#he's so different! and yet he's still just the same as ever!

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Four

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ heavy making out and wandering hands, lots of bickering, sexual tension, threats, name calling, torture and wound descriptions, abuse, two emotionally dysregulated cunts tbh

Word Count: 7.7k

←Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The air between you and Azriel had taken on a peculiar tension lately, some overwhelming, suffocating force that made you feel entirely too nervous for your comfort.  

Neither of you could ever pinpoint who made the first move— or rather, neither of you were willing to admit who did— but somehow, like clockwork, your dress was hiked up, his leathers were undone, and he was rutting into you from behind. It was always the same: a possessive grip on your waist, in your hair, or on your breasts, breath hot against your ear as he whispered words that only fueled the fire between you, responses to whatever comments you had made to rile him up.

It had become a distraction, this strange dynamic you created, that even Renard's interrogations had taken a backseat in lieu of it. It was proving increasingly difficult to get work done between fighting or fucking. 

The chamber was a dismal pit, darkness swallowing any hint of light that dared to enter. Moisture clung to the walls like a thick veil– the dirty, fetid atmosphere was tainted with the unmistakable stench of blood and other bodily fluids. You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

Azriel approached Renard, head cocking slightly to the side as his shadows danced around him— seemingly curious, excited almost. A twisted sense of satisfaction grew within you at the sight of Renard's pitiful state—starving, bloody, bruised, and desperate. 

Perhaps you should have felt some semblance of remorse or pity; even with how cruel Renard was, a compassionate soul should still feel a sense of guilt, a sense of sickness. But as you searched your body for it, as you attempted to muster it up, you came up empty handed. Instead, a rush of power surged through you. It felt like karma– well deserved karma.

You glanced at Azriel. There seemed to be a mirrored expression of satisfaction on his face, an unphased coolness to the situation before him. Even his shadows seemed at home, falling into familiar, rehearsed positions as he moved.  Deep down, something within you rested at the realization that he felt no remorse, either. 

“Is your plan to just stare at him until he confesses his secrets?”

Azriel could already anticipate the scowl on your face from the tone of your voice alone. He slowly turned his head to toss an unamused glare your way, hazel eyes momentarily scanning your figure. 

For the first time since this arrangement had begun, you were clad in something different, a departure from the usual dresses that adorned your form. The ensemble was a blend of regality and practicality, more akin to the attire of a warrior than a courtly lady— fitted pants and a tailored tunic, fabric adorned with subtle embellishments of autumn. It seemed as if Azriel wasn’t used to the sight yet— or he was entirely repulsed. You weren’t sure which, but you didn’t quite care, either. 

When his eyes met yours again, you gave him an impatient eyebrow raise, nodding towards Renard’s limp body. “Are you done checking me out yet?”

Azriel’s stare remained on you for a few more moments before he followed your line of sight back to the male before him. 

“Maybe if I didn’t have an incessant pest over my shoulder, I would be more successful.”

You stepped closer to him, a faint smell of night-chilled mist and cedar reaching your nose. “Maybe if you were actually good at anything besides harboring a grudge, you would’ve already been successful.”

Azriel didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Being a hypocrite isn’t a look fit for a lady.”

You let out an angry breath. 

Too much time had passed with Renard missing. Soon enough, your father was bound to get suspicious— and Eris was bound to get worried as well.  There wasn’t any doubt that Renard didn’t know much, not only because your father was a paranoid ruler, but because he failed to plan ahead more often than not. You didn’t need much information. All you needed was an idea of what Beron was planning, some inkling. Once you knew that, you could easily prevent it and ensure he didn’t gain any more power— ensure that Eris was set up to successfully overthrow him. 

But Azriel seemed to be taking his time, attempting to get other information about your court that could prove useful for the Night Court. 

“I think we’ve already established I’m past that title.”

Azriel looked at you. “Clearly.”

An all-too familiar simmering prickled at your skin and you clenched your jaw, matching the intensity of his glare with one of your own. 

Renard let out a weak chuckle, blood staining his teeth as he lifted his chin. 

“Listening to you two bicker is almost worse than the actual torture. You’re like a married couple. It’s pathetic.”

Azriel’s head snapped towards the male and a growl rumbled through the room. “Watch your mouth.”

But Renard only sneered, turning his bloodshot eyes to Azriel. “Big bad Shadowsinger, always lurking in the dark. Afraid to face your own inadequacies in the light, boy?”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, tendrils of shadows now swirling around him, agitated, buzzing with a need to move. Renard offered a sickly, bloodied grin as he observed their movement. “No wonder you hide behind those shadows—they're the only things that can stand being around you.”

There was a pause as Azriel’s gaze grew predatory. And then a small, involuntary sound left your lips. 

It surprised you as much as it did Azriel, who turned to look at you with a furrowed brow and growing scowl. Your eyes widened a fraction at the sound, and within seconds, you let out a laugh.

The softness of it felt sinful, felt completely and utterly wrong— and something rippled throughout Azriel’s body at it, dug its way deep down into him until his wings felt slightly limp. From around his arms, his shadows slowed, coming to a curious, awe-filled stop. They began whispering, but he paid no attention. He pushed the foreign sensations away, his surroundings registering in his mind as he scowled.

“What the hell are you laughing at?”

You shook your head, another laugh escaping your lips at his face, contorted in frustration—  in an irritated confusion of being so caught off guard. His wings flared out, twitching slightly in response to the repeated sound.  “Nothing,” you said, “Your life just may be more pathetic than I thought if you’re getting psychoanalyzed by the male you’re torturing.”

Azriel’s irritation deepened as a grin grew on your face. “Shut up.”

A weak scoff drew your attention back to the bound male next to you. 

“You shouldn’t be laughing, princess.”  Renard’s eyes gleamed with malice as he shifted his gaze to you.  “Pretending to be tough, but the only reason you’re here is because you’re too weak to do anything on your own. Everyone knows Beron’s little girl is just a pathetic, needy bitch.”

The laughter died in your throat almost instantly, jaw clenching as your amusement quickly faded into a red haze of annoyance. A flame flickered at your fingertips. 

“Careful,” you warned. You moved to take a step towards Renard, but Azriel’s hand shot out instantly, stopping you with a firm grasp around your arm. 

You glanced down at where his hand met your body before pulling yourself away with a scowl. “Can you just do your job so we can kill him already?”

Your voice had a bitter, agitated edge to it now, a drawl that sounded more whiny than it did threatening. Azriel folded his arms, a gleam in his eyes as he responded with a mocking, “Why? Did he hit a nerve?”

You growled, watching as the edges of his lips turned up slightly— just enough for you to notice, just enough for that hint of an arrogant smirk to bother you. 

 “I think I preferred when you stayed quiet and sulked in your shadows.”

Azriel continued to stare at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his face. A sense of annoyance prickled at your skin, mixed with something that tasted nauseatingly like embarrassment. Faintly, you felt the rush of heat threatening to spread to your cheeks. 

You clenched your jaw harder, gaze flickering from Azriel’s amused face to Renard’s bruised, snickering one. You landed back on Azriel with a sneer. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face before I do it for you.”

Azriel watched in amusement as you stormed off, disappearing with another huff of annoyance and a vulgar gesture over your shoulder. 

Renard turned to him with a vile grin. “I have to ask. What’s she like, Shadowsinger? We’ve all wanted to fuck her. I bet she’s just as desperate in bed as she is—”

Azriel's expression darkened instantly, shadows swirling violently around him as he flared his wings out, poised and deadly. He held Renard by the throat, grip unyielding, siphons glowing angrily. His voice was deadly calm as he muttered, "I warned you to watch your mouth."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Only a couple hours had passed when Azriel found you again in the Spring Court, standing in the small house he’d grown strangely accustomed to. 

“You're here.”

You glanced over your shoulder, a sarcastic smile tugged at your lips. "Great detective skills on your part. Think you could use those with Renard?"

Unphased, Azriel rolled his eyes, the motion barely perceptible but unmistakable to someone who had spent as much time with him as you had. He moved with silent grace until he was standing right behind you, shadows hovering over his shoulders. 

"What's all this?"

His tone was flat as he took in the various items you had strewn across the table.

You shrugged, not bothering to turn around. "I brought some things so I wouldn’t need to keep going back and forth."

You could feel his presence behind you, the warmth of his body caressing over your skin as he leaned closer. Azriel's gaze landed on a leather-bound notebook among your belongings. 

"What's the notebook for?"

You stared at it for a moment, gingerly picking it up in your hands. There was a smirk on your lips as you turned to face him, face seemingly innocent and sweet. 

"All my private thoughts and hopes and dreams. At night, I sit with it and write in cursive letters, 'I hope the shadowsinger shuts the fuck up and stops being nosy.'"

Your voice started light, teasing, but as you finished the sentence, your expression hardened into a glare. Azriel seemed anything but amused, and a muscle feathered in his cheek. He gave no verbal response, opting to keep his gaze trained on you until you let out a huff of annoyance. 

He’d collected certain observations of you over the past few weeks. 

You rolled your eyes in almost every conversation he held with you. You smelled like a crackling fire and forest pine branch, something so similar to fresh fall air. He’d seen you sneer more than he’d ever seen you smile— which was once, today, as Renard commented on his shadows and apparent self-loathing. But most of all, you hated prolonged eye-contact. It made you angry, frustrated— flustered even. Azriel wouldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt every time he watched your jaw clench, watched the tinge of pink appear on the apple of your cheeks.

“What?” You snapped, glaring at him through your lashes. 

“Any particular reason you're more insufferable than usual?” 

An eye roll. “Bite me.”

“Hmm.” A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Do you want me to?”

Your mouth parted for a fleeting second. And then you scowled, nose scrunching at the movement. “I brought this to keep track of everything I find out about my father and Koschei.” You shoved the journal into Azriel’s chest with a little more force than necessary.

Azriel frowned, catching it effortlessly. His shadows flowed to his fingers, gliding across the cover as he flipped it open. He glanced at you through his lashes, a single brow arching in question. “This is empty.”

“Point proven,” you shot back, “Go back to Renard and find something useful. We’re running out of time.”

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you. “I wasn’t aware we were on a deadline.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Another sigh of annoyance left your lips. "Beron is bound to realize that Renard isn't on some drunken bender anymore. He's going to come looking. I don't want there to be anything for him to find."

Azriel's lips quirked in a small, humorless smile. "I think I'm capable of hiding a trail or two."

"Are you sure about that?" You narrowed your eyes. "Because you barely seem able to get Renard to do anything besides read you like a boring, sad, self-loathing book."

Azriel let out a scoff, glancing to the side as he threw the journal back onto the table behind you. You clenched your jaw at the movement, at the sound of the thud it created as it fell onto the wood. 

"Your insults are getting weaker, princess. Maybe you should take some lessons from him."

"Shut up," you snapped, the words coming out more petulant than you'd intended. 

He crossed his arms across his chest. Your eyes fell to his hands, to the siphons that beamed with color in front of you. His shadows followed the movement, gliding down his forearms and around his wrists.

“What would happen if Beron found out you were sneaking around? That you were holding Renard?”

His voice drew your attention back to his face, where his eyes were narrowed in on you in a deep, curious, almost unsure gaze. 

Your answer was swift, no hesitation. “He would kill me.”

Azriel wasn’t quite sure why his body reacted the way it did, why he felt himself flinch, why his wings seemed to twitch in discomfort. Whatever the reason, you noticed the reaction immediately, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly—- a motion nearly minuscule for the normal eye, but you were talented at picking up these things. Years of blending in gave you such abilities— and weeks around Azriel made it easier to read his tells.

