dating profiles, fish that you eat with a medley of dipping sauces, fish that shit in the very water they swim in. You are no PETA advocate that will say fish are like the monkeys of the ocean, learning to use rudimentary tools and are sophisticatedly smart because they form social groups. However, despite this, there is a tiny pebble in the river that manages to disrupt the entire flow; the pebble wants you to apologize to them.
Which is outlandish and pure insanity!!
Which is really why you should not push the door open with your hand. And, which is why you glare at your traitorous fingers and listen to the creak of an opening door, bemoaning how utterly stupid you are to be opening this Pandora box of possibilities.
You let the flashlight sway once in an overarching cut across the room. Then, you point it at the ground and squint at the aquarium again. Besides a few layering shades of ebony speckled with blue, there is really not much for you to distinguish in the stomach of shadow. Putting yourself on an even playing field, you flick off your flashlight and step forward. 
Feet shuffle inch by inch. Looking straight, your acuity of vision decreases bar by bar. Gravity shifts like a restless faultline has awoken under your feet. You want to run away while you walk forward.
When you touch a hand to the frigid glass, you finally feel steady again. Once more, your exhale makes itself physical in a small cloud on the tip of your nose. The temperature is graciously grounding. 
“I’m okay,” you remind yourself. You blink to stabilize your vision.
Apologize to the fish then you can finally leave. Simple enough.
Yet, as you wait and squint, no glowing eyes emerge in the dark. You hold yourself there, waiting for just a flicker of motion in what seems like everlasting comatose. 
This is pointless. Why am I even here? I doubt they remember my face, much less hold a grudge over it. Fuck, why did I let myself get sentimental over some eldritch homunculus that is an affront to biological evolution! Why aren’t they at Area 51 or the Oval Office – why did faith push them here?
Inner seething concluded, you turn your flashlight on and the room brightens. For a split second, your face lies its reflection on glass with a resentful aura. You maneuver light towards the door with determination. Your body follows, making a hasty turn towards your exit. There are rounds around the aquarium to be made, iced frappuccinos in the breakroom you want to drink, and momental, life-altering plots to be ignored forever.
Until the glass behind you thuds in tension-raising noise like when a bird hits window-panes with little to no warning.
Breath caught in your throat, you whirl around to make eye contact with him. He wears such a handsome face, one that could belong to a heartthrob actor if not marred by the fins replacing his ears and the mossy green hue of his skin. His playful inquisitive eyes are entirely human in shape and structure; the black pupil and then the color ring of an iris. Too bad they too are disfigured by rare and nauseating colors, olive-umber and gold. 
That right eye reminds you of lighthouses on the coast. Captains are not supposed to stir towards lighthouses; they avoid the light, even if it carries a certain warmth. Why is he looking at you so warmly?
Somehow, you just manage to catch out of the corner of your eye the motion of his hand. An acute nail points down at your beaming flashlight which imprints a halo of light on the carpet floor. Then, he raises his hand up to around his shoulder. His fingers move in the starting shape of someone about to play thumb-war before he starts to move his thumb up and down. Clicking an imaginary button, signaling for you to turn off your flashlight.
Stunned, you numbly do. Light is pulled and magnetized back into the pen’s surface, like an object beamed up into a spacecraft, at a speed unseeable to the human eye. The eye contact between you two is almost an intense lip-lock that both of you cannot part with. 
This is one you shined the flashlight at. Right into those encapsulating eyes. The right one is yellow like liquid spilling out of a pineapple. Bright and playful.
“I- I uh,” you fumble with your apology. He probably won’t understand a word. You purse your lips nervously. Are there any words in the English language that can package up your sympathies from homo sapien to fish; is opening your mouth even worth it? “I wuh-wanted to –.”
Your apology withers when the eel-mer starts to tap on the glass. 
Intentionally, you listen. Yet irrationally, you expect to see or hear more Morse Code. Perhaps it is his anthropoid features that misled you to the conclusion that he might know the coded language. With a needle-hook nail, he taps a rhythm. 
It’s nothing though? The letters are gibberish, with even the number 5 sitting pretty between an O and a C. Of course it is not a code. Coming to your senses, you doubt he could even understand your apology if you gave it to him. There is a fine line drawn in the aquarium’s sand: fish and humans are not equal, one is more intelligent.
With some infinite patience, the fish taps the glass again. You listen and recognize it as the exact same taps and pauses from before.
“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath. You hold eye contact, scrutinizing him. So used to having zero company, you surmise aloud, “I must be so sleep-deprived and loopy that I dreamed you up … A piece of undigested beef like Scrooge said.” As if to solidify his independent self and independent thinking in your solipsistic world, he taps the rhythm again.
This time – you think because of the repetition – you finally understand why he is tapping. It almost sends you flat on your ass once more. 
Oh. You throw a hand up to your mouth, faintly covering up a disbelieving laugh of joint horror and amusement. Disbelief crystallizes itself in the air; a tiny cloud of your reeling mind dissolves in front of you as you drop your numb hand. “Hah.”
The fish taps a nursery rhyme. One you know from kindergarten. One you would clap the rhythm of with your hands. You remember vaguely the pattern you’d move your hands to play with another child. The vague lingering sense of being hushed and secretive while playing your little singing games, giggling in the back of the classroom, bites your goosebumped flesh. 
How appropriate for a man trapped in an aquarium to know the nursery rhyme A Sailor Went to Sea. He does it again, the lyrics plucked from the cobwebs of your memory: A sailor went to sea, sea, sea; to see what she could see, see, see; but all that she could see, see, see; was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea. 
You don’t know fully how well your sight would fare in the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea. Still, with a hesitant squirm, you approach the frigid glass. The man inside the aquarium waits this time rather than launching right back into tapping.
Raising your arm, you make certain to dig your nails into your palm. A little reality-checking pinch never hurt anyone. One of those pallid nails rises up and taps back. Feeling like you are the spinning ballerina, you listen to the melody of this Pandora box plays unchained and uncaged in the ice cold air:
A sailor went to sea, sea, sea
To see what she could see, see, see
But all that she could see, see, see
Was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea
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There is no way to get around it. The third shift is lonely. Here in this aquarium? They only require one person to clean all the tanks, turn off decorative filters, and supervise aquatic life. That sole person has been you. With an iced frappuccino and penlight as your pirate’s sword and hooked hand, you have managed the task of protecting this vessel well.
Just because of your longevity of working as a third shifter, it does not make it come easy. Two tabs in your eighteen open Safari tabs are on articles about coping with night work. Coping with solitude when the entire world works in the opposite of you. One article details trying to stay on top of social interactions. All these shifting hours have been mistakenly used up. As you move through hallways like a haunting shark, you roll in your mind all the lost opportunities and all the regrets of having people in your life that you could’ve formed relationships with but never did.
Your metaphorical ailment has been sleep apnea. Eye scorned. Unable to catch your breath. You've been awake for years with no company. Along with being alone, you have been so achingly tired. Circadian rhythms in a body never change.
Your friend plays well in rhythms. The instrument of his disposition is easy to read after a month of ‘knowing’ each other. He has the attitude of a drummer. 
It is hard to get yourself used to his existence at first; he remains uncaring to your fretting. Lacking melodies or harmonies, he seems like the type that would rather keep things easy and simple than embellish. 
You come to visit? He wants to play. You’re too exhausted to play? He can entertain himself. What you have is very plain sailing and hardly involves any talking unless you start it. Besides, he is still just a fish and thus cannot converse with you. 
He really enjoys tapping on the glass. He plays a variety of rhythms; ones you do not know then, very strangely, some that you do know. As night by night moves along in time’s steady march, you grow comfortable enough to play back. He will play a rhythm only once, you copy it back with aid from your memory. You have even started to show him music on your phone, seeing how quickly he can pick up on certain beats and mimic them for himself.
Sometimes though, all he wants to do is simply listen. Which is activity the two of you share in tonight, absent of that third member who you are sure is hiding deeper among the burrows and the oscillating, five ribbed kelp. That distant drummer in your phone floods the cold room with music.
A small booklet covers your heart as you lie wistful. The floor is rough cement. There is no better place to lounge though. Underneath your head, a furry gray seal pup you borrowed from the toy store acts as your pillow. You try to think of yourself weightless like you are in water as you remain close-eyed and contemplative.
Like a siren call, music slithers out of the bottom of your phone’s speakers. Legs crossed over one another, you briefly tap your foot along to the rhythm that you are sure your friend is enjoying. “Look for reeeflections, in yo-our face; canine devotioo-ton, time can’t erase; Out on the cor-ner or locked in your room; I never buh-lieve them and I never assume-uh!”
Speaking of your friend, you have not bothered to check on him in a while. One of your diseased eyes peels open. Face held in a wink, you estimate if your friend is close enough to the glass that you should be able to see him clearly enough despite all the darkness. 
You do not expect him to be lounging right there beside you. It gives you a little shock of surprise. A moment passes by and that feeling suddenly intensifies to a shock of the heart. Not in a romantic way but in the way of a death row prisoner being electrified to death. 
You bolt upright, skull and hair flying off the seal pup plushie. Prescription sunglasses tilt down from their forehead perch, landing crookedly on your nose. The creature waves a sharp set of gradient-covered claws in your face. The only reason that your electric heart runs above its normal BPM is because that glowing lighthouse-esque eye is on the left side rather than the right.
“It’s you.” The creature, who you have not been becoming friendly with for an entire month, smiles at you and your shocked voice.
Though you are certain he has been watching you – not just while you were resting your eyes on the ground for a much needed cat nap, but for the entirety of these thirty-one nights – his eyes still flutter around the space where you sit in observation. He takes in each individual item around you like trying to find certain objects in spot-the-difference puzzles. After a moment, you ask while pointing to your phone, “Do you not like the music?” His wandering eyes are magnetized to your face when you address him.
Hell, they are intense. Intenser than any eyes you have really looked in before, rivaling even the strictest teachers you had or the meanest secretaries you have known. The colors in his gold and umber iris swirl like tiny galaxies of brown dust and broken stars. Intelligent eyes like those are daunting and, thus, terrifying to level your gaze with.
Despite knowing you will not get an answer, you march on in your one-sided conversation, “I get it that music isn’t everybody’s thing. Does it disturb you?” You wait. The newcomer does not talk either. “Ah, not a fan. I get it.”
You may receive no verbal answer, however you sense he does not want to play patty-cake through a sheet of reinforced aquarium glass. “Whatever yooo-u dooo-oh, don’t tell anyone; whatever yooo-u dooo-oh, don’t tell –” The song cuts off as you press the pause button.
“I should have been more considerate,” you apologize, able to steadily carry on this solo because you have grown used to it. You do talk a lot to the other fish. Almost in the same way one can carry on an unbalanced conversation with a pet cat or dog. “You just swim over to let me know and I’ll turn it off. I would never want to disrupt anyone’s sleep.”
‘Just like I would never again want to shine a light in anyone’s eyes.’ You still regret that with each fiber of your being.
For a silent moment, you two observe each other. Though you are a hundred percent certain this is not his first time scrutinizing you. You realize his hair is a mirror-flip reflection of the other fish’s just as he raises one of his hands. 
Maybe he is like the other fish. Despite not giving the impression of a drummer, he might still want to play that rudimentary game of patty cake where you two match and copy each other’s rhythm. Perhaps it is all their fish brains can comprehend. Even though his eyes might seem intelligent, he is nothing more than a piscine creature. However, that thought stalls when a single, black-dyed claw reaches up to his own throat, tapping it delicately.
“Hm?” You tilt your head curiously. 
In response, he takes his index and middle finger and taps once more his own throat. Then, he takes those fingers and depresses them over the reinforced sheets of glass. 
“Do you want me to,” you trail off, eyes stuttering over the items at your disposal. “I can’t sing if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m no singer.”
 Eyes, one of them full of shattered stars and the other full of blown-up planets, stare on. Unchanging and showing you no inclination of what he wants you to do. The other fish will at least whine, squint, or show joy if he thinks whatever words your vocal cords stretch into will entertain him. “Though, I could,” you trail off again.
Trailing off is an awful habit of yours. You rarely can make full, complete conversation after almost half a decade of night shifts. However, those intense eyes encourage you to go on. “I could read to you?” Your fingers point towards the booklet that had fallen off your chest. “If you want?”
Once again, no answer. But, at least you are not staring alone at your desolate reflection. His figure behind the glass – the yellow eye on his left side watching each of your body’s movements – is so very real and alive. At least, you are not alone this time. Though, the company is unorthodox biologically.
“Reading … I can do that.” Only for a little while though. Eventually, your eyes will start to blur at the tiny scripture. However, as you pick up the book and place it in your lap, the first line is big enough that you can read it easily, “Once upon a time –”
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As a wedding gift, Pandora received a box from Zeus. Though gifts by definition are simply something given from person to person, the word gift carries with it a subliminal, secondary definition. Gifts are to typically be opened.
Acting against that thought, Zeus warned Pandora to never open the box. You never understood that. 
Why would one dangle temptation in front of another’s face? Why even plant an apple tree in the Garden of Eden? Why even craft a box if it should remain shut evermore? Temptation is a seductive thing. It slithers up into a body with shining honey eyes and lures like a hook. Because of this, it is best to keep it under lock and key.
If Zeus really did not want the box opened, he should have kept it as a hidden secret underneath thousands of layer crusts in the mountains.
As the story goes, curious Pandora opens her wedding gift. From it, the four horsemen of Judgement Day leap and gallop out, thick plumes of disease rattle out of the box in shaking coughs, and envy and greed claws their way out with black, knife fingernails, raping Pandora of her beautiful face and stealing her glittering necklace. Bleeding scratches upon her cheek and lungs filling with disease-ridden smoke, Pandora slams the box shut with a regretful hack. 
Only one thing remains in Pandora’s box. Hope remains trapped inside the wedding gift. Alone, hope paces the perimeters of the box in their curiosity. Marveling at how much room and space they have to stretch out, hope takes a long, peaceful nap for all eternity.
You wish you could take a long, peaceful nap. You have a lot of trouble managing to fall asleep fully without waking up in intervals. When you work against your body’s natural circadian rhythm that is simply what happens.
Today, you have what Doctor Safari’s helpful tabs are telling you is a third shifter headache. To alleviate them you take no pills. Far too smart of an idea to take those. Instead, you take an iced frappuccino out of the break room’s fridge and turn off every single light in the aquarium, down to the blue LEDs that snake on the ceiling.
“Much better,” you sigh to yourself in relief. In nebulous black, your feet carry you to the place where company awaits and has been awaiting for about two months now.
It has been a slow trail of companionship. Progress is not fully linear. Part of you has forgotten how hard it is to socialize after years of isolation. 
To be honest, you feel like a man who has lived up in the mountains alone for years, living and hunting by nomad methods, only to be shown a cellphone as soon as you reach the mountain's descent. However, they must feel the same way. They have lived down in the ocean for years, living and hunting in aquatic methods, only to be brought up and shown the eye of a penlight shining in their face. The three of you are all just struggling along in finding how to make companionship work. 
But God, does it work. You hesitate with it, suddenly remembering the fins as placeholders for ears or the tails under their belly-buttons. Yet, human eyes and smiling lips will restore your content in the next moment. Something about them solves your loneliness.
They may never speak. However, you often have trouble navigating the maze of words.  In the end, you consider them friends in an unease definition of the word.
By the time you make it to Pandora’s box, your coffee is drunk down to the last drop and you use the chilled glass container as an impromptu ice pack across your forehead. Where you come through is not the typical oval-shaped room. Instead, you venture up a tongue of metal steps to the top of their aquarium tank. It is a circle-shaped room. Designed largely like a pool, the only lighting is three spheres on each wall. The room consists of a gaping black hole of water and a slight drop in floor elevation so staff can stand ankle-deep while feeding or caring for them.
At least, you assume. Because the first time curiosity lured you to the top of their tank, your fingers had been nibbled at. Nothing extreme and more like dogs cobbing to show affection, but it still surprised you when the right-gold-eyed one took your hand in his.
Now, you carry along with a plastic bag of treats and tread into the water without hesitation. Walking in the familiar steps of your companionship as you have done night after night. They are eager to see you it seems.
Too bad the world tilts and you are suddenly no longer looking down on them but eye to eye. You realize what has happened with gritted teeth. A careless trip of unbalanced feet, now you sit on hands and knees in inch-deep water.
You also realize something with more horror than before. The prescription sunglasses that were perching on your forehead have been knocked off and are slowly slipping inside the tank’s depths. 
“No, shit!” You cry out before, with one-track-mindlessness, you duck your head underwater like a hungry mallard. 
Your eyes fly open as soon as you submerge yourself. You watch as languid sunglasses drift lower and lower. Ribs tight on the cement floor, you spear out your arm in a panic, missing the edge of the glasses by a finger’s width before they go down further and further.
No, no, no! Those glasses cost a fortune! 
Stupidly, you consider the idea of diving right into the rest of the tank before you realize another thing. It paralyzes you, shocking and binding your heart. The entire sight of the tank is so easy to see. The bottom of the ocean floor is as clear as crystal, enough where you pick out each gradient of sand. It is comparable to being a person putting on their prescription contacts in the morning, everything clearing up with the right correction lens. 
