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natailiatulls07 · 6 months

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Hi Ivan you please do teenage reader is Jules bianchi daughter and Charles raised her as he’s her godfather and she’s his pride and joy and grew up basically at the paddock so all the drivers knew her and are like uncles to her and there all wrapped around her finger cause of how sweet she is ( she’s like sunshine ) and can you do them and Charles reaction to her getting her first boyfriend?

Marguerite

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - Charles’ little sister, is now dating but that’s not much of a celebration to her brother and the three other drivers

Warnings - swearing in french, probably horrible french translations lmao, Jules Bianchi's death, funeral

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister

Marguerite

2015

Front row in Nice Cathedral sat Y/n Bianchi. She was dressed in a lacy black dress, her hair in curls tied up in a half up half down hairstyle. Beside her was Charles Leclerc, her older brother. He kept glancing over at the nine year old girl.

In front of them sat her fathers coffin surrounded with daisies, his favourite flower. It was also what Jules nicknamed Y/n.

'Marguerite'

She was playing with the lace, this isn't the right place for a nine year old to be. Outside were a plethora of media and press, ready to capture the drivers attending the funeral, Jules' coffin or Y/n Bianchi. There was little to no pity for the young girl on this hard for her from the media or press.

"Charlie?" Y/n's small and unsure voice pulled his attention to her. "Who are all these people?" Pointing to the many people attending the funeral around the cathedral, Y/n made a face of confusion.

Charles was quick to look around the cathedral. "They are here to pay their respect to papa...just like us" He took a deep breath, trying to keep composure for the nine year old. "Papa is a very loved and respected man by many"

Y/n knew of the love and respect her father had, but still couldn't understand that. "But they didn't know him like we do?" It was true, these people don't know Jules like his daughter and godson does.

They didn't know that he was doing formula one for Y/n, they didn't know that he was both terrified and proud of Charles for following in his path. They didn't know this stuff, personal stuff.

The Monégasque loved how observant she was, he loved that she could seperate personal love and platonic love. "That's why you don't need to give them anything today, just focus on loving and saying goodbye to papa..." Nodding her head, Y/n listened to Charles' request.

"Focus on papa..."

2023

After Jules' death, Charles' practically adopted his daughter. Only a couple months after the funeral, Y/n moved in with Charles. He became her legal guardian.

Y/n, now seventeen years old, was sat at a lunch table with Alex, Charles' current girlfriend and Rebecca, Carlos' current girlfriend. On any race weekend, she would attach herself mostly to the two girls and looked up to them a lot .

"So babes any more news on that boy, what was his name? Tom?" Alex asked curiously. With Charles being Y/n's legal guardian, Alex would take on the role of big sister and would give anything to talk about the seventeen years olds love life.

"Oh my god yeah! Has it moved any more from the dms?" Rebecca would chime in, she was also a great lover of listening about Y/n's love life.

"Well..." Y/n dragged this bit out, seeing how anticipated the two older women were getting. "We've been on a few dates, Charlie doesn't know though"

Both Alex and Rebecca were quick to gasp, drawing the attention of those around them before snickering slightly. "Oh and when I asked what we were, he said that I'm his and he's mine!"

All three females were grinning at that last piece of information and Alex was about to say something when the two ferrari boys had made their arrival at the table. Both dressed in the racing suits, red head to toe.

"What we talking about ladies?" Charles asked excitedly, giving Alex a quick peck on the lips before checking on his adopted sister who was trying her hardest not to laugh.

"Oh nothing! Just asking Y/n how she's finding college at the moment..." The oldest of the ladies, Rebecca, spoke up and quickly covered up their previous conversation with a lie.

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, glad that Rebecca had managed to cover it all up. "Yeah, it um...great at the moment, love it"

She was about to say something else but Charles was quick and swift to step in and essential boost about the girls success in college. "Better than great! Marguerite is at the top of her class, studying media and communication!"

'Marguerite'

It warmed Y/n's heart to know that Charles had carried on her papas legacy.

"Oh wow! Go on Y/n!" The tall spanard celebrated, clearing proud of her success much like his teammate. "Top of the class! You really are a smart lady, you gonna conquer the world!"

The whole table laughed at Carlos’ enthusiasm to praise the seventeen year olds success in her studies.

It was two am in the morning, Charles and Alex were asleep in their room however the teenager was not.

No, she was pulling on her Jordans. Wearing a white and baby pink tracksuit, Y/n grabbed her phone before quickly and quietly rushing to the front door of the apartment.

She was going to hang out at Toms house, yet Charles still didn’t know. Also the Monégasque had a curfew for Y/n, two am was much past that curfew by now.

Y/n went to unlock the apartment door but when she accidentally dropped her keys on the hardwood floors, she panicked. The walls are paper thin.

Of course this meant that she had woken up Charles and Alex. “Fuck!” Y/n quietly cursed herself for ruining her plan.

As she went to pick up the keys, the hallway light flickered on. “Y/n? What are you doing up?” It was Charles. “And dressed?”

“C-Charlie…hi” He gave her a confused expression, clearly not oblivious to her nervousness.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Charles asked again, more firm now.

“I um…nothing” Y/n replied to his question horribly, it was evident that she was lying. He held a intimidating glance over the girl, prompting her to open up and spill. “I was sneaking out! I’m sorry Charlie!” She pleaded.

“Where to? A party?”

“No…um my boyfriends house…” She knew it would come out eventually so it was better to rip off the bandaid and fast.

Silence filled the hallway, Charles looked shocked and unsure of how to react whilst Y/n felt ashamed and anxious.

Another voice filled the air, Alex. “How about we all go to bed, yeah? Talk about this in the morning” She waited for the two to nod, Y/n much quicker than Charles but he did still nod. “Y/n, I suggest you text Tom and tell him you can’t come over”

“Okay…” Charles look even more shocked and angry when he realised that Alex must of known about this the whole time.

Waking up the next morning, Y/n could hear distant voices from the kitchen. Getting out of bed and making her way to the kitchen, the voices became more identifiable.

There were four, all with various accents. Monégasque, Spanish, British and finally Dutch. That could mean only four people.

As she walked into the kitchen dining room, it was confirmed to Y/n that she had Charles, Carlos, Lando and Max there, all seemingly waiting for her.

"Morning..." It hadn't seemed to click in her mind as to why they were all there staring at her disapprovingly.

It was only when she realised that Alex was not there and the usual bubbily behaviour the men would have was no where to be seen that the penny dropped. "Oh..."

"You wanna tell the guys whats happened?" The sarcastic tone Charles had set the tone for the rest of the conversation. Plus it was bullshit. The Monégasque would have already told them the whole story, it was evident on their faces.

"Go on Y/n, do tell..." The third time world champion pushed.

Looking down, Y/n had now instantly found her acrylic nalls very interesting. "I was sneaking out...and Charles caught me..." The seventeen year old mumbled.

"Where were you sneaking out to?"

"My boyfriends place..." The girl finally looked up and was met once again with disappointed facial expressions. "I'm sorry, I know you like me dating but he's a really sweet guy..." Y/n tried to reason with them but before anyone else could say anything, there was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it and you." Charles got up from his seat, pointing to Y/n. "You are still not off the hook." He was quick to make his way to the front door whilst Carlos, Max and Lando spoke to Y/n a little bit more, slightly softer now.

However, their conversation was cut short rather quickly when they heard Charles shout. "You got to be fucking kidding me!"

Turns out Tom had decided to come over, expecting only Y/n to be home. So now he was being dragged into the kitchen dining room by his shirts neck line. "Carlos, Max and Lando meet the boyfriend. Go on introduce yourself."

Tom and Y/n locked eyes, his more panicked and hers more guilty. "Charlie come on, let him go! He hasn't done anything wrong!" The twenty six year old did thankfully listen to her, but dropped the boy to the ground in the process.

“Except violate our Marguerites innocent mind” Lando snapped back, truly believing that Y/n’s mind was completely innocent.

The young boys hands went up in defence, smirking slightly. He knew that Y/n was far from innocent. “Oh don’t smirk!” The Spaniard caught Toms smirk, and was not happy about it.

It was Maxs turn to speak again. “Okay okay, right Y/n and Tom sit down on the couch” He demanded.

Listening to the Dutch man, the two seventeen year olds were quick to sit down on the couch. Toms hand unconsciously moved to rest on Y/n’s thigh but drew back to his own lap when he felt the sharp glare from all four of the drivers.

“You explain yourself” Max pointed toward the female.

“Me and Tom met through a mutual friend, we’ve been on a few dates and I love him” A deep crimson blush covered her cheeks. Giggling softly.

It was hard for the drivers to stay annoyed at Tom, they could see how happy this one boy made her.

Happiness is all Charles ever wanted for Y/n especially after losing her father. Happiness was something the Monégasque always deeply prioritised whilst raising his little sister.

“He makes me happy…Charlie please”

That same deep blush covered Toms cheeks, he was still a young and awkward teen. “Oh I didn’t know that…you love me?”

They were like love sick puppies, anyone could tell even if they were blind or deaf. “Yeah of course I do…”

This stumped Charles, Max, Lando and Carlos. They wanted to be angry at Tom but they simply couldn’t. Why? Because it was obvious how happy and loved Y/n felt with Tom.

“Putain!” Cursed Charles. How is he meant to be angry now? “You know, you are really making it hard for us to be angry at you”

Lando nodded in agreement. “Yeah fuck you for that guys”

A smirk cracked through Y/n’s rosey cheeks, well aware of what was happening. She knew full well that they weren’t annoyed at them anymore.

“So does this mean that you approve?” As soon as Y/n asked the question, Tom became confident once again and moved his hand back to her thigh, caressing it slightly.

All the older men just groaned, knowing that they’d just have to endure with the relationship. It was gonna happen eventually, Charles just wished it didn’t come round so soon. “Yes fine, just keep it pg thirteen around us please”

Nodding excitedly, Y/n happily jumped up from the couch before wrapping her arms around Charles hugging him tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

This made him reminisce on when Y/n was younger, hugging was on of her favourite things to, especially with Jules.

Whilst the brother and sister hugged tightly, Tom with his new found confidence also got up. Shaking the hands of the three other drivers.

“You protect her, you hear me.” Carlos warned. Tom was quick in nodding, not wanting to cause any more bad impressions.

And in those moments where Y/ns relationship with Tom could come free, letting them love each other openly and without fear, both Charles and Y/n could feel Jules’ presence.

They could feel how he was looking down on them, protecting them, loving them and being their guardian angel.

Watching over his dear godson and his Marguerite.

Marguerite

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trappednyourheart · 19 days

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The wrong DNA test

( what if, Sheila wasn't really Jason's mother? The system is already corrupted, then what about the test?).

A huge brawl containing every rogue had started at the time of Halloween, causing the people from downtown to fled there home's as joker had clownized the whole neighborhood with his goon's.

Every bats had taken to groups to take out the three parts of Gotham's as the rogue's had started to make alliances, some had lasted quite long while had conflicts, and causing a big damage to Arkham asylum,

It didn't take long before they captured all of them, none of the bats questions as they observed Jason glowing green eyes starting to flick, they thought it was the pit again, growing wary of the cooperation, but Crime alley was involved and that mean business to Red hood's turf.

Catherine todd love her son as her own even if not biological, Jason knew that. But her thing with drugs couldn't make her stop.