There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy. You broke eye contact, dropping your eyes to the ground as you absentmindedly kicked your shoe at some tracked-in dirt. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” you said nonchalantly, “My father has no ties to me beyond the unfortunate blood in my veins. I’m a bitch to be bred by the highest bidder.”

Something tightened in your chest as you paused for a moment. You blinked away the images that were flowing in through the corners of your mind. “I’m not worth any extra hassle.”

A silence followed. Your gaze was still on the ground, still on your black boots and the floor beneath you. A faint motion caught your eye and you watched as a tendril of Azriel’s shadow drifted to the ground— cascading down his ankle before it fell to the ground, stopping at your feet.

“I’d say,” Azriel murmured.

His words ran through you like a cold chill.

Azriel watched as something dark and fleeting passed through your eyes. You stood up straight, dropping your hands to grip the edges of the table as you leaned the small of your back against it. The faint smell of something burnt lingered in the air.

You tilted your head at him, gaze flickering between his eyes. And then a mocking, sly grin pulled at the edges of your lips. It felt unnatural. “Says the man who fucks me in the forest like a starved beast.”

Azriel’s hands slowly dropped from his chest. He took a step forward. A sense of tension crackled in the shared air, and you felt it within your stomach— a small flicker of fire.

“You let me.”

You shrugged. Heated pooled in your veins.  “A good fuck is a good fuck.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a smirk, and his hand reached out to trace up your arm. You tightened your grip on the edge of the table as the touch traveled through your skin. “It doesn’t bother you that it’s me?”

There was something inherently dangerous about the way he spoke, about the taunting, accusatory tone his words now dripped with. He traced the movement of his hand with his eyes, continuing a path up your arm. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His eyes flickered up to yours. You took a deep breath. 

“Truthfully?” He leaned in closer.  “I loathe it.”

His movements momentarily stilled, but you felt his shadows continue the path he’d started, felt as they slowly snaked up your arms. 

“Yet you keep coming back.”

His eyes darkened, and then he let out a soft, cool hum.  “A good fuck is a good fuck.”

By now, you were inches apart, the space between you a thin, taut with a suffocating tension that made it hard for you to breathe. His shadows slithered around you, caressing your skin so delicately you could’ve sworn it mimicked a lover's touch— their darkness wrapping around your neck, weaving themselves through strands of your hair.

You bit your lip, and Azriel's hand moved to your mouth, the pad of his thumb slowly pulling your bottom lip down. "You said you don’t care about Koschei,” he murmured, “That you just want to help your family.”

He released your lip, thumb resting on your skin as he held your chin in his hand.  He titled your head to his line of sight. “But Eris doesn’t know about Renard.”

"No, he does not.”

Your voice was quieter now, a low, soft tone that made Azriel almost groan in response. The feeling went straight through his body, coiling in his stomach and making his cock twitch. 

"Would he disagree with the methods?" 

Azriel’s lips were inches from yours, the space between you practically nonexistent. 

You frowned at the question, feeling your chest tighten as his mouth hovered near yours. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on the table turned iron, feeling the chipped wood beneath your fingertips. 

"He would disagree with me interfering so boldly with my father.”

"Because it would get you killed," Azriel stated.

"Yes.” 

His nose brushed against yours, and he met your gaze as his hand moved to wrap around the base of your neck. 

"You’re willing to continue this even if it risks your life?" 

You felt strangely exposed, naked in a way that you’d never felt before— not even when your clothes had been torn off and he was deep inside you, hands roaming your naked skin with a scorching touch and a ravenous mouth. This felt intimate. You didn’t like it. 

You traced the features of his face, his gaze still laser-focused on you, intense and wanting. He had a few freckles across his cheeks that you’d never noticed, and the flecks of green in his eyes were overshadowed by his dilated pupils. You took a deep breath, finding the courage to meet his heavy gaze once more. 

"Wouldn’t you do something similar?"

Azriel paused. A sense of conflict passed through his eyes as he pulled back slightly, just enough to scan your face entirely. 

"No," he finally said. He hesitated for a moment. "I’d do the exact same thing."

There was a beat of silence. You stared at one another, breaths turning heavy, ragged. Your heart thundered beneath your ribs. Before you could come to your senses, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull him into you. Azriel responded eagerly, mouth slotting over yours with a natural, practiced ease. 

His hands fell from your neck, tracing down your waist until his palms gripped your hips, pulling your body further into his own. You let out a sound of pleasure at the feeling, at how his hands explored you, how the heat of his body seared against yours. You melted into his touch.

Azriel’s lips trailed along your jawline, and with a guttural groan, he  suddenly spun you around, pulling you back against him with a possessive force, his arousal pressing hard into your beck. 

The sudden change in position only fueled the haze in your mind and you placed your hands over his, following as he roamed over your curves. You threaded your fingers through his, roughly guiding his palm up your chest, moving to cup it over your breast. 

His lips nipped at your ear from behind.

"This change in wardrobe is interesting," he murmured, voice husky and rough with a delicious sense of desire.

You tilted your head slightly, reveling in the feeling of his breath against your skin. "Don't like it?" 

He chuckled lowly, his hands cupping your breast roughly. “Don't particularly favor how difficult it seems to take off."

The sensation of his touch sent a rush of heat coursing through you. Every inch of you burned with need— an all-consuming, humiliating need. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned into his touch, head falling back onto his shoulders as his lips found the skin beneath your ear. 

You raised a hand to tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, your eyes opening once more as his touch grew hungrier, rougher. 

The view of the table slowly came into focus. Your gaze fell to the notebook, its empty pages seemed to mock you with their blankness, and you blinked as a sense of sanity washed through you like a cold tide. 

With a jolt, you pushed yourself away from Azriel, prying his hands off your body as you broke the heated embrace.

Azriel blinked, shadows rushing back to him as if startled by the sudden pull away. His hair was tousled, lips still tingling from the kiss.

"What is it?" he asked, breathing heavy. 

You took a moment to compose yourself, patting down your disheveled hair with quick hands. "I’m bored. This isn’t doing it for me," you lied. You swallowed as Azriel’s stared at you with a furrowed brow. "Just go work on Renard."

You left no room for him to respond. Within the blink of an eye, you had disappeared from Azriel’s sight. 

His hands ran through his hair, attempting to shake off the lingering effects of the moment with you. The air still felt suffocating, still smelled of you and the sweet, addicting scent of your arousal. He scowled to himself.

His shadows slowly moved down his frame, falling to the ground and gliding across the floors. His eyes fell down to their movement, watching as they wrapped around a foot of the table, as they made their way up to the tabletop. 

He squinted at where they landed, reaching a finger out to the area that they traced. There, etched into the wood, was a faint outline of a burnt handprint— a perfect replica of your palm. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Even with the familiar scene of pine and earth, returning home to the Forest House– to your court— never brought you a sense of comfort. But today, with the heat of your blush still spreading through your cheeks, you welcomed the quiet, empty halls. 

The soft patter of paws drew your attention as Laney approached with her head lowered. A small smile grew on your lips as she nudged you with her wet nose, but quickly the smile dropped as a small whine escaped her. 

Kneeling down, you gently ran your fingers across her coat. "What's wrong, girl?"

She only nudged your hand once more and turned, leading you deeper into the house.

A sense of foreboding settled over you as you followed her through the corridors. Your steps quickened when you spotted Flint lying outside Eris’s room. The dread in your chest grew heavier. Eris had a special connection to Flint. There were only a few situations in which he’d refuse the company.

Your face fell as you pushed the door to Eris’s room,  heart clenched at the sight before you. 

Eris sat on a small, velvet bench at the end of his bed, his head snapping back to the sound of his door opening. His expression quickly softened when he met your eyes, and you watched as his shoulders slumped.  “It’s just you.”

You gave him a small nod as he turned back around, your gaze falling to the blood-soaked shirt he wore, the crimson color spreading throughout the thin fabric. Flint and Laney pushed past you, paws pattering on the ground as they entered the room. A heavy feeling settled in your chest, something entirely dark and queasy. 

Eris grumbled as Flint neared him. “Shit. Y/N, close the godsdamn door.”

“I-” You snapped out of your daze, quickly closing the door before rushing over to him, gently pushing the hounds aside. “I’m sorry.”

You sat down next to him. “They just want to help you,” you said quietly. 

Eris sighed, a deep, weary sound. “I know. I just—”

Your eyes wandered to the hounds who had settled down nearby. Such regal, cunning, smart creatures. You’d never think them caring enough to sense such pain, yet here they were, eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the situation. Flint let out a small whimper, laying his head on his paws.

You looked back at Eris, slumped with his head in his hands, spine curved in a manner that made his wounds pour deeper into his shirt. A similar thought made its way through your mind. Your brother, regal and intelligent, a male who carried so much, who bore his father’s wrath time and time again– a male with a warm heart somewhere deep within the anger he radiated. The heavy feeling in your chest grew, began to fester into something fighting between fury, loathing, and suffocating sadness. 

“What happened?”

Eris didn’t lift his head, voice muffled by his hands. “He found me talking to my men. It wasn’t anything. Wasn’t about Koschei, wasn’t even about him.” 

There was an exhaustion in his voice that dripped with every word. 

“He was feeling particularly upset today,” Eris finished as he lifted his shirt, revealing the full extent of the damage. The lashes were deep, and you could see the dark, almost blackened edges where your father’s special concoction had seeped into the wounds. Eris bit back a groan, jaw clenched tightly.

That heavy feeling in your chest turned hot, burning— all consuming. So many things ran through your mind, overwhelming, crushing floods of emotions drowning your senses. 

You registered the anger first, the empty, crushing pressure of it, a feeling you’d grown too familiar with. Anger at your father, at the situation you were all trapped in, at the sheer unfairness of it all. 

And then it was guilt. Dark, suffocating, guilt. Renard missing had probably put your father on edge. Not only had you lied about it, kept it a secret, but you hadn’t been there when Eris needed you most. Instead, you’d been entangled with Azriel, a male who had no respect for you, for your family, who would so willingly watch your brother suffer. Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was nothing you could say, nothing that would make this situation okay, that would take away Eris’s pain– that would prevent it from happening all over again. You swallowed.

“Eris-” 

He lifted his head and turned to you a resigned expression, eyes slightly wide with desperation.  "I’m going to call it all off. We can’t meet with them now, not for a while.”

You didn’t need to ask for clarification, you already knew who he was talking about, what alliance he was referring to. You shook your head. “No, we need-”

"It’s too dangerous," he interrupted, voice urgent and pleading. "He’s watching everyone more closely now. If he finds out you're involved, I don't know what he'll do."

You shook your head faster, a hard sense of determination flaring in your chest. "We can’t, I can't. I need to figure something out. I need to help you."

Eris sat up straighter, grimacing at the motion as he reached out, his hand finding a firm but gentle on your wrist. "You need to stay safe, Y/N. Please. Nothing else matters."

You looked at him, brows furrowed and throat tight. Your strong, protective brother now reduced to pleading with you. You took a deep, ragged breath. “It all matters. I need to help you, okay? I need to make sure you have the upper hand."

Eris just shook his head, shook it so firmly and desperately that you could’ve sworn he was a teenager again, hand on yours as he scolded you for breaking something.

"Please," he repeated, his voice breaking. “Just listen to me."

A wave of helplessness washed over you, and now you felt small again, felt as if you’d shrunk in place. Your mind traveled back, throwing you into memories where you’d hide away from your father, fearing his disappointed hand, desperate for approval but receiving only pain. The same feeling bubbled in your chest.

You swallowed hard.  "I can't just stand by and do nothing."

Eris's eyes softened. "You want to help me? Stay safe.” 