Usually, your vision is always mildly blurry. Enough where you can navigate night to night without any serious medical aid. But that lingering, splitting-headache pain behind your irises dulls like a blanketed sound. 
It allows you to watch clearly as delicate, black fingertips scoop up your ebony pair of sunglasses. 
Relief fills you as the fish with upturned eyes gently brings them up to you. You surface from water just as both fish break the surface too. It dawns on you that you haven’t been this close, eyes parallel to one another with you on your knees. 
No reinforced aquarium glass separates you this time and yet, calmly, you say, “Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough for retrieving those for me.”
A giant grin grows on the one with downturned eyes. Though you hold a hand out to the other, this one seems to think your gratitude is for him for he loops his arms around your neck, squeezing you. He starts to pepper kisses on your cheek, which you suppose resembles how dogs like to lick their owners.
Your outstretched hand never receives the glasses. Instead, the fish with upturned eyes takes to placing your sunglasses back on the perch of your head. The temple tops fit snugly behind your ears. You watch as the fish with shrewdness in his eyes starts to move the tendrils of wet hair out of your face. 
As your hair is tucked and your cheek is kissed, you wonder just once more why faith has brought them to you.
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“(Name)?”
You smile at Deuce’s surprised gap. Today, you wear Noir sunglasses. The lenses are as dark as vantablack, refusing to allow any light touch your retinas. Even the artificially colored lights of an aquarium during operating hours is too much for you. 
Deuce is in charge of the photography printing booth today. Twenty or so different families, couples, groups of teens flicker in rows across the screen he stands in front of. 
“You sound almost disappointed.”
“No, no, not at all,” he rushes to amend. “Just haven’t seen you out in –”
“The sun?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Even a vampire needs a change of pace.”
Like an examined showhorse, you show off your plain teeth. No fangs or shark teeth to be found. 
“I’ll tell you though. Driving here? A complete nightmare.” And, it really was. Usually you drive one handed. Your right hand lies on your thigh, tapping along to the rhythm of the radio’s drums. Today, you had to grip the steering wheel with both hands.
“Well, it is a summer weekend after all. Sucks to get stuck in traffic. ” Deuce nods his head in sympathy.
“Ah,” you look to the side. “Actually it was kind of just weird driving with other people on the road.”
Deuce’s eyes brighten in particle understanding. He might not entirely comprehend it but he still goes, “Oooh. Because you’re so used to driving at night.”
It is not that entirely. “Yeah,” you give a small, lying smile. When you remember driving, you remember it like a dream. You drive in a single lane, all alone in your white truck. Bordering you, two lanes of heavy, steady traffic move in succession towards the opposite direction. Going somewhere you are not. 
Your isolated Chevrolet Silverado was so high up on the ground that you felt a bird. The width of your truck was so wide that you felt you were shouldering your way through a crowd. That is only what felt like happened, not reality. “I just felt a little disjointed.”
The photographs on the monitor keep changing in flickers. Your eyes fall on them. Mother with daughter. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Father and mother and only son. Three girl best friends. Grandfather with two girls and one boy. Blank. 
“Did you get your photo taken?” He asks. He must have noticed your gaze. Has to do his job after all. 
“Ah no.”
You look at the empty block of spotlighted blue. Dark cobalt around the edges and white in the center. How many photos do you have of yourself? You feel in that moment … if you ran away somewhere, no one would notice; there’s no photographic evidence that you exist.
“Nah; had to fight to let them let me pass. Oh, it’s just mandatory. Completely free of charge. And then, they started thinking I was insecure or something so they started complimenting me. Had to explain,” you tap the side of your sunglasses in reference, “and then, finally they let me go. So much fuss for just a photo.”
“They’re really that insistent on it?”
You nod. 
“So what brought you out into civilization anyways?”
“Wow, rude.” 
Deuce laughs. You smile strained. Every time you speak, it feels wrong. You are being too mean or not engaging enough. God, why can’t you just talk to someone like a normal person and carry a conversation smoothly? There is no desolate reflection for you to spy on the laptop, just an empty space of spotlighted blue.
“Visiting some friends.” is your reply.
The publicity on them is quiet and hush. So much so that you feel the world has already known about them – two merman pulled from the bottom of the deep sea, sea, sea. It is entirely possible. With how disjointed you are compared to 99.9 % of the population, it is not so far-fetched to think that they have been in the public’s eyes for a long time and wonder over them has died down. 
However, this exhibit is still listed as the first one. Out of how many? Well, you suppose you will find out later if more are to come, if this is going to be a big success. You only found out from working the night shift, seeing the date on the break-room calendar. 
COME SEE, FOR THE FIRST TIME, CREATURES FROM THE BLACK LAGOON! That is the first message you spy on the aquarium walls, following along with the crowd. Must have been put up by the morning crew. In bright letters, strung underneath party streamers, a multitude of phrases bounce and shout. Instead of being in awe over the pictures of them, your mind focuses on each line detailing: unprecedentedly new; for the first time; never seen before!
Yet, no one shrieks in terror at the sight of them in the posters. Even when you and others are filed into the aquarium auditorium, the crowd murmurs to themselves softly instead of shouting. Under the hypnotic spell of voyeurism, everyone seems more anticipatory than agitated.
You fixate your glasses tighter to your face as you scale up metal stairs, looking over your shoulder at the water. This is where they do the sea lion or seals show. You have not seen a single one in an entire decade. Under the shadowed surface, you can spy two serpentine lengths flowing through currents. 
“Bet this whole thing is a scam. We should go back to Disney in Florida next year; it’s warmer there. More stuff to do too.” You cast a glance at the daughter in her early twenties sitting next to her mother before moving further up.
You do not pick the top row but you do pick an isolated section. Sandwiching yourself next to a stone pillar, your butt lands on the rickety metal bench. Just as you are about to readjust your glasses, making sure that sides of the lenses are atom to atom on your skin, you are interrupted by a loud, consecutive ‘woah’ that you are not a part of, that swims through the crowd.
But, you manage to see a glimpse of it just in time.
You are not sure which one of the two it is. Yet, all the same, you watch entranced as one of them breaches that ink pool. Bioluminescence tints his body in glittering blue topazes. It is like watching a shooting star suddenly fly across the dark night skies. 
The porcupine quills of black that make up his fins bend and the dragon tail of sapphire that makes up his lower body arches. Aerodynamic, he flies through the air and manages just in time to snag the large, squirming spider crab that hangs from a ceiling beam on a metal wire. He disappears with the same speed as his appearance, taking with him into the black hole of water his meal.
Yet, before anyone can close their hanging jaws or the water can stop rippling with the impact of the eel-mer diving back under, music blares from the speakers, moving spotlights suddenly slide over the water and crowd, and a man comes out of the backroom and onto the stage.
You are just done wincing from the bright flash of a spotlight surfing over the bench you sit on when the man suddenly exclaims, “How are we all doing?” You stay tight-lipped as the crowd cheers. “C’mon, you can do better than that! How are y’all doing today?” The crowd cheers, claps, and responds in a long Goooood! 
Cringing with shut lips, you suddenly remember why it has been a decade since you watched an aquarium show. The script is always a bit childish. 
“We have two very special guests for you today. The strong guy you saw just a few moments ago was Flotsam. His brother, Jetsam, is here too. Jetsam, why don’t you come out and say hi to everyone.”
You lean forward, enraptured with the sight. Serpentine coils cut through the water, water jetting up with the force of how quickly he swims. Onto the wayward platform that bobs in the black hole, Jetsam pushes his body up onto it. Instead of a pair of flippers, he waves his clawed fingers to the awestruck audience. 
“Flotsam and Jetsam are both eel-mers. Found and rescued from the northern waters, they are the first of their kind and are very excited to show you all what they can do!” Thus, the spectacle begins.
They go through a variety of tricks. From doing a few figure eights in the water, shooting balls into hoops, and even a freeze dance to the music blaring through the speaker, the mixture of tricks they do feels almost infinite. When the staff member rolls out a clownfish mailbox, announcing the birthdays of a few children in the audience, you wonder how long they must have been training. Days upon days of practice drilled into their memory. 
Birthday children come up to the auditorium’s yellow line as the eel-mers hand out little high-fives to them. One child even proclaims, “Ew sticky!” before his dad tickles him under the arms and picks him up, returning to their bench. Even though it is their first show, Flotsam and Jetsam seem so well-versed in social etiquette. 
However, you cannot help but find it a little demeaning. It seems so beneath them to have to perform like this to a leering audience. Sure, the rewards for each trick is generous, a stocky Japanese spider crab tossed and crushed in their razor sharp jaws, but it feels so ignominious. 
Despite the horrified joy swimming through everyone’s gasps and aws, your heart is so sad.
Another round of tricks starts up. This time it involves a dual pair of bongos. As the staff member picks up a squirting spider crab from the cage onstage, he speaks into his echoing earpiece, “Now, our here, Flotsam is an exceptional drummer. We often find him playing something new every morning, completely of his own free experimentation.” Flotsam swims and props himself on stage as the staff member continues, “Today, we’re going to have him show off a skill to you fine folks!”
Your heart buries itself deeper and deeper into sadness. Perhaps, he never was intelligent. Perhaps, he is just another dumb fish. Canine obedience hammered in through reward and punishment, rhythms only learned because it is trained in him. As you two lock eyes, you cannot find anything that would dispute this theory.
You wait, as does everyone else, for Flotsam to start drumming away as promised. In addition, you wait for his eyes to flicker away from your unrecognizable face hidden by your sunglasses. Neither happens.
“A little indecisive today. I understand, there is just so much good music in the world,” the staff member stalls for time. He rips off a crab leg, holding out the reward by Flotsam’s suddenly demure face. “Why don’t we start off with something easy, buddy. A bit of the musical scale. Do-Re-Mi?”
‘You want to watch out for his teeth,’ you think, rubbing your fingers over the little scars you have from his nibbling. They really are such sharp instruments to break through the shell of a Japanese spider crab.
Thoroughly entrenched, the audience watches the repercussions of a box that was supposed to remain closed being opened.
Disbelief ripples through the crowd like one subtle wave. It is the only sound you participate in. Finally, in sync with the crowd of awake people. Someone to your left moans out of a low groan of phantom pain. The volume of interlocking disbelief grows when the staff member raises his hand up into the light. His trembling red hand hovers in front of his face to verify the view, his ring and pinkie finger bitten clean off. 
Poor bastard’s wedding ring is probably sinking down to the bottom of the tank alongside the crab leg that Flotsam spat out.
Volume pitches and rises. A woman screams. Naturally, that rouses up the attendance like puppet strings. The staff member falls on his bottom then crawls backwards. Crawling away from Flotsam like one, big stumbling crab. Since the seatmate to your right is a stone pillar, there is no one to trip over your feet in their rush to leave but you watch hypnotized many individuals shove and trip their way through bodies blocking the stairs leading down to the exits. Then, calmly, you stand on your metal bench to overlook the crowd. 
Flotsam’s eyes are wide as he stares at you. Reminds you of two tunnels branched off in a cave’s stomach. His fusiform gyrus lights up like newly plugged in Christmas lights, recognizing you. The little pea that makes up your fusiform face area– that clocks in every night to a job rarely done, cobwebs on the cubicle's laptop and dust as a seat covering – recognizes him too. 
It already was recognizing him, seeing him as what he really is. Your lips crack open, “Flo -.” Then, you start barreling down the metal steps. 
Weaving in and out of the disjointed crowd, you race down, sometimes landing on the cement floor and sometimes landing on the metal benches in your hopping steps.A shoulder jostles you so harshly that your sunglasses fall off your face. Between rows of benches, they dive to the floor. You trip, trying to make the leap onto a metal bench. The sound you make as you fall onto metal is so tiny in the cacophony. 
The world goes white. It is like flash blindness from a nuclear explosion. 
Tears pour out your eyes. You clap a hand over them in shame and to hide from the bright … too fucking bright … lights. 
When you finally pick up your sunglasses, marks of shoe soles stamped like tattoos on your upper arms and hands, the auditorium is empty of a single soul. Not even they remain swimming in the tank. Someone must have sedated them and dragged them out. You are alone once more.
That night, you dream a dream that is more memory than a mystified fabrication of wonders or terrors. 
Tender like a newborn, you lie on a wafer-thin sheet of paper that unrolls itself from a cylinder like one big, white wave. Perhaps an iceberg is more appropriate. Hospitals are as cold as the arctic. On the paper iceberg, on the fence of girlhood and the fated teenage years, on the tongue of a vivisection, you balance with broken ankles. Under your thin gown, flowing air and goosebump-freckled skin collide. Blue tints your bottom lip.
You are laid down, anticipating future pain.
“Lay down and I will be with you two shortly.” He had said this and nothing more.
The scent at the doctor’s office is ozone with a hint of vanilla. Near your toes, the long neck of a giraffe stretches skyward, painted on the bricks. Under bright, too fucking bright, light, metal tools glitter like slick seashells. You can feel the prescribed numbing droplets in your eyeballs slowly seep in.
You pinch your eyes shut, feeling like there is a cement block lodged and scraping between the bones of your temple. Why wouldn’t they give you something for the pain? When you open them, they are held open by a speculum and hooks like you are nothing past being an animal in a zoo doing your daily checkups. 
Oh, and you are sitting upright on the paper iceberg now.
Must be the dream’s altercations. Time skipping forward in intervals. 
Dreams are always like a pile of bones. The skeleton all jumbled up and disorganized that you move from femur to ulna. You are not graced with a lot of time to think on the analogy as a very big kitchen knife leans towards your pried open eye. 
The muscles in your cheek twitch when it cuts. With the skills of a head-chef slicing an egg, your eye is cut perfectly down the imaginary midline. Both sides are even. 
He scoops out one side of your eye like a person pulling back from a whole cake with a single slice. It is more inky black and sickly gray. The hues of your eye-cake that is. Far from the bright blue or pink frosting of a cake, it stays saturated in montone hues. You always thought an eye would look like the diagrams in school, colorful with reds and blues, but it is a sickly ebon and ashen gray.
The cornea is hard as a freshly cut nail and the half globe of retina slimes in his gloved hand like glue. Now looking at it, it appears the flesh inside an eye reminds you more of a bruised plum’s insides. A muted hue of purple-black rather than full ebon.
It is the lens of your eyes that really captures the doctor’s attention. He takes the half-cut marble in a pair of tweezers. Between those lobster claws of thin steel, your lens which makes up a pupil is rotated back and forth in observation. 
An eye, though entirely soft and vulnerable, has only one hard bit inside like the tough seed of a peach. It can be cut but it will give resistance. With one good eye and half of your other, you watch the hard material between the lobster claws be pinched in and out to test the give and resistance of itself. Steadfast, it does not bend under the squeezes. 
That half-cut pearl glitters.
Time skips again, moving bone to bone like switching channels. Instead of smells and sights, sound takes over the scene. The faint buzzing of the air conditioner as it breathes over the giraffe’s neck. Water oscillating back and forth over rubbing soapy hands cries loud in your ears. Though, faintly, you can hear the blood from your eye that slips down your chin hit the pad of the paper iceberg you sit on.
The tissue in your hand crinkles softly in sound as you wipe away blood tears. In a chair that might as well be across the globe of Earth, your guardian sobs in intervals with a trembling chin. “Guuuh … gah … hu-hu-hugaaah.” You keep soaking up blood, dabbing the tissue against your face as it whispers in light friction. 
After he finishes washing his hands of your sanguine, the doctor intones two words like a priest giving the final prayer at the start of Armageddon, “cone dystrophy.” That is the last sound your ears can bear to hear before you jolt awake.
Your current doctor has given you exactly twenty-one little sheets. Ishihara tests; multiple circles with a number made of circles in the center. They are tests for color blindness. 
That morning, the colors red and orange permanently fuse into one shade. 
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You took three nights off work. A little mini-vacation. The first was so you could spend the daylight hours watching the show with Flotsam and Jetsam; the second was so you could attend your doctor’s appointment; the third was so you could clean up what has been neglected in your apartment. Vacations are supposed to relieve the average worker of stress. You find yourself an outlier, once again.
“Blind by thirty? Blind by fucking thirty?” You bundle up the graphic shirt you were trying to fold into a circle and punch your mattress. The pile of already folded shirts tilts and falls in an arch to your right. “That fucking asshole,” you sneer.
Unraveling the graphic-tee-ball, you straighten your hunched posture with a deep sigh. No use taking your frustration out on innocent clothes. The wrinkled shirt joins the tower once you rebuild it. You reach out and grab a pair of socks. Foolishly, you thought organizing your apartment up for a very overdue spring cleaning would help to organize the disorder running rampant in your head. 
Forlorn and desolate, you look at the laundry mountain. Too bad that is far from happening. 
It is just … A person takes a guess at jars full of jelly-beans or what they’re significant other might have made for dinner, those are the true purpose of guessing games. The audacity of a person to guess when someone else is going to blind. You almost tear the sleeve off your cardigan when you pull in from the mountain’s maw. How dare your doctor estimate your finite health with such casualness. 