Sometimes after that, they could hear Jason humming a tune,a nice melody from Damian's statement saying that Jason muttered to him “ lullaby” as Jason continued to read his book, maybe it could be from Catherine,

they knew how Jason's past with Catherine todd, his mom even if not related, Catherine loves her son like her own kid but her doing drugs and... overdosing couldn't be stop.

Maybe Jason just remembered his mother maybe reminiscing atleast something familiar...even if it was a bad time.

Jason had constantly have been hearing a woman's? Man's? Voice, singing him a lullaby...it soothing, like as if he known and loved this melody...and that's where the dreams kept coming, there was a person, giving him kisses, Talkin to him stories, singing him lullabies and soothing him, he could dream that he was actually a baby, a baby from a normal couple, well don't count the luxurious baby room.

Jason had took out a conspiracies why he was getting this dreams, ( he swears he's not becoming Tim) and voices, maybe like a misshapen memories from the pits of victims? No it's to peaceful for that, maybe magic? He already contacted Constantine but surely hang up after knowing who it was-

Just how is he getting this dreams? Unless it wasn't.... So he proved again his point, he started a DNA test, again but none had records...of Sheila being his biological mother...that was weird, last time he had a test was from the time as robin..and before his-

So he went to that hospital who had said where Sheila had given birth to him, and most of shock is that no one knows a mother giving birth named Sheila haywood but had a document of a baby, of one Jason jay nightingale, the most believing part was that it's the same day he was born in.

His mother, Daniel F. Nightingale was said to be trans as the doctor who help his mother safely delivered him, And saying that his mother loved him,

one Sheila Haywood had the constant trick to get him and taken him as his own, because his mother's family was a wealthy one they practically sold him to her.

Jason had thought that maybe his mother's family never wanted him to have a son with a man from Gotham's crime alley.

Meanwhile Danny had just been YEETED to the DC universe before the start of Batman's justice thing and had been adopted by a very wealthy fruit loops couple as there kid, so he stayed as the couples daughter even pretending, because he owed ghost writer a favor for the last time, and as DC universe exist so it's story, and one thing for sure the child he had to give birth in this universe has a very complicated fate,

he did the one night stand from his supposed friend Willis Todd? He had to befriend him as Dalia F. nightingale the supposed Wealthy daughter who fell in love with a peasant trope, and gotten pregnant making it a scandal, and reaching to his ‘parents’ circle and getting that drama.

But he never thought he would care for his child, his little jay, his ghost side would purr in delight when they held Jason, he was a very hard sucker especially from his pacifier or his breast, it's so weird being in a women body,

but the way his ‘parents’ sold his son to the women who was supposed to get his son killed and being revived by cheap parody ass of ectoplasm.

He went feral, he had an argument to his ‘parents’ but all fell deaf ears, he couldn't find his son in one of the hotels nearby where that BXtch was.

And that time was where his part of the script was fulfilled, ghost writer already took him, both sides of his, were angry.

He. will. get. his. baby. back.

#dcxdp #Danny phantom #dcxdp crossover #Mom!Danny #Batfam #Jason todd #portraits #When the bats find this they decided to help find Jason's Mom only to find out she went missing #his Jay Nightingale now #yes- im getting of topic #so lets just say that clockwork has also has some things involved with his #dcdp #batfam #and ghostwriter #so if this doesn't go to your timeline aus or smth or cannon idk what to say #when the bats found out about Jason's investigation to find his mother #they gladly help but after finding where jason's grandparents who sold him to Haywood #they meet with them #and the whole revealed was much more depressing because His mother died/missing/suicide #Ghost writer was the one who plan the...The death scene.#so jason is sad #and very much wants his momma #because thats how ghost parents shit is right?#yeah i dont think im educated enough #So the grandparents are like grieving for there son (yes they accepted his trans btw).#and let jason and the rest of the batfam in there manor/castle ( cause there seriously old money) and introduce jason to his mom's things #portraits of danny #telling stories of danny in his youth.#but they avoided the way he ‘died’ for ghost writers plot conveniences but they mention #green...like ectoplasm but they just called it green liquid.

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throwaway-yandere · 9 months

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FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you.

The sixth.

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect.

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out. As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible.

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur.

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this?

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it.

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor.

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often.

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone.

But that’s not the issue right now.

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.”

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter.

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words.

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara."

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince.

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him.

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor.

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts.

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

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gemissleeping · 3 months

Text

Sea Foam | Chapter Three

Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader

Read the other Chapters here.

Summary: It’s been three weeks since Theo found you by the Black Lake, and he’s tried his best to respect your wishes. But it hasn’t done anything to help either of you, and all of your efforts come crashing down in the bathroom at a Slytherin party.

Length: 2.1k

Notes: More of a Theo POV than the usual. Angry Theo. Teenage boys being teenage boys (foul and icky, nsfw language). Overbearing best friend Blaise. Smoking Theo. Slightly intoxicated reader. Soft Theo. Tears. I did not proofread this at all you have been warned, pls do tell me if there are any errors. Listen to Cinnamon Girl by Lana if you’d like to go through it. ily enjoy!

“You’re staring again,” Blaise grumbled under his breath from beside Theo in Divination. It had been three weeks since Theo had found you on the shoreline. Dressed only in your nightgown in the height of the winter frost. That crestfallen look on your face while the wind had bitten at you both. He’d tried his best to respect your wishes since then; making sure to steer clear of you whenever he could, to stop flitting through your mind like it was his favourite novel. He’d tried his best and still he’d failed, over and over.

He knew it was wrong, but he was beyond help. Slipping into your mind was unbearably easy. So much so, that he’d found himself doing it purely by accident on a few occasions, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He knew you could practice occlumency, had even witnessed you obliterate Malfoy’s attempt at invading your mind in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year. Yet you barely even seemed to notice when he did it. Your apparent lack of awareness only made it harder for Theo to stop himself.

“Sorry,” Theo mumbled, blinking his trance away as he glanced over to Blaise with a dull apology. Blaise and Theo had become fast friends in First Year. After Cormack had made a comment about Theo’s Mother on the train, and Blaise had responded by hitting him right between the eyes. Blaise and Theo were close. Though not as close as you, Milli and Blaise were. Everyone knew that the three of you were utterly inseparable. Having met long before the rest of them at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Blaise had adopted a tendency towards being irritatingly over-protective of you. Likely for good reason; Theo hadn’t made the best of impressions when it came to his relationships with women. They were often fleeting, borne of convenience and nothing more.

Which was exactly why Blaise was currently pissed with him. Blaise spent an awful lot of his time watching people. Regrettably, for Theo that included him, and these days he spent most of his time firmly stuck on you. To say Blaise wasn’t pleased would have been an understatement.

At this point, he may as well have been your damn guard dog, and Theo was tiring of the act quickly. He’d spent years wanting to know you, outside of the occasional class project. Years of pretending you didn’t exist for Blaise’s sake. When really, you were a large part of the reason that he had never settled on anyone to begin with.

Theo turned back to his parchment, huffing as he saw the ink stain leaking across the page. That, along with several half-finished notes, provided rather damning evidence of his distraction.

He stole a glance over at you again, keeping his head low in the hopes Blaise wouldn’t catch him. You were sitting beneath the window, stuck in a daydream of your own as Trelawney prattled on. Eyes misted over, one hand woven through your hair as you rested on it.

You were lovely.

Theo wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had resumed his staring. But as Trelawney brought the lesson to a close, the dull edge of a textbook collided with the side of his head in a singular, harsh thud. Breaking his focus on you as he looked up in bewilderment to Blaise, who stood with his edition of Astrology for the Ungifted raised.

“Git.” He hissed, lowering the book with scathing eyes.

Theo didn’t see you for the rest of the afternoon, not with Blaise practically escorting him to their dorm as soon as Divination concluded. Enzo was already there, lazily slung across his desk chair. Brow raised as Blaise entered in a huff, Theo trailing behind him in defeat. There was supposed to be a party in the Common Room tonight. But right now it wasn’t looking like Theo would be in for a particularly enjoyable evening.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You want to fuck her.”

“I don’t want to fuck her,” Theo winced at his friend’s choice of words.

“You don’t want to fuck her? You don’t want to fuck her?” Blaise rounded, textbook jabbing at Theo’s chest incredulously. Theo groaned, knowing Blaise wouldn’t rest until he knew Theo was being honest with him.

“No, I- fuck, fine. Yes, I want to. Of course I do, but that’s not-”

“Not what? Forgive me for my utter faith in your fucking abysmal track record. But she is my best fucking friend Theo.” Blaise snapped, turning from the boy’s dead-eyed stare and viciously tugging at his tie as he stalked towards his bed. Whipping it from his neck in a surge of anger.

Enzo rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. Watching the display unfold with anxious eyes as Matt cracked the bathroom door open, lighting up with sadistic intrigue. The pair exchanged a glance, the former silently begging the latter not to stick his foot in.

Theo felt his chest tighten at Blaise’s words. His hand running roughly along his jaw, trying to soothe his irritation. Gazing at the ornate wooden panels on the ceiling with a sigh before he attempted to break through to him again. It was out in the open now at least, it likely couldn’t get worse.

“You don’t understand, she-”

“Please, Nott. Tell me what I don’t understand about the girl I’ve known since she was three years old.” Blaise bellowed, reigniting as he swung back to the taller boy. The click of the door interrupted them.

“What’s with all the shouting? I can hear you fools from the hall,” Malfoy droned, bored as he kicked the door shut behind him. Flicking his wand to cast some sort of muffling charm across it.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Blaise sneered, not even glancing over to acknowledge his friend’s arrival. The words feeling far more aimed towards Theo than the blonde. Draco only sighed, moving past the both of them.

“None of you ever thank me for anything that I do for you,” He grumbled in response. Throwing a stack of books onto his bed before going to shove Matt out of the bathroom.

“If you even think about fucking touching her-” Blaise continued, steam practically rising from his skin as he narrowed in on Theo again.

“Oh, he has.” Matt interrupted, leaning back against Enzo’s desk with folded arms. Theo shooting him a heavy glare as Matt only smirked back knowingly. An expression Enzo swiftly answered by scolding him with a kick to the shin.

“Look at me, Nott,” Blaise demanded. His voice low, lip curling back in a sneer, “I’ll skin you, understand?”

“Listen, I-” Theo started, his own voice rising as his attention shifted back to Blaise, irritation swelling. But he was impossible to reason with when he was like this, everyone knew it.

“You don’t fuck with her,” Blaise cut in, his voice soaked with finality. Standing before Theo while his chest heaved with anger, book still clutched in his accusatory palm. Theo could feel his own restraint unwrapping. The other’s eyes on them only pushing him further into that corner of himself. He needed air, now. Or else he was going to do something he couldn’t undo. Then you were certain to never speak to him again.

Hands raised in silent surrender, he backed away from Blaise. Jaw set as he plucked his jacket from the end of his bed, turning for the door. Enzo’s tired sigh leaked through the dorm as he pulled it open harshly, likely readying himself to chastise Blaise. Something he’d also likely do to Theo when he caught him later. Though if he had any luck today, maybe Enzo and the others would already be drunk by the time he got back.

He made for the edge of the forest. Rolling a cigarette as he went, trying not to bite down on the filter between his teeth from residual disdain. The icy air was a small mercy, quenching the heat running through him almost immediately. For hours he stood out there, letting the smoke in to empty out all of the things he didn’t want to feel. Watching as the moon chased the sun down to the horizon.