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. The words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You couldn’t promise him that. You couldn’t lie. So instead, you turned your attention to his back, to the angry wounds that marred his skin. 

"Here, let me help you," you murmured. He gave you a long look, then nodded, slowly moving his body to expose more of his back to you. 

You moved your hand to his back. Heat surged through you, flickering at your fingertips. Your hands shook, trembled as you attempted to focus. You tried to channel it, to control that divine fire within you, but the energy was wild and unsteady. A self-loathing bite gnawed at you. 

"I can't—" you whispered, the words laced with frustration. 

Renard’s's taunting voice echoed in your mind. Too weak to do anything on your own.

Eris turned to look at you again, calm words breaking through the rising storm you felt inside your chest. "It's okay,” he said, “I can do it."

"I'm sorry.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his features. “There's nothing to be sorry for.”

There was something about the fact that he was able to smile, that he pulled such a gesture out for you, that made the bitter loathing inside of you spread even faster. 

"Just stay with me?” Eris asked. 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Of course.”

With one hand, he held yours, and the other twisted over his back. You watched as his own hands began to heat up, glowing with a controlled, steady flame. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

All you felt was anger. All you saw was red.

Memories flashed in your mind, one after another. Eris’s bloodied wounds and the far-off look in his eyes, your mother hid away from the world and the echoes of her crying, being forced to clean the floors of your brother’s blood, your paralyzing inadequacies. It all twisted inside you, each image wrapping itself around your ribs, wounding itself tight enough to make you struggle to breathe.

You weren’t sure how you got here, but the smell of blood in the air tasted sweet on your tongue. Renard lay slumped in the metal chair. Despite his appearance, a mocking grin spread across his split lips as you entered.

“Come back for more, have you?” 

The sight of him, significantly more battered than the last time you’d seen him, brought a welcomed sense of satisfaction. At your sides, you clenched your fists until they were white. 

“I’m done playing,” you said, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “Tell me what you know.”

Renard’s grin widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I'm trembling in fear,” he mocked, “What's a dolled-up whore like you going to do?”

Something inside you snapped. 

With a snarl, you lunged forward, hands slamming down onto the metal chair. All the anger, all the pain, everything you’d been holding back, surged through you. The metal beneath your palms began to heat up, the sensation almost soothing in its intensity— cathartic, even. 

Renard’s eyes widened. “I already told you both, fuck, I already gave you all I know!” he shouted, painful groans leaving his mouth as the hot metal below him began to bite at his exposed skin. “We don’t know anything.”

“You’re a liar!” 

In the back of your mind, you grasped at your resolve, grasped at the strength you needed to keep your desperation hidden— all attempts proved futile. You grabbed Renard’s neck, fingers digging into his flesh as a simmering heat radiated down your arm. “Tell me what you know!” 

Renard’s screams filled the room, his body writhing in agony. “I don’t—” he choked out, voice hoarse with pain. You stared at your hand, stared at the flicker of flames that began had to grow, watched as they moved to Renard’s skin–

But before the flames could fully spread, black smoke enveloped your wrist, wrapping around it with a smothering, extinguishing touch. 

Not smoke—shadows. 

A hand grabbed you next, pulling you back with a rough hand. 

You pulled against the familiar grip. “Let me go, you foul-bred animal!” 

Azriel’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You struggled against him, but his hold was firm. 

Within a blink, you were winnowed to an open area in the forest, the sudden transition leaving your senses reeling. A cool breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. You blinked. And then you pushed Azriel off, staggering back with the force of the motion. Your heart pounded with residual fury, a trickling sense of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“What do you not understand about 'let me go'?” you spat, “Is there something in those bat genetics of yours that makes you lose brain functioning at random intervals?”

Azriel’s didn’t budge. “Do not go back there.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Shadowsinger. I think it’s time I handle this on my own.”

“Handle it?” he echoed, his shadows curled at his fists. “You were about to burn him alive, losing control like some child throwing a tantrum.”

The color drained from your face. “And you’re the expert voice on self-control?”  The taste of resentment lingered on your tongue, sour and sickly familiar. “Where was this energy when you slaughtered and tortured my brother’s men? When they were being controlled, when they knew nothing?”

Azriel’s wings twitched almost imperceptibly. Your voice fell slightly to a tone lower, more raw. 

“Was what I was doing truly that bad, or do you only care that it’s me doing it?”

There was a beat. Azriel looked away before finding your eyes again. He shook his head, a small scowl on his face. “What are you implying?”

Something inside you shifted as you stared at him, every detail seemingly magnified, as if your emotions had sharpened your perception at last. You’d noticed this intensity around him, wrote it off as the thrill of an adversary. But you realized now, as Azriel stood before you, that he was something else entirely: a stark embodiment of everything you loathed, everything you sought to avoid, and everything you secretly craved. 

He wielded cruelty with impunity, praised for his ruthlessness, while his family basked in the warmth of love and freedom, despite their own moral shortcomings. And now he stood before you, a bastard-born nobody who had stumbled into luck, blind to anything beyond his own skewed perceptions. 

There was a defiant, knowing glint in your eyes, as if something had been confirmed— as if that you'd found the answer to some question you’d asked for centuries. 

“You are so desperately searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as you’ve made me out to be.”

Azriel's eyes narrowed slightly. His demeanor remained outwardly composed, a practiced facade of stoicism and indifference, but the glow of his siphons gave him away. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You raised an eyebrow, fists slowly unfurling at your sides. Your breath was more even now.

“I understand more than you think. You’ve been waiting for me to slip, to prove that I’m just like—” 

“Beron.”

You paused, slighting flinching at how much contempt was fit into one word.

Eris. You were going to say Eris. Not Beron. Not your father. 

A flash of hurt crossed your face and something in Azriel’s chest tightened. His shadows fell into a frozen wreath around his arms. 

“Right,” you scoffed, moving to brush past him. “Then I better do a good job and prove you right.”

Azriel stopped you with a casual sidestep, wings flaring out to block your path further.  “Do not go back there.”

“I will do whatever the hell I please,” you hissed, meeting his gaze defiantly. There was a burning hatred in your eyes that he’d never felt before, something more foul and rotten than what had been there before. 

Azriel’s jaw clenched even further as he let out an angry breath. The strength of your gaze alone triggered his hand to instinctively wander to the dagger on his hip, to the cool steel of Truth-Teller. His shadows curled around his fingers, threading through them as if calling him back to reality. He blinked, and then pulled his hand away, flexing it as he looked at you once more.

“Why?” 

Azriel's voice was probing, his gaze searching—  scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you itch. 

“Why what?”  you snapped back, your tone sharper than you intended, the itch spreading, making you want to pace or scream, anything to shake off his intense stare, to rid yourself of the tightening in your chest.

“You’re desperate. This wasn’t as thought out as you tend to be.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh, feeling the sound scrape against your throat. "Because you know me so well?" The words felt like ash on your tongue, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth.

“Yes,” he stated simply, his eyes piercing into yours still. “We’re allies. Explain yourself.”

"I was just trying to pick up your slack and get information." The lie rolled off your tongue naturally.

But Azriel wasn’t buying it. "No, that’s not it," he countered, "We’re working for the same side. There is no reason for you to go off like this."

You gritted your teeth, the pressure making your jaw ache.  “We are not working for the same side.”

“We have an alliance.”

His calm demeanor only fueled your frustration. Your hands fell into a familiar position at your side, curled into tight fists, your nails biting into your palms.

“Your alliance with Eris is to support him when he takes over the throne. But when it comes to Koschei, there is no doubt in my mind you’re willing to undermine your allies to get rid of his threat. And in doing so, you’ll endanger me and my family.”

Your voice was rising, the words spilling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. “ I want to— I need to know everything before any moves are made. My brother needs an edge to stay ahead, and he sure as hell isn’t going to get it if he’s playing by the rules and having to defend his every move because of this stupid agreement.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening to near black. “Eris wouldn’t need to defend himself if he wasn’t a vile snake.”

Rage boiled through you, its fiery grip yanking onto your stomach and your chest.The intensity of it casted a hazy glow, distorting your vision with its searing heat.

“I am fed up with your little group thinking that we need to beg for your forgiveness. Tell me, does it get cold on all of that moral high ground? Does the high horse ever get uncomfortable?”

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, the contact sending a jolt up your arm. Azriel's hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly.

 "Perhaps Eris feels the need to beg for forgiveness because of the acts he’s committed.”

“And what has he done? Besides refusing to give in to every whim?” 

You tried to yank your hand free, but his grip held firm. Your pulse pounded in your temples, a steady, throbbing beat. You felt that familiar prickling feeling grow across your skin, a simmering fire creeping up your arm.

“He left Morrigan in those woods to die.”

He dropped your hand, the action almost dismissive, as if he couldn’t bear to touch you anymore. You pulled it back into you and took a step back, shaking your head. Of course. The thought echoed in your mind, bringing a bitter realization that settled like a stone in your stomach. 

“It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” 

Azriel’s expression hardened, centuries of a grudge etched into every line of his face. His shadows danced around him, dark tendrils coiling and writhing like live fire across his body. You felt it radiating off him in waves— a palpable hatred that made your skin prickle. It was a feeling so intense you wondered how he had managed to lessen it before, how he could bear to be inside you, even with you turned away.

“My brother didn’t put that nail in her. He didn’t touch her at all.”

Azriel’s eyes were hard as steel. “He left her there. Naked, scared, and dying.”

“He gave Morrigan mercy in the only way he knew how.” 

“You call that mercy?” 

“Yes! Eris was just as much of a child as Morrigan was.”

Every word felt rancid now, burned like bile in your throat, fueled by a protectiveness born from years of standing by your brother's side. You stepped closer to Azriel, not bothering to hold back the flames that now licked at your skin. His shadows coiled around his arms, formed an almost protective barrier around his clenched fists. 

“Do you know what my father would have done had Eris touched her, helped her at all? He didn’t take lightly to the disrespect and humiliation she passed. He would have made a public show and slaughtered her. Just as he later did with Jesminda.”

Azriel stayed quiet, stayed eerily still as he watched you. You didn’t expect a response. A new emotion curled itself into your gut, something much heavier than anger, than rage. You thought about Eris, thought about the lashes on his back, thought about how he used to stay awake at night to wander the halls, listening outside of your parent’s chambers in case your mother needed help. You thought about how he’d helped you bury Jesminda, how he’d kept a figurine of Lucien’s to give to you. 

No matter what he did, or what you did for him, he would never be free— not truly. Not from his past and the assumptions people have made of him. He would always be cruel. And you, in association, would always be evil. Vile. It was in your family's nature. You felt foolish for thinking otherwise, for not learning how to take your rage and make it something useful, forge it into a weapon, train it like a beast to eat the remaining shreds of your empathy.

Eris deserved better. He was better than Rhysand. He was better than the male that stood before you. 

"But none of this matters to you," you continued, your voice tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Even if it's the truth.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. You didn’t need further confirmation that your words held true. He would never accept a version of that night besides his own, because a version that included the truth would force him to see Eris as something other than a wicked, evil male. As long as your brother was worse than Azriel, as long as there was someone worse than him, he’d never have to face the fact that he wasn’t as good of a male as he claimed to be.

"You make excuses for your brother, but where are yours?" Azriel finally spoke. "You've done cruel things. You've hurt people. Killed people." His gaze flickered to your fists wreathed in flames. "Burned them alive," he added.

The fire at your arms grew in response to his words.  You cocked your head. And then you ignored him. "You threatened my life. At that High Lord’s meeting—  you lost control, put my brother in a chokehold, and threatened my life."