You suppose it makes sense. The Salvador Dali-esque dream you had the night before, coupled with losing the ability to differentiate between red and orange; all of these were just the bad omens setting up the stage for your doctor’s appointment. 
Mostly a homebody and not a frequent traveler, there aren’t many sights you are dying to see. However, the idea of losing your sight causes you to grieve it prematurely. Mourning the death of yourself. To just wither up inside this box-shaped apartment as a tomb, the thought of that is odious. You shudder and fold a towel.
Across the mattress, you look at your CRT television cloaked in a thin, see-through blanket to dim the lighting. On the square, a blue pick-up truck punches through metal and wooden gating. Even though the movie wrongly uses the sound effect of glass breaking, it is still impactful as you watch the pick-up truck reverse into an open boating harbor connected to the ocean. The whale and little boy harnessed to the back slowly sink in. 
Freeform is playing Free Willy. To be honest, you are just biding time until the Harry Potter marathon starts up. Thank God, this movie is nearing its end because it is putting dangerous thoughts in your head. You just want to see little Daniel Radcliffe under the staircase and be interrupted by commercials every twenty-five minutes.
The orphaned boy pushes the orca whale out to sea. You fold another article of clothing, unsure if it is orange or red. The hope that Pandora kept in her box begs for freedom.
It is an open secret now. That is a little contradictory, if you do say so yourself. 
However, it is the truth. The public now knows them without embellishment. With the shining gandour and seductive metaphorical-lingerie, it comes to their attention that predators are still predators. No matter how human they may look. 
The thought saddens you. Slowly and unsurely, you have been starting to humanize them in your mind. When you wrestle with the locked doorknob of the oval-shaped room, you grow sadder. 
It makes sense though. Flotsam and Jetsam? They should have been kept in the Oval Office or Area 51; instead they were brought to an aquarium in the middle of nowhere, used for publicity. The crux of humanity rears its ugly head. Sharing each fetish and body part to the audience is the sin of being a curious human. Everyone is a voyeur for something. No one can keep their mouth shut nowadays, always needing to post about their lives. So, they brought Flotsam and Jetsam here to do the exact same thing.
To think there was a time when you were disguised by their humanity. And now, it's all you hope to preserve and keep safe. Ascending the stairs to the circular-shaped room, you contemplate if there could ever be an inch of humanity in an animal. As a set of honey eyes peer at you from across the black hole water, you wonder if it is only canine obedience in their faces. 
Two against one, you all take a moment accessing each other. There are no plastic bags of yummy treats hanging from your arms. No thumping rhythms of songs echo on the walls. Instead of familiar friendliness and comfortable companionship, you all seem incredibly wary of each other. 
“Ya can come closer … We wouldn’t hurt ya, Shrimpy.”
Who the fuck said that?
Frozen in disbelief, you can do little besides watch the black hole ripple in violent sprays. A harsh slap echoes off the wall as a clawed hand breaches water only to grab the face with a right gold eye. Both drop under the water as your mind reels, spinning around options like a broken, juiced-up carnival ride. 
You are tired! You are so tired that you must have hallucinated that! Being awake for so long on the night shift … Why, it must be entirely possible to hallucinate every once and a while! An evolved headache of sorts! 
Yes. You grab onto that thought. Those words were hallucinations. Too bad your grip on the thought grows flimsy when Flotsam breaches the water, snarling, “I wanna talk to Shrimpy! Jade, lemme go! Get off!” A clawed hand grips the back of his hair and pulls him right back under.
A vivid hallucination you are having. Yes! A paragon of hallucinations and headaches after so many night shifts!
Despite the fear, you stay rooted in your spot. Not close enough to where the spilling water of the tank touches your shoes but close enough where you can watch the water steadily. Every once in a while, the sound of rocketing water echoes in the room. Dragon tails of green-blue fracture the surface. A clawed hand will rise up like a zombie breaking dirt only to disappear in seconds. Water flies in turrets and towers. 
Maybe because of the fear, you stay in your exact same spot and watch. Things start to calm down eventually. Bubbles pop on the surface like they are conversing under there. But, that is impossible because fish cannot speak.
‘Don’t backtrack (Name),’ you think to yourself. ‘Their entire existence is impossible. It’s been impossible since the beginning. This is just another step into that twilight zone. Another unorthodox secret brought to the surface.’ The thought makes you feel disjointed like a pile of bones.
It had hurt. The day of the show. You do not why but it had hurt to know they weren’t yours alone. That the secret had been open for some time and it was not just you and them. Thus, you stay and wait for them to breach the surface one more time.
They both do simultaneously. Water cutting the visage of the rest of their body from the shoulders down. Red returns to the scene, staining both Flotsam and Jetsam’s faces in thick scratches. You barely get a second to analyze the wounds before Flotsam shouts, “It was haaard, ‘kay? I wanted to tell them the pretty nickname I made for them! And tell them I liked the new rocks they put in our tank!” He pouts childishly. “It’s so borin’ not being able to talk. I got so bored! You’re boring.”
Even when Flotsam snaps his sharp teeth at Jetsam, he remains unpulsed. “Forgive me for trying to look out for your well-being, but both of us agreed in junction that we would under no circumstances talk to humans.”
“But Shrimpy’s different from the rest!”
“Under no circumstances, Floyd.”
“I knooow,” Flotsam? Floyd? whines. Then, his downwards angled eyes slide over your comatose form. An excited grin comes up to his face. “Doesn’t matter now though. Shrimpy!!”
You are barely given a second to gather your thoughts before Floyd barrels towards you. Spindly arms wrap around your neck and suddenly you are down on your knees in an inch of water. The kiss on your cheek this time feels much less like a dog licking to show affection; it resembles more a human kissing you on the cheek which causes you to fluster. 
“Truly, you make things so difficult at times,” Jetsam? Jade? tuts. The sound of him swimming through the water draws closer. His deep timbre sends a cardiogenic shock through your ribcage as he addresses, “I do apologize for my brother. He was a bit desolate without you here the past two nights.”
For some reason, you wonder how Jade felt in your absence too. Hands holding onto Floyd’s upper arms for a semblance of balance, you reply, “Uh, I took — I took a vacation.” The words feel like marshmallows rolling off your tongue. Gluttonous, fluffy, unreal with their texture. This really is happening, and you have to come to terms with it.
“Told ya it wasn’t because they were scared of us.”
“I never made such a connection. Merely hypothesizing.”
“Mmh, hypothesizin’ my ass,” Floyd grins as he turns to … sniff your hair?
Pushing him away to gain a bit of distance, you address the one you find the least distracted of the two. “You — You can talk? Why — Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” The companionship you had? Was it truly so fragile that you two had to keep secrets from one another?
“Well, you see, (Name),” — your name is so tantalizing coming from his voice that you feel like you are being resurrected from a heart-attack, defibrillator pounding away on your chest — “it was a matter of safety for my brother and I. If we were to say anything —.”
Floyd interrupts, “Everyone’s kind of a bigmouth buffalo fishy here so we keep ours shut.”
“The day to day conversations of the staff, the chatter from the people who visited us in the daylight hours, the unending gossip. We figured it was best to keep our lips sealed for the time being. Who knows how they would have reacted.”
“Nothing’s better than having a few tricks up your sleeve, Shrimpy.” Finally, you are done being squeezed as Floyd falls back into his tank. He rests his hands behind his head and floats buoyant.
“It is an epidemic, I fear. Fufu. Secrecy is such a rare trait to find nowadays.” Jade crosses his arms on top of the cement incline that you kneel in, looking at you sweetly. “Almost a lost art of sorts, eroded away after centuries of geological and evolutionary advances.”
Then, ping-ponging back and forth, they start to slip each secret (that others would probably want under lock and key) they’ve heard.
“Your manager’s wife is infertile thus he avoids conversations about children or preschool.”
“Lucas hit a guy with his car two years ago in a hit-and-run. Didn’t kill him but still.”
“Martha’s daughter just had an abortion. She gripes to Tatiana about how to possibly be supportive about this.”
“Ashley doesn’t like her boyfriend and they’re breakin’ up soon.”
“Deuce is going to fail his statistics class if he scores lower than a 95 on his next test.”
“Patrick is proposin’ to his girlfriend on December 1st.”
“We could keep going,” Jade says with a sly grin. “However, I think the point has gotten across.” He trails one fingernail across your thigh and smiles when you do not flinch. “All that useless prattle makes for some divine entertainment. Besides, matching up with more animalistic expectations can mean others are wildly underestimating us. Having the upper hand is better, always.”
Scrutinizing over his wandering fingernail, you ask quietly, “Is that why you attacked that man?” The question is meant for Floyd. Jade pulls his keen nail back all the same.
“Nah,” Floyd does not look at you as he answers, fixated on the ceiling. “It was humiliatin’. Being looked at that way by ya, Shrimpy.”
You blink in surprise. Shame is such a human trait. Born of social circles and social behaviors that are just uniquely tied to the bipedal species you are. The look on Jade’s face seems to agree with the consensus. You watch green-blue muscles glide through the water, simply drifting to a tame current. You watch black fingernails tap on cement in a tiny rhythm. 
Floyd continues, noticing your silence, “Shrimpy’s the only one that talks to us like people. Everyone else just treats us like a spectacle.” 
The heart in your ribcage knocks. You cannot Free Willy the entire aquarium. But, your Chevrolet Silverado has enough room in the bed for a kiddie pool or two.
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Faintly, you recall a distant memory, when you read to Jade so many weeks ago, just as you open the oval-shaped room with the stolen key:
“The creatures stung Pandora over and over again and she slammed the lid shut. Epimetheus ran into the room to see why she was crying in pain. Pandora could still hear a voice calling to her from the box, pleading with her to be let out. Epimetheus agreed that nothing inside the box could be worse than the horrors that had already been released, so they opened the lid once more. 
“All that remained in the box was Hope. It fluttered from the box like a beautiful dragonfly, touching the wounds created by the evil creatures, and healing them. Even though Pandora had released pain and suffering upon the world, she had also allowed Hope to follow them.”
For the past decade, photographic evidence of your existence has been nonexistent. You have found yourself to be an outlier; the world operates to a different rhythm that you have not been able to copy, relicate, or even play along to. Living in perpetual sleep apnea of the soul, you have only found true connection with two other people.
The blue ceiling lights are off as is now the new normal. Without the aid of your penlight, you make your way into the space with confident steps. Sunglasses perched on your head, you find that what has been slowly developing has reached the summit of itself. An impromptu, unorthodox Free Willy plagiarism.
The dark is easier than ever to see through tonight. You smile back when they smile at you. 
Floyd is curled up close to the glass, calling for your undivided attention with his placement. Subdued yet stealthy as ever, Jade lingers behind yet close enough to be seen. Floyd crosses his body across the glass-canvas up and to your right. Jade crosses his body to your left, floating demurely lower. 
The glass-canvas is painted with a few smudges of handprints. Some are from yourself and others from the only and only drummer. He depresses his dominant hand on the glass, leaning in close. His right hand waves up in dark waters in a fervent, warm greeting. His excitement to see you is palpable. You raise your own. 
Both of their eyes shine like spotlights. The only light that you have looked into and found it does not hurt. Jade’s anticipatory smile slithers onto your face in a perfect mimic. You are going to rob the aquarium of those glittering gold dragonfly eyes. Tomorrow, there will be nothing for the staff or customers to find in nebulous darkness. 
Nothing. Nothing but their desolate reflection.
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characterreaderwriter · 11 months ago
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can i please request for the first years with a dainsleif s/o?
FRICK I LOVE DAINSLEIF- And I didn't add in Sebek, sorry ;-;;;
An enigma, a curious young soul who insists of finding an answer. You have a great respect to those who work hard, and those with an unwavering attitude, of course, if you find their mottos respectable.
You remember quite a number of things, and you're able to recall a lot that you have read, heard or saw before, as it sticks to you and never let go.
You will not tolerate dangers that poses a threat to your peers, and you would protect them with your own two hands.
TWST The enigmatic and curious s/o (Dainsleif)
Ace Trappola
Ace doesn't know what's even going on with you-
Like-
He doesn't really understand who you are as a person.
You keep a lot to yourself, and... not many people know much about you in the school.
So he's just someone who just tag along with you just because he met you during the whole entrance ceremony.
But, he soon get to learn more about your curious nature the more he spent time with you.
It's usually just you asking about "what's this potion" or "what's this book about?", and then he wants to answer, but he pauses and he realizes "shit, I don't know either-"
And he always ask you to lend him notes since you just somehow remember things so easily, so that's really neat-
While you nag at him to work hard, he feels pretty proud that you respect him for having an unwavering attitude when it comes to his strong sense of justice.
Ace has a peculiar and odd relationship with you, but, he's not really complaining <3
Deuce Spade
He ponders about you everyday, you just seem so weird yet interesting to him.
He wonders why you would even want to hang out with him even though you have been pretty introverted and stuff.
But, it doesn't really matter, right?
And you're always curious yourself. You ask him so many questions, sometimes he doesn't know how to answer that makes him curious and now you both wanna know shit- so the cycle continues-
Deuce thanks you a lot when you lend him your notes. You seem to remember everything, how come??? Can you help him with that??
He feels pretty insecure, whether he can even become an honor student when he doesn't even remember things too well, and that he's, well, less smarter than others.
He feels a boost of confidence when you told him genuinely that you're proud of him for continuously working hard, and persevering no matter how hard the situation might be, and that even if he's less capable than other, he still puts in his best.
And he feels so touched and happy you think so.
He's gonna work even harder!! Just you see, s/o! He'll make you proud, more than you could ever imagine!! <3
Jack Howl
He's a little curious about you.
Sometimes he just think you're introverted, but sometimes he feels that you're hiding something. But, who knows.
You are way more curious about him than he is about you, and you ask him so many questions like "how does it feel like to have ears and a tail?", "does it hurt?"
Just so many things about his body structure how are your abs this fine-
And he just looks so baffled by the number of questions you throw at him like calm down-
one at a time please-
But, he respects that you would protect your friends, and you would stick with them. Just like how your respect his hardworking attitude and his persistence of sticking up for his friends.
So, in the end,
you two have a simple and pleasant mutual relationship <3
Epel Felmier
He wonders what's going on in your head.
You just seem to be so curious about everything.
Epel finds you pretty odd, but he doesn't mind being around you, he's just quiet at first.
But as time goes on, he sees that you are actually a really kind person, and you even lend him notes you can somehow remember at the back of your hand.
Epel looks up to you in a sense, you'll always be there for your friends, which includes Epel, no matter the situation, and he admires that about you.
He's a little taken aback when he hears you respect him for being a hardworking and determined person, and he doesn't really know what to say.
He scratches his cheek awkwardly, saying thank you, but really,
it means a lot to him <3
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characterreaderwriter · 11 months ago
Note
Razor! MC with the Savanaclaw bois
Razor- Oh my god I love this wolf boy- Of course! ^^
Let's put it as you're always there for your friends, and although you have trouble communicating, you try your best in anything! ^^
Though, you burden yourself quite often, and blame for every misfortune that happens around you, quite the self loathing. Perhaps Savanaclaw has something to help!
Savanaclaw The Loyal and Good-natured s/o
Leona Kingscholar
He doesn't think much at first.
So long as you serve him, it's fine.
And he treats you like everyone is Savanaclaw, especially Ruggie.
But you still trust him wholeheartedly, even if you feel slightly annoyed and disheartened.
You remain loyal to Leona.
But after the overblot events,
he's learnt you are truly a loyal person.
You stick up for him no matter,
and you have never abandon him or mistrust him.
He felt a little guilty for mistreating you,
yet you have been stuck to his side for so long.
He treats you a little better now,
he doesn't boss you so much,
and occasionally lets you sleep beside him.
He won't admit it,
but you're pretty cute.
You try your best no matter what, and I don't think he can take yu very seriously with that cute but serious face of yours.
"S/o shall protect Leona. Don't worry about s/o, s/o is strong!"
JDHDHIDHIDHIDI HEART ATTACK-
He cannot afford to lose you that's what. <3
Ruggie Bucchi
Also didn't think much of you at first.
You were like everyone else in Savanaclaw,
serving Leona,
just that you were a lot more genuine and loyal when serving him.
Either you were trying to get Leona's attention,
or you're just being extra,
neither reasons makes him care.
But you're also very loyal to him,
and everyone in Savanaclaw.
You stick up to them, and you do your very best to help everyone,
including Ruggie himself.
You never leave his side,
you never doubt him,
and you always believe in him.
And Ruggie's not gonna lie, your serotonin boost sure makes him a little flustered.
He's never gotten someone who was THAT loyal to him.
And when he starts to warm up to you,
he can't help but melt.
"Ruggie is s/o best friend, and you have good and strong heart. S/o admires you."
He should be the one admiring you.
You will never leave his side, and neither would he <3
Jack Howl
He respects you a lot.
Wolves are typically loyal to their pack,
much like you with Savanaclaw.
You never betray them,
and you never fail to help them.
Like with Jack,
and he respects you for that.