The party would be well underway. God willing you hopefully had yourself tangled in someone else by now. At least then Theo might have been able to give himself a proper reason to stop, smooth things over with Blaise. Though he had begun to doubt if even that would work.

Theo made his way through the tangle of writhing bodies in the heat of the Common Room. No desire to taint himself further with the desperate need to forget that rolled off of the sweaty air. Matt was by the stairs, where the crowd thinned out at its edges. More enticed by the girl whose cigarette he was lighting than by any questions he might’ve had for Theo, as he continued his path to the dorms.

He had meant to go straight there. To take off his jacket, untie his shoelaces. Instead he found himself headed past his door, down to one of the communal bathrooms that lined the dormitory halls. He wasn’t sure why, until something tugged at him. Drawing him to push open the bathroom door; and there you were.

Gaze flitting to his hazily in the mirror. Eyeliner smudged, haloing your eyes. You stilled where you had been standing, as if he had walked straight out of your thoughts. Softening as you took in his wind kissed hair, and he the tremble of your fingers on the countertop. Theo pushed himself away, against the pull of his chest, away from what he wanted. He made for the door again, unsure of why he had allowed himself to be led to you to begin with.

“You weren’t at Dinner,” you called softly, not daring to turn and look at him without a reflection between you. He stilled, one hand on the door as his heart hammered at his ribs.

“You told me to stay away,” he answered simply. Afraid to turn around in case what he saw laying in your eyes only salted the wound some more.

“Not that far.”

You breathed, turning to face him. Eyes aching to touch his cheek, graze across his thoughts, his desires. Theo’s hand dropped from the door, chest swelling from your proclamation. He could feel his breathing falter, hear the force of it. He turned hesitantly, a rasp collecting in his throat.

“Well how far would you like me?”

He saw your breath hitch, didn’t even have to scratch at your mind. You seemed to be leaking into his on your own accord. He could hear just how far you wanted him, and it wasn’t far at all.

Your lips parted, so he made sure to be the first to speak. To save you both the trouble.

“You’re drunk.”

You shook your head, eyes growing glassy with the salt of tears as you moved towards where he leant against the door.

“I’ve been getting your little messages. The ones you keep leaving for me to find,” he murmured. Suddenly enraptured by his hands as his voice creased over his words.

“Theo-”

“It’s unbearable for me. Is it like that for you too?” He cracked, eyes flashing up to yours. Entirely afraid before you, before the possible weight of your answer. Because the truth was he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell which words were real and which you fed him to keep him at arm’s length. He searched you, begging for any kind of answer, but hoping only for one.

“Yes.”

Your tears spilled in an instant, and maybe you were a little drunk, but you were also sure that it didn’t change any of it. He knew as much, taking a tender step towards you to grasp your cheek. Running his thumb along the soft skin to collect your tears.

“This trance you seem to think I’m under,” Theo clarified, eyes lingering on yours as his thumb continued its path. Despite no longer having any need to do so. “It’s lasted five years already,” he breathed, “it’s not going to pass any time soon.”

You paused, smudged eyes widening as you gazed up at him. His confession sucking the air out of your lungs until you could no longer doubt that you needed him. You simply watched him for a moment, as though debating whether to say something you wouldn’t be able to swallow. The one thing that was still holding you back.

“I don’t know how to stop myself.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, leaning closer to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. “You don’t need to be scared of wanting this.”

Theo drew back slightly, letting his fingertips linger. Brushing through the strands of your hair, behind your ear. His voice gentle, certain, “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

Keep an eye out for Chapter Four here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3

Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @slytherinboysappreciation @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch if i missed anyone please let me know!

#i have caused myself emotional damage with this one #theodore nott x reader #gemwrites #theodore nott x siren!reader #theodore nott series #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #slytherin boys #harry potter

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parkersbliss · 2 years

Text

Flustered | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc: 903

warnings: sexual innuendo?

synopsis: ever since five retried, he’s been a lot more affectionate with you

requests: CLOSED

prompts: 043: “Your hands are really soft.” 054: “They have everyone.” “Not you.” “I’m the exception.” 067: “Nice hickey. Where’d you get it?”

—

“Hi, Luther, Klaus, Diego!” You greet happily. Five doesn’t bother and just pulls out his chair.

“What’s wrong?” Later said through a mouthful of Chinese takeout. “You look happy.”

You come up next to Five, and he pulls a chair out for you, making your cheeks heat up at the small action. “Why can’t he be happy?”

“Well, he’s Five. Always so… bitter.”

You shrug. “They hate everyone.”

“Not you.”

“I’m the exception.”

“I am plenty happy,” Five spoke, taking a seat. “Had a nap and shvitz, what does a man need?”

“Brother’s who don’t eat like barn animals?” Klaus suggests.

Both Diego and Luther look to Klaus, mouths full of noodles, proving his point.

You sit down, smiling at the three brothers. You're dressed in the same thing as Five, a soft bathrobe that says “Hotel Obsidian.”

Klaus grins at you, and you raise a brow. “Nice hickey. Where’d you get it?”

“What?” You practically scream, pulling back the collar of your bathrobe.

Diego snickers, “Seems like Five got a little more than a Shvitz.”

Luther nods. “Yeah, (Y/N) looks like she’s gonna die of embarrassment.”

Klaus claps. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you two! How was it?”

Five blinked at his brother. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, why not? We’re bros!”

Five sighs, looking at you, then back to Klaus. “It was… nice.” You basically die in your seat at his choice of wording. He notices and chuckles, grabbing your hand in his. The three brothers whistle, and you shrink further into your seat.

“Your hands are really soft,” He whispers in your ear.

“Five!” You whine, feeling like you might explode at all the attention and affection. You and Five mostly kept your relationship on the down-low, seeming it was the most concerning issue the past month.

“So I’ve been thinking through our little timeline snafu, and I’m pleased to report that in my professional, expert opinion: we are totally in the clear.”

“Awesome!”

“Huh.”

“Great! So everything’s totally fine?” Luther asked.

“More or less. I mean,” Five hesitates, smiling. “There is one small thing. But it’s nothing we can’t manage.”

Five hands you one of the carry-out boxes, “Choi mein, your favorite.” And you smile softly, mumbling a thanks to him. He just smiles back, “Anytime.” And your stomach flips when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. You actually think you might die this time.

“So, spit it out, boomer!” Diego mumbles through his noodles.

“Fine, Diego, it’s like this. Dad didn’t adopt us as babies, but those babies still existed here,” Five explained as you take a bite of your own meal.

Klaus frowns. “Awww.”

“We just grew up in different places with different people.”

“So?” Diego questions.

“So where are they now? Odds are we each have identical versions of ourselves walking around out there living completely different lives.”

Luter gasps excitedly. “Our doppelgängers!”

“That’s a made-up word,” Klaus dismisses.

“No, no, I learned all about this in Texas. Tell them about the paranoid psychosis, Five!”

“It’s paradox,” You correct.

“Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought you said this wasn’t a problem?”

“Okay, yes,” Five admits. “Technically, if you’re near your Doppel for too long, you’ll go insane. So if you ever see your other self—”

“Kill them.”

“Sleep with them.”

“… avoid them."

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Luther asked, giving both his brothers a skeptical look.

“Oh, come on, as if you wouldn’t climb Luther mountain,” Klaus teases. The look on Luther’s face tells you enough about what he’s thinking.

“Wait, how are we supposed to guarantee we don’t cross paths with ourselves?”

“Easy. I mean, we’re the Benetton of superheroes, born all around the world until dad brought us here, which he no longer did. Doppel’s probably aren’t even in the same time zone as us.”

“That’s true,” Luther mumbles.

Diego nods. “Yeah.”

“Would you pass the moo shu?” Five asked, reaching across the table, and Luther does so. Suddenly, Diego leaves in a rush, and you shrug it off.

“So how long have you two been…” Klaus trails off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Gross, Klaus,” Five said, before adding. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

“Oh, wow,” Klaus sighs. “That’s so cute. I mean, (Y/N) is so sweet, and you’re so… you!”

You giggle at that, and Five rolls his eyes, “Thanks, Klaus.” Five grabs his takeout and a pair of chopsticks before taking your hand and helping you off your seat.

“You didn’t have to do that, Five,” You mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I know, darling, but I wanted to,” He replies, and you swear you’re gonna pass out.

Five must notice because he waves his brothers goodbye and leads you back to the hotel room. His hand intertwines with yours, and your face is even hotter now.

“You’re easily flustered, darling,” Five said, opening the door to his room.

“You’re not usually so forward, that’s all,” You shrug.

“Well, I’m retired, so I get to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

You hide your face in your hands at his comment. “Five!”

He chuckles, peeling your hands away carefully. “There you are, pretty girl.” Five cups your face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to your lips that has you internally screaming.

“The rest of our lives is just gonna be this,” He promises.

“Really?”

“Really.”

— END —

🏷 five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith @navs-bhat @alexxavicry @thelaststraw3 @rainbows-r-nice05 @gcldtom @bokuakadaily @3ternalreal1ty @umbrellatte @hahaspoilerhaha @mi1kobitch @analuizafernandescavalcante @icarus-star @yuki1s--note @m4nd0l0r @ells-graveyard @eichenhouseproperty @iaevs @oneirataxia-girl @ay4kshalatus

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five x you #five x y/n #five x reader #number five x reader #number five #tua five x reader #tua five #tua #the umbrella academy #tua season three #tua s3 #the umbrella academy season 3 #aidan gallagher #five headcanons #five imagine

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drdemonprince · 5 months

Note

This is kind of late re: the culture conversation but I feel like I have a kind of weird perspective on this general idea of cultural appropriation re:embodiment. I’m Italian American, and indigenous South American but I was born in the US and when we immigrated to the US my South American ethnic group is so small and my parents were in Japan so long they culturally assimilated and I was raised in the Japanese immigrant community and literally went to Japanese day school.

This tension between who is “allowed” to participate in a culture or identity has always been deeply fraught for me in a way that has kind of bulldozed my understanding of cultural ownership. Not being “ethnically” Japanese has led to many people deciding for me what the appropriateness of my cultural participation is. And being indigenous South American complicates my relationship to standard cultural alignment with latinidad more broadly.

I have a lot of friends who are white USAmericans who are progressive but also deeply concerned about the boundaries between themselves and the cultures they studied in college and the countries they taught English in as migrant workers. I had a conversation with one of my friends who worked in China and he was talking about how he didn’t mind being legally disenfranchised because he was a white American migrant and didn’t feel it was necessary for him to have the same legal rights as Chinese citizens. And I had to point out that he was living in the same disenfranchised conditions as any other immigrant and there was no reason for him to downplay it. I don’t think it’s disingenuous or appropriative for him to have Chinese art in his house or cook Chinese food or participate in Chinese culture. Not because he lived there or had a complicated legal status in the country or somehow crossed some imaginary threshold of true and genuine cultural appreciation but just because culture is what you do its not a given fact of who you are. It’s a seamless part of his life and just because he sought it out doesn’t make it less genuine to me.

I think because of my complicated upbringing I have spent a lot of time with people between cultures, reconnecting, adopting new ones and feel very strongly that if there is no biological tie to culture people can incorporate whatever they want into their lives and it’s a VERY US American perspective to be so self critical and political about it.

