#am i being pelted with them?
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Jealousy Jealousy
Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.
The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.
We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.
"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.
"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.
I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.
Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.
It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.
I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.
As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.
Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.
My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.
I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.
My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.
"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.
"I'm so hungry." I cry out.
"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.
"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.
"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.
I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.
"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."
Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.
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Trial By Combat - 3
Requested By: No One. Original Work.
CW: Post-Impostor SAGAU,
Summary: Focalors apologizes
Note: This is so late and I apologize for that!
If vou haven't finished the Fontaine Archon quest, please exit stage left.
Part One Part Two Part Four
The rain drops pelted the windows. It seemed never-ending. The sky still looked tormented by the thick overcast of gray clouds that blocked the morning sun. Fontaine hadn’t seen a day of sunshine in days and the Chief Justice couldn’t bring himself to work another day in a row.
No many how many hours he wasted staring at the file created for your case, it did nothing to relieve the amount of sadness he had in his heart. Neuvillette is the most trusted and respected person in the entire nation but even he couldn’t see past the empty accusations the Hydro Archon made.
Once the trial began and he saw your face he had his doubts, your physical appearance was beyond comparison. He didn’t want to believe that you were an imposter, that you had ill intentions but he couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of justice.
He wasn’t the only one with these thoughts, people who sat in the audience began to whisper amongst themselves wondering if you really were a fake.
However a few words from Furina were enough to get many people on board.
‘Do not let yourselves be fooled by their appearance my dear people, they want us to let our guard down! I will personally reveal the truth behind their deceit.’
Yet you do not stand trial, you ask to duel for your innocence and he accepts.
That was his biggest mistake.
He knew that you were no match for Clorinde and he knew that he could’ve intervened at any time, but he didn’t.
You laid on the dueling grounds blood quickly poured from your body. Medical staff and Clorinde were quick to carry you away from the public but Neuvillette will never forgive his inaction.
Suddenly he blinks as a raindrop slides down his cheek.
-
Just like she promised, Furina returned to your room at daybreak. Once you were in her line of sight she bows slightly speaking in a soft tone.
“Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to return.”
You say nothing, watching the people down below navigate through the weather with their parasols in hand.
She takes a step forward. Would you allow her to get close to you again? The last thing she wants is for you to yell even if she deserves it. She takes small steps forward, paying close attention to your face taking note of any displeasure you may feel from her presence.
Eventually she was close enough to touch you, she readjusts her hat slightly before kneeling down resting her hand on top of yours. The Archon smiles slightly