Azriel's nostrils flared and his siphons began to shine with a dangerous, angry glow. 

"I dare you to live up to your word, Shadowsinger," you challenged, taking a slow step towards him. "I'm here. I've been here.” His eyes traced your every movement. 

“And yet, you've just fucked me."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a mix of anger and shame that he quickly masked behind a veil of indifference. But you saw it, felt it, reveled in it.

"You're weak, Azriel," you said, voice low and calm. "A slave to your anger, to your impulses, to your High Lord. You have always been weak."

He blinked at the sound of his name falling from your lips, a wave of uncertainty washing through his face. But his eyes stayed on you, still burning, still angry. They simmered hotter now, heavier with a new strain of contempt. 

Your breath escaped in a half-hearted chuckle. "It's a pity," you said, shaking your head slightly. Your flame dwindled to a faint firefly glow. "To see such a pretty face marred by blind devotion."

With one final glance, you turned on your heel and winnowed away. You didn’t see Azriel again for two more weeks. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

←Part Three

guys.... the next part is one of my favorites tehehehe cause its mainly just azriels perspective and where his mind is at. PLUS this is where those content warnings start to get lighter :DDDD

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[yayakoishii]

Please please please!! Sanji x reader request during whole cake island where sanji and reader were already a thing prior to the event and how torn up sanji is over it. Especially if they still hadn't said I love you yet and sanji is realizing that yes he loves reader and wants to marry them but he can't cause he wants to protect them and everyone. Reader having a similar realization/crying to the crew about it and Luffy going, nope this is happening I'm a captain and I'm marrying you two (let's pretend he learned captains can marry people from shanks but he still doesn't know what marriage is just that he can do this so he wants to do it)

Yours To Love | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre/Tags: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love Confession, Spoilers for Wholecake Island arc

A/n: I hope I'm not too late anon!! I think it's been a week or so since you sent this, so I hope you get to see this <3 I really sat down and wrote this in one sitting like a possessed person hahahah~ Thank you for the request and I hope this is to your liking (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) I tweaked your request very very minorly but I enjoyed writing it a lot!

Also available on ao3!

Seeing Sanji again was like seeing the sun after weeks and weeks of never-ending rain.

It hadn't been more than a week or two since you had separated in Dressrosa but being a part of the strawhat crew meant you could never catch a break for too long. When you heard what Sanji had done from Nami and the others, a small part of you hurt that maybe, just maybe, you weren't enough for Sanji.

The next moment you had discarded the thought completely and felt horrible for even thinking that way about Sanji. You knew he would never lie to you. You knew, more than anyone on the crew, just how much he truly enjoyed being a part of the crew. Your insecurity over how Sanji and you hadn't yet spoken of love made no difference to the fact that Sanji would never choose to leave the crew.

Maybe he didn't love you back but he loved the crew. So him choosing to go to the tea party where he would be married off was a sign that he must believe either that he can: (a) handle it by himself and make it back no problem, or (b) the situation was dangerous and he wanted to take care of it himself in a way that wouldn't harm the crew. You were more inclined towards b, considering this was Big Mom and Germa 66 that were being talked about.

You wanted to go get Sanji back too but the rest of the crew who had fought in Dressrosa was going to Wano and you were probably expected to do the same. But Sanji was still your boyfriend. He was yours, and he was going to get married off to some girl you had never heard of before today, and your heart refused to accept it. You refused to let him go. He was yours to hold, yours to keep and yours to love. You would get him back even if you had to fight Luffy to join them.

Thankfully, you didn't have to fight him at all. When you meekly suggested joining them, your captain had just tilted his head in confusion and said, "Huh? What do you mean? Of course you're coming. I was going to take you along the whole time."

And now half of the crew was here in Totto land, and Luffy had just defeated Cracker and Kingbaum was taking you three to the castle where Sanji was supposed to be. Instead, you had stumbled across Germa 66 midway and after days, you were finally seeing the face of the man you loved so deeply that it hurt.

"We've come to take you back!" Luffy was hanging onto the coach while you and Nami were still on the running Kingbaum and you could make out Sanji's face from a distance. You were smiling so hard upon seeing him look okay. He wasn't hurt. Good. Suddenly, he turned and kicked Luffy off the coach and you gasped.

"Hey!" Nami was equally shocked. "What was that for, Sanji?!"

"Get lost," Sanji said, his face unlike any he had ever shown the crew, "you miserable inferior pirates."

You considered the possibility that it could be a Germa clone. But there was no way they would take a close to the tea party when they already had done the effort of getting the real deal to come there.

"My name is Vinsmoke Sanji and I am a prince of Germa kingdom!"

He had never told you that in the few months of your relationship. You knew there was something he wasn't telling you but you had never pried because you knew that the reason Sanji wasn't mentioning it was probably because it was something that didn't matter. Germa was supposed to be a thing of his past– and it was supposed to stay there for the rest of his life. Except it had come back, like cockroaches are apt to do, and brought a storm into your lives.

You just stood there, listening to Sanji make claims that were like stabs to your heart continuously. For your situation, your mind felt thunderously calm. You were noting the laughter of his ‘brothers’ in the back, the way Sanji was staring with steely eyes at Luffy and hadn't met your eyes even once, the rigid muscles of his face as he spoke about how he would be getting married to Big Mom's beautiful daughter.

Maybe someone would say you are in denial, but you refused to believe it. Sanji was spouting a load of bullshit and it was making laughter bubble up in your throat. You only kept it down because this wasn't the time or place for it. The Sanji you knew would never say these words, unless he believed it was the only way he could keep you all safe.

"Don't get involved! I'll drive him off."

You couldn't say a word as you watched Sanji and Luffy start fighting. You had never thought you would see this one day. Your heart was hurting and your mind was a huge mess of thoughts but all you could focus on was how much Sanji must be hurting.

He must be wanting to come back home to the Sunny with you. He had told you in the dark covers of night when you two had made love, that there was no place more appropriate than with the crew that he thought of when he thought of the word ‘home’. The boy who had said that to you could never say these words and mean them. He would only say it if it meant protecting his home and his crew.

You watched as Luffy didn't hit back even once and kept taking hit after hit. Silent tears were already streaming down your face from watching Sanji's emotional hurt and Luffy's physical one. You wished this was a nightmare.

When Sanji knocked out Luffy, you finally exhaled and slowly walked over to him. Nami had already gotten past you and slapped him in the face, saying goodbye to him. You stared at Sanji when you were close enough. His head that had turned from the impact of Nami's slap didn't turn to look at yours, as if you were invisible. You let out a shaky exhale and smiled weakly at him.

"I guess," you swallowed as you placed a gentle hand on the cheek Nami was slapped and watched him flinch just slightly under your touch, "even if I said ‘Come back home with me, Sanji’, you wouldn't change your mind, huh?"

He still wouldn't look at you and he didn't respond, but his hand came up to rest over yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze, the way he always did when he would apologise to you for anything. You told your aching heart that it was fine. This wouldn't be the last time you see Sanji.

"This is farewell then," you said quietly, just low enough for only him to hear as your hand slipped away. "I hope you are happy wherever you are. Because if you were doing this for us, then you should know that we'll never be complete without you. And, foolish as I am, I won't be happy without you."

You turned away without looking at him and instead walked back to Luffy and Nami, your eyes threatening to spill tears you did not wish him to see. If this was truly the last time you would see Sanji, you wanted his last memory of you to be of you smiling at him.

You heard Sanji get back up and the carriage drawing away. Luffy got up and started shouting again. Your lips quivered, your back to the road as you looked at your captain. "You can kick me all you want, but you're the one feeling the pain!"

For all his idiocy and no brain cell moments, you knew how well Luffy knew all his crewmates. He may not show it most days, but he understood you all the best. You watched him scream some more, crying harder and harder until he ended with, "Without you, I can't become the pirate king!!"

They were gone after that and in the silence, you could finally feel the flood of thoughts wash over you once again, one thought the most prominent of all. You truly loved Sanji. You had never told him but you loved every inch of him, more than you had ever realised until this moment, when your heart was afraid that it would never be able to tell Sanji this.

"I don't know what I should do," you mumbled, covering your face in your hands. You could feel Nami's comforting arms around your shoulders. "I love him. I love that idiot. Who cares if he's a prince, a beggar or even a Marine?! No matter what he is, in every universe, I would still fall in love with him. I love him so much and I have to stand and watch him marry someone else, all while I keep thinking that it should be me. I want to be the one next to him on the altar and I've, I've lost my chance to tell him."

"No, you haven't," Luffy said firmly from where he was lying. Your tears were starting to dry up and you turned to look at your captain. His face was determined. "Sanji will come. And you will marry him."

"How are we gonna do that, huh?" You chuckled wetly as you settled down next to Luffy.

"We'll get him back and you'll ask him to marry you," Luffy said simply, "and then he will say yes and then, I will marry you two off."

"You'll be our officiant, Luffy?" You giggled. You didn't know what it was about him, but Luffy could make you believe in the most impossible of things. There was already a big part of you that felt at peace from his words. It would work out somehow. If it's Luffy, then anything is possible.

"I heard of it from two of Shanks' crewmates as a kid," he said, giving you a wide grin. "I didn't think I'd ever need to do it but I've looked into it ever since you two started dating. It was getting a little boring waiting for you two though. I was going to ask you two to marry if you took any longer."

"Oh god," you wheezed, feeling insane for laughing at this moment. "That would have been hilarious. A crazy story to tell if someone asked us ‘who proposed’ and we would have to answer ‘Luffy’!"

Your words were cut off by the arrival of clouds from Big Mom's rage. It was time for you to get Sanji back.

•

Pudding's words should hurt somewhere, Sanji thought to himself absent-mindedly from where he was hiding. He had brought the flowers and he had tried to convince himself that his marriage with Pudding could make him happy and it would keep the crew safe. But, she didn't love him the way you did. She could be the kindest, nicest person in the whole world, but she wasn't you.

You, who had seen him through his worst, who had personally tended to his wounds both physical and emotional, who had looked like a heavenly being under him, who had smiled at him despite his secrets, who understood him on such a fundamental level– you were the apple of his eye, the love of his life.

Pudding's words should have hurt but they didn't because he knew that her opinion of him had no impact on your opinion of him. And even if the whole world hated him, you never would. Sanji had thought that this would be where you draw the line. That you would finally get fed up with him and leave. No one even stayed with him in the first place and you had done it for so long that he was afraid you would leave. What he had done at this point would have been enough for anyone else to get angry and slap him.

And yet, when he had seen you there, he knew he couldn't look into your eyes. One look and his resolve would crumble. Because there was no mistaking what he felt towards you whenever he looked into your eyes that seemed to hold the whole world. He truly loved you from the bottom of his heart. There was no one else in this world who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

It had to be you. It could only be you.

And yet, he didn't have much of a choice in this whole matter, did he? Sanji just walked away, thinking and thinking about what he should do.

About how he could get back home to you.

•

When all was said and done and all of you were back on the Sunny, making your way to Wano, Luffy just placed a hand on your shoulder and said with his most serious face, "You better do it fast or I will do it on your behalf."

"Shut up," you weakly punched him in the shoulder and rolled your eyes– but your heart was happy. Neither you nor Sanji had talked about anything the whole time you were escaping. You had just hugged him silently and he had done the same; you knew there would be time to talk later. And that time was now. "Sanji?"

"Hm?" Sanji looked up from where he was cooking in the kitchen. After hearing the mess the crew had made with cooking, he had slipped back into his role as always. The sight of him chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter of the Thousand Sunny made your heart warm up. "Sweethea–(y/n)."

He switched from the endearing term to your name, looking nervous. He was probably thinking about how he didn't deserve to call you that anymore, huh?