And this isn’t to say cultural exploitation doesn’t exist but when it does happen it’s usually underpinned by a capital motivation to sell an idea of a culture and not a weird white guy who got really into Buddhism or a several generations totally removed Italian American incorporating Panettone into their Christmas celebrations. When people cross the line it’s cringe and inauthentic but it rarely goes beyond that.

When I was in college I had a professor who studied my indigenous ethnic group and I took a couple of his classes. Once I brought my grandmother and mom to campus to speak with him in our indigenous language, and my grandmother spoke to him for three hours straight. He was a white man from Michigan but also one of my only connections to my culture, a person to practice and share my language with, to connect with my family. And all because he thought South American indigenous groups were interesting and got a job with Amnesty International to investigate the dictatorship to get down there. He is the kind of man people wag their finger at and he was one of the most important cultural elders I had.

This is a long way to say basically I just really believe we are allowed to make our lives whatever we want and make ourselves whatever we want. The phenomenon of white Americans in search of culture exists for the reasons you listed below and outside of these political discussions about its appropriateness and its moral boundaries there are just people doing and embodying that cultural fluidity and exchange for a million different reasons that aren’t worth litigating. The small town gay kids who move to big cities and hang out in the leather scene, getting into punk or hardcore or goth scenes, even converting to a new religion function under the same mechanism of the kind of cultural immersion that gives you access to the community and membership in the culture that weebs who immigrate to Japan to teach English, or international students coming to America, or inter cultural or inter faith partnerships undergo.

Anyways thanks for listening to my treatise. So to whoever’s reading this take the dance class or the traditional craft class or learn a new language or learn to cook new kinds of food make all different types of friends and make new traditions out of old ones or old traditions out of new perspectives. Culture isn’t a sacred part of who we are it’s a sacred form of the things we do and embody and connect with others through :-) <3

this is an incredible, wise, compassionate message. Thank you so much for sending it. You've said so much here about the problems of tying cultural identity to a race, ethnicity, or blood, or to regard it as static or isolated. And how much the standard racist American conceptions of racial and ethnic identity make structural discussions about disenfranchisement worldwide hard to have. Said so so much far better than I could, thank you!!

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spirit-tracks · 1 year

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Okay SO. Theory Rush after finishing Tears of the Kingdom. Go.

The Zonai are said to have descended from the heavens to help found Hyrule. I can think of another race that descended from the heavens. Do you guys think the minish are native to the Zonai sky islands?

Does the Depths set look a little familiar to you? This along with Josha's theory that people once lived down there, I wonder if the interlopers were present in the Depths before being banished to the twilight realm.

The architecture and robot designs from Skyward Sword have a distinct Zonai look to them! So that leads me to believe the Zonai were the race that created the Lanayru Mining Facility.

It might even be that the Past from Skyward Sword is indeed the time period that Zelda was transported back to! Maybe the legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule goes back even further than the fight between Hylia and Demise: though I admit the early appearance of Demon King Ganondorf throws a wrench in this theory.

About secret stones and the amber relics in Skyward Sword: I want to say there's a connection between them, though amber relics don't seem to be as rare and important as secret stones, (we find them in abundance in Skyward Sword and they don't do much). Of course, i haven't played SS in a while so if they have any more significance it's escaping me at the moment. For the time being I'd like to think ancient hylians might have carried them around as good luck charms to emulate secret stones of their own.

The Legend of the Great Sky Island mini quest in has the construct telling us that the island was supposed to be where a hero will one day awaken to defeat the Demon King. I know our Link wakes up on this island, but there's definitely something eating at my brain about the Great Sky Island being related to (or perhaps even IS) Skyloft, and that the awakening of the hero is referring to Skyward Sword Link. (This potentially supports the theory that the Past in TOTK predates the war between Hylia and Demise)

There's a pretty good chance that Rauru and Sonia's child could have been named Zelda, after the sweet time traveling girl they practically adopted :) the first princess of Hyrule named after the last princess of Hyrule.

There is a giant dragon skeleton in the Gerudo Desert Depths, big as or even bigger than Farosh, Dinraal and Naydra. It is my belief that this mystery dragon became a dragon ala Secret Stone alongside the three aboveland, but was killed at some point in the Depths. I don't know what four people decided to become dragons, but my strongest theory is that Dinraal, Farosh and Naydra are the draconified forms of the oracles of the Golden Goddesses, Din, Farore and Nayru. So who is this?

Seeing as the Lightroots underground are activated via Zonai hand terminal and each Lightroot lies directly beneath a shrine on the surface, I think the Lightroots are extensions of these shrines, having grown straight downward to light up the underground. This is probably obvious but I just barely figured this out 😅

Since Rauru, sage of light, and a new Temple of Time are in this game, I want to think that this person and location are more than just Easter Eggs to Ocarina of Time. I think that the sage from Ocarina of Time was named after King Rauru, though I'm not sure whether him being the sage of light would have been a coincidence or a direct inspiration.

What I do think is that he indeed did put the triforce in that very same Temple of Time and all the sky islands went to the Sacred Realm until Tears of the Kingdom, when they came back to earth and appeared in the sky. That's just a theory but why else would the sky islands be reappearing as if from nowhere?

Speaking of which, there were floating masses in the sky in Minish Cap, namely great big stone temples and fortresses. Minish Cap takes place during the early days of Hyrule, which would be pretty much right after the Zonai descended. Perhaps the Zonai are the Wind Tribe mentioned, and the people we see in game are their descendants, who look much more hylian than Zonai due to being crossed with full hylian genetics over the generations?

Anyway I need to retouch up on my Zelda lore to make sure I'm getting the details right, (that, and i haven't yet 100% the game so i may be missing some totk context), but I HAD to post my thoughts and get them out there! I'll add on later if I think of any more, in the meantime feel free to brainstorm!

#totk #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #botw 2 #botw 2 spoilers #just covering all my bases #totk theory #totk thoughts #totk meta #loz #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz totk #wicked.loz

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myojinn · 11 days

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Unveil Me - Sukuna Ryomen

☁︎ Unveil Me ... Multi-chapter fanfic Secret Agent!Sukuna Ryomen (JJK) x Secret Agent!AFAB Reader ☁︎ Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, secret agent! au, fluff, action : tw - lots of swearing and mentions of violence

☁︎ Summary: It’s basic Agent 101 not to trust anyone else. You know that and that’s why you always work alone. But what happens when another agent proposes a truce? You agree… but only if there are no strings attached. Can you both keep a promise? ☁︎ a/n: I’ve had this fic idea for a long time already and I finally got to do it. If this series flops then…oh well. Gonna stick to the one shots then T-T : 4k+ words // minors do not interact plz

Chapter 01 ; Words of Trust

Words went in one ear and out the other.

Do they ever just… shut the fuck up?

You thought this meeting would go along without a hitch. But, oh, you were so wrong. You can’t have nice things in this fucking place. These morons made sure of that. Said morons were your fellow agents—people who should be supporting you. But rather than lifting you up, it’s like their life’s purpose to shit on you, especially in front of your boss.

Truth be told, you expected it anyway. After all, you’re a woman in a male dominated field. Espionage? C’mon. You walked right into that one. But you were determined nonetheless. You knew you were capable. You were smart, adaptable, skilled—pretty much everything a secret agent should be. But most of all, you had no connections—nothing else to hold you down. You could live your life as a spy without any restrictions.

You grew up with the familiar feeling of loneliness. The changing of the seasons were marked by a new orphanage after the other. Eventually, you didn’t bother with making friends anymore. What’s the point? They’ll be replaced in a few months anyway. Being cooped up to the side with a book was much better, so that’s what you did. It paid off in the end because when an uptight-looking man came to your orphanage looking for the brightest of the bunch—he chose you.

You figured he was a regular ol’ family man seeking out to help a child in need. Once the papers were all signed and everything was said and done—he brought you home. You had never been to a house as huge as this one. But despite the glamor of the life ahead of you, everything else was normal… at first. The man and his wife welcomed you with open arms. The three of you went out on picnics, ate dinner together, had family game nights in the living room—you know… the normal things normal families do.

But normalcy went right the fuck outta the window when one night he sat you down in the living room with a serious expression. This is it, you thought. They’re gonna get rid of me aren’t they? But I was such a good kid and I—

“Wanna be a spy, kid?”

Huh?

HUUUUUH?

Back then you thought he was messing with you like it was some sort of game. But then you realized everything that wasn’t normal about the family. He would always come home late at night or sometimes he’d have scary looking men over for brunch. His wife would pay no mind to any of it. She’d go about her life like her husband wasn’t doing anything suspicious. Sure, you were young, but that didn’t mean you were stupid.

Reality was that he was the boss of a hotshot spy agency. Now he wants this child that he adopted to be his little project. The idea of becoming an agent was alluring to a child. And, in hindsight, the old geezer definitely used that to his advantage. The way you practically shouted ‘yes’ almost immediately was proof of that.

You say ‘project’ because after you agreed to it—the sense of having a family vanished. He programmed you into thinking that he simply recruited you. Under the law, you were his child. But in your heart, you were just another pawn in his collection. Rather than developing a loving father-child relationship, you had what any boss and employee had. You respected each other, that much is true. And you even admire the man for his abilities. And that was that.

Regardless if you were tricked or not, you’ve come to love your job. The thrill of a good fight would never fail to captivate you. Even though some missions were considerably difficult, you loved your work for all its challenges.

You love it… sooo much.

You repeated that thought at least 20 times in the last minute. You truly needed some convincing right now ‘cuz some fuckers here are really testing your resolve.

I love my job and my job includes respecting my colleagues and not pulling their windpipe out with my bare hands… you thought.

“With all due respect, Mr. Nanami, I can’t just accept you sending her out for this important mission just because she’s the former boss’ kid.”

Alright, that’s it. He can consider his windpipe gone. No one brings up your relationship with the old boss and thinks they can get away with it. You grip the armrests of the chair tightly, preparing to stand up and beat this guy up. But Nanami gestured for you to stay put. You huffed out and leaned back, letting him take care of things again.

After a certain tragedy, the agency had to seek new leadership. As his adopted kid, the one he trained since childhood, you should’ve been the one next in line, right?

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER SOUND. Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

The agency would lose credibility if a woman ran it apparently. And it would just be worse because then people would think it’s another case of nepotism. Oh well. Not like it mattered that much to you. Nanami did a hell of a good job running the place anyway. And it made you feel amazing that he did a way better job than your old man could ever do.

As you can tell—you have a strange relationship with the man who used to run this place, the same man you’re supposed to call dad.

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Her being assigned this mission has nothing to do with her being related to the former boss. How many times must I reiterate this?” But everytime Nanami tries to quell their (unvalidated) thoughts. Another wave of (awful) discussion happens about how you’ll fuck everything up and yada yada.

“Just because she did a couple of jobs doesn’t mean she can do this one.” “Exactly! This is extremely important. What will happen to the agency if she fails?” “Just make her do some shitty honeypot mission. That’s all she’s good for.”

This time you were sure that you’d knock the living shit outta this bastard. Even Nanami won’t stop you now. But alas, a booming voice from the back of the room made his presence known. You grumbled and sat back down as Toji spoke up.

“All you shitheads ever do is complan, don’t ya? Do any of you even have the balls to do this mission? I’m sure as hell none of ya have it.”