He admires that you would do whatever it takes to help your friends in need,
and that you uphold righteous virtues.
What he tries to reassure you is your self doubting and loathing.
Whenever something happens to your friend,
you keep blaming yourself.
"S/o is sorry for Ace and Deuce getting into trouble. S/o didn't mean to let friends down.."
"It's not your fault, don't worry."
Jack isn't so good at comforting,
but like you or a wolf,
he never gives up to help you overcome your self loathing.
Jack thinks your way more than that.
You help everyone so much!
He appreciates that.
And it's time you also appreciate yourself for who you are.
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characterreaderwriter · 11 months ago
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good day/evening, is it alright to request a scaramouche like reader with octavinelle boys pleasee?
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, can you do the fandango-
Unfortunately, you're not favored by many. With a disagreeable personality, hard to get along with, sometimes others say you don't know when to keep your mouth shut.
Sometimes your peers have a hard time keeping up with you, it's hard to fully get along with them, including how stubborn you are, and how you hold an aura of arrogance and intimidation for others, insulting them on a whim.
You are, however, a cunning individual. With the brains and an unsettling amount of power for a magicless individual, you're pretty well covered if you're here to get what you want.
Two-faced, an unpredictable person who puts up a friendly front, only to just lower their guard and strike brutally.
Octavinelle; TWST The harsh, two-faced and unpredictable s/o (Scaramouche)
Azul Ashengrotto
He has that type of front, except less aggressive, and he was a little sceptical of when you approach him in such a friendly manner.
Knowing his own behavior, he kept his guard up, returning the same smile you flashed as well.
But you seemed so genuine, and kind, he may or may not let his guard down a little, to which you strike, taking the key to his safe and returned to Savanaclaw. He's never felt so betrayed.
So.. that was a rocky start to the "relationship" that happened between you, but what matters is after his overblot. That's where you're full, true colors settle in.
You are really just the most feral and stubborn thing. It's like you're a second version of Floyd, and it seemed to make Floyd slightly less worse than, well, unfortunately you.
But even under all that stubborn exterior and downright mean attitude, you are very protective over Azul.
You may be a nag to him to not overwork himself, but that is truly your softest. You never meant to look as the angry little gremlin to everyone else, or the cruel tyran people placed you as, it's just that.... it was hard being "nice" to others.
The environment you grew in shaped who you are, and it was really hard to mold into something else.
Azul empathize with you about it, simply patting your back, rubbing your temples and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
"I'm thankful you're trying. I love you, too." <3
Jade Leech
Jade is honestly amused.
Jut when he thought you were someone who's annoyingly nice to turn against him during Azul's overblot events.
He's not mad, oh no where close, he was amazed.
Amazed by how you caught him off guard... it was so... unexpected.
It didn't went according to plan, and that fascinated him.
He barely new a move, and you made him think he was one step ahead of you when in fact he was three steps behind you.
Yeah, Jade is really weird, but you caught his attention.
Then seeing you're stubborn side amuses him. You're usually calm aura seemed to die out, hm?~
Expect to let your.. um... acquaintances sweat drop when they see this scene every day:
"Why hello there everyone~"
"What are YOU staring at, huh?"
Man oh man-
Jade can tell you're struggling when talking to others, and you don't say it, but he kinda knows, that you're thankful for him being calm with you.
Jade knows you care for him as much as he cares for you, it's just that you never really received proper affection that allows you to give affection, it comes out harsh and mean, but he knows you don't mean it... most of the time when you're with him.
Jade simply pats your head. "I love you too, darling~" <3
Floyd Leech
Hahaha!~ The look on Azul's face when you turn on him for the key!
PFFT-
Come on Floyd let's not be mean to Azul now-
At first, Floyd thought you were pretty boring. Youre just all that friendly, bubbly energy. So typical, but not like it didn't brightened his mood sometimes but it was pretty plain for him.
Now realizing you're truly someone else behind that friendly exterior made him shocked, but also a little pleasantly surprise.
Yeah-
weird like his twin, it's in their gene-
While Floyd might get grumbly whenever you lightly insult him,
he also kind of get where you're headed. You're someone who never really received much love, so you aren't very affectionate at first glance at the real you.
Don't worry! Floyd will cuddle you everyday!
"NO- FCKING LET ME GO-"
Yeah, yeah, say that all you want.
Once he let's go you ask him where the heck did your cuddles go.
So funny~
Floyd just wants you to be happy, and to know that he loves you too!
No matter how grumpy you both can get, you guys can somehow mend and get back together again.
"Hehehe~ I love you, koebi chan~" <3
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characterreaderwriter · 1 year ago
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Can i have a request????? heartslabyul with belphie/belphegor reader like sleepy but strong and smart
𝗦𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗗𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦
Work work work work work and giggles for fun
I’m surprisingly doing well since I’m mainly lazy when it comes to this type of stuff. But we UP!!
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RIDDLE is pissed off with you. End of story. Why..why are you so smart but you can’t dedicate any of it to your studies?! It doesn’t matter anyways, he’s going to make you apply yourself to the most representable student he can make you.
He came into a room once and you were asleep in the table. This is going to be a problem clearly and he’s not having it. He wonders where all the energy you should Ah e gotten from sleep goes so many times tis actually scary.
As his s/o he expects you to have a healthy schedule, aside from sleep it comes to the point sometimes you don’t even wake up for a meal! Remember that time you didn’t attend the unbirthday party? That’s when he found out.
You actually have really good grades..how could this be possible! You don’t even wake up to shower at times so how is it that you could have done the work? After his overbolt he cut you some slack.
Whenever he gets chased down by Floyd he goes to you first because first you serve a good distraction, and it’s not like you wake up when you’re being squeezed. He feels bad but what has it be done must be down for survival.
TREY actively spoils you and it shouldn’t even be fair at this rate. He’s just such a good boyfriend.
You’re too tired to walk? Easy you are now being carried with your pillow around campus for classes. He doesn’t ask you for help on your work as often since he’s also pretty smart, yet when he doesn’t understand he just goes to riddle instead. As much as he loves you just fall asleep before he could get half of question 2 in.
He wakes you up for breakfast and everything just like riddle but he isn’t as strict about it. He lets you sleep in 3 minutes late or so before dragging you to wherever.
When he found out you were a demon he took to it a bit lightly than anyone else..not really but still the shock was still there. He doesn’t mind at all since you don’t do anything bad and you’re too lazy to do anything productive.
CATER just bothers you 25/8. He likes to send to help out the first years to keep you on your toes but it’s not like it works anyways since you just fall asleep anyways.
At some point you just bit him because he was annoying you. “Hey..sweetheart did you just..bite me?” He said with his eye twitching slightly as you hugged your pillow.
He was on live and it just so happened to not be your happy day. “Ion know, did I?” You said with lidded eyes ready to drift off again.
guess who wasn’t allowed to have their favorite pillow for hours. Yes it was you goddamnit.
He likes to feed you cute little things at cafe’s and post it on Magicam. One was a cute little photo was over 1million views that had frosting on your nose while looking at the camera with a pout.
Safe to say he gatekept you for a month since people wouldn’t stop trying to advance on you.
ACE was 2 months into the relationship but then found out you were a demon. Reaction to your other form? Flabbergasted. You out of all people? A literal demon? But being the avatar of sloth explained everything in perfect context.
Would ace be ace if he didn’t take advantage of this? Absolutely not. Guess who got dragged into multiple shit because someone’s sadistic boyfriend thought it would be romantic to suffer again.
Romantic date in detention this week? Meet him at 6 PM. He’s letting you know you both are going to break out the window with grim after too.
He copies off your homework because it’s not like you do anything about it, and when he can he just has you as a literal bed. He’s taller than you so he just uses you as someone to Lean on when he gets bored.
DEUCE is just like trey in the prospect of somewhat spoiling you. He only Carries you to class tho. If anything he panics because he look so distant and disinterested while being in a relationship with you only to find out that’s just your normal sleepy expression.
Tries to be strict with you but fails miserably? Check. He got hit with your tail more times than to count and poked by your horns even though they are literally in a curled like position. He follows you around because he knows the delinquents try to pick fights with you sometimes. What a darling!
Sometimes you just stare at him and he stares back, you fall asleep and he’s like “they said they want gummy bears.”
“Deuce what the fuck?” Ace stared at him in astonishment
You both just communicate like that so y’all locked in 🫶
He probably makes lunch for you with the help of trey and feeds you very often.
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characterreaderwriter · 1 year ago
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ello! may i request aether, albedo, and jean with reader who has two visions? (basically todoroki!reader)
Todoroki! reader x Aether, Albedo, Childe and Jean
Pronounce: She/him/they, no pronounce mentioned so i won't either!
Warning: Slight spoilers for Todoroki and Aether, Albedo and Childe, violence (a little bit, nothing concerning), implied family abuse
A/n: Moshi moshi~ dear anon, Yes ofc you may. I hope this is what you wanted!
Please check my rules before requesting!!
Aether
First time meeting:
You saved him from a cicin mage, he wasn't paying attention and he got sneaked up on.
When he saw both of your visions he was very intrigued! You just saved him, and you are also very attractive..wait not the time-.
He thanked you for saving him, but you just said that you didn't do it for him.
He was a little shocked by your cold voice, but you didn't mean it like that (you are just socially awkward)
Paimom called you rude, you just grabbed her lil’ legs and yeeted™ her.
Legend says people can still hear high-pitched screams in the distance, fly high(away) paimon 🕊
When you two get together:
Paimon would scream at the two of you to stop being so awkward.
It's kind of endearing, but like just hold hands already!?!??!?!?jehdfhisjb
In the beginning you are kind of unemotional but when the relationship progresses it changes a lot.
You try to understand his emotions but sometimes it's just hard, but he has a lot of patience so that's very nice!
He brings you a lot of flowers, and he is just a blushy mess when he gives them to you while you are more dense but when he explains it you are very grateful (you now bring him flowers as well)
If and when you tell him about your ‘daddy issues’ he will be there for you to talk it out and if you want hugs!
He will feel really sorry for you, but he will lovingly kiss your scars and support you very much (tbh you cried the first time he did that)
He would be really impressed and proud of you when you use the both of your visions, like shawty i see you *lip bite*
He would love to meet your siblings, and your siblings are very supportive over him since well he is amazing isn't he<33
The dates consist of getting soba! He also tries to buy you soba since you love it, whenever he can.
*Casually punches Paimon away from your soba*
He is probably your biggest simp, but as he should because your hot asf.
It's a very healthy relationship and I think it is very cute as well!
Albedo
First time meeting:
He was very curious of you and wanted to ‘study’ you, you didn't take that lightly and were about to leave.
He explained that he just wanted to study you because you have two visions and he never saw such a thing before.
You two had a staring contest right after that, both of your faces were basically : 😐 (it was kinda creepy ngl).
Sucrose was standing there awkwardly and questioning her life choices.
When you two get together:
A quiet but cute relationship, I think you would be very glad that it was a relaxed relationship.
He draws you a lot, like each day you have different paintings/drawings of you.
He finds a lot of inspiration when he is with you<3
He doesn't really know his feelings but that's fine bc you don't either, yuh 2 socially awkward babies. The both of you have a lot of patience with each other because the two of you understand each other.
Honestly i really love the dynamic. Sometimes it's kind of awkward and hard since you two struggle with feeling but it's okay everyone's love language is different!
I think your love language would be a gift, Klee helps you pick flowers for Albedo!
If you decide to tell him about your family and your past...he will be shocked he doesn't know what to say or do...but he will suggest making a poison- what no no no you don't want to kill your dad :).
Albedo be like : this is my 13th reason to destroy mondstadt.
But he supports whatever you choose!
He really really really wants to study you, and maybe just maybe you will let him. (because you are a simp)
When you use your vision, he gets even more curious about you :0 wow he is very impressed by your display of raw strength!
Again he will probably study or draw you<3
This is such a cute dynamic. I think it also fits very well because the both of you can take things on your own time in your relationship!
Jean
First time meeting:
She was very curious when the knights introduced you to her..
First of all, how do you have two visions?
Second of all, why do you have such a big scar on your face?
Third of all, why are you so hot...wait what-?
She was very curious and Flustered by your presence, she also thought you were quite...intimidating and aloof.
When you two get together:
Ah yes my wifey mwah mwah <3
She is a busy person so you make her less busy <3 /srs
You help her with her work, because my baby is overworked and Mondstadt doesnt do shit. (I love the city but not the people don't attack me pls)
She really gets flustered each time you give her a kiss on the cheek or just a hug, and you're just confused ??
The first time she met you she thought you were very intimidating but your just socially awkward.
The two of you are Mondstadt’s most beautiful couple <3
When you tell her about your ‘lovely’ dad, she honestly feels so sad for you,, how could he do that. She will ignore your dad and take care of you so much if you want to. (she even takes a day off just for you <3)
She is more careful around you now, she often asks if you're comfortable or if you need a break or anything like that.
“My love, are you alright with me holding you?”
You tell force her to take breaks, you then take her for picnics or just cuddling<3
You also like to take her for a cup of tea and a book!
When you use your visions, she is shook 😮. She will ask a lot of questions about it and why you have two visions.
She is also very proud of you, you not only take care of your siblings but you also take care of not only one but two visions!
She is so supportive of you, but she needs a hand too..so you will be the one to give a hand to help her!
Whenever you feel insecure about your scar, she will reassure you and love you. She will put loving kisses on your scar <3
Honestly such a healthy and cute relationship.
Childe
First time meeting:
You just wanted to steal your dad’s mora bruh 😔
But the annoying pest named Childe saw your scar and the two of your visions.
Being very curious of both, he approached you and (pestered) talked to you, you just blankly stared at him.
You literally walked away and he started walking after you, you started walking faster and so he started walking faster...creepy Childe very creepy :|
When you two get together:
I don't know how he got together with you...he probably gave you money/j
Anyways he probably flirts with you a lot but you are just confused, and he then coos at you for being so cute and you are literally like ???
He thinks your intimidating side is very attractive, and will remind you of it everyday.
But when you compliment him back he just becomes so stiff and flustered.
When you tell him about your family and why you got the scar, he will become very protective over you. He will also be confused why would someone like you get hurt by their own family? He himself has a family and he would never do anything to them to hurt them, he actually would do anything to protect them!
He is more protective over you now, and say goodbye to your dad💀
He would love to meet you siblings, i mean this guy has a few siblings himself so i think he would be quite good with yours as well! He will treat your siblings as his own now.
He will also be more careful around you now, trying not to awaken trauma, y'know.
Anyways, he will really want to fight you and he is even more impressed that you can wield two visions!
I think the opposites of personalities is actually very nice, and I think it's a great relationship.
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characterreaderwriter · 1 year ago
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Sometimes the name doesn't matter
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synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2
pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)
word count: 6.9k+ words
a/n: part 1 can be read here!
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Capitano
Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.
The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.
Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?
Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.
"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."
"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."
"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."
"What do you imply?"
"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"
"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"
Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.
"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"
"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."
"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."
"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.
"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.
"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."
The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..
"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."
The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.
Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.
"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.
The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.
Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.
Everyone gasps.
The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.
Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.
Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.
“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”
“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”
“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”
And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.
And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.
“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”
“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”
“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”
“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”
“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.
“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”
“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.
“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”
Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.
“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.
“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.
“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”
“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”
Kaveh
With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.
Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.
Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.
When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.
Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.
“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.
“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”
“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.
“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”
At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.
“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”
The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.
“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”
“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”
“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”
“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.
“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”
Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.
“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response. 
“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”
Oh Archons, again?
There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…
But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.
“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”
“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”
“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”
The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.
“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.
Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.
"Kaveh's wife"
With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them. 
“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”
The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.
Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions. 
When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.
“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?
“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”
“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.
And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.
Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.
And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.
Tighnari
With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.
Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.
Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?
Well…
“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”
Ah yes, him.
Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea. 
“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”
No, it absolutely would not!
Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.
And from day one it was a pain in the butt. 
One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.
Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.
You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.
The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.
“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”
You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.
“...and?”
“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”
“Well, you don’t have a mate?”
It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.
“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”
You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.
“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”
You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.
“Get away from me!”
You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.
“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”
But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones. 
Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.
Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.
However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.
Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?
“Herbad Y/n!”
…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.
“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.
“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”
Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.
“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”
All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.
“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.
“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.
The key word - almost.
Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.
“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.
“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”
“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”
“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”
“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”
“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”
The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.
“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”
With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.
“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”
Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.
“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.” 
”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”
With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.
“As you wish, wife.”
Zhongli
"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."
To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.
It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.
Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.
In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.
You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.
Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.
When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.
“Does it bother you that much, my love?”
Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.
“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”
Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.
When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.
Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.
"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."
You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.
"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."
The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.
"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.
"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.
And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).
They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.
They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).
Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.
“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”
 “But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.
“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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k u r o  ♡  cat form                                                                                                                   『  "Here, you guys should just                                                                                be soothed by my form.“   』
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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Servamp E01 :: Kuro ↳ “What am I? Just a kind-hearted, vampire shut-in…”
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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めんどくせー
- sleepy ash
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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My therapist just told me my problem is that I need to write more fanfiction.