"Am I no longer your sweetheart?" You asked teasingly as you crossed over to stand across the counter from him. He looked at you, scared yet hopeful. "Did you change your mind about me after seeing, ah, Pudding, wasn't it?"

"No, my love!" He cried out, hands shooting upwards to take you into his arms but he stopped just in time. He didn't know if you still wanted him to touch you. Somehow, it felt like the two of you from all those months back, when you hadn't yet started dating. "This whole time… I couldn't think of anything but how I have wronged you the most out of everyone. I do not feel worthy to be on the receiving end of your love."

"Shouldn't I get to decide that?" You retorted, leaning over the counter. You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. It had been too long since you had kissed your golden boy. "If you're the one I love and if you're the one my heart has decided it wants to marry, then you're already worthy, silly boy. You aren't a man until you realise that you're worthy of all the love in this world."

You ended up saying it all in a teasing manner but you could see the shock in his eyes at your words. The silence stretched over the kitchen awkwardly and your smile wavered for a second.

"You better say yes," you huffed to yourself, "because I don't think Luffy made a plan for you refusing my proposal."

Sanji was confused for all of one second before he was nodding, gently pushing aside the vegetables he was cutting so he could slide over the top of the counter to you. He cradled your face in his hands, holding you reverently as he placed kisses all over your face. You flushed under the attention, feeling home at last.

"This feels too much like a dream," he admitted, knocking his forehead on yours. "That you would still want me, that you would still love me… Despite all my mistakes, in spite of how I've wronged you, you're still here."

"I love you with all my heart," you admitted to him. "I love you for who you are Sanji, flaws and all. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If, if you happen to feel the same…"

"Don't be silly," he interrupted you, so unlike himself. "If I shouldn't doubt my worth, you shouldn't doubt my love either. I may not have ever said it before this, but I truly do love you so much."

Sanji pulled you into a kiss and you let him, your arms tightening around his waist. You had been so wrong back then. You had been scared that that would be the last time you're seeing him but right now, you knew that this was the start of seeing Sanji every day for the rest of your lives.

"C'mon then," you giggled after the two of you had made out for a while. "Gotta tell Luffy."

"Why?" Sanji was baffled. "What's Luffy got to do with any of this?"

"Hey now, our captain kindly offered to marry the two of us off, you know."

"He what?!"

"He was also ready to propose on my behalf. You better be happy I beat him to it."

"I don't even know what to say."

"Just let me do the talking, how about that?"

"But of course, sweetheart! ♡"

°•❀•°

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[thisismeracing]

Not quite love | CL16

read the full piece here

― Pairing: charles leclerc x friend!reader (she/her) ― Warning: mentions of alcohol and food; friends to lovers; angst; unrequited love; not been proofread yet; 2k words. ― Summary: When you get romantically involved with your best friend you were not expecting a marriage proposal, but simply a commitment. You were sure that what you had wasn’t quite love, though it could be and maybe that’s what hurt the most. The fact that you had everything to be each other’s end game, but turned out to be strangers. 

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preview

You and Charles had everything to be the perfect couple.

To have the perfect story.

A book-worthy one.

You were long-time friends.

Though your family wasn’t very fond of him, his family loved you, and that was enough. Over half of your friends in common hinted about you guys getting together. The dynamic was this good from the outside, and so was the tension whenever you were together. 

You would share desserts, dance with each other, sleep in the same bed after friends get together –nothing sexual ever happened, and maybe that’s the reason why it was so intimate and ground to tension flourish. It was beyond the physical. At least for you. 

It all took a turn when you finally moved to Monaco to study and work.

*****

“Don’t cry, chérrie,” he cooed, lips finding a few droplets of tears and cutting short their path on your cheeks. You turned your head in his direction, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his warm skin against yours, seeking the solace of it. 

The Monegasque read the way your body leaned in, the way your face felt hotter against his lips, and he lined his breathing with yours giving you enough time to pull back, but you didn’t. In fact, you broke the barrier of space between you two, pressing your lips in a feverish kiss. Charles answered in a second, gripping your waist and bringing you impossibly closer. His tongue was demanding, and his body against yours felt different than the other times. More intimate. 

“Fucking finally,” you could almost hear your friends with their hands up to the heavens, so you chuckled, ultimately breaking the kiss. Charles grinned.

“If I knew this is all it would take for you to smile I would have greeted you with a kiss,” his teasing earned a giggle from you.

*****

[...] At the end of the day Charles would sleep at your place –or you at his– at least once a week. You would still share movie nights like when you were just friends. He would still send you funny TikTok he watched, and you were still telling him about all the books you read. 

Those were things boyfriends and girlfriends did, you knew that, nevertheless, you wanted to believe that he was planning something. Or that maybe he already saw you that way. Maybe he was afraid of the constant travel and the pressure of his career and media. Maybe he was trying to protect you from the fans. 

Charles never voiced any of this. Never sat down to talk about it, and you didn’t ask. Not until you graduated and got a job proposal in America. It wasn’t France, Germany, or Sweden, places you knew would be easier to gravitate to Monaco when the schedule let you. It was oceans apart, but it also felt like an opportunity to compromise, to keep your –hopefully official- relationship going. 

The thing is, life is unpredictable. You can’t guess what someone is feeling or how they will react. Your mom would always tell you that the heart is unknown ground – a place nobody will ever explore in its plenitude. You only get in the rooms the other allows, and even then inside there are tons of places that not even the owners visited. 

To know yourself is hard, and to know the other is even harder.

You didn’t know Charles.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! I'm sorry I'm a day late with this piece, but I am happy to be publishing it the day our Monegasque won his home race (though it's a sad piece, it's still with him so :D hehe). Make sure to like and reblog to help your fellow writer *mwah*

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[brucewaynehater101]

I have a spooky Tim au that I think you would like.

Tim is not human and has never been. He knows this. His "parents" know this. The rouges know this. However, none of the Bats but one know this. When around the Bats, Tim looks like a Normal Human. His skin is pale but does look like flesh and his eyes are weirdly pale but they still look like eyes. His hair has a weird texture but its prob just his shampoo, so surely the slightly off texture in how his skin feels is just his lotion, right? His teeth are a bit sharp but still human teeth and his movements a bit odd, but what Bat doesn't move strangely?

However when they aren't around, it is a totally different story. His skin changes to look like porcelain and his eyes are so very clearly made of painted glass. His hair is made of string and twine died black and when its fist or foot lands a blow it feels like being hit by a sand bag and not flesh and bone. His teeth are made of shards of broken glass and his movements are far to Jerry yet smooth, like a puppet on strings that glides through the air in a horrible mimicry of walking. This Thing that wears the Robin Suit is Not a human, as long as it isn't around Batman or Nightwing. When either are there, The Rouges can see the shift. The way it suddenly looks so *human*. But once Batman leaves it shifts back into being a *thing*.

Tim is only a Thing when he is either scaring the rouges or Truly Comfortable. Young Justice knows that Tim is not a human and he doesn't hide it from them. There is never any fight about his civilian identity because he freely tells them, "I am a Thing made from Glass and Sand and Fabric and Magic. He is not a Person nor has he ever Been A Person. He is not some poor sap who was transformed into a Thing, he is a Thing that was created and then given life with Magic.

As for how Jack and Janet acquired a Thing like Tim, well. They're archeologists. They dug up an old tomb, found a coffin that was chained closed and bolted to the ground and like every White Person In A Horror Movie, they opened it without a second thought. Inside they found an ancient, cursed doll. It came to life when Janet cut herself trying to clean off one of its broken glass eyes to get a better look and the blood fell on it. The pair then decided this was a lot easier than child birth and kept the cursed doll, naming it Tim.

My gods. I love the ending of this cause it gives off the same vibes as "humans will adopt anything" tropes in space travel fiction.

I have one caveat with the Bats not knowing. I hc that Cass knows. Tim's body language is too strange for her not to notice something.

Everything else? Beautiful. It would be hilarious if people keep trying to tell the Bats. Here's a possible scene:

Goon: *points finger at Tim* "That thing beside you isn't human!"

Tim: *fakes having his shoulders drop as he turns slightly away in dejection*

Dick: *absolute fury as he beats up the goon*

Tim: *decides not to get revenge after seeing what Nightwing does to the person*

or

Rogue: "I'm telling ya, whatever he is got string hair, porcelain skin, and doll like movements to him."

Batman: *hums, takes them out, proceeds to Batcave*

Tim: "What's up, B?"

Bruce: "[] said that you look different when we're not around you."

Tim: *tilts his head* "I mean, I like playing up the rumors that the Bats are cryptids, demons from hell, spirits, or whatever when I can. I add effects to my costume to increase the spook factor."

Bruce: *nods and turns away to end the conversation for now*

Tim: *makes plots to ruin that rogue's life for a bit as revenge and a message*

I'm curious how wounds and scars look on Tim's porcelain skin. How does he heal? Does he even have a spleen?

I'm also down for two avenues:

Jason doesn't know like the rest of the Bats. After they start to become close to each other, Jason retaliates against folk who try to demean Tim. He tries to hide the comments from Tim until he learns that the teen finds it funny and ramps up the rumors on purpose. Then he switches to pulling pranks on people with Tim to create more wild theories and gossip.

Jason finds out at TT, and Tim ensures no one actually believes Jason. Perhaps he even starts the notion that Jason was affected by the Pit. It drives Jason bonkers that no one is trusting him or accepting his words for what they are.

[definitelynotshouting]

Can you tell us something about Martyn or Scott in your hunger au? Completely your choice on what, I just want to see what they’re like in your au

[A COMM CALL; QUIET SPEECH FILTERED THROUGH LOW CRACKLES OF STATIC]

MARTYN

I'm not gonna lie, I didn't actually expect you to help them.

SCOTT

[A RUSTLE]

Why not? It's not like I had to do anything, really. Just— point them in the right direction and, I dunno, let them sort it out.

MARTYN

[Dryly] Yeah. I guess I just thought you'd be more... angry.

SCOTT

Me? I'm not— I wouldn't say I'm angry. Why, are you angry?

MARTYN

[SLIGHT PAUSE]

...

Y'know, that's hard to say. I don't think I'm not angry, but I'm not, like... actively mad, either?

SCOTT

Well, there you go, then. It's about the same for me, not much else to it.

MARTYN

...

Fair 'nough, I suppose.

SCOTT

Honestly, I'm surprised you're not more angry, considering all your— y'know, stuff.

MARTYN

What, just 'cause I knew Grian way back when?

SCOTT

Well yeah, obviously. You've known each other for a long time.

MARTYN

Have we? I'm not so sure anymore.

...

[Almost speaking to himself] He's felt weird for a while now, ever since he came back from Evo.

SCOTT

What's that supposed to mean?

MARTYN

Call it a hunch. I dunno, but he just feels— off. Wrong. Different? I can't put my finger on it.

[RUSTLE OF FABRIC, AS IF FROM A SHRUG]

Or— well, he did. Not like I've seen him around in a while.

SCOTT

[HUFF OF LAUGHTER]

Your superpower is freaky, Martyn, did you know that?

MARTYN

So you keep telling me.

[Teasingly] BigB thinks it's cool, though, so I don't give a damn what you have to say.

SCOTT

[Audible smile] BigB's got the superior opinion, yes, of course.

[A PAUSE]

MARTYN

...

So have you had any news yet? About if they've found him or not?

SCOTT

[With some surprise] You really want to know?

MARTYN

Yeah, man, tell me. He's still— I mean, I guess friend's a strong word now, but I still care.

SCOTT

Um, yeah, Jimmy said—

Hm.