All of them suddenly fell quiet. Nanami was the boss, but Toji surely had an aura to him. He was the top agent of the firm. Any mission assigned to him was as good as done—he was just that good. Normally, you’d be pissed that someone is outdoing you, but not him. You respected him and he respected you back… somewhat.

He never attended meetings, but for some reason he was here today. He swaggered over to where everyone else was gathered. His big hand gripped the back of the chair you were sitting on and he lowered himself to face you. His scent was strong, but pleasant. He had a lazy smirk on his face and it irked you. “You can do it though, right, princess?”

You scowled at him. You hated it when he called you ‘princess’. It always felt condescending, but you couldn’t do anything because he decided this is what he’d call you ever since the first time he met you.

“Of course I can,” you spat back. He pulls away and flashes his shit-eating grin to everyone in the room. “Well, ya heard the lady. She says she can do it. Why not let her have it?”

This is why you think he somewhat respected you. Well, respect was a bold term to describe it, but hey, you were thankful he stood up for you.

The men grumbled. Now that both Nanami and Toji were against them, their balls just magically shriveled up. There was no way they could argue with you now.

So, case closed. You win. You get the mission and you can rub that fact in their sorry ass faces. You start to love doing your job again.

And that only lasted for a while.

Suddenly you hated this piece of shit life and this piece of shit job when you found yourself seeking shelter from the rain in an old telephone booth miles and miles away from home. You angrily held your burner phone to your ear, trying to make sense of the choppy audio of some random fucker from the intel division.

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me! I don’t care if the signal is shit—you’re gonna fucking talk to me right now!”

No matter how loud you mouthed off this guy’s ear through the phone, you still couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. You just hung up out of frustration and started slamming your fist against the musty wall of the booth.

FUCK.

Everything just went wrong. So so wrong.

First, they made you fly economy. Not that you minded economy… that is if you were on a trip to the fucking Bahamas. But this isn’t Bahamas and you’re not here to fuck around. You’re here on an important mission so you expect to get to borrow the agency’s jet at least. But noooo, the execs think you’ll do just fine.

Second, the airline decided it was a good day to lose your luggage. You waited for an hour at the carousel, praying that the next boring gray travel bag would be yours. But it never came. You saw red when one of the attendants told you they MIGHT have lost it.

At that point, what you were really losing was your will to live.

Lastly, since everything else blew up in your face, you lost track of time and now communications is shit. You missed the car that was supposed to pick you up and bring you to where you’d be staying for the duration of the mission. You had even managed to get caught up in the heaviest fucking rain you’ve ever experienced in what you swear is the world’s grimiest telephone booth.

Fuck this. Fuck life.

You slowly slumped against the wall and slid down, not caring if this ancient piece of shit had bacteria that could eat your skin off. Actually, the damn bacteria can go ahead and eat you. Nothing matters anymore. All you wanted to do was wither and let the rain wash you away. Forever gone… forever lost.

...

NO. SHUT UP. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.

You slapped yourself with both of your hands, making sure it would leave a mark on your face. This isn’t how you should be acting right now. You’re an agent for crying out loud. Things are supposed to be hard and it’s your job to overcome it.

You felt a little embarrassed from that mini meltdown, but you now have a newfound resolve to move on and prove those idiots back at the agency wrong. You had to succeed. Even if your life depended on it.

You soldiered on through the rain and found a taxi. You thought you had a good grasp of the local language, but you were dead wrong when the taxi driver started speaking in what sounded like moon runes. So he dropped you off in God knows where and left you to your own devices. Like literally. You had to use the shitty burner phone they gave you and the shitty maps app that it had on it.

Somehow you managed to arrive at the inn you’d be staying at. You looked like a wet piece of cardboard limping through the entrance and into your room, but at least you were alive. Now that you had a steady signal, you tried contacting the agency again. Not the dumbasses at intel though—you called Nanami instead. You explained to him what happened with your luggage and how you were lagging behind schedule.

“Look… I know it’s been fuck up after another, but I promise I’ll get back on track.”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the call. And you completely understand if he was disappointed. He did fight for you to be on this mission and this is what he got in return. “It’s alright,” he reassured, “I know you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

His voice was gruff, but comforting. You breathed a little easier.

“I’ll have them bring you some stuff by tomorrow. Just let me know if you need anything else. Is the inn okay?”

You told him that it was fine. It was no 5-star experience, but this was better than any musty telephone booth. You two talked for a while about your experiences for today. You earned a chuckle or two from him. And maybe a conversation with Nanami was enough to ignite your spirit again.

Nanami’s one hell of a drug—considering that his pep talk gave you the strength to venture out of your inn at 2 in the morning to scope out the scene. The scene being the grand mansion of the man you were tasked to spy on. This should've been on day 2 of your itinerary, but you had enough disappointments in this mission already.

Better to take initiative now than later, you thought.

Essentially, all you had to do was keep tabs on this particular man. The man in question hides under the alias, Kenny. Putting it like that makes the task sound easy, but unfortunately for you—Kenny is excellent at covering up his tracks. Not much is known about him even in the underground.

So... what's so important about Kenny?

It's because he has a MAJOR vendetta against your agency. Major as in... he'd probably do just about anything to see it crash and burn. There was a mission in the past which your agency carried out (successfully) which effectively wiped out one of his illegal operations and almost got him in the slammer. Suffice to say he wasn't happy.

Oh... and he may have also killed your former boss... A.K.A your dad.

So, yeeeah. Pretty fucking important mission.

You needed the intel to finally put him away for good. After reading up on all suspected crimes, you wanted nothing more than to make this man face the consequences of his actions.

You may not have loved your father the way you should have, but at the very least, you wanted revenge for him. Up to this day, it still brings a stinging sensation to your heart when you think about how easily they dismissed his murder case just because it was all 'circumstantial evidence'.

REVENGE—was painted in big, bold, red letters on the back of your mind. But at the same time, a part of you knew that there was no way you could kill another man. Sure, you've had your fair share of 'forceful' interrogations, but you've never really gone so far as to take a life of another.

An image of the former boss would sometimes pop in your head. "Don't bite off more than you can chew, kid," he'd remind you—almost constantly. And maybe that applies to your situation now. You know you can't kill him. You know that all you can do by yourself is to collect information—typical espionage things that you were used to.

But, man, it sure would feel great to get the revenge you really want.

You saunter around the estate with your binoculars, hidden behind the rose bushes. You peered through the many windows from afar, trying to find any kind of activity going on. You can’t find the man, but you do see his henchmen all over the place. You made sure to keep mental notes like how many exits there are, how many men are stationed in each place, and how fucking insane this mansion is. You think one infinity pool is enough, but 4? That’s just absurd—definitely compensating for something.

You were so caught up in your recon that you were taken aback when you heard the slightest rustle of leaves behind you. But before you could completely react, a large palm covered your mouth and a strong arm snaked around your body to keep you in place. You thrashed around like a fish out of water, but the assailant’s grip was strong—too fucking strong.

You continued to struggle and gained enough leverage to lift your leg and slam it back right in his family jewels. He stumbled backwards a bit with a groan. You swiftly turned to face the unknown person, ready to retaliate. But upon facing each other, you were both put to a halt.

The assailant in question was a tall man of muscular build. He had a messy undercut, pink spiky tufts with black hair beneath it. He had an intimidating look on his face. Add to that the bold black tattooed lines around his arms. You just knew… he was trouble.

You pulled out your gun and pointed it at his chest.

“Woah woah, slow down, lady,” he says in a low voice. “You a cop or somethin’?”

You were on the good side, of course. You were taking down a detestable man, after all. But it annoyed you to be compared to a cop. You were a fucking secret agent. Emphasis on secret and agent. “A cop?” you asked, eyebrow raised, gun still pointed at him. Even though you wanted so badly to tell him that you’re not just some cop, it was basic agent 101 to not talk about your identity to anyone AT ALL.

“Jeez, you look so offended. I take it you’re not a cop then?” He laughs. The laughter comes deep from within his chest. He seemed oddly calm with a loaded gun pointed at him. He calms down and fixes his gaze on you again. “Well, whatever you are—I won’t let you stop me from killing that man.” Your eyes widen at his declaration. You slowly lowered your gun and as you did, his smile widened. “You’re here for the same reason, aren't you? You’re quite easy to read.”

Now you regret ever lowering your gun on this cocky dipshit. “Who are you?”

He took a few steps closer to you, but you didn’t fall back. You stood your ground and looked up into his red burning eyes. If he thinks he can scare you off, well, he’s dead wrong.

“Name’s Sukuna. And you?” “I don’t care about your name. I’m asking who the hell you are.”

He knew what you were implying, but clearly, he found it funny to toy with you. “Let’s just say we have the same goal, yeah? To get that little jerk living happily down in that mansion?” He says while pointing over at the mansion in the distance. The way your sight followed his finger with a look of contempt practically confirmed his suspicions.

“So I told you my name—what’s yours?”

You gave him an uninterested look. Does he really just give out information this easily? If so, he chose the wrong line of work. “I don’t owe you anything.” He grins and imitates the sound of a fire going out to feign hurt. “After I made myself vulnerable like that? How cruel of you…” He laughed a bit through his nose and backed off a step. “How about I make a proposition?”

“Like hell I’d make a deal with y—”

He placed a stubby finger on your lips to shut you up. “Trust me. You’ll want to hear this,” he says with bravado. You slap his hand away and stare daggers at him. “Seeing as how we might become potential competition for each other and potentially derail each other’s jobs… how about we work together instead?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m gon—”

This time he flicked your forehead. “You don’t shut up, do you?”

First of all, ouch. Second, THE AUDACITY? He could care less about what you had to say. He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. It was like he was studying you, taking in every feature so that he may ingrain into his brain. You instinctively look away—now's not the time for some rando to memorize what you look like. That's just dangerous.

A wide grin spread across his face. "You don't look like someone who kills."

You glared at him. He was right, of course. But he made it seem as if it was something to look down upon. "Who said I killed people anyway?"

"Definitely not that gun your holding," he muses. "You pulled it out so quickly like you wanted to hurt me," he says, getting closer to you again.

"But you never thought to remove the safety hm?"

That got you quiet. True. The gun was mostly an intimidation tactic. You would've resorted to other measures before shooting him dead if needed be. God. You hated how he was so right about you.

He chuckles at your silence. "I guess we're not here for the same reason then?"

You could only turn to look away to the side. Somehow, this felt incredibly embarrassing—like an older bully taunting a small kid.

“So, you’re faced with a dilemma, aren’t you? Am I right or am I right?" He asked, practically shoving his face into your personal space. Though, you didn't budge an inch.

You hated that he was right. Maybe he was good at his job. That or he should've considered fortune telling at those shitty carnivals.

“Let’s say that you are, but what exactly does us ‘working together’ bring to the table?”

“Good question,” he says before flashing a menacing grin. "You see, you have something I don't and I have something that you don't," he explains. Your jaw falls slack at the vague explanation. He notices this and takes it as a sign to continue.

"Since it seems like you're from a fancy agency—I take it that you have the necessary equipment to gather intel on this guy, yeah? Where I'm from... let's just say we're not as blessed." He pauses and sighs, still with a slight smile remaining on his face. "Though, I am blessed with the power to kill this guy. No high-tech bullshit needed." This cocky piece of…

“What makes you think that you could even get anywhere near the guy?”