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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How do you think the beast-people and the Octavinelle trio will react to a person who's love language is biting them ? (I just want your opinion on the question, have a good day)
I talk about it a little here and here with reader on the receiving end, but in regard to them on the giving…
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Mating/pairing marks are fairly common amount beastmen, particularly the predators. The ones best known for their marks are wolf-beastmen, but almost any beastmen with sharp teeth are pleased with the idea of being bitten (aka: claimed) by their partner. So imagine Jack's surprise when you bring his hand, shyly laced with yours, up to your lips for a sweet kiss on his knuckles. Only to be startled, an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp leaving his lips as you nipped at the tips of his fingers. Your loving gaze is cute, but not disarming in the least, as you take his fingers and teeth at them like a chew toy. It's with a deep, but pleased, flush and expression that Jack explains to you what biting insinuates between partners.
Ruggie, when you were teetering the line of friends and partners, liked to fluster you with soft, coy nips at your ears and neck, purring at your darken cheeks and shy glare. He was a shy flirt, hoping you'd get the hint and make the first move. Why it was such a spine tingling shock when you, at your wits end with him, decided to reciprocate with a bite into his cheek, he'll never know. Nowadays, Ruggie will happily let you drag him away to either of your rooms to cuddle and bite into his neck, leaving wet, red marks all over his neck and collar. Mr. Bucchi is on cloud nine, dazing off as you bicker with Leona at the door over who should most monopolize on Ruggie's precious time. Hint: it's almost always you, until Leona offers a pay bump in exchange that Ruggie finally gets the fuck up and do his Leona's chores.
Speaking of the lazy lion, Leona does so adore your bites. It's the one of the few PDA that he'll let you do, as it lets you two subtly mark you as each other's partners, but it's mostly because you get kinda pissy about it, and it's funny. You're not pissy about the biting itself, rather, you're massively annoyance that he's laughing at your attempts to mark him up as much as he can with his sharp canines. Your teeth are nowhere as sharp as his, yet you randomly decide to dig your teeth in his bicep and forearms, like Cheka when he was teething. The thought of it makes him bark in laughter, which only pushes you to gnaw on him further in spite, rather than affection. It becomes less funny when the thought of a mini-you with deep green eyes, teeny-tiny ears, and a flicking tail teething on his thumb flashes through his mind. Then he's abruptly yanking his arms back and telling you that he's going to take a nap by himself with a confused look and a thousand yard stare.
Between the Octavinelle trio, none of them have the same instinct to bite into their mate as the beastmen, though they know of some merfolk that do. No they, the twins especially, like to softly bite into your soft bits because such forms of affection signify the upmost trust in the deep. Likewise, only their family and closest loved ones can do the same, namely you. The twins are the most fond of your biting affections of the trio, particularly Floyd. He thinks it's soooooooo cute that you like to bite him! He can hardly feel a thing, your teeth are so dull and flat compared to his. You can't leave a matching mark like the one he's left in your thigh…it's still awfully cute that you'll meet his squeezes (soft just for you) with a bite to his chin. He's suddenly flooded with thoughts of shrimpys nomming on morays in the sea and is clenching tighter at your with coos and squeals of having a cute, personal cleaner shrimp. Happily, you'll meet his demands for more bites into his cheeks until his mood changes, and he decides he's bored and tired of letting you nom. Maybe he'll take a turn and nom on you instead!
Despite being more reserved, or pretends to at least, compared to his brother, Jade is also fond of wearing your bite marks around campus. He even dares to wear his pristine, neat uniform untied and unbuttoned, just so he can see your horrified expression as your classmates ask about where in the hell he got all those gnarly looking purple bruises hickies from. You refuse to leave any more marks on him after that, settling for soft nibbles on his cheeks and knuckles. That last for all of a week before Jade's giving you a (fake) teary-eyed pout, wondering why you aren't giving him affection anymore? No, he's not talking about kisses. No not hugs. Noooo not that either, get your mind out of the gutter, he's a respectable eel! No! Why aren't you biting him like you used to, all his bite marks have faded away and are barely visible now! He thought you loved him 😢. Jade only lets you bite him you know, because he trusts his sweet human… no one else other than his brother and parents get to bite him, and only you get the privilege to bite into such intimate parts. Don't you love him anymore? Oh! Woe is he who-oh? You'll bite him again? Yay~ Please do so right here, right at the base of his neck, he's verrry sensitive there, so please be gentle 😊.
Azul is oh so very tame compared to the eels, even compared to the other beastmen. Really, he doesn't get the appeal if he's being honest. The twins used to teeth on his arms when they were children as their baby teeth fell out to be replaced with their adult ones. He's tired of being a chew toy and taken to smacking the twins hard enough to bruise to prevent further chomps. Azul is, unfortunately, weak to you and your big pleading eyes, despite his protests and denial. He's quick, especially after a tiring day after classes and work to let you drag him into bed and curl into his side. He sighs in bliss as you press sweet peeks into his cheek, neck, and hair, up until he feels your teeth tug at his earlobe. A brief shiver and heat pooling in his stomach makes him gasp, before he huffs and rolls his eyes as he realizes that you've taken to just gently nibble on his ear. Azul grumbles, still happy though, as you affectionately pull at his ear, moving down to nip at his neck, then settling on gently biting on the softest part of his cheek. He supposes he can give you an exception, his sweet human. After all, you're so soft and sweet about it with him, no matter how drooly you get it's kinda cute, and he's greedy with all forms of your affection. Azul will let you, as long as you don't bite down too hard.
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?
Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.
At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.
The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?
😈🍬 anon
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a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.
the worst goodbye | the demon brothers
2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst
cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.
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Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.
He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.
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You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.
It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!
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Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.
He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—
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When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.
If only the world could see you the way I do.
Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.
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Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.
It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."
He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.
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Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.
By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)
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Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.
It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.
Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.
Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)
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read more: obey me masterlist
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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Game Finish! The Seven Lords: Rashōmon
Anonymous asked: Oh my god, I LOVED how you wrote an MC with Atsushis ability and was wondering if you could do an Akutagawa like MC? Or maybe a Dazai MC as I've always wondered how they'd handle someone like either of them considering there depth as characters and they were my absolute favorites. Aku deserved better-
Hmph, you're sure that machine still hasn't bitten you? .... N-nevermind, don't worry about it.
The Mafia's Hellhound. (Part 3) (Obey Me! Dateables x Akutagawa Ryūnosuke(BSD)-like!Gn!Mc/Reader, Platonic! Luke + Akutagawa Ryūnosuke(BSD)-like!Gn!Mc/Reader)
Content Warnings: Since this character is from the same series as Atsushi Nakajima, I'm gonna put the same first bit of warning here. Bungou Stray Dogs is a series that contains characters based on real life authors, with each individual character having an ability based on a book by their namesake author. There is also a character in the series who is Sui///cidal and it is somewhat treated more light-hearted than how it is usually treated in media, and though it is explained later as to why I don't recommend anyone who is put off or upset by that type of content to watch it. Akutagawa is not this character, but this character does have a heavy impact on him. To those who are interested in the original concept as a whole, I'd definitely recommend watching up to Episode 3 first since that is the first appearance of Aku in the anime. This will have light spoilers for Seasons 1-3 as well throughout, so if you do end up really liking the anime and don't want the slightest bit of spoilers you should finish it first. The majority of spoilers lie in Aku's overall personality, but if you've seen Bungou Stray Dogs: Wan! it is not too dissimilar. There will be mentions of blood and general violence, as well as spoilers for Chapter 16-20 of Obey Me. Don't blame me, blame Belphie. And again, there will be angst. Not just because angst is my chicken soup for the soul, but that this character is very angsty. It is much tamer on Luke's part though.
(While a good chunk of the Side Character's Development lie in Seasons 2 and 3 for now, I've chosen to keep this particular set of headcanons secluded to MC's first semester in the Devildom. There may be slight nods towards the following seasons, but that would need to be a seperate request.(Especially since I'd need to figure out how to play around with the timeline to keep Aku!MC from doing certain things relating to a certain arc.)
(Takes place in between the Cannibalism Arc and Kamui Revelation Arc, which I assume Wan! is also set in. I went with this specific version of Aku because it's where the anime has left off at, and I personally believe anime watchers are more widespread than manga readers most of the time. I'll be doing my best not to accidentally water down his personality though, as even at that point in the story Aku still has quite the inferiority complex, violent tendencies, and other such issues.)
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(Not writing the entire intro still 'cause that would be way too long. You can find the intro in Part 1, and Part 2 is the continuation with the Younger Demon Brothers.)
(Please note that since I don't have too many colors to work with, characters do share colors based off their glow sticks. The difference is that the Demon Brothers speak like this, and the side characters speak like this when in the same conversations as the Demon Brothers. Otherwise they just speak like this. Still working on stuff for the new three, since they don't have any set colors, so they might change off and on.)
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Diavolo:
"My! You're quite the curious case of a human, aren't you? What wonderful little tendrils you have there! They very much remind me of the thorny vines of the Black and Blue Butterfly Weed." :)
If Barbatos hadn't already turned down the idea in a conversation prior to your summoning, he might've just brought you to his place instead of making you stay with the Brothers. But honestly, could you blame him for wanting to talk to you more and learn more about you? Diavolo is ever the curious type in regards to the cultures and aspects of the residents of the other two realms. Not only to satisfy his own interests but for the betterment of relationships between the Three Realms as well. So, when a human with such unique capabilities and a heavily checkered past had been selected by Lucifer, Dia was incredibly eager to get to know them.
While Diavolo may have quite the cheery and somewhat carefree demeanor at times, he's far more intelligent than he usually let's on. He has tracked down all obtainable knowledge there is to find about you in the Human World, such as your criminal record, affiliations, family tree, known documentations on your ability, and other such things. Diavolo had actually known the majority of these facts about you prior to your selection as well, but made sure to thoroughly scour any and all documents out there in the Human World for as much information after Lucifer had chosen you as the second Human Exchange Student. With all that in mind, despite your checkered and spotted past Diavolo still chose to go through with Lucifer's primary decision. As for why? Only him and Barbatos, (and everyone who's played up to Chapter 16), know.
Though your typical demeanor may be described as rough at best and cold at it's worst, Dia really doesn't pay any mind to it. He wouldn't blatantly admit it in the presence of the Eldest Brother, but you remind him of Lucifer in a way and he treats you as such. Albeit with an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. Sure, he ultimately desires to unite the Three Realms and have peace, but there's no harm in keeping up some walls and not telling you more than you need to know. Dia's known Luci for far longer and he's not quite prepared to fully trust you in the same way, even if you do act somewhat similar.
Considering the situation of your residency, he doesn't often have the chance to monitor your well-being and progress with the Brothers outside of updates from Lucifer, idle chatter, or Student Council Meetings. To most others who would've overseen a program such as this one, this slow and steady stream of information would have been enough for them. But Lord Diavolo was a demon very much unlike most others, and as such went out of his way to get to know you whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Most of the time you were invited to outings with the Demon Prince or to his castle alongside at least one of the Demon Brothers, but it had become an increasing phenomena that you would be invited to spend time with him alone. You had been assured time and time again that Diavolo possessed no ill will towards you nor intent to cause harm, but for quite a bit these moments alone with him unnerved you. The way you had seen him in these moments was uncanny to that of the Mafia Boss you served under, and you couldn't help but squirm in your seat and await harm. Both himself and Barbatos picked up on this, and easily put two and two together based on their collected records of the Port Mafia. Dia did not relent with inviting you over though, choosing to persevere and gain your trust as you also grew closer to the Demon Brothers. To his credit he does slowly weave his way into your heart, while also failing to notice the way you'd begun to worm your way into his own. Once you've finally given Diavolo some leeway and allowed him some sort of entrance into your life, he's fully intent on staying in that position. With the comparison of your Boss buried away, now all you can really compare him to is an excitable puppy.(To your dismay.)
Returning to the fact he does have a very baseline understanding of your past and your abilities thanks to those public records of yours, Diavolo is ever so eager to fully understand you and brings up those topics often in your short meetings together should you be comfortable enough to discuss it with him. There's a constant glimmer of intrigue in his eyes whenever you choose to use Rashōmon in front of him. It doesn't matter if you're intentionally trying to show off or if you're just using it's tendrils to perform a mundane task, Dia is deeply invested on seeing your ability in action. Many a drape or tea set has been lost to the gaping maw of Rashōmon: Agito, to the dismay of a certain butler respectfully at standby outside of the Prince's office. Diavolo has trouble truly relating to the plights imposed upon you by your separation from your sibling in the same way that the Demon Brothers can, but he bears enough empathy to understand why such a thing effects you in that way and never fails to extend words of comfort in your direction as needed.
Your position as a decently high ranking member of the Port Mafia doesn't truly effect his perception of you or your species either, both since he'd known about this fact prior and he'd now gotten to know you more than just the surface level amount that he could gleam from Human World records about you. If anything, having someone like you was more beneficial to the Exchange Program than it may have seemed at a first glance. Though the media and most of the world may have seen you as a cruel murderer and self-branded mafia dog, Diavolo had slowly come to know the true version of you the lied underneath your sharp, cold exterior. Humans are certainly fascinating... No wonder the Brothers are so fond of you.
Back on the topic of the Brothers, and one brother in particular, Diavolo is quite well aware of the circumstances he was sending you into when sending you back into the past. He may have had some reservations about quite literally sending you to your demise, but Dia trusted Barbatos' abilities. Knowing that you had lain dead at the foot of the stairs just a few moments prior was slightly unnerving to him, yet he was more so thankful that he didn't have to bear witness to the scene itself and that he could simply swoop in at the end and tie up any loose ends.
Hmm? What's that MC? Dia seems to be inviting you over an awful lot more than usual lately? Nonsense, nonsense. It's perfectly normal for him to invite you out every other day, with the occasional surprise slumber party. You are his favorite Human Exchange Student after all! Just don't tell Solomon. All jokes aside though, Diavolo does start showing a bit more interest in your wellbeing that he already had after everything that went down with Belphie. He's even extended the offer to let you stay at the castle many a time should you ever feel unsafe in the presence of the Avatar of Sloth, although he is fairly certain that Belphegor will bring you no harm. (Also hooks you up with the best psychologists and psychiatrists he can find, both for your past trauma and your brand new limited edition trauma.)
Sending you back home at the end of RAD's semester is a rather difficult subject for him. Dia shares the same worries concerning what may happen to you after your return to the Human World as the Brothers do, and he can't help but get caught up on the thoughts of worst cause scenarios. You spent so much time and effort to contribute so much to his Exchange Program, only to be sent back to incarceration, demise, or worse? And yet, he's the Demon Prince and soon to be Demon King. He's more than aware of the consequences of tampering with a human's lifespan, a crime in the Celestial Realm, and the effect that prolonged exposure to the Devildom has on humans. Putting aside his sense of companionship, Dia needs to sit down and have a long hard think. Most likely, he'll have Barbatos look ahead into your future to see if it's truly safe to send you back and find some way to keep Team "If Mc goes, so do I" in the Devildom. This is a very delicate matter, one that could perhaps even change the fate of the Three Realms as a whole due to your unique bloodline.
Barbatos:
Similar to his Lord, Barbatos is equally intrigued by you. Not particularly intrigued enough to let Diavolo move you into the Castle instead of the House of Lamentation, but at least somewhat more interested in you than he would usually be. Both him and Dia have done a bit of info-gathering and timeline inspecting prior to your arrival, but since he'd been requested to not look into your future unless asked after that Barbatos would need to actively seek you out should he desire to get to know anything more about you.
As it seemed to be good information to remember, Barbatos made it a point to give himself a decent amount of memory of your files. This includes but is not particularly limited to; the variations of your ability, the pure destructive capabilities of said ability, your past, your family tree, and records regarding your time in the Port Mafia. None of these factors startled or frightened him as it would most humans though, as he'd know quite a few demons in his time that had done far worse things with very little reasoning behind them. Nevertheless, Barbatos still needed to take these factors into account when certain matters involved you, such as your reckless streak of fights at RAD or your occasional visit to the Castle. No need to spend extra money on new antique furniture, décor, or bandages unless absolutely necessary after all.
Given his position and duties as Lord Diavolo's personal butler, this left himself with very little free time in general. Let alone free time that he'd wished to spend getting to know you and not winding down after a hard day's work. It's not that he didn't want to form some sort of bond outside of a baseline acquaintanceship with you, rather he found interactions to be particularly exhausting and draining after serving Dia all day long. So, the only true opportunities Barbatos has to get to know you are made up of chance run-ins and interactions. Or at least in the beginning it is.
Often you'd occasionally run into Barb in the halls of RAD and exchange a brief few words, but if you happened to not be in the company of any of the Demon Brothers and just so conveniently got a couple of scuffs and bruises from picking fights, Barbatos is quick to sigh and drag you off to an empty classroom. Setting aside whatever he happens to be holding on a nearby desk, Barb makes quick work of inspecting and treating any injuries you might have. All the while gently scolding you for your reckless behavior. These moments are strangely more intimate than any of your minute long chats in the halls or in between servings of tea with Diavolo, and the both of you oddly begin to crave this strange form of company as the Exchange Program continues on. Eventually one of you caves and gives up your little game of school delinquent and caring nurse, choosing instead to actually hang out like normal people do.