...

MARTYN

[SMALL INCREDULOUS NOISE]

Jimmy said, did he?

SCOTT

I'm not sure why you're surprised. We do still talk, y'know.

MARTYN

Oh yeah, just— wasn't sure, is all, what with the whole— y'know, after the whole ranchers thing.

SCOTT

[Stiffly] Jimmy is... look, just because he has a boyfriend now who isn't me doesn't mean we can't whisper sometimes. Also, this is like, one of the least romantic topics you could ever talk about, so—

MARTYN

[BARK OF LAUGHTER]

God. Tell me about it.

SCOTT

Well I would, but you're too busy trying to interrogate me about Jimmy. I've got better things to do than sit here and pine, y'know?

[BRIEF SILENCE]

MARTYN

So, they found him?

...

[Press X to doubt] Right.

SCOTT

[LOW SIGH]

Yeah, they found him. Tango told Jimmy, who then told me; a bit of he said, she said...

He's in pretty rough shape.

MARTYN

[SMALL SCOFF]

That so?

SCOTT

According to Tango, yeah. Look, I didn't ask for any details, don't shoot the messenger. All I know is Jimmy said he's really sick.

MARTYN

[Wearily] Yeah, that sounds just like him. Goes haring off into the— the bloody sunset and comes back wrong immediately after. That's great.

[Slightly more upbeat] Cool, man, well— thanks for keeping me updated. I 'ppreciate it. Good luck with Tim.

SCOTT

[A LONGER SIGH]

I don't nee—

[ANOTHER PAUSE]

Okay, yes, yeah. I'll keep you up to date as best I can.

MARTYN

Maybe whisper Tango directly while you're at it. Cheers, Scott.

SCOTT

Mhm. See you around, Martyn.

[CLICK]

[vivwritesfics]

Waiting For The Sun

Chapter One

Rhett Abbott has been hearing his soulmate in his head for ten years. She's the sweetest thing, nicknamed Muffin after her love of baking. Rhett doesn't know who Muffin is, doesn't know where she is, but hearing her voice always makes his day better.

But then Trevor Tillerson is killed and Rhett's life is thrown into chaos. Through it all, Muffin in there for her soulmate. She wants nothing more than to find him, even through the chaos.

Soulmate AU

Warnings: talks of religion

She’d been hearing the same voice in her head since she was fourteen years old. It had been jarring at first, hearing someone else's commentary from a rodeo she wasn't even attending. Whoever this person was had some really strong opinions about the bull riders they had been watching.

So jarring, in fact, that she went running to her mother, terrified. "Momma!" She cried as she ran down the stairs of the family farmhouse. "I'm hearin' voices!"

Her mother said nothing as she folded her newspaper and looked across the room, looked to her husband. Fourteen years old was too young to be hearing the voice of your soulmate, they both thought. But they couldn't have been much older when the writing first appeared on their own arms.

Her sister laughed. "That's your soulmate speaking to you, idiot," she said as she looked up from her book for just a moment. Normally, her mother would have scolded her for such language, but there were bigger fish to fry.

"My... what?" She asked, still standing on the bottom step of the stairs.

Her mother shuffled over, creating some space for her on the couch. She patted the space between herself and her eldest daughter, signalling for her youngest to come and sit between them. "Sweetie, it's time somebody told you about soulmates," she said gently.

As her youngest sat, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the raised skin her of own soulmate mark. It used to be a tattoo, the first words her soulmate would ever say to her marked on her skin in black ink. The mark was supposed to remain there for the rest of her life, but tattoos were something she was against, something she and her husband saw as a sin. She had the tattoo removed, leaving raised skin as the only races of what was. "What did it say?" Her youngest daughter asked as she hesitantly lifted her fingers to trace over the raised skin.

She sucked in a breath and read out the passage from the bible that her husband had used to win her over. "'Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all'," she said and pulled her sleeve back down to cover up her past sins. "Those were the first words your father said to me, and that was how I knew he was my soulmate."

She looked across the room, at her husband. He was usually quiet, and this was no different. He said nothing as he watched them, so still his wife wondered if he was even listening.

"What has your soulmate said?" The eldest daughter asked. Her bookmark was in her book, which she placed down on the little round table beside the couch. "Has he at least said anything interesting?"

The youngest of the two shrugged her shoulders. "Nothin' too interestin' yet," she said and her mother gave her the side eye. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time pronouncing her G's. "I think he was at the rodeo," she mumbled and fiddled with her fingers. "Seemed to know a lot about bull ridin'."

Suddenly, her sister was sitting a little straighter. "A rodeo in Amelia County?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

Before the girls could continue with this conversation, their father cleared his throat, making his presence known. Well, his presence was always known in that house. "Time for bed, girls," he said in his usual gruff voice. "We've got church in the morning."

Both girls bowed their heads as they walked up the stairs and disappeared into their bedrooms.

***

That was ten years ago, the night her soulmate first spoke to her. She didn't speak back to him right away, didn't know how. As soon as her soulmate realised that someone else was there, trying to talk to him, he taught her how.

Neither of them had shut up since, it seemed.

Mornin', came the groggy voice of her soulmate.

The moment his voice filled her head, she couldn't help but smile. It had become a routine, waiting for him to wake up and then grinning when his voice filled her head. Morning, sleepyhead, she said, not looking up from her flowers. Are you aware that it's ten in the morning?

It is? Ah, shit.

Language, she scolded, but she knew he could hear her laugh. It was something he said every day, several times a day. Each time she scolded him, and each time he called her cute.

There was a break before he responded. She could see it in her mind, a faceless man rolling out of bed and pulling a shirt over his muscular chest. He'd place a Stetson on his head, a black on, pat his dog on the head, and go out to work on a ranch.

What is my Muffin doin' today? He asked as she used her trowel to dig a hole in her flower patch.

She looked up as her neighbour climbed out of his truck, where he'd undoubtedly slept. Rhett Abbott. There was a time, back when she was eighteen, that she thought Rhett was her soulmate. But those thoughts, that... hope, didn't last long. Not when she saw the way Rhett looked at Maria Olivares. There was no doubt in her mind that they, Rhett and Maria, were soulmates.

She didn't answer his question. What she was doing was boring and uninteresting. So, instead, she asked, Do you ever think about how it's been ten years and we haven't met yet? I mean, I don't even know if you're in-

But her soulmate didn't hear the rest of it, couldn't hear the rest of it. They'd figured out the rules quickly. they couldn't say names, places or any physical descriptions. Nothing that could aid them in finding each other. They'd meet when the universe was good and ready for it. That was God's plan, after all.

It wasn't the first time she'd said it to her soulmate. And, every time, he knew exactly what to say. Muffin, it's okay, he said to her. When we meet, I'll take you out for dinner. Breakfast for dinner, he promised.

She couldn't help but laugh. You always know just what to say, she said to him as she put her trowel down and pulled her gloves away from her fingers (it was so hot in Wyoming, she couldn't stand to wear her gardening gloves for very long. Not unless she wanted her hands to be all sweaty and pruney).

Go on, Muffin. Tell me what you're up to, he said, his voice sounding like a mumble in her head.

She held up the sunflower she had been growing for the last few weeks. Do you remember the sunflower growing competition I'm holding with the youth group? She asked and he let out a hum. Well, I'm planting my sunflower in my garden.

Holy fuck, he immediately said. You're so damn cute.

Language! But, again, she was laughing. But then the laughter stopped. Oh shoot! I got soil on my dress and now it's all dirty, she grumbled as she stood and brushed the dirty away from the blue skirt of her dress.

He let out another hum. Bet you still look great, he said in her mind.

It had been ten years. Ten year of them knowing each other without ever meeting. They'd learnt everything there was to know about each other, without knowing who the other was. And he knew exactly how to push her buttons, but in the best way. He knew exactly how to get her giggling like a school girl, not like the twenty four year old woman she was.

They talked through the morning, as they did every morning. When his employer had him counting cattle, she helped to keep track of the numbers. But then she was heading inside, grabbing the grocery list her mother had stuck on the fridge, grabbing her keys, and heading out.

You should get those cosmic brownie things you like, he said as she started her car.

It took a moment of turning the key before the engine came to life. Not on the list, she said as she began driving away from her family's property. You know how my mother gets.

I know, Muffin, he replied as she drove up the rode, drove past the Abbott Ranch. And there was Rhett Abbott, riding on his usual black horse. She gave him the polite smile and he tipped his hat, a sign of two acquaintances that barely knew each other.

As soon as Rhett had ridden off, her soulmate was back in her head. But you deserve a treat!

She let out a hum of her own, a habit she had picked up from him. I'm gonna make muffins for bible study later, she said as she drove into town.

Flavour? He asked as she pulled up outside of The Handsome Gambler. She'd never stepped a foot inside, might have been one of the only people in Wabang that hadn't .

A smile played on her lips as she walked into the store, reusable bag stuffed into the tote bag on her shoulder. Walking around the store, she had never felt so naked. All because of some damned stain left by soil. Muffin? You still there? He asked.

Shit, sorry.

That's my girl.

There was no point in trying to hide her smile. Blueberry, he said, answering his question from earlier.

Having her soulmate in her head while she was grocery shopping wasn't easy, not in the slightest. He threw out suggestions that had her damn near reaching for the stuff. Stuff that wasn't on her mothers list, stuff that would have had her mother angry.

Twenty Four year old and still scared of her parents. It was pathetic.

Not pathetic, Muffin. I don't wanna be hearin' that shit.

She couldn't help but apologise, even if he wouldn't hear it. How many times had he said 'my Muffin don't apologise for nothin'' over the years? When she wandered over to the checkout, he was quiet, let her count the cash in her purse. And then, as she loaded the groceries into the car, he was humming. It was a song she didn't recognise from the tune alone. But it was sweet and it was comforting.

It was him.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Rhett Abbott Taglist (OPEN): @writtingrose

WFTS Taglist (OPEN): @finnydraws (you don't get a choice)

@nurse-sainz (you don't get a choice)

[nenilein]

ok after all those contextless posts I have to ask what is puyo puyo about

OKAY SO I did not have time to answer this the past week. Now I do!

WELCOME TO THE WILD RIDE, I HOPE YOU'RE READY! <3

So

"What is Puyo Puyo about?"

There's MANY ways to answer this question. Gameplay-wise, it's a Competitive Action-Puzzle Game and Japanese e-Sport about efficient chain-building and reading your opponents' intentions.

The longer a chain you build, the more powerful the spells your character casts. Damage you deal manifests as obstacles on the opponents' board. Your goal is to overwhelm your opponent so swiftly and decisively that they can't recover and strike back, earning you a victory.

Story-wise it is a huge, sprawling multiverse of magic-users, monsters demons, deities and sci-fi creatures, all encountering and interacting with each other across many different dimensions. Many times the stories are pure Slice-of-Life fluff between the characters, others the fate of multiple worlds is at stake.

The central main character (though she shares the spotlight with many others) is a talented young sorceress named "Arle Nadja", who at the age of 16 years old accidentally stole the pet Carbuncle of Satan, the Dark Prince, overlord of the demon realm and the most powerful magical being in the multiverse. Ever since then, Arle has been chased around the multiverse by Satan, who sees her stealing his pet as a sign she's his destined soulmate and wants to marry her, and by the Dark Mage Schezo Wegey, who wants to steal her magic power from her. She is also antagonized by Rulue, the Queen of Martial Arts, who wants to be Satan's wife herself and thus sees Arle as a rival for his affections. Arle has a weird relationship with all three of them, considering them more friends than enemies most of the time. There are also other people Arle often interacts with, such as a greedy and inventive witchling only known as "Witch", a half-dragon girl named "Draco Centauros", who's obsessed with food and beauty pageants, a dancing magical fish with legs and arms who acts like a middle-aged man staving off a midlife crisis, Suketoudara, a tone-deaf Harpy and a shy and easily panicked mermaid named "Serilly", who lives in fear of being killed and eaten for her magic flesh.