He laughed again. This time not out of amusement, but definitely out of arrogance. “Baby, I’m just that strong.”

You continued to give him that uninterested look. But you gave it some thought. It really did seem like a win-win situation, except for the fact that you will have to put some insane amount of trust into this guy. Even you don’t trust yourself THAT much.

As you pondered about it, your gaze never left him. You took in every little detail of this man called ‘Sukuna’. He probably realized your doubts as he made his way back into your proximity. His large hand came dangerously close to your face and his fingers gently held your chin. He forced you to look at him and his stupid smirk.

“What do I have to do to earn your trust? Hm? Tell me.” His voice was smooth… tempting. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you weak in the knees.

You gulped. The solution to your internal conflict has appeared. It was right here, in the form of an aggravating man. All you had to do was say yes. You reasoned that—you didn’t necessarily have to work WITH him. You could use him instead. Set your boundaries, play the game, and reap your earnings. And above all, there was no need to put yourself at more risk.

Doesn’t sound so bad, right?

You gripped the wrist of the hand that held your chin and looked him dead in the eye. “Fine. I’ll work with you under one condition…”

...

“Everything is purely just work—absolutely no strings attached.”

Neither of you had to know things about each other and neither of you had the obligation to save each other's asses if it wasn't a threat to your shared goal. Work will just be work. Strictly.

Then you saw that wicked smile again. The same smile that tempted you, bewitched you.

“Consider it a done deal, baby.”

Likes, reblogs, and feedback would be appreciated <3

Interested in part 2? T_T

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna au #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #Unveil Me #myoji writes

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happy-beeeps · 1 year

Text

To Build a Home

WC: 4.2k

Pairing: din x reader

Synopsis: You’re on the hunt to make this house on Nevarro a home, but you’re wrestling with feelings of inadequacy in you and Din’s relationship after he adopts Grogu but doesn’t take you as his riduur. Fluffy, emotional hurt comfort, domesticity, slice of life, Din is a fisherman for 30 seconds.

Warnings: none really! Vaguely ooc Din but I think I got it back. Ever since that one episode of The Bad Batch I’ve just been dying to send Din fishing

A/N: HAPPY MAY THE 4TH!!!!

Fun fact, when I started this blog three years ago it was because the Mandalorian had just come out and people had only just started writing Din fic. I was in the trenches with the other mando fic pioneers. Technically this is the same reader as my first ever longfic “I don’t do droids” which I’ve semi abandoned BUT I do plan on making a better spin off version soon! It's not at all necessary to read that to understand the reader’s backstory though!

* * *

You’ve been to markets before. The familiar fast paced environment had always been something of a vice to you when you traveled with Din, the reprieve from being crammed on the crest or a short expedition for something to snack on. Once or twice Din himself had even accompanied you, with the baby wrapped around your chest in a bundle of fabric, his hand interlaced with yours. Now, though, you’re alone for what feels like the first time in years. You’re wandering through the market at a speed so slow it’s almost comical, taking time to touch, to see, to hear.

It’s exhilarating.

Nevarro has grown since you had first been here, and you can’t say it’s been particularly easy for you to return, to immerse yourself in a system that’s caused you so much pain. There are nights you find yourself thrashing at the sheets at the image of Din’s body crumpling under fire as the rest of you were forced down through the halls of the covert, or the ice that filled your veins when you realized your son had been taken. That Nevarro is gone, however, up in ash like the volcanos that dot the landscape of this system. You have a home here, a real house, and you’re determined to make it into something to rid both you and Din of your nightmares.

You left Din and Grogu at the house and took the small speeder he had been restoring for you back to the city center, parking it just outside the bustling square, ready to go if need be. Old habits die hard, you guess. The city itself now brims with life, families duck in and out of each other as they weave through the streets, droids pull carts of fresh produce. It’s all very exciting, very reassuring.

“Lady Djarin!” A booming voice calls, one that stops the people nearest to you as they part ways to make space for the figure coming through. Greef Karga walks through the parted crowd, offering handshakes and smiles to those he walks past, before coming to stop at you and extending his arm. “Going shopping?”

You blush slightly at the moniker, Din had been clear that you had been made part of his clan and while you were by no means married, you appreciate the sentiment. “You know if I let Din make decisions on the house it’d stay as barren as the day we moved in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, escorting you through the streets and alleys. It really is beautiful here, with overflowing greenery practically spilling out of the windows of the residents, flowers of numerous bright colors dotting shopfronts and the hair of those who walk past you. “Have you been to our markets before?”

You glance at him and quirk up an eyebrow. “Have I ever had much time for shopping when we’ve been on system?”

“You’ve got a fair point.” He leads you farther, until you approach a colorful alley with storefronts boasting fruits, silks, and small goods that stretches farther than you can see. “I recommend the flowers from the Togruta woman halfway down, if you were to pick some up,” and pats your hand before leaving you to your own devices. He knows you well enough at this point to know that you aren’t unable to defend yourself, and that you do occasionally appreciate the rare moments you get away from father and baby.

It’s not that you don’t love them both dearly, you do, so much so that you keenly remember the feeling of bringing a vibroblade up to the chest of Moff Gideon before you were quickly thrown aside. You’ve got the scars to prove it. You adore them. You also needed a moment of peace, to think and feel and make a home out of the house you were so graciously gifted. Besides, you can’t help but feel a little lost in your place in life now, as the dust has settled. Din had clearly adopted Grogu as his son, a fact you really couldn’t be happier about, but where did you land? You had waited with baited breath for him to ask the Armorer to add you to their song, but he hadn’t. Instead the three of you left soon afterwards, planning to meet up at Nevarro after he went to talk to an old friend with the New Republic. You had grown to resent his little two seater N-1, much preferring the space of your trusty fighter.

You walk down the alley, stopping to feel the fabrics and scarves that line the booths. One stall boasts brightly colored blankets, and you rustle through the soft blankets before you find a warm cream color dotted with tiny, multi-colored, embroidered flowers.You hand the shopkeeper the credits, and continue to walk down the street, doing your very best attempt to not buy everything you touch, though you aren’t sure you’ll succeed.

“Fruits! Fresh fruits here!”

“Instruments for the finest songstress!”

“Silks and scarves, keep warm when the sun sets!”

“A treasure for the finest student, primers for language!”

It’s this last seller that stops you in your tracks, reminding you of the reason you first met Din anyways. Sure, your role had grown now, twisted into something beautiful and pure, but aside from being lover, mother, confidant, and pilot, you were at your core, his translator.

“What languages do you offer?” You say, walking into the old man’s small storefront. It’s cool inside, with walls painted a deep blue with light blue outlines of nearby star systems, like a map projected. He’s got datapads and even a few books of flimsi strewn around, tucked into cupboards, as well as collectibles from systems you could only dream of visiting.

“What language do you need?” He grins, pulling out a datapad from his pocket and opening a menu that seems to scroll for years. “I offer most standard tongues, as well as a few more useful in the outer rim. You strike me as someone who’s looking for something a bit more unique.”

“I’m a translator by trade,” you say, scrolling through the offerings until you find something that stops you. “Standard is my craft.”

“A scholar then,” he pauses, and takes the datapad away from you. “When was the last time you learned a language for yourself?”

“I learned Kaleesh when I was younger,” you shrug, and the shopkeeper laughs.

“What does a woman like you need a war-tongue for?” “All the best people in my life are fighters.”

“Perhaps the language of a friend then, a spouse?” he offers, and you stop in your aimless wandering around the shop. Of course, how could you have been so stupid.

“I’ll take one basic primer, for a child, and anything you’ve got on Mando’a.”

Your arms are beginning to tire from the amount of things you’ve picked up: you’ve got toys for Grogu, fruits and vegetables, some meat for dinner, the blanket, your downloads, a few silks to hang for drapery, seeds, and a rug that’s set to be delivered in a rotation. You’re about to turn back, content with the amount of credits you’ve ran through in a day when you notice her, the Togruta woman and her flower stand. She’s inarguably stunning, with wide eyes and lekkuu that stretch down her chest, her markings intricate and carved down her face in an eye-catching way.

“Hi,” you begin as you walk up to her, she’s pruning a bright orange flower now, and she glances up from her work to offer you a smile. “Your flowers come highly recommended by magistrate Karga.”

She scoffs and sets her flower down, offering you a worn hand to shake. “I’m Obesha.” She gestures to the blooms bursting from her cart. “What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m relatively new in town, me and my,” you struggle to find the word. Din isn’t your spouse, but he’s more than your boyfriend. Frankly, lover feels a little too intimate for this woman you just met. “Companion and our child just settled outside town and I’m looking for something to brighten up our home.”

Obesha grins, before plucking a variety of blue, yellow, and white flowers carefully, tucking in pieces of greenery amongst them. “Turning a house into a home is one of the most challenging, yet rewarding things a being can do.” She gingerly plucks at the leaves, pruning it to perfection, before wrapping the bouquet up in a light gray cloth, which for some unbeknownst reason feels softer than anything you’ve felt before.

“What is this?”

She hums and turns back into her shop, coming out with a larger swatch of fabric, this one decorated with finely worked sheer lace, dyed the same blue-gray as the fabric on the outside of the bouquet. “It’s custom in my village to wear these for special occasions,” she pulls the wrap up to model it on herself, and you’re struck by the way the light filters through the lace. “It’s deceivingly warm and very beautiful.” She folds it up into a small square before handing it to you, “consider it a housewarming gift.”

Your mouth falls open as you struggle to reach into your bag for the credits. “Please, let me pay you, I have the money.”

She extends a hand forward to hush you, then gestures back down the alley. “Pay me back by letting me know what your family thinks of my arrangement.”

* * *

You’re distracted your whole ride back, which you admit probably isn’t the best thing for you to be as you navigate the desert. It’s not a particularly long ride to your home, which you’re grateful for, and you smile as the familiar form of the ships parked outside the small cabin beacon you in. Din and Grogu must not be home, considering he usually rushes to you to take anything you’re carrying and you can typically hear Grogu’s coos before you see him. It isn’t a surprise then, when you walk in to find the house empty, and notice the small message flashing on the datapad he’s left behind.

Gone fishing just down the springs.-D

It’s a habit he’s picked up after the brief time the two of you spent apart, when Grogu went to live with the Jedi and Din went off on his own. He came back to you quickly, finding you easily while you worked as a translator on Tatooine, with the daimyo you and Din had gotten to know very well. He never left without a message again once he had you back, and you smile as you swipe the note away.

“Time to organize!” you clap to no one in particular, and begin setting things up around the home. You tuck the new blanket in along you and Din’s bed (a concept that still feels so foreign after the places you’ve been sleeping recently) and the toys on a shelf in the small room you’ve begun calling Grogu’s nursery. The rest is relatively simple, tucking fabrics along windows and placing fruits in the kitchen. You put the bouquet down in the middle of the small table, and are sure to add fresh water to the vase. It’s really coming together, you have to say. The cabin isn’t particularly large, the majority of the house consisting of one large room that works as kitchen, living, and sleeping space (which you’ve done your best to section off,) a small ‘fresher off towards the back, and the small room you and Din have given to Grogu. It’s perfect for your little clan of three, and you don’t find yourself wishing for more from the space, settling down on the couch and digging into the Mandalorian language pages on your datapad.