When bonding with Barbatos, most of it is done through the enjoyment of each other's company with bits of conversation sprinkled in. You're aware of just how little free time the loyal butler has, so it makes it all the more special when he invites you over for tea or out shopping with him. A decent chunk of your conversations consist of your day to day life rather than your past, but that doesn't mean Barb would bring it up from time to time should it be relevant to the current topic. Barbatos also uses your little personal meetings to introduce you to some new methods that might help you get a handle on your temper or adjust easier to your life in the Devildom. It becomes fairly commonplace that you end up returning to HOL with an armful of calming teas, sweets, advice notes, and lists after meeting him, so much so that you've just started bringing a reusable shopping bag with you whenever he invites you over.
Out of all of the Obey Me! cast, Barbatos is the person who asks the least about your ability and it's uses. He knows enough about Rashōmon to have a decent understanding of it and has probably seen it in his visions of different timelines, futures, and pasts. Unless you offer to use it in order to help him complete simple tasks like shopping or housekeeping, he'd prefer you not to use it at all. Diavolo's curiosity has caused the end of many drapes, armchairs, and rugs, and he'd rather not have to find Rashōmon shredding something any time soon. Plus Barb does become distressed quite a bit when he sees you coughing up blood from overuse, even if his face doesn't really show it at the time. If you desire to have a space to practice your ability, you're welcome to use it on any rats you find in the Castle though. He'd much prefer feeding them to the little creature that forms itself from your clothing, that pretty much disintegrates them, than deal with the mess left behind.
Barbatos also isn't off-put by the nature of your past. Like his Prince, Barb has met plenty of creatures throughout the Three Realms that have killed far more people for less reasons. If he was being truly honest, he'd consider your actions Child's Play in comparison to certain individual's he's met over the years. He'll offer you comfort and solace should you want or need it, but if you're worried about him bearing a distaste for you because of your role in the mafia, there's no reason to. Barb is far more interested in hearing you lovingly talk about your sister or any particular Human World teas that you're fond of anyway.
As previously stated with Diavolo, both him and Barb are well aware of the events following your release from the Attic. However, the image of your corpse is something that haunts his mind, most often in the late hours of the night. He'd jumped through many timelines until eventually arriving in one where you had succeeded in his original plan, but that wasn't without seeing a fair share of your demises. Luckily, years upon years spent shaping himself into the perfect butler allowed him to shove down these suffocating feelings. They do resurface eventually, but Barbatos keeps them hidden behind the door to his bedroom and later yours.
There's an exponential rise in Barb's invitations of companionship following the incident, much to the dismay of the Seven brothers already fighting amongst themselves and the Demon Prince for your attention. Diavolo has crashed a few of your "dates" with Barbatos at times, but for the most part it's just the two of you alone. These little meetings are fairly similar to the ones that had occured before, but they oddly just feel more domestic? Barbatos's gazes just feel softer and warmer, and his touches so, so gentle. He's handled ancient porcelain dishes far rougher than he does you. You've also noticed that Barb takes any chance he can get to subtly caress your face, but he'll dismiss it every time with a barely noticeable blush. You aren't slick Barbatos, we all know why you styled their bangs so they didn't hang in their face and why it took so long to finish.
Barbatos grows more and more apprehensive as the end of the Exchange Program nears. As much as he'd like to keep you in the Devildom for the rest of your days should you desire to stay, it's ultimately Lord Diavolo's choice in the end. He's already preparing to look into your future in the Human World when Dia asks, and fully ready to change timeline occurrences as needed. Just so long as Diavolo says the word. Perhaps if you had a bit more time to bond fully, instead of the sort of puppy love mutual crush relationship you shared, Barb might have considered going against his Prince's wishes a bit more.
Solomon:
Considering how much time this old man immortal sorcerer has spent roaming the Earth, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that Solomon does have a decent amount of knowledge about those special humans known as "Ability Users". He may not know too much about you and your ability specifically, but he's fairly knowledgeable about the concept and people involved as a whole. There's also a decent chance that Solo knows a couple of the groups run by Ability Users, like The Guild, Port Mafia, and ADA. If asked for a description based on his current level of awareness on the topic, Solomon would best describe Ability Users as magic users who are limited to one singular niche spell. As such, seeing you using an ability doesn't come as too much of a shock to him, unlike certain demons and Angels who'd come to expect the majority of humanity to be magicless and overall defenseless aside from their handmade weapons. Yet, even though he's well aware of others like you, he's still ever so intrigued by you and Rashōmon. Seeing a small tendril pop out of your coat and snatch your D.D.D. back after he'd picked it up for you had been the starting point of his fascination, and it progressively developed more and more over time. Like a sort of Snowball effect.
Since you're both humans who possess some rather inhuman qualities, Solomon decides to use that detail as a starting point to getting you to bond with him. He's not very successful in his advances at first, since the Demon Brothers had yet to even begin to whittle away and the massive emotional walls around your heart. But as you slowly begin to soften up and slightly quell your aggression, Monsolo finds just enough leeway to wriggle his way into your life. Given that you're still slightly iffy about him and make that fact obvious, he starts out his bonding with you very slow and steady. Solo lacks the advantage of sharing a house/dormitory with you like the brothers, so he has to think ahead and plan out the best ways of interacting with you and what topics to bring up or avoid. Lucky for him, it seems that you have a certain knack for getting into trouble, so extending a helping hand your way with his magic is a huge benefit to positively influencing the way that you think about him.
The time the two of you spend together start off small and somewhat insignificant, like a brief chat in the halls of RAD or small talk after a chance run-in, but as your relationship deepens from an acquaintanceship to a friendship, you begin to have actual outings. These range from going to a restaurant or café, to coming over to the Purgatory Hall for some tea or a brief study session. Solomon easily picks up on the fact that your past is a rather sore subject, so he holds off on asking about it until you are in a better place mentally.
A topic he does indulge himself in quite a bit is asking about your ability and just about every detail you are willing to provide about it. If you're up for giving him a demonstration he's rather pleased to watch and take notes, but Solo also easily notices when you are beginning to overuse Rashōmon and will stop you from doing so. After a bit of studying your ability and the ways that you can or choose to use it, should your relationship be at a comfortable enough level, he might offer to give you some advice on how to improve your control and usage Rashōmon based on spells that somewhat resembled certain aspects of your ability. He's quite happy should you take him up on his advice and potentially seek him out for more in the future, but Solo does understand should you also disregard it and choose to develop your ability in your own way with little outside help. Solomon also will offer himself up as a sparring partner if you want to ensure that you're in tip top shape at all times. Both of you are human for the most part, so you have relatively similar endurance levels, and Solomon can replicate a decent handful of abilities held by other ability users you had met.
Once you've reached a stage in your bond together where you are fully comfortable in his presence, he very subtly tries to get you to open up about your past. He backs off rather quick should it make you uncomfortable and waits to bring it up again for a bit, but eventually you give in and open up. When you're speaking about your past he's mostly silent aside from a few nods or hums that let you know that he's listening, all the while rubbing comforting circles into the back of your hand. Most days Solomon chooses to simply let you vent out all of your thoughts and emotions onto him while he calmly reassures and comforts you, but on the occasion he'll instead offer some advice on certain situations and any additional insights that you're comfortable with him adding in.
The fact that you're a decently high-ranking member of a mafia that contained some of the strongest Ability Users in Japan was a bit of a surprise at first, but given the additional details of your past before the Port Mafia and prior personality, the initial shock wears off fairly easily. It certainly would explain why you act so rough around the edges and try so desperately to not depend on anyone but yourself. Yet, Solomon's still not scared off or really even intimidated by this fact. It's reasonable to assume with how long he's been alive the he's at least had one or two run-ins with organized crime groups, and seeing as he's fairly alive and well after those experiences he's not too worried about being curb-stomped by your colleagues should he be caught hanging around you in the Human World. Though, perhaps you shouldn't have been calling yourself a "Mafia Dog" for all these years, since Solomon is now very taken with calling you every known somewhat aggressive dog breed in the book. His favorite in particular is "Akita", since you also happen to be a bit of the stubborn type.
Unlike Diavolo and Barbatos, Solomon and the rest of the members of Purgatory Hall are completely unaware of the incident following Belphegor's release from the Attic. They get a rather brief description that mostly entails just "Belphie was released, met Mc, and changed his views on Humans due to Mc's bloodline", but unless you openly tell Solomon he'd be none the wiser. Sure, he'd suspect something was somewhat off based on the very limited amount of details they were told, but as far as he can see you look to be alright for the most part. Possibly shaken up at times, but not too much out of the ordinary. By the time you've finally sat down and chosen to tell him the truth about that night, you've already had it cleared with Diavolo to be safe to talk about it and pulled him away to a secluded space where Simeon and Luke wouldn't overhear. Solomon doesn't really know how to react at first as you go through explaining the betrayal, your death, and subsequent revival, his hands simply hovering above your forearms while he stares into your eyes, desperately trying to swallow the knot slowly forming in his throat. It's silent for a few minutes once you've finished speaking, before he suddenly engulfs you in a tight hug. Most of what you hear him mutter into the crook of your neck seem to be words of comfort, but on the occasion you catch a poorly muffled sob and slight tremble in his speech.
After the night Solomon tries to pretend that nothing is wrong, mostly as not to alert the rest of Purgatory Hall, but you do notice a sudden spike in him fighting to get your attention from the Brothers. Sometimes you swear that he must've set an alarm for the most optimal times to invite you somewhere before the Brothers even get a chance, which at times gets to the point that they have to invite you out at midnight before Solomon swoops in.
As the end of the Exchange Program nears, Solomon begins to concoct plans on how to best keep you safe upon your return to the Human World. From what he knows it's likely fairly frowned upon for a high ranking mafia member to suddenly disappear and reappear months later unless ordered to, so he'd like to prevent that conflict from imposing itself on you. Honestly, it's quite likely that Solomon would either find you and your sister some place that you could live and lay low, or just simply let you and her live with him. The last option wouldn't be what he'd really prefer since Solomon can get into danger fairly often, but given that you and your sister can handle yourself decently well enough he may be pushed to reconsider. Even more so should it be requested by a certain Prince.
Simeon:
From your first meeting, Simeon can't seem to figure out what to think about you or how to properly approach. You're cold, somewhat bitter, and even aggressive at times, yet he can sense this underlying emotional injuries that you hide away in the deepest recesses of your heart under lock and key. Simeon both wants to exchange a helping hand in your direction and shy away from interacting with you outside of the bare minimum to be polite. With no real proper way to approach you aside from very brief stilted conversations, Simeon only really begins bonding with you after you've begun hanging around Solomon a lot more and become somewhat less hostile.
Deciding it to be the best course of action, Simeon approaches bonding with you in the same way he would with most younger angels that he spent time with. It's a little awkward for both of you at first, as his first couple of interactions in this manner unnerve you ever so slightly, but you grow accustomed to it overtime. Simeon also adapts his approach to better understand you and not potentially belittling you, moving from treating you like an angel in training to the same manner he usually treats Solomon, Diavolo, Barbatos, and the Demon Brothers.
Most of the time you spend with Simeon is spent in the company of the other Purgatory Hall members, but he does on occasion invite you out to do stuff with him alone. While you do enjoy hang out with Solomon and Luke, it's actually rather nice to spend some quality time with him. Most of your excursions aren't too long or too far away, but Simeon does his best to make sure that he picks places to go to that both of you would enjoy. He especially enjoys finding restaurants that serve Black Tapir or going to an escape room that he'd heard of from other students at RAD. But with how nice it is to spend time with Simeon, it's somewhat a frequent occurence that you accidentally get sent the wrong time or place due to his lack of experience in technology. Usually if you notice that the location or time looks weird you would just call him -since who would go to an arcade at 12am or some back alley right after RAD ended- but there has been situations where you waited in Purgatory Hall for a good couple of hours before the actual time Simeon had wanted you to meet him at.
Your ability is something he does find rather interesting, but he won't push you to show it off unless you're comfortable with it. Simeon can't help but inquire about how similar Rashōmon is to the power of the main character, Henry, from his series The Seven Lords, and if you're still fine with using it around him he may try and use you as a frame of reference for writing battle scenes or anything that involves Henry using his power. Often most of his referance material comes from just watching you and Solomon spar, as he is usually present to help with healing magic, but if you aren't opposed to it he'd gladly ask you to show off some of your abilities outside of the battlefield. Rashōmon: Sawarabi is his favorite of your attacks to see in action, but outside of combat he is quite fond of the little jawed creature that is created when you use Rashōmon: Agito to quickly consume something. He's thought a few times before about asking you to use the little creature to help with gardening as it could eat up any waste, but considering the size and destructive capabilities of it he later decided against it.
Simeon really isn't aware of your past unless you tell him, but even after you eventually confess of your position in the Port Mafia he makes no move to belittle you or treat you any different to how he usually would. He struggles to truly explain why, but he reassures you that he doesn't think of you any differently than he had before. Simeon doesn't bring the topic up unless you do, and does try to divert away from it when you show signs of discomfort or nervousness. He'll also offer himself up to you as a source of comfort on days you're feeling particularly homesick or just down, more than happy to reassure you or let you vent to your heart's content. In order to make you as comfortable as he can, Simeon does cast a few spells in the surrounding area that make the atmosphere more calming and soothing. The heavenly scent of fresh flowers takes your mind off the mafia and your parents, instead ushering in fond memories of your sister that you can't help but tell the Angel that is holding you in his arms so tenderly.
You initially put off even discussing anything about the Attic with any of the members of Purgatory Hall outside of the basics, but you can't help but find yourself craving to be comforted by the kind angel. Simeon is very gentle and delicate with the topic before you confide in the greater details with him, sensing that there may be some things that have been intentionally left out, but he doesn't force you to talk until you're ready. Throughout your entire explanation Simeon is doing his best to comfort you through touch alone, not wanting to interrupt your words. His thumbs rub comforting circles into your forearms, only stopping to wipe away any tears or apply a gentle pressure to your shoulder. Simeon pulls you in close once you've finished speaking, with your head resting on his chest as he runs his fingers through your hair. (If you're taller than him he does still have you rest your head on his chest, but he'll have to lay down a bit unless you really want to have a crick in your back tomorrow.) Though hearing of your demise does upset him, he chooses to prioritize your comfort over his own and make sure to do it to the best of his ability.
He's rather transparent when he begins inviting you out to spend time together after your explanation, and the places he takes you to are hand picked by him to be the most comfortable and secluded spaces in the Devildom. The Brothers are certainly jealous when they see you hanging around an Angel, but they can't complain too much on days that you and him spend time baking and bring some food home for them as well. You've noticed that Simeon has developed a sudden habit of resting his hands on the back of your forearms when walking side by side, but if you point it out he does play a rather unconvincing clueless act or tease you ever so slightly. Simeon has also started leaving his ringtone on a higher volume when going to bed just in case you happen to call in the middle of the night and need some words of comfort or just want to talk.
Like everyone else in the Exchange Program, besides Luke, Simeon does worry a good bit about what may happen to you upon returning home to the Human World. While Simeon would be more than happy to extend a hand and allow you and your sister to stay in the Celestial Realm for a bit, he's rather worried about how the other angels would react to your past. He may not judge you too much for your deeds in the mafia since he's gotten to know you as a person, but other angels in much higher positions of power very well may not be so kind. The most he can really do is try to be a comforting presence for you and hope that Diavolo or Solomon can figure something out.
Luke(Platonic):
Similar to Simeon, Luke is quite hesitant to interact with you. Honestly, he had though you were another demon upon meeting you for the first time until you had been introduced as the second Human exchange student, with how much your personality and demeanor replicated many of the stories about demons that he'd heard back in the Celestial Realm. Your ability wasn't also earning yourself any bonus points in his book, seeing as he'd nervously hid behind Simeon when you'd brought out Rashōmon to quickly dispose of the food Solomon had offered you. It's only after your sharp edges have softened up a bit and Simeon begins bonding with you that Luke attempts to approach you.
Luke's manner of approaching you in the beginning is slightly awkward, with him curiously following you around and watching you as you hang out with Simeon. This sort of reminds you a bit of the way a child gets to know one of their parents' or sibling's friends, so you try not too mind it too much. Simeon finds it rather cute at first but over time grows tired of watching Luke jump the second that you glance back at the wall he's peering at you from behind, and eventually just politely forces both of you to bond with one another.
A majority of the time that Luke spends with you is also in the company of Simeon, Solomon, and occasionally Barbatos, but as the two of you grow closer you do find the time to bake alone together or go out to a Devildom attraction that Luke had always wanted to see but not had the courage to ask Simeon to take him to. Most often you and Luke settle on just baking alone together though, as the Demon Brothers do sometimes crash your little outings to parks or Devil's Coast.