On her journeys Arle ends up in another magical world where she makes friend with a young friendly, but ditzy magic student named Amitie, who's secretly destined to save her world with her hidden divine powers (but nobody knows about that yet). Amitie goes to school with her best friend, Sig, an exchange student who, unbeknownst to himself, is actually the descendant and reincarnation of a part of a shattered and sealed demon overlord. Sig himself, however, is a very quiet, placid boy who really just wants to sleep in in the morning and watch insects. He's barely even interested in magic, despite studying it. There is also Raffina, another magic student in Amitie's year who has been ostracized from her rich family for having extremely weak magic powers and has resolved to carve out her own way in life by becoming the "most powerful and most elegant lady" in the world. She, like Rulue, practices martial arts. Other students are Klug, a nerdy edgelord who wants to be a powerful and feared dark sorcerer and is abusing the power of the book that holds the other fragment of the soul of the demon lord Sig was reincarnated from to boost his magic power (and occasionally gets possessed by it), Lidelle a shy demihuman girl with an anxiety disorder, who isn't sure how to make herself comfortable with herself and admires other demihumans and demons for their confidence, Feli, a magic student and prodigy oracle from another school who is obsessed with cursecraft and often threatens others with murder, and Lemres, an older student from the same school as Feli, who's reknown as a genius sorcerer despite still being a minor and who both Klug and Feli are crushing on hard. Amitie's school is run by a sorceress called "Ms. Accord", who has some dark secrets connected to the cursed cat plushie named Popoi she always carries around, but nobody knows what the deal with that really is.

Later on, we also visit earth- yes, EARTH - and then it's Isekai time! The protagonist of this section of the cast is Ringo Ando, an eccentric and nerdy (but otherwise normal) Japanese Middle School Girl who's obsessed with unraveling the mysteries of the universe. Her best friend is Maguro Sasaki, a teenage boy who's extremely popular at school and has talent at every single hobby imaginable, including but not limited to: Gaming, sports, academics, arts, crafts, Kendama tricks etc. etc... They're accompanied by their upperclassman, a chemistry-obsessed student who goes only by "Risukuma" and who looks like a guy wearing a fursuit that's a cross between a squirrel and a bear, though nobody has ever seen him underneath that "suit" and some are unsure if it even IS a suit. Ringo has a frenemy-ship (leaning closer and closer to just "friendship") with an interdimensional being known as "Ecolo", who calls himself the "Wanderer of Worlds/Spacetime Traveler"(depending on translation) and appears to be a sort of glitch in spacetime who messes with the laws of reality just by existing. He's childish, mishivous, capricious and has an obsession with Ringo due to her being pretty much his only friend.

This is just a selection of the characters that appear in the series. There are many, many, many, many, MANY more. The stories are highly character driven, so what happens is usually dependent on who gets to interact with him and because of what. Sometimes it's just silly stuff like "Satan wants to get a tan and grew the sun 3 times bigger. Hijinks ensures." Othertimes it's more serious stuff such as "the entity in charge of keeping the dimensional order in place is suffering from depression and now we're all screwed if we don't figure out a solution". The variety is part of the charm. The series also has a really fun and unique first-person-dungeon-crawling subseries called "Madou Monogatari" (which was originally the main series, but uh. Stuff happened and Puyo became more important), which was on a 20 year hiatus but is coming back this summer~

Anyway, I love these games DEARLY and am happy for any newcomers who decide to try and check it out~!

[cursedvibes]

Curious, what’s your opinion on all the theories that Yuuji will become less human and “turn into Sukuna”? Whether it’ll be for just a moment or like as his endgame-

I will mainly base my response on this theory because that's the most popular version of it I've seen around.

Basically, I do agree that Yuuji is getting a bit lost in his hate for Sukuna and loses sight of Megumi in favour of his desire to kill Sukuna no matter what. I honestly also welcome the change somewhat and for Sukuna to influence him. It would be boring if Sukuna is the only one who changes during this fight. It would be nice for Yuuji to have a similar reflective moment as him at some point. Questioning what he's doing, what he's fighting for and how far he's willing to go and then basing the way he kills/defeats Sukuna on it. The fight with Mahito changed him too and made him discover and accept a new side of himself. While Mahito made him adapt the cog mentality, Sukuna might be the one to push him to be more selfish again. Ideally, he would eventually find the middle point between these two extremes.

However, that doesn't mean he will ever be exactly like Sukuna or turn into him. No matter what, they are different people with different experiences that shaped them since their conception (even before their birth). When Yuuji admitted him and Mahito are the same, he didn't suddenly start torturing people for fun, he just recognized how he engages with the world and his role in it. Yuuji will potentially become more ruthless and lost in the heat of the battle now, but I don't see him ever delighting in bloodshed the way Sukuna does. People forget that no matter the parallels and vessel shenanigans, Yuuji is still his own person. That's what kept him from just being another submerged vessel of Sukuna. That's what makes Sukuna lose control over his soul right now. He doesn't entirely recognizes it himself yet, but he does have unique qualities that are the reason he's so exceptionally irritating to Sukuna. Also, Jin is a much more literal Ryomen Sukuna and he acts very different from him. Because even if jujutsu might see them as the same being and even though they used to share a body (just like Yuuji and Sukuna), their experiences and background shaped them into very different people. Mind you I'm a big supporter of fucked up Jin, but he would be still unhinged in a different way than Sukuna. Normal but seeming just a bit uncanny. Not a rabid mass murderer.

I also think that even if Yuuji gives into his darkest thoughts, him becoming a Sukuna 2.0 is very much not the intention if he goes completely crazy. He was designed by Kenjaku to eventually develop the skills he has now (minus the soul punching potentially, but that's not certain) and to unlock his full potential, he would have to become more selfish and hateful. Facing Mahito and Sukuna helped in that regard and pushed him further. Kenjaku wouldn't want him to turn into another Sukuna though because in that case...well, Sukuna is already there. I think that is part of why they specifically chose Jin to create Yuuji with and didn't somehow try to convince Sukuna to do it or mix his blood in there or whatever. It's also why unlike Sukuna, Yuuji didn't grow up in isolation and ostracisation from society, being told from the moment he's born that he's cursed. He grew up without even knowing anything about jujutsu, contrary to Sukuna who was thrown right in the midst of it from the beginning. I think that's deliberate. Kenjaku could've seen to it that Yuuji turned away from society and gave into violent/destructive impulses much earlier, but they didn't. Seems more like they wanted to build a strong foundation, the possibility to foster ideals and build genuine connections before challenging them and seeing how Yuuji would react to it, potentially being fired up even more by it and pushed to evolve further. There would be no use to repeat what created Sukuna exactly the same way because then you'll get the same result. Kenjaku wants something that will surprise them and this is the only way I see that happening.

To address the claims the person posting the theory made directly:

I don't think this change happened after his awakening, I think it happened after Choso's death and even then Yuuji is not as blinded by hate yet as the person makes him out to be. Yuuji didn't call out further to Megumi in Yuuta's domain because for one there wasn't that much time and it was also pretty clear that Megumi either couldn't hear him or wouldn't be pushed that easily to fight back against Sukuna. That's why his Black Flashes were so important. They weaken Sukuna's power over Megumi (as you can also see by Sukuna's changed domain) and would give him more freedom. Plus, this must shake up Megumi too. Yuuji's gonna make him listen if there's no other option. The Black Flashes aren't there to kill Sukuna without concern for anyone else, they're the only chance they have to get Megumi out of there or at least give him back control (he only has to take it). Yuuji didn't call out to him or specifically think of him (at least it wasn't vocalised for the reader), but that doesn't mean he forgot about Megumi. We've generally heard very little of Yuuji's thoughts during this fight and it was still clear Megumi was his aim in all this.

In my opinion, Yuuji only really dips into selfish and reckless hate when he's clawing at Sukuna's chest to tear his heart out (which wouldn't immediately kill Sukuna btw as Yuuji knows very well). It's where we see him completely livid. Still, previously, he very much shows concern for his comrades. He does get angry when Sukuna shows up after Choso dies, but it's more a gritting of teeth to steal himself, he's not raging like when he claws at Sukuna's chest. Plus, Todo showing up and telling him the others are probably okay is what gives him the strength to give it his all again and jump full force back into the fight. That took some convincing and believing in Todo's words, he wasn't gonna do that to begin with or his mindset when seeing Todo and hearing about the others would've been different. Todo wouldn't have needed to say anything at all then and Yuuji wouldn't have been so relieved to hear his reassurance. Choso's death making him question his cog mentality by ripping something important away from him, but also showing him Choso thinks his life has value is what set off his hate, but he doesn't immediately fall into it. Chapter 260 and 261 are the first real glimpses we see of it.

I think Todo being here is very important for that reason. He might not particularly care about Megumi, but he cares about Yuuji and his mental health. He wouldn't let Yuuji turn into a hate-driven monster, much less become a second Sukuna. He has helped Yuuji find himself before and I can see him being a grounding and supportive presence in this fight once again.

Now as mentioned in the beginning, I do agree with the points that Yuuji is becoming more selfish with his hate towards Sukuna and he could easily be consumed by it. Sukuna is slowly changing him in his attempt to fight against him. I like that development and am looking forward to it. We've seen Sukuna has succeeded in breaking Yuuta's ideals, but I don't see Yuuji being quite at that stage yet. Yuuji always had a viscousness to him, he was never a perfect little schoolboy with a halo over him, in that case I don't think Sukuna would've had such trouble with him. He was determined to kill Sukuna by any means necessary before Shinjuku, but he also very much always had Megumi at the back of his mind, being pretty much one of the few besides Hana or Higuruma who showed outright concern. That's slipping, but he just got there. Choso was the real turning point, not Yuuji's awakening.

And I just completely disagree with the last two tweets. Yuuji and Sukuna aren't the exact same, that would honestly be quite pointless and not a very thrilling message or ending. You made a boy give up on his ideals and be driven by pure hate or adapt Sukuna's mindset. Wow, groundbreaking. We just saw that happen with Yuuta. He doesn't have this genuine hate for Sukuna Yuuji has, but we see through him that breaking a young sorcerer's ideals and good intentions is possible. We don't need that message repeated with Yuuji. If anything, this might be a good reminder for Yuuji for who he might turn into if he's not careful. Yuuji becoming exactly like Sukuna, down to his title would be such a weird thing to end on. What's that supposed to tell us. There will always be a Sukuna? How profound. There will always be that one strongest monster in the world? Yuuta is literally trying to achieve that right now and you can see what a weak philosophy it is and unsustainable at that. Yuuji becomes the strongest sorcerer in history...yay?

Yuuji is neither mentally, physically and especially not spiritually Sukuna and he's not supposed to be.

[worldsewage]

How does Fuzzification and, Salmonification? work in homerun? Specficially if theres any mental changes!