You aren’t sure how long has passed when your legs want for movement, and you set the datapad down and opt to go find your fishermen. It’s still blazingly hot on the surface, so you forgo the small shawl and walk towards the direction of the springs. You and Din had both dipped in them on your first night here before you realized the springs died off into a small, cooler pond a short walk away. There, Karga had explained, there was a thriving population of fish and other reptiles that were open for fishing.

You spot them before they spot you, Din’s shiny helmet reflecting in your direction. It’s another thing that’s had your gut twisted in on itself. You’ve seen Din’s face, the day Grogu left you had seen it. In that moment you had fallen deeper in love than you realized even possible. You were absolutely supportive of him and frankly, you were elated he’d been able to be welcomed back into his covert, but you couldn’t help but feel like an absolutely terrible person for it. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this move to domesticity to churn up so many emotions for you, particularly when this is the thing you’ve basically been dreaming of since the two of you first kissed.

Now, he’s perched on a rock, pole in hand, while Grogu sits on his knee, eyes fixed on the pond. You walk up quietly behind him but years of experience have him turning his head to spot you walking. Grogu turns too, and you can swear he gurgles out something to the effect of “buir!” as he bounces up and down on his father’s knee. You move in to scooch beside Din, who happily makes room for you, as you run a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Hi,” you breathe, and his hand, not on the pole, moves to find your fingers.

“Hi.” He murmurs back, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I got some things for the house,” you lean over to scratch Grogu’s ears, “Got some stuff for bug and some food for dinner.”

“Can I cook for you?”

Your cheeks bloom at the words, “Sure, I’ve never had your cooking.”

“Never really had the space to do it,” he shrugs, “but I do now.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after this, and he sets Grogu down to splash in the edge of the pond and rests the fishing pole on the side of the rock. With his hands free, he heaves you up onto his lap and slides his arms around your waist. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“One or two things,” you wave a hand in the air, “got a language learner for Grogu, thought we could try and teach him basic.”

“Please, as if we need to give him more ways to say ‘No’” He groans, but you can tell from the shake of his shoulders that he’s laughing, and he pulls you in closer to his chest. “We haven’t caught anything all day.”

“Mmm… so he clearly doesn’t get his patience from his father.”

“No, he gets it from his mother.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. Sure, you know you’re his mother, but hearing those words, after the adoption, it floods you with a warmth that has you wishing you could just kiss him right now.

“Cyare,” he starts, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, but is disrupted by the sound of violent splashing. You both jump up just to see Grogu standing at the edge of the pond, fish in hand.

“I guess only one of you had trouble today,” you nudged him playfully before going to scoop up the baby, while he dropped the fish in the pond.

It’s been dangerously quiet inside the house, and you’ve been relegated to sit out on the small bench on the front porch. You appreciate Din cooking but the simple fact that you aren’t entirely sure he knows how to cook slipped your mind when you agreed. Now, you try not to think about that fact, and dedicate yourself to the datapad in your lap. You’ve seen some familiar words, buir and cyare, even the diminutives Din calls you late at night, cyar’ika and mesh’la. You’ve always wanted to pick up his mother tongue, and you want to kick yourself for not doing it sooner. Now, you’re devouring it, trying to learn it all. It’s a rich language, more complex than most you’ve learned. You’re so wrapped up in your reading that when Din opens the front door you jump, and he leans forward to grab your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

“I think it’s done?”

“You aren’t inspiring a lot of confidence here,” you laugh as you walk inside, sitting down at the table next to Grogu. Din brings over the pot and you peer in. He’s done what looks to be a solid job, the vegetables are chopped a little more rough than you could’ve done, and you can tell the meat is slightly overdone, but considering it comes from him, you spoon it onto your plate like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. You pour some out in front of Grogu and you feel Din’s eyes practically burn holes in your head.

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you like it.” He’s so quiet, the voice sounding almost shy. You reach over and place a hand atop his.

“There isn’t a universe where you make something I don’t love.”

You both begin eating in silence, (his use of seasoning is surprisingly impeccable, and the meat is only a touch rough) when he starts up again. “The flowers are a nice touch, and the drapes.”

“Thank you,” you blush. “I just wanted to warm it up here.”

“Maker knows I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re lucky to have you.” He reaches over and taps you on the chin before turning his attention to Grogu, running a rag on the table across his mouth as he manages to smear every bite of food across his face.

After dinner, the two of you work to clean the kitchen while Grogu plays with one of the new toys you brought for him in the living room. You and Din are chatting, about nothing, about everything, when the warmth of the moment hits you, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He’s since dressed down to just his helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin radiate beneath his shirt. “This is nice.”

“What, dishes?” he laughs, but you can feel his arm snake loosely around your hips as he sets the last plate down.

“Just, this” you gesture to the house, to the pile of dishes, to Grogu playing, “it’s nice to have a home.”

“I already had a home,” he pulls you in closer, you can smell the sweat of the day and his spiced aftershave from where your head falls on his chest. “When Grogu falls asleep, I want to take you somewhere.” He pushes his forehead on yours, before moving to sit on the floor with Grogu, leaving you standing in the kitchen, grinning like an idiot at the scene before you. This is your family, your clan. Husband or not, Din is the love of your life, you’ve lost him and the baby once and you don’t intend to do it again. You set down the cleaning rag and join the two of them on the floor, happy to oblige in whatever game Grogu is playing.

* * *

“Where’d you get that?” Din asks as he leads you down the rocky sides of the springs.

“The florist, it’s shockingly warm.” You pull the shawl tighter around your form and Din stops suddenly. You're back at the pond from earlier only now it looks different. There’s a small blanket strewn across the rock you had sat on earlier, and he scrambles to light a few assorted candles that litter the ground. Even the scenery appears to have changed, as tiny yellow lights dot the air.

“They’re actually tiny lifeforms,” he says, gesturing to the yellow dots, “Karga told me they come out at night over here.”

“It’s beautiful, how come we haven’t been here yet?”

“Just waiting for a good time to get you alone.” He pulls you closer to the rock and the two of you sit down, your back pressed to his chest as you watch the sky turn a deep purple color as the yellow lights dance in the sky. You sit like that in silence for a moment longer when his voice comes out, rumbling and warm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, why?” You sputter, and you want to smack yourself for how incriminating that sounds.

“You’re hiding it, and hiding it well. But something’s wrong,” his voice comes low to your ear now, still modulated and heavy but him. “What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me.”

“I’m… It’s really not a big deal.”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want.”

“Well,” he breathes in, like he’s holding his breath, “I commed Bo.”

You whip your head around at that. He must have been really concerned to enlist the help of one of your favorite Mandalorians.

“Oh? What did Bo say?” “That I’m a nerf herder.”

You snort at that and settle into his chest again. “Sounds like Bo.”

His hands come up to turn you towards him, and he pulls your legs so you're facing him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You’re close like this, if you leaned forward you could rest your forehead against his. “You doubt me, what I feel for you.”

“That’s not really the way I would put it,” you murmur, and he closes the gap for you, bringing his helmet to your head. “I just was worried… that I wasn’t a part of your clan. You’ve adopted Grogu, and that makes you his father. But I’m just-”

“His mother. Cyar’ika, I haven’t been fair with you.” His hands move to press small circles into your back. “I shouldn’t have let you feel doubt in me, in our clan. You are to Grogu as I am. You’re my-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you breathe, and it’s your turn to cut him off, whispering the sweet words to him in the echo of the world. You can hear his breath hitch as he grabs you tighter. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

“You don’t need to speak my language to be a part of me. You already have been for longer than I can say,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to the back of your head. “Gar solus ner aliit, gar solus but buir.”

It takes you a moment to catch up with the translations, the sweet words he’s whispering, and Din uses this moment of thinking to bring both his hands up to his helmet, disengage the locking mechanism, and pull it off, resting it on the rock beside him.

“Din!” you shout, and smack your hands over your eyes, but he’s faster than you and catches your wrists in your hands.

“Look at me mesh’la.” And you do, you drink him in with everything you have, bringing your hands to trace his lips, his nose, eyes refusing to leave his. “I finally have something to offer you.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you swear you’ve died. That must be the case. You’ve simply ascended into the great beyond. “I didn’t add you to the song on Mandalore because I wanted to have something to give you, something to promise you forever.”

You look past his shoulder to the silhouette of the cabin. “Our house.”

“Our home.” He holds your cheeks in his hands, and you can tell he’s been as starved of this as you have. “You’ve made it a home.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and you’re devouring him like you’ve been starved. Sure, you’ve kissed him since he put his helmet back on, but the weight of all of this, of his helmet being gone, of you seeing him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

“Din, your creed.” You murmur between kisses.

“Save me the trip back to Mandalore and marry me then.”

You pull back, searching his eyes for any joke, and you want to cry when there isn’t one.

“I told you, when I had something to offer you.”

You’re laughing and crying now as he fiddles with the lace hem of your shawl before delicately draping it across your head. “My riduur.”

Even with your expert knowledge of linguistics, the vows are clunky and foreign in your mouth, but with Din smiling at you, you have no complaints. He scoops you and his helmet up almost immediately, walking you back into the cabin and tossing you onto the bed. He breaks from your gaze for just a minute to go into the nursery and emerges with a sleepy-eyed Grogu.

“Hi baby,” you croon as Din places him on the bed and he waddles towards you.

“He loves his buir” Din whispers as he falls into bed beside you. The little green cover stealer is quick to settle between you and his dad, his hands reaching out to press on both of your foreheads. You look over at Din, whose eyes are once again finding yours.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

You mean to tell him that you love him, that you’re happy to be married to him, but sleep

finds you first. Not that it matters.

He already knows.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando

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effloradox · 8 months

Text

I’m slightly obsessed with this vampire cowboy if you couldn’t tell 😅

Being the baby in a family of vampires is a difficult position to hold. You're not a baby by any means, you're in your thirties by now, but compared to the patriarch of your new family who is over three hundred years older than you, the other vampires dwarf your time on this planet. You know that this life is a blessing, that without it you'd be long dead by now, but it still stings having your age used against you in practically every family discussion.

Carlisle has more sympathy for your age difference but Edward is the worst for it. He's only seventy years older than you and yet you'd think he was seven hundred years older from the way he acts. You can't help the fact that people born in the same year as you are still alive and well, it's not like you can make time pass quicker and yet your adoptive brother seems to take great delight in pulling rank over you in any discussions about the future of the coven. Knowing he can read your thoughts of frustration does nothing to help the situation either.

Jasper knows it bothers you. He was still fairly new to the coven when you were turned, so whilst he's older than Edward he doesn't have the same position in the coven. It doesn't bother him as much since he outlives Edward, but he understand your frustrations. One of the perks of his abilities is knowing when you're reaching the end of your patience so he can quickly intervene with the suggestion of getting out of the house if only for a while so you can calm down.

It's almost a tradition at this point that not long after a move, the two of you will seek out some private spot far from the new house, far from the new town, that will become your spot for the duration of your time in whatever new place the coven has moved to.

As far as your limited experience goes, Forks seems to be a fairly nice town. Nothing like the small English town you lived in when you were human, but it's nice. It rains almost constantly, which is a nice feeling of being back home, and the people seem more than friendly enough. Carlisle had mentioned you having your tour of the high school in the upcoming days once enough time had passed for the family to have 'settled in'. The only thing you'd actually done upon arriving in town was choosing a bedroom for you and Jasper and immediate heading out to find your new spot.