Your relationship soon blossoms from a rather forced acquaintanceship into a very sibling-like relationship over the course of your time spent together. Luke sorta reminds you of your sister and yourself when you were much, much younger, and you can't help but feel a little protective over him as he worms his way into a comfortable position in your heart. Though he's likely more powerful than you as well, you don't hesitate to at least try and protect him as much as you can. Luckily, Rashōmon makes a decent threat over most lesser demons that might pick at the young angel, and if all else fails you can subtly flaunt a pact mark or two of yours and threaten anyone messing with Luke to buzz off before you call one of the Seven Avatars of Hell to deal with them instead.
Returning to the topic of Rashōmon, it takes Luke a little bit to warm up to your Ability. In the beginning his take on it is fairly similar to Barbatos, in that he'd rather not see it or have you use it around him. The shadow-like entity puts him on edge in the same manner that demons do, even if you do have full control over it and it is formed from your clothing. But as he slowly sheds his prejudices against demons, Luke also begins to grow more intrigued than frightened by your ability. The times that you usually use Rashōmon around Luke after he's come to terms with it are still rather limited, but most of the time you simply use it to grab things off of high shelves or teasingly lift Luke in the air.
Early on into your friendship with the young angel, you decide not to bring up very much about your past. Telling him that you were a member of a rather infamous mafia would certainly scare him off, and you really didn't want him to know just how much blood stained your hands. You have to be very selective about what you do and don't tell him, as not to let any of the darker details of your past slip through, so Luke has a very limited understanding of your life in the Human World. As far as he's aware, you live alone in the suburbs of a Japanese city with your sister and work a rather physically draining job. It's not the best lie you could come up with, but it worked good enough to keep him from prying into your past or finding out about it before you're ready to tell him.
For similar reasons you also refuse to tell him much of anything about what happened after Belphie was released from the Attic outside of the basic information that had been given to the Purgatory Hall as a whole. You aren't sure how he would take it, and you'd rather not do anything that might smear the name of all demonkind in his mind more than the Celestial Realm already did. It's much nicer to just go out to try some cool new ice cream flavors or bake a cake from one of Barbatos's recipes than make your pseudo-younger brother find out about how you were literally murdered and dead for a good few minutes anyway.
Luke is somewhat confused when he picks up on just how apprehensive just about everyone around him was growing as the Exchange Program drew closer to a close, but chalks it up to the fact that once everyone returned to their respective realms that you'd miss one another. He does make sure to assure you that you will always be welcome to come and stay in the Celestial Realm if you'd like, but that insipid smile you give him when you ruffle his hair is oddly suspicious.
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
(There we are, Aku!Mc is all done for now! Unless y'all want the DLC for Season 2 lol. Apologies for my absence as of late, been going through some really rough mental times, but I am much better now!
I am not fully used to writing for the Side characters, Simeon and Luke especially, but I did my best! As always, any input is appreciated! Apologies is I missed any mistakes while editing and do let me know if you see any!
As they've requested, I'll be tagging @rakshamon to let them know about this fic and my upcoming BSD AU! Mc fics. If anyone else would like to be tagged as well, do let me know!)
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characterreaderwriter · 2 years ago
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Game Finish! The Seven Lords: Rashōmon
Anonymous asked: Oh my god, I LOVED how you wrote an MC with Atsushis ability and was wondering if you could do an Akutagawa like MC? Or maybe a Dazai MC as I've always wondered how they'd handle someone like either of them considering there depth as characters and they were my absolute favorites. Aku deserved better-
Hmph, you're sure that machine still hasn't bitten you? .... N-nevermind, don't worry about it.
The Mafia's Hellhound. (Part 3) (Obey Me! Dateables x Akutagawa Ryūnosuke(BSD)-like!Gn!Mc/Reader, Platonic! Luke + Akutagawa Ryūnosuke(BSD)-like!Gn!Mc/Reader)
Content Warnings: Since this character is from the same series as Atsushi Nakajima, I'm gonna put the same first bit of warning here. Bungou Stray Dogs is a series that contains characters based on real life authors, with each individual character having an ability based on a book by their namesake author. There is also a character in the series who is Sui///cidal and it is somewhat treated more light-hearted than how it is usually treated in media, and though it is explained later as to why I don't recommend anyone who is put off or upset by that type of content to watch it. Akutagawa is not this character, but this character does have a heavy impact on him. To those who are interested in the original concept as a whole, I'd definitely recommend watching up to Episode 3 first since that is the first appearance of Aku in the anime. This will have light spoilers for Seasons 1-3 as well throughout, so if you do end up really liking the anime and don't want the slightest bit of spoilers you should finish it first. The majority of spoilers lie in Aku's overall personality, but if you've seen Bungou Stray Dogs: Wan! it is not too dissimilar. There will be mentions of blood and general violence, as well as spoilers for Chapter 16-20 of Obey Me. Don't blame me, blame Belphie. And again, there will be angst. Not just because angst is my chicken soup for the soul, but that this character is very angsty. It is much tamer on Luke's part though.
(While a good chunk of the Side Character's Development lie in Seasons 2 and 3 for now, I've chosen to keep this particular set of headcanons secluded to MC's first semester in the Devildom. There may be slight nods towards the following seasons, but that would need to be a seperate request.(Especially since I'd need to figure out how to play around with the timeline to keep Aku!MC from doing certain things relating to a certain arc.)
(Takes place in between the Cannibalism Arc and Kamui Revelation Arc, which I assume Wan! is also set in. I went with this specific version of Aku because it's where the anime has left off at, and I personally believe anime watchers are more widespread than manga readers most of the time. I'll be doing my best not to accidentally water down his personality though, as even at that point in the story Aku still has quite the inferiority complex, violent tendencies, and other such issues.)
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(Not writing the entire intro still 'cause that would be way too long. You can find the intro in Part 1, and Part 2 is the continuation with the Younger Demon Brothers.)
(Please note that since I don't have too many colors to work with, characters do share colors based off their glow sticks. The difference is that the Demon Brothers speak like this, and the side characters speak like this when in the same conversations as the Demon Brothers. Otherwise they just speak like this. Still working on stuff for the new three, since they don't have any set colors, so they might change off and on.)
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Diavolo:
"My! You're quite the curious case of a human, aren't you? What wonderful little tendrils you have there! They very much remind me of the thorny vines of the Black and Blue Butterfly Weed." :)
If Barbatos hadn't already turned down the idea in a conversation prior to your summoning, he might've just brought you to his place instead of making you stay with the Brothers. But honestly, could you blame him for wanting to talk to you more and learn more about you? Diavolo is ever the curious type in regards to the cultures and aspects of the residents of the other two realms. Not only to satisfy his own interests but for the betterment of relationships between the Three Realms as well. So, when a human with such unique capabilities and a heavily checkered past had been selected by Lucifer, Dia was incredibly eager to get to know them.
While Diavolo may have quite the cheery and somewhat carefree demeanor at times, he's far more intelligent than he usually let's on. He has tracked down all obtainable knowledge there is to find about you in the Human World, such as your criminal record, affiliations, family tree, known documentations on your ability, and other such things. Diavolo had actually known the majority of these facts about you prior to your selection as well, but made sure to thoroughly scour any and all documents out there in the Human World for as much information after Lucifer had chosen you as the second Human Exchange Student. With all that in mind, despite your checkered and spotted past Diavolo still chose to go through with Lucifer's primary decision. As for why? Only him and Barbatos, (and everyone who's played up to Chapter 16), know.
Though your typical demeanor may be described as rough at best and cold at it's worst, Dia really doesn't pay any mind to it. He wouldn't blatantly admit it in the presence of the Eldest Brother, but you remind him of Lucifer in a way and he treats you as such. Albeit with an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. Sure, he ultimately desires to unite the Three Realms and have peace, but there's no harm in keeping up some walls and not telling you more than you need to know. Dia's known Luci for far longer and he's not quite prepared to fully trust you in the same way, even if you do act somewhat similar.
Considering the situation of your residency, he doesn't often have the chance to monitor your well-being and progress with the Brothers outside of updates from Lucifer, idle chatter, or Student Council Meetings. To most others who would've overseen a program such as this one, this slow and steady stream of information would have been enough for them. But Lord Diavolo was a demon very much unlike most others, and as such went out of his way to get to know you whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Most of the time you were invited to outings with the Demon Prince or to his castle alongside at least one of the Demon Brothers, but it had become an increasing phenomena that you would be invited to spend time with him alone. You had been assured time and time again that Diavolo possessed no ill will towards you nor intent to cause harm, but for quite a bit these moments alone with him unnerved you. The way you had seen him in these moments was uncanny to that of the Mafia Boss you served under, and you couldn't help but squirm in your seat and await harm. Both himself and Barbatos picked up on this, and easily put two and two together based on their collected records of the Port Mafia. Dia did not relent with inviting you over though, choosing to persevere and gain your trust as you also grew closer to the Demon Brothers. To his credit he does slowly weave his way into your heart, while also failing to notice the way you'd begun to worm your way into his own. Once you've finally given Diavolo some leeway and allowed him some sort of entrance into your life, he's fully intent on staying in that position. With the comparison of your Boss buried away, now all you can really compare him to is an excitable puppy.(To your dismay.)
Returning to the fact he does have a very baseline understanding of your past and your abilities thanks to those public records of yours, Diavolo is ever so eager to fully understand you and brings up those topics often in your short meetings together should you be comfortable enough to discuss it with him. There's a constant glimmer of intrigue in his eyes whenever you choose to use Rashōmon in front of him. It doesn't matter if you're intentionally trying to show off or if you're just using it's tendrils to perform a mundane task, Dia is deeply invested on seeing your ability in action. Many a drape or tea set has been lost to the gaping maw of Rashōmon: Agito, to the dismay of a certain butler respectfully at standby outside of the Prince's office. Diavolo has trouble truly relating to the plights imposed upon you by your separation from your sibling in the same way that the Demon Brothers can, but he bears enough empathy to understand why such a thing effects you in that way and never fails to extend words of comfort in your direction as needed.
Your position as a decently high ranking member of the Port Mafia doesn't truly effect his perception of you or your species either, both since he'd known about this fact prior and he'd now gotten to know you more than just the surface level amount that he could gleam from Human World records about you. If anything, having someone like you was more beneficial to the Exchange Program than it may have seemed at a first glance. Though the media and most of the world may have seen you as a cruel murderer and self-branded mafia dog, Diavolo had slowly come to know the true version of you the lied underneath your sharp, cold exterior. Humans are certainly fascinating... No wonder the Brothers are so fond of you.
Back on the topic of the Brothers, and one brother in particular, Diavolo is quite well aware of the circumstances he was sending you into when sending you back into the past. He may have had some reservations about quite literally sending you to your demise, but Dia trusted Barbatos' abilities. Knowing that you had lain dead at the foot of the stairs just a few moments prior was slightly unnerving to him, yet he was more so thankful that he didn't have to bear witness to the scene itself and that he could simply swoop in at the end and tie up any loose ends.
Hmm? What's that MC? Dia seems to be inviting you over an awful lot more than usual lately? Nonsense, nonsense. It's perfectly normal for him to invite you out every other day, with the occasional surprise slumber party. You are his favorite Human Exchange Student after all! Just don't tell Solomon. All jokes aside though, Diavolo does start showing a bit more interest in your wellbeing that he already had after everything that went down with Belphie. He's even extended the offer to let you stay at the castle many a time should you ever feel unsafe in the presence of the Avatar of Sloth, although he is fairly certain that Belphegor will bring you no harm. (Also hooks you up with the best psychologists and psychiatrists he can find, both for your past trauma and your brand new limited edition trauma.)
Sending you back home at the end of RAD's semester is a rather difficult subject for him. Dia shares the same worries concerning what may happen to you after your return to the Human World as the Brothers do, and he can't help but get caught up on the thoughts of worst cause scenarios. You spent so much time and effort to contribute so much to his Exchange Program, only to be sent back to incarceration, demise, or worse? And yet, he's the Demon Prince and soon to be Demon King. He's more than aware of the consequences of tampering with a human's lifespan, a crime in the Celestial Realm, and the effect that prolonged exposure to the Devildom has on humans. Putting aside his sense of companionship, Dia needs to sit down and have a long hard think. Most likely, he'll have Barbatos look ahead into your future to see if it's truly safe to send you back and find some way to keep Team "If Mc goes, so do I" in the Devildom. This is a very delicate matter, one that could perhaps even change the fate of the Three Realms as a whole due to your unique bloodline.
Barbatos:
Similar to his Lord, Barbatos is equally intrigued by you. Not particularly intrigued enough to let Diavolo move you into the Castle instead of the House of Lamentation, but at least somewhat more interested in you than he would usually be. Both him and Dia have done a bit of info-gathering and timeline inspecting prior to your arrival, but since he'd been requested to not look into your future unless asked after that Barbatos would need to actively seek you out should he desire to get to know anything more about you.
As it seemed to be good information to remember, Barbatos made it a point to give himself a decent amount of memory of your files. This includes but is not particularly limited to; the variations of your ability, the pure destructive capabilities of said ability, your past, your family tree, and records regarding your time in the Port Mafia. None of these factors startled or frightened him as it would most humans though, as he'd know quite a few demons in his time that had done far worse things with very little reasoning behind them. Nevertheless, Barbatos still needed to take these factors into account when certain matters involved you, such as your reckless streak of fights at RAD or your occasional visit to the Castle. No need to spend extra money on new antique furniture, décor, or bandages unless absolutely necessary after all.
Given his position and duties as Lord Diavolo's personal butler, this left himself with very little free time in general. Let alone free time that he'd wished to spend getting to know you and not winding down after a hard day's work. It's not that he didn't want to form some sort of bond outside of a baseline acquaintanceship with you, rather he found interactions to be particularly exhausting and draining after serving Dia all day long. So, the only true opportunities Barbatos has to get to know you are made up of chance run-ins and interactions. Or at least in the beginning it is.
Often you'd occasionally run into Barb in the halls of RAD and exchange a brief few words, but if you happened to not be in the company of any of the Demon Brothers and just so conveniently got a couple of scuffs and bruises from picking fights, Barbatos is quick to sigh and drag you off to an empty classroom. Setting aside whatever he happens to be holding on a nearby desk, Barb makes quick work of inspecting and treating any injuries you might have. All the while gently scolding you for your reckless behavior. These moments are strangely more intimate than any of your minute long chats in the halls or in between servings of tea with Diavolo, and the both of you oddly begin to crave this strange form of company as the Exchange Program continues on. Eventually one of you caves and gives up your little game of school delinquent and caring nurse, choosing instead to actually hang out like normal people do.
When bonding with Barbatos, most of it is done through the enjoyment of each other's company with bits of conversation sprinkled in. You're aware of just how little free time the loyal butler has, so it makes it all the more special when he invites you over for tea or out shopping with him. A decent chunk of your conversations consist of your day to day life rather than your past, but that doesn't mean Barb would bring it up from time to time should it be relevant to the current topic. Barbatos also uses your little personal meetings to introduce you to some new methods that might help you get a handle on your temper or adjust easier to your life in the Devildom. It becomes fairly commonplace that you end up returning to HOL with an armful of calming teas, sweets, advice notes, and lists after meeting him, so much so that you've just started bringing a reusable shopping bag with you whenever he invites you over.
Out of all of the Obey Me! cast, Barbatos is the person who asks the least about your ability and it's uses. He knows enough about Rashōmon to have a decent understanding of it and has probably seen it in his visions of different timelines, futures, and pasts. Unless you offer to use it in order to help him complete simple tasks like shopping or housekeeping, he'd prefer you not to use it at all. Diavolo's curiosity has caused the end of many drapes, armchairs, and rugs, and he'd rather not have to find Rashōmon shredding something any time soon. Plus Barb does become distressed quite a bit when he sees you coughing up blood from overuse, even if his face doesn't really show it at the time. If you desire to have a space to practice your ability, you're welcome to use it on any rats you find in the Castle though. He'd much prefer feeding them to the little creature that forms itself from your clothing, that pretty much disintegrates them, than deal with the mess left behind.
Barbatos also isn't off-put by the nature of your past. Like his Prince, Barb has met plenty of creatures throughout the Three Realms that have killed far more people for less reasons. If he was being truly honest, he'd consider your actions Child's Play in comparison to certain individual's he's met over the years. He'll offer you comfort and solace should you want or need it, but if you're worried about him bearing a distaste for you because of your role in the mafia, there's no reason to. Barb is far more interested in hearing you lovingly talk about your sister or any particular Human World teas that you're fond of anyway.
As previously stated with Diavolo, both him and Barb are well aware of the events following your release from the Attic. However, the image of your corpse is something that haunts his mind, most often in the late hours of the night. He'd jumped through many timelines until eventually arriving in one where you had succeeded in his original plan, but that wasn't without seeing a fair share of your demises. Luckily, years upon years spent shaping himself into the perfect butler allowed him to shove down these suffocating feelings. They do resurface eventually, but Barbatos keeps them hidden behind the door to his bedroom and later yours.