Ramblings under the cut! :

To preface, I’m gonna start off with some Inkling biology: Inklings are designed to transform and explode (splat) and be tricky and swift via means of completely deconstructing their bodies into a bunch of memory holding parts that are capable of reattaching themselves and forming DIFFERENT parts depending on the command given… this is the act of transforming between kid and swim form, and it’s possible to linger on phases between transforming. This makes inklings extremely powerful and vulnerable in the same stroke. Sort of a glass canon species, no muscles, no true bones, just ink that shifts and exists in gooey messes, or in mini pressurized blasts that mimic muscle when needed or condense into super compressed pressurized parts that stand in for “bone”, the only true separate organ that exists outside of the ink blueprint that mimics organs is the membrane outside the skin, and this is only because it is made of a different series of material than organs and ink (which all contains the same cells, the one that allow them to splat / transform / etc). This “membrane” is a super thin organ that holds all of the “ink” when they get splatted, though it doesn’t physically “hold” the cells, in simpler terms it sort of acts as a thin bag that carries the blueprint cells, it is the structure that allows the cells to fill in details…

The membrane functions like … imagine a plastic glove, the glove is the membrane, next to the glove is a puddle of ink, the ink is the organ/transforming cells. The glove has the ability to pull the water inside of it, and the water is always attached to the glove, even if not inside it, and the glove can pull and release the water at will. When filled, the shape of the glove makes it so the water inside the glove will always, even when stretched or pulled, form a hand. If the glove is torn, the shape distorts, or doesn’t fill properly, depending on the tear. The membrane is able to release ink by seperating very very slightly, enough for ink to burst out of the gaps. (I imagine inklings feel like water balloons filled to the brim… like on the brink of popping? Squishy, yet “dense.”)

Sanitization was a means of replacing the membrane with thick scale like skin. (Btw, this was because in the more detailed sanitization designs I made in the past, I made the skin resemble the scale like patterns used in skin grafts on humans. A thing Inklings wouldn’t ever necessarily need.) Tartar’s quest to make this species who he has deemed worthless feel “even an ounce of humanity” , as a torturous poetic revenge, make them “human.” It forces the membrane to thicken into skin, they can no longer splat or transform. Organs still float in ink globs a tad uselessly inside of them, “useless” organs (as in extra hearts) are surgically removed. There are many complications with sanitization, as it is project made by a damaged rouge ai which was— during the development of santization— unable to speak or communicate eloquently, trying to convey the mess of the emotions it feels via commands and actions. And unfortunately, in this case, it’s squid body horror, it’s physically rejecting taking part in this project, and instead is turning squids into something else entirely.

Cycloid Serum works similarly, but rather it burns off the membrane and heals over it with scales, cycloid serum was the science that was attempted to be created when sanitization was developed. Cycloid serum is more effective on Inklings, since Octolings already have a denser skin. The commander could have probably had printed out a more thorough and in depth explanation of the science used in sanitization… But, oh well. “a tragic error occurred in the device used to develop it, leading to the project’s abandonment.”

Cycloid Serum was made using Salmonid Skin parts as an effort to reduce the deaths caused by rising tides for Inklings. It was mostly used on rouge outskirt inklings who are separate from Inkopolis Inklings. It seems most Inkling’s who agreed to the testing were already seeking out greatness, the test subjects all seemed to be talented and well famed— it later proved that this project was to create ink-salmonids that would rule on the front lines, and the reason “popular / famous / talented “ inklings were chosen is because it directly ties into Salmonid’s religious culture regarding home running.

This project was scraped, but the few remaining Salmon-Inklings are very popular for their sleek design— especially among Dome-Salmonids, who have similar beauty standards to New Inkadia Octarians due to growing up AROUND Inklings/Octolings, meaning short muzzles and humanoid appearances are desirable. (Such as Frye, in the Alterna, aka Cat Hell.) Unfortunately, these Subjects still have Running instincts; and can transform.

Fuzzy Ooze was a separate project not related to the creation of the Cycloid serum. The company who funded this project was still the same, though. Fuzzy Ooze is dense and is layered on top of the Inkfish, and slowly melds into the skin, unlike the previous serums, Fuzzy Ooze CAN infect other species, but it seems it works BEST with Octarians, fuzzy inklings tend to not last, and splat and are capable of fully removing the fuzz, but since Octarians contain more MUSCLE and actual flesh compared to the Ink + Membrane species, Fuzzy Ooze works more effectively. I’ll probably make a detailed post regarding the anatomical differences in each species.

Mental Changes: (ie: what the ask was originally about before I went rogue.)

Santization wipes the memory wholly and totally, and the first moments are rough, as they’re completely hollowed out; they need training to re-remember certain actions and behaviors, most Sanitized subjects are nearly catatonic and unresponsive the first week. Usually after that, they slowly remember ‘habits’ they may have had, such as tapping their foot, dominant hand, humming tunes, if is exclusively muscle memory and mostly they are not responsive nor do they recognize the importance of the behavior. Previous traumas or fears no longer trigger reactions.

Cycloid Serum does not wipe the memory, but rather it forces them to inherit Salmonid Instincts; which makes them inherent generational traumas + inclination towards swimming + cravings and changes in diet… ie experiencing desires inklings would NOT desire. (Mostly because Salmonids NEED water, they need to keep their gills moist to survive, Cycloid Serum victims don’t…) Most have a hard time sorting out memories, much like the Mud; but slightly different… mostly due to being aware and alert. They have their memories, but because they are fueled with random instincts, the “importance” or “significance” of events in their mind will warp… leading to what could be perceived as memory loss, they do, mostly, just thier goals are warped. Because they follow Salmonid Instincts, they can homerun.

Those infected by Fuzzy Ooze will have a change in diet + behaviors + and May develop aches or pains that Inklings wouldn’t typically develop as a result of slowly churning their insides into red blood guts. They also don’t experience memory loss, but as a result of a rush of new emotions + instincts, they can come off as if they DON’T know you, because certain memories are labeled as nonsignificant. There are probably certain types of fuzzy folk depending on the DNA used… but ultimately they are NATURALLY non-violent.

Both Fuzzy and Cycloid’d inkfish can transform. Not neatly nor safely. But they can.

[quitealotofsodapop]

The conflict between Wukong and Macaque during the journey to me feels like a very complicated one simply because, at its core, Wukong feels abandoned by Macaque... but with 500+ years of self esteem issues brought about by his time under the mountain, being conditioned into a martyr by Azure, and just everyone and everything they come across treating him like a monster, he doesn't feel he has a right to be upset with Macaque when he was the one to lash out to begin with. So he tries to mask his pain by finding other, also extremely valid, reasons to be upset. Why did Macaque leave FFM without a protector? Why did he attack them? Why did it take someone physically jumping between the two to stop Macaque from accidentally hurting Wukong's unborn child?

It's a highly complicated situation, especially since Macaque is not entirely in the wrong either. He had the right to be upset with Wukong. He had needed the space and time away to heal himself just as Wukong is doing now by being forced upon this journey of redemption and healing. His mistake was that he got so caught up in his travels that he forgot or ignored his duties, thinking someone else would handle it. Because in the past it was always slemone else who did, it was Wukong. Except this time, Wukong wasn't around to protect the island. He was trapped. Leaving Macaque as the sole protector who could do anything.

The Pilgrims are outsiders looking in. They can see the situation for what it is, even without the full context. They see Wukong is hurt by Macaque and feels abandoned. They see Macaque is regretful and perhaps still a bit scared of the prrson Wukogn had turned into when he was at his worst. They're both deeply hurt, and they're both trying to figure out who they are and where they stand in their relationship with all the pain that now separates them. The fact that Stone Monkeys mate for life and Wukong is pregnant does little to help, Macaque feels the need to be there for Wukong while Wukong is left wondering why is he only now coming back after everything that happened. They need an intervention.

Prev.

YEEESSSS

its a multi-layered conflict!

Wukong's anger is born of worry and of confusion - but especially the actions (or rather inaction) that Macaque did that harmed others. While Macaque was put into the same position as his mate, suddenly thrust into power as FFM's ruler. Mac did what Wukong had done when he left to train under Subodhi. He left when he realised it was just too much for him in that moment.

The only difference being that Macaque wasn't sure if he'd ever come back - he wasn't born on FFM after all, and he had yet to find his own answers on what/who he was. It's only after so many years that Macaque sort of realises that he really should have stayed, but at the same time feels that he's "in too deep" to ever come back. Same with his relationship with Wukong - would it be easier/less painful to call the whole thing off or for them to repair what they once had? He's still a little scared of whoever Wukong became when he burst forth from the Furnace, but now theres this... future baby to consider - a little person who has no idea of the wrongs the either of them have done to eachother. Macaque wants to protect them.

Wukong on the flip side wants Macaque to talk to him about why he felt that he needed to leave. He wants confirmation and closure and honesty - Macaque often forgets that not everyone can tell lie from truth with just their ears.

And ofc the other Pilgrims are on the outside looking in - seconds away from locking these two in a room to force them to talk things out.

Sorry I just love when people send me introspectives of these goobers' relationship. Never be scared to send more <3

[feroluce]

Obsessing over the new ingirida / nobokai possibilities in pokemas after the pla update because oh my goddddddddd

Just. Irida hanging out with the twins for a few days in Pasio, getting to spend time with them and even become friends, and realizing that this really is Ingo, but it's not her Ingo, at least not yet. But she doesn't really have any way of knowing what to do about this, and she can't stick around long enough to figure it out. She has to go back.

Irida very seriously taking Ingo's hands in hers and looking up at him and telling him that if he ever finds himself at a loss somewhere and with nowhere to go, come to the pearl clan. Come find her. She'll help him, she swears it.

Ingo finds it a little odd, but she says it so sadly (plus there's a cute girl holding his hands dbkxjske) and so sincerely that he can't really bring himself to ask about it. Ingo nods and tells her yes, ok, he promises he'll come find her someday, they'll see each other again.

And Irida looking as though she might cry as she stands in front of the rift, telling Emmet to please, please, take good care of Ingo, spend lots of time with him... Treasure all of it, don't take it for granted, ok?

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Since we're talking about Grandfather Spider can we Girls please just take one single moment of the day to remember and think about his, "I am beyond angry with you, but I could never hate you." quote to Grandmother Raven please. Please. Please can we do that? I will become sick as fuck if someone doesn't acknowledge this with me

[whyismangososour]

anyways I think my favorite steddie trope is when there’s any moment where steve is quiet and eddie gets so confused and stressed because he just has no clue what steve is thinking at all times despite the fact that canonically joe keery makes sure that every emotion steve feels is made PAINFULLY clear on his face at all times during the show and it’s pretty safe to assume that doesn’t change in fan works it’s just that eddie’s brain stops functioning properly around him

[13eyond13]

one of the lesser talked about fun things about intentionally reading more books is finding new stuff to be a bit of a hater about tbh

[birdbraintoh]

Oh my god okay so we all remember this part of Hollow Mind, right?

This obviously means that the rest of the grimwalkers, while maybe sharing traits with Caleb, didn’t look as identical to him as Hunter does.

Now I’m no biologist but I have a basic understanding of punnet squares. Our phenotypes are more or less randomly selected during fertilization and they’re passed from parents to kid. And if you have the same parents as your siblings, then you’re more likely to look like them or share traits with them. The only reason you have different traits is because there are so many to choose from and hey, you have brown hair and your sibling has blonde. That’s just how it turned out but you still carry the genes for blonde hair (not a perfect example but we’re also talking about a magical world so whatever)

What if one day Belos was making a new grimwalker. It’s no big deal; He’s done this about a dozen times now. Every single one is looking less and less like him, and Belos is getting increasingly frustrated. He keeps them around because, well, Caleb only had 206 bones and he can only make so many grimwalkers. Might as well manipulate the ones you have, right?

Belos completes the ritual and he stands at the head of the grave as the grimwalker sits up straight from the dirt.

And it’s the striking image of teenage Philip.

He kills that one quickly and doesn’t make another for a while. (Tags)

[konfizry]

Anyway speaking of the sun did I ever tell you about the tales of arise eclipses