Carlisle had warned you about not breaking the treaty he had formed with the Quileutes but aside from that, you and Jasper had been given free reign. It still hurt when the last thing you'd heard before you left the house was yet another snide remark from Edward about needing to baby proof the house before the two of you returned. You'd stopped running after maybe twenty minutes, and this was definitely not going to be your spot, but Jasper got the impression you needed time to process the past rather than look to the future.

"Do you think he'll always treat me like that?" You question makes Jasper pause for a moment as he considers his response. He lets his eyes drift over the small clearing the two of you are sat in before his gaze falls back to you.

"I hope not darlin'." His words do nothing to stop the ache in your chest and he knows it. He can tell from the defeated look on your face and the way your emotions flicker across your face. He doesn't need to be an empath to know how much this tirade is starting to bother you.

"Alice said that he'd stop with time, but I don't think I can spend another thirty years listening to him be so condescending about me." The mention of your precognitive sibling makes Jasper pause. For her to have a vision of something so specific would be unusual from what he's discerned over the years.

"Did Alice see something about him stopping?" You shrug lightly, pulling your knees close to your chest.

"Not necessarily. She said she saw something big happening whilst we're here that will make him stop but that could be years away." Jasper lets out a quiet noise of consideration at your words. Alice had been having more frequent visions since you'd all moved, maybe something big was on the horizon. Last time she'd had this many was just before you'd come into their lives.

"I can ask Carlisle to speak to him if you want." You take a moment to consider his offer before shaking your head lightly.

"I think that would just make him do it more out of spite. Thank you though." You outstretch a hand to him that he's more than willing to take. Even after over a decade of being together, it never fails to fill him with joy how perfectly your hand fits in his. Like you were made for him, or he was made for you. Maybe both. It certainly feels that way when you look at him with a smile that could rival the moon for how beautiful it is.

"You want to head somewhere new?" You nod at him and allow him to help you to your feet. Even now you're both standing your hands are still entwined and he smiles as he feels you squeeze his hand gently.

"Lead the way cowboy."

#my writing #drabbles #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader

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jupiter-soups · 8 months

Text

a sheep in wolf's clothing

pairing + tag: joel miller x f!reader, established relationship, fluff

summary: joel miller is not quite as scary as the people of jackson believe him to be. at least, not around you.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: kinda been dealing with some writers block and i thought i'd write a cute fluffy one shot to deal with it. please let me know what you think! also, thank you to the incredible @papipascalispunk for beta-ing!

The swing of Joel’s sledgehammer squarely met the metal pole, pushing it down further into the hard earth with a raw strength that made the pair of teens watching grimace.

“God, he’s scary today. Why’s he hulking out so much? Who pissed him off?” The taller of the teens, Nathan, whispers to his friend, whilst leaning against his shovel for support.

“I don’t know, but whoever it is better get their shit together, because he’s gonna end up snapping. We do not want to be here for that,” Callum responds with a conspiratorial tone, gesturing for Nathan to come closer so he could divulge some gossip.

“Apparently, before he got to Jackson, he was this total killing machine, just ruthless, relentless and bloodthirsty,” Callum stagewhispers, peeking out of the corner of his eye to where Joel was clearly funneling pure rage in each swing of his hammer.

“Why would they even let some mad man in here with us?” Nathan responds nervously, with much less subtlety in how he was eyeing Joel’s movements and his apparent familiarity with swinging a blunt object.

“I guess he adopted Ellie, or something. Maybe that mellowed him out a bit?” Callum winces at a particularly hard swing of the hammer, one that made Joel grunt out in effort, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead as he stepped back, seemingly satisfied with his work.

“Clearly not enough. Ellie’s dad, huh?” Nathan lets out a huff of an exhale, reminiscing on a particularly painful evening where his romantic advances on Ellie were met with a swift and brutally painful punch in the gut. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Their gossiping fades away into a terrified silence, as Joel stalks up to where they’re standing, walking slowly and with eyes slightly narrowed. The two practically shrink under his gaze as he approaches.

“You two just gonna stand around all day or get to fuckin’ work like the rest of us,” Joel grits out, the furrow of his brow informing the two that they were nowhere near quiet enough when gossiping.

“Uh, I–”

“We were j–”

“Stop fuckin’ around and dig.” Before Joel even finished his sentence, the pair scrambles back over to the patch of soil they were assigned to clear, working with a vigor that they didn’t even know they were capable of.

—-----------

Joel had sort of assumed that the rumors about him had died down. No one crossed the street when they saw him anymore. No one even begged to get swapped to a different patrol route when grouped with him, terrified of what he might do outside of the safety of laws and watchful eyes in Jackson.

He shifts his head from side to side as he walks home on the barely illuminated streets, stretching out the strain from working all day. He holds a paper bag close to his body, trying to keep it dry from the light rainfall that had begun at some point between him leaving the building site and stopping at the bakery.

A smile breaks through his cold exterior as he finally approaches his house and sees the living room light still on, a beacon welcoming him home.

To you.

In his eagerness to see you, he forgot to take off his dirty work boots, a fact you quickly remind him of with a croaky call of “Shoes!”, the second he turned the corner into the living room.

“Sorry, baby,” He laughs quietly, tossing the paper bag he was carrying onto your lap where you were sprawled out on the couch, before heading back into the hall to kick off his boots.

You gasp in excitement as you open the paper bag and see three of your favorite caramel cookies from the bakery, immediately regretting it as your throat stung from the act.

The cold that currently had you couchridden under the warm embrace of a thick woolen blanket had also meant that you weren’t able to pick up the rare treats. The bakery only made them once a month, and typically ran out by noon. Your heart swelled as you realized Joel must have gone out of his way on an already busy day, just to get them for you.

“How did you manage to get three of them?” You ask in awe as he reenters the room and moves to join you where you were sitting, lifting your extended legs to rest his back against the back of the couch and placing them over his lap. His hands settled on your legs, rubbing them gently through your thick winter pajama pants.

“Guess there’s some good in being scary, ol’ Joel Miller,” He chuckles, taking a cookie from your extended hand and taking a bite.

You begin to sit up slightly to take a bite too, but visibly wince when your head begins to spin from the movement. Joel stops you instantly, dropping his cookie back into the bag on your lap to rearrange your pillows behind you into a slightly more seated position.

“You’re still not doing well,” He tuts, disapproval radiating off of him in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. “Shouldn’ta made me go to work today, darlin’, I should’a been here for you.”

“Joel,” you reassure, “I’m completely fine, barely got the sniffles at this point.” He raises an eyebrow at your blatant lie, taking in the sweaty sheen on your forehead and nasally voice before sighing and settling back into his seat. You weren’t in a state to argue.

“So, big, bad Joel Miller scares the town folk into giving him extra cookies?” You tease, drawing a laugh out of the guilty man sitting next to you. His grip on your shins loosens slightly as he begins to actually relax again, much to your satisfaction. He was already stressed enough in the morning when he had to leave you to go fill in for someone at the construction site, almost canceling after you spent most of the night awake, shivering and sniffling. You didn’t want him to feel even more guilty, regardless of the fact that you had been the one who insisted that he goes.

“You should’a heard some of the stuff they were sayin’ about me today,” He shook his head in feigned disbelief, well aware of his reputation. “Somethin’ about being ruthless and relentless,”

You laugh through a bite of the cookie, “I could see that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh, really?”

“At least the relentless part. There’s been more than a few times I’ve had to tap out,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him, causing him to shake his head at you, trying to fight back the way his lips were turning up at the corners in amusement.

He watches you finish off the second cookie in a comfortable silence, a faint smile on his face as he observes the absolute glee in your eyes with each bite. His fingers begin to play with the hem of your pajama pants the more he watches you, and you can sense the slight anxiety in his movements.

“Stop worrying, Joel, I was fine. I promise. You know the building team needed you today.”

He grumbles a quiet response that you don’t quite make out, something about ‘incompetent,’ and ‘ill-equipped,’ before turning his annoyance to you, “I already know you didn’t drink enough water.”

You nudge him gently in the stomach with your knee, prompting him to drop it, which he does with a moody sigh.

“How was Ellie today?” He opts to change the subject.

“Not been around too much. She’s still running around after Dina, thinking she's so slick. I know we need to wait for her to come to us about it, but I wish she would just tell us already.” His soft brown eyes betray the unease he felt at the issue.

“I hope…” He trails off in a worried tone that’s familiar to you; the, I think I’m fucking up tone. “I hope she doesn’t think she can’t talk to me about it.” You reach your hand out and grab his, big and warm and immediately squeezing and rubbing your hand within his to warm up your freezing fingers. ”I suppose I can be a little scary sometimes. Those kids down at the site sure thought so,” He chuckles once, humorlessly and self-deprecatingly, reaching over to grab your other hand to warm up that one too.

“There’s no fucking way, Joel. Maybe those kids who’ve never been outside of the walls for a day in their lives were scared of you, but we know you’re a big ol’ softie. Besides, there’s not much that scares Ellie. Definitely not an old man that she could easily beat in a fight,” You tease, relieved when his shoulders seem to relax a little.

Joel leans forward, cupping your chin in his hand to pull you in for a kiss. You don’t let him indulge, perhaps for the first time in your relationship. “Joel, I’ll just get you sick too. You gotta be back at work tomorrow, remember?” Your heart squeezes at the almost pout on his face, but he doesn’t push the matter, instead starting to get up with a grunt, gently placing your legs back down on the couch where he had been sat. He turns to you with an expectant look and reaches out a hand.

“Let’s head up to bed, darlin’,”

You blink. “Joel, I just said I can’t get you sick. I’ll just sleep down here for the night, the couch is comfy enough.”

His hand stays extended for a moment, before letting it drop. “Fine,” he states resolutely, “I suppose I’ll see you in the mornin’, then?” His voice seems almost too innocent, and your suspicions are confirmed when he drags the warm blanket from your body in one swift motion and starts walking towards the stairs.

“Joel!” You exclaim, “What the fuck?”

He pauses part way up the stairs to your bedroom and gives you a nonchalant shrug. “This is my blanket. Can’t go to sleep without it.” He turns back and continues to head up the stairs. You grumble at the real satisfied little smirk on his face as he does so.

“But…” You groan and roll off the warm couch, and begin to plod up the stairs to your shared bed.

Fine, if he wants to get sick so badly, I’ll let him.

—-------------

“Shouldn’ Miller be here by now?” Nathan says as he eyes the entrance to the build site nervously, doing his best to appear busy.

“I guess he’s sick today, heard he got a fever or something.” Callum’s words instantly ease Nathan’s rigid posture.

“Thank God for that,” He mutters, letting the shovel in his hands drop to the ground with a relieved sigh.

“Or maybe,” Callum smiled sinisterly, “He’s out plotting his next kil–” He’s cut off when a hand is smacked down onto the nape of his neck, turning into a painful grip that swivels his head in the direction of his assailant and the project’s latest stand-in worker, Ellie Williams.

“Why don’t you fucks get back to work, hmm?” Her grip tightens on the back of Callum’s neck, and he visibly flinches under her exacting gaze. Nathan gulps and reaches to pick up his shovel as quickly as possible. Joel Miller was definitely not the scariest person in Jackson

tags: @gasolinerainbowpuddles @beardedjoel @huffle-punk

thank you for reading <3 please let me know your thoughts :)

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