There's an exponential rise in Barb's invitations of companionship following the incident, much to the dismay of the Seven brothers already fighting amongst themselves and the Demon Prince for your attention. Diavolo has crashed a few of your "dates" with Barbatos at times, but for the most part it's just the two of you alone. These little meetings are fairly similar to the ones that had occured before, but they oddly just feel more domestic? Barbatos's gazes just feel softer and warmer, and his touches so, so gentle. He's handled ancient porcelain dishes far rougher than he does you. You've also noticed that Barb takes any chance he can get to subtly caress your face, but he'll dismiss it every time with a barely noticeable blush. You aren't slick Barbatos, we all know why you styled their bangs so they didn't hang in their face and why it took so long to finish.
Barbatos grows more and more apprehensive as the end of the Exchange Program nears. As much as he'd like to keep you in the Devildom for the rest of your days should you desire to stay, it's ultimately Lord Diavolo's choice in the end. He's already preparing to look into your future in the Human World when Dia asks, and fully ready to change timeline occurrences as needed. Just so long as Diavolo says the word. Perhaps if you had a bit more time to bond fully, instead of the sort of puppy love mutual crush relationship you shared, Barb might have considered going against his Prince's wishes a bit more.
Solomon:
Considering how much time this old man immortal sorcerer has spent roaming the Earth, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that Solomon does have a decent amount of knowledge about those special humans known as "Ability Users". He may not know too much about you and your ability specifically, but he's fairly knowledgeable about the concept and people involved as a whole. There's also a decent chance that Solo knows a couple of the groups run by Ability Users, like The Guild, Port Mafia, and ADA. If asked for a description based on his current level of awareness on the topic, Solomon would best describe Ability Users as magic users who are limited to one singular niche spell. As such, seeing you using an ability doesn't come as too much of a shock to him, unlike certain demons and Angels who'd come to expect the majority of humanity to be magicless and overall defenseless aside from their handmade weapons. Yet, even though he's well aware of others like you, he's still ever so intrigued by you and Rashōmon. Seeing a small tendril pop out of your coat and snatch your D.D.D. back after he'd picked it up for you had been the starting point of his fascination, and it progressively developed more and more over time. Like a sort of Snowball effect.
Since you're both humans who possess some rather inhuman qualities, Solomon decides to use that detail as a starting point to getting you to bond with him. He's not very successful in his advances at first, since the Demon Brothers had yet to even begin to whittle away and the massive emotional walls around your heart. But as you slowly begin to soften up and slightly quell your aggression, Monsolo finds just enough leeway to wriggle his way into your life. Given that you're still slightly iffy about him and make that fact obvious, he starts out his bonding with you very slow and steady. Solo lacks the advantage of sharing a house/dormitory with you like the brothers, so he has to think ahead and plan out the best ways of interacting with you and what topics to bring up or avoid. Lucky for him, it seems that you have a certain knack for getting into trouble, so extending a helping hand your way with his magic is a huge benefit to positively influencing the way that you think about him.
The time the two of you spend together start off small and somewhat insignificant, like a brief chat in the halls of RAD or small talk after a chance run-in, but as your relationship deepens from an acquaintanceship to a friendship, you begin to have actual outings. These range from going to a restaurant or café, to coming over to the Purgatory Hall for some tea or a brief study session. Solomon easily picks up on the fact that your past is a rather sore subject, so he holds off on asking about it until you are in a better place mentally.
A topic he does indulge himself in quite a bit is asking about your ability and just about every detail you are willing to provide about it. If you're up for giving him a demonstration he's rather pleased to watch and take notes, but Solo also easily notices when you are beginning to overuse Rashōmon and will stop you from doing so. After a bit of studying your ability and the ways that you can or choose to use it, should your relationship be at a comfortable enough level, he might offer to give you some advice on how to improve your control and usage Rashōmon based on spells that somewhat resembled certain aspects of your ability. He's quite happy should you take him up on his advice and potentially seek him out for more in the future, but Solo does understand should you also disregard it and choose to develop your ability in your own way with little outside help. Solomon also will offer himself up as a sparring partner if you want to ensure that you're in tip top shape at all times. Both of you are human for the most part, so you have relatively similar endurance levels, and Solomon can replicate a decent handful of abilities held by other ability users you had met.
Once you've reached a stage in your bond together where you are fully comfortable in his presence, he very subtly tries to get you to open up about your past. He backs off rather quick should it make you uncomfortable and waits to bring it up again for a bit, but eventually you give in and open up. When you're speaking about your past he's mostly silent aside from a few nods or hums that let you know that he's listening, all the while rubbing comforting circles into the back of your hand. Most days Solomon chooses to simply let you vent out all of your thoughts and emotions onto him while he calmly reassures and comforts you, but on the occasion he'll instead offer some advice on certain situations and any additional insights that you're comfortable with him adding in.
The fact that you're a decently high-ranking member of a mafia that contained some of the strongest Ability Users in Japan was a bit of a surprise at first, but given the additional details of your past before the Port Mafia and prior personality, the initial shock wears off fairly easily. It certainly would explain why you act so rough around the edges and try so desperately to not depend on anyone but yourself. Yet, Solomon's still not scared off or really even intimidated by this fact. It's reasonable to assume with how long he's been alive the he's at least had one or two run-ins with organized crime groups, and seeing as he's fairly alive and well after those experiences he's not too worried about being curb-stomped by your colleagues should he be caught hanging around you in the Human World. Though, perhaps you shouldn't have been calling yourself a "Mafia Dog" for all these years, since Solomon is now very taken with calling you every known somewhat aggressive dog breed in the book. His favorite in particular is "Akita", since you also happen to be a bit of the stubborn type.
Unlike Diavolo and Barbatos, Solomon and the rest of the members of Purgatory Hall are completely unaware of the incident following Belphegor's release from the Attic. They get a rather brief description that mostly entails just "Belphie was released, met Mc, and changed his views on Humans due to Mc's bloodline", but unless you openly tell Solomon he'd be none the wiser. Sure, he'd suspect something was somewhat off based on the very limited amount of details they were told, but as far as he can see you look to be alright for the most part. Possibly shaken up at times, but not too much out of the ordinary. By the time you've finally sat down and chosen to tell him the truth about that night, you've already had it cleared with Diavolo to be safe to talk about it and pulled him away to a secluded space where Simeon and Luke wouldn't overhear. Solomon doesn't really know how to react at first as you go through explaining the betrayal, your death, and subsequent revival, his hands simply hovering above your forearms while he stares into your eyes, desperately trying to swallow the knot slowly forming in his throat. It's silent for a few minutes once you've finished speaking, before he suddenly engulfs you in a tight hug. Most of what you hear him mutter into the crook of your neck seem to be words of comfort, but on the occasion you catch a poorly muffled sob and slight tremble in his speech.
After the night Solomon tries to pretend that nothing is wrong, mostly as not to alert the rest of Purgatory Hall, but you do notice a sudden spike in him fighting to get your attention from the Brothers. Sometimes you swear that he must've set an alarm for the most optimal times to invite you somewhere before the Brothers even get a chance, which at times gets to the point that they have to invite you out at midnight before Solomon swoops in.
As the end of the Exchange Program nears, Solomon begins to concoct plans on how to best keep you safe upon your return to the Human World. From what he knows it's likely fairly frowned upon for a high ranking mafia member to suddenly disappear and reappear months later unless ordered to, so he'd like to prevent that conflict from imposing itself on you. Honestly, it's quite likely that Solomon would either find you and your sister some place that you could live and lay low, or just simply let you and her live with him. The last option wouldn't be what he'd really prefer since Solomon can get into danger fairly often, but given that you and your sister can handle yourself decently well enough he may be pushed to reconsider. Even more so should it be requested by a certain Prince.
Simeon:
From your first meeting, Simeon can't seem to figure out what to think about you or how to properly approach. You're cold, somewhat bitter, and even aggressive at times, yet he can sense this underlying emotional injuries that you hide away in the deepest recesses of your heart under lock and key. Simeon both wants to exchange a helping hand in your direction and shy away from interacting with you outside of the bare minimum to be polite. With no real proper way to approach you aside from very brief stilted conversations, Simeon only really begins bonding with you after you've begun hanging around Solomon a lot more and become somewhat less hostile.
Deciding it to be the best course of action, Simeon approaches bonding with you in the same way he would with most younger angels that he spent time with. It's a little awkward for both of you at first, as his first couple of interactions in this manner unnerve you ever so slightly, but you grow accustomed to it overtime. Simeon also adapts his approach to better understand you and not potentially belittling you, moving from treating you like an angel in training to the same manner he usually treats Solomon, Diavolo, Barbatos, and the Demon Brothers.
Most of the time you spend with Simeon is spent in the company of the other Purgatory Hall members, but he does on occasion invite you out to do stuff with him alone. While you do enjoy hang out with Solomon and Luke, it's actually rather nice to spend some quality time with him. Most of your excursions aren't too long or too far away, but Simeon does his best to make sure that he picks places to go to that both of you would enjoy. He especially enjoys finding restaurants that serve Black Tapir or going to an escape room that he'd heard of from other students at RAD. But with how nice it is to spend time with Simeon, it's somewhat a frequent occurence that you accidentally get sent the wrong time or place due to his lack of experience in technology. Usually if you notice that the location or time looks weird you would just call him -since who would go to an arcade at 12am or some back alley right after RAD ended- but there has been situations where you waited in Purgatory Hall for a good couple of hours before the actual time Simeon had wanted you to meet him at.
Your ability is something he does find rather interesting, but he won't push you to show it off unless you're comfortable with it. Simeon can't help but inquire about how similar Rashōmon is to the power of the main character, Henry, from his series The Seven Lords, and if you're still fine with using it around him he may try and use you as a frame of reference for writing battle scenes or anything that involves Henry using his power. Often most of his referance material comes from just watching you and Solomon spar, as he is usually present to help with healing magic, but if you aren't opposed to it he'd gladly ask you to show off some of your abilities outside of the battlefield. Rashōmon: Sawarabi is his favorite of your attacks to see in action, but outside of combat he is quite fond of the little jawed creature that is created when you use Rashōmon: Agito to quickly consume something. He's thought a few times before about asking you to use the little creature to help with gardening as it could eat up any waste, but considering the size and destructive capabilities of it he later decided against it.
Simeon really isn't aware of your past unless you tell him, but even after you eventually confess of your position in the Port Mafia he makes no move to belittle you or treat you any different to how he usually would. He struggles to truly explain why, but he reassures you that he doesn't think of you any differently than he had before. Simeon doesn't bring the topic up unless you do, and does try to divert away from it when you show signs of discomfort or nervousness. He'll also offer himself up to you as a source of comfort on days you're feeling particularly homesick or just down, more than happy to reassure you or let you vent to your heart's content. In order to make you as comfortable as he can, Simeon does cast a few spells in the surrounding area that make the atmosphere more calming and soothing. The heavenly scent of fresh flowers takes your mind off the mafia and your parents, instead ushering in fond memories of your sister that you can't help but tell the Angel that is holding you in his arms so tenderly.
You initially put off even discussing anything about the Attic with any of the members of Purgatory Hall outside of the basics, but you can't help but find yourself craving to be comforted by the kind angel. Simeon is very gentle and delicate with the topic before you confide in the greater details with him, sensing that there may be some things that have been intentionally left out, but he doesn't force you to talk until you're ready. Throughout your entire explanation Simeon is doing his best to comfort you through touch alone, not wanting to interrupt your words. His thumbs rub comforting circles into your forearms, only stopping to wipe away any tears or apply a gentle pressure to your shoulder. Simeon pulls you in close once you've finished speaking, with your head resting on his chest as he runs his fingers through your hair. (If you're taller than him he does still have you rest your head on his chest, but he'll have to lay down a bit unless you really want to have a crick in your back tomorrow.) Though hearing of your demise does upset him, he chooses to prioritize your comfort over his own and make sure to do it to the best of his ability.
He's rather transparent when he begins inviting you out to spend time together after your explanation, and the places he takes you to are hand picked by him to be the most comfortable and secluded spaces in the Devildom. The Brothers are certainly jealous when they see you hanging around an Angel, but they can't complain too much on days that you and him spend time baking and bring some food home for them as well. You've noticed that Simeon has developed a sudden habit of resting his hands on the back of your forearms when walking side by side, but if you point it out he does play a rather unconvincing clueless act or tease you ever so slightly. Simeon has also started leaving his ringtone on a higher volume when going to bed just in case you happen to call in the middle of the night and need some words of comfort or just want to talk.
Like everyone else in the Exchange Program, besides Luke, Simeon does worry a good bit about what may happen to you upon returning home to the Human World. While Simeon would be more than happy to extend a hand and allow you and your sister to stay in the Celestial Realm for a bit, he's rather worried about how the other angels would react to your past. He may not judge you too much for your deeds in the mafia since he's gotten to know you as a person, but other angels in much higher positions of power very well may not be so kind. The most he can really do is try to be a comforting presence for you and hope that Diavolo or Solomon can figure something out.
Luke(Platonic):
Similar to Simeon, Luke is quite hesitant to interact with you. Honestly, he had though you were another demon upon meeting you for the first time until you had been introduced as the second Human exchange student, with how much your personality and demeanor replicated many of the stories about demons that he'd heard back in the Celestial Realm. Your ability wasn't also earning yourself any bonus points in his book, seeing as he'd nervously hid behind Simeon when you'd brought out Rashōmon to quickly dispose of the food Solomon had offered you. It's only after your sharp edges have softened up a bit and Simeon begins bonding with you that Luke attempts to approach you.
Luke's manner of approaching you in the beginning is slightly awkward, with him curiously following you around and watching you as you hang out with Simeon. This sort of reminds you a bit of the way a child gets to know one of their parents' or sibling's friends, so you try not too mind it too much. Simeon finds it rather cute at first but over time grows tired of watching Luke jump the second that you glance back at the wall he's peering at you from behind, and eventually just politely forces both of you to bond with one another.
A majority of the time that Luke spends with you is also in the company of Simeon, Solomon, and occasionally Barbatos, but as the two of you grow closer you do find the time to bake alone together or go out to a Devildom attraction that Luke had always wanted to see but not had the courage to ask Simeon to take him to. Most often you and Luke settle on just baking alone together though, as the Demon Brothers do sometimes crash your little outings to parks or Devil's Coast.
Your relationship soon blossoms from a rather forced acquaintanceship into a very sibling-like relationship over the course of your time spent together. Luke sorta reminds you of your sister and yourself when you were much, much younger, and you can't help but feel a little protective over him as he worms his way into a comfortable position in your heart. Though he's likely more powerful than you as well, you don't hesitate to at least try and protect him as much as you can. Luckily, Rashōmon makes a decent threat over most lesser demons that might pick at the young angel, and if all else fails you can subtly flaunt a pact mark or two of yours and threaten anyone messing with Luke to buzz off before you call one of the Seven Avatars of Hell to deal with them instead.
Returning to the topic of Rashōmon, it takes Luke a little bit to warm up to your Ability. In the beginning his take on it is fairly similar to Barbatos, in that he'd rather not see it or have you use it around him. The shadow-like entity puts him on edge in the same manner that demons do, even if you do have full control over it and it is formed from your clothing. But as he slowly sheds his prejudices against demons, Luke also begins to grow more intrigued than frightened by your ability. The times that you usually use Rashōmon around Luke after he's come to terms with it are still rather limited, but most of the time you simply use it to grab things off of high shelves or teasingly lift Luke in the air.
Early on into your friendship with the young angel, you decide not to bring up very much about your past. Telling him that you were a member of a rather infamous mafia would certainly scare him off, and you really didn't want him to know just how much blood stained your hands. You have to be very selective about what you do and don't tell him, as not to let any of the darker details of your past slip through, so Luke has a very limited understanding of your life in the Human World. As far as he's aware, you live alone in the suburbs of a Japanese city with your sister and work a rather physically draining job. It's not the best lie you could come up with, but it worked good enough to keep him from prying into your past or finding out about it before you're ready to tell him.
For similar reasons you also refuse to tell him much of anything about what happened after Belphie was released from the Attic outside of the basic information that had been given to the Purgatory Hall as a whole. You aren't sure how he would take it, and you'd rather not do anything that might smear the name of all demonkind in his mind more than the Celestial Realm already did. It's much nicer to just go out to try some cool new ice cream flavors or bake a cake from one of Barbatos's recipes than make your pseudo-younger brother find out about how you were literally murdered and dead for a good few minutes anyway.
Luke is somewhat confused when he picks up on just how apprehensive just about everyone around him was growing as the Exchange Program drew closer to a close, but chalks it up to the fact that once everyone returned to their respective realms that you'd miss one another. He does make sure to assure you that you will always be welcome to come and stay in the Celestial Realm if you'd like, but that insipid smile you give him when you ruffle his hair is oddly suspicious.
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
(There we are, Aku!Mc is all done for now! Unless y'all want the DLC for Season 2 lol. Apologies for my absence as of late, been going through some really rough mental times, but I am much better now!
I am not fully used to writing for the Side characters, Simeon and Luke especially, but I did my best! As always, any input is appreciated! Apologies is I missed any mistakes while editing and do let me know if you see any!
As they've requested, I'll be tagging @rakshamon to let them know about this fic and my upcoming BSD AU! Mc fics. If anyone else would like to be tagged as well, do let me know!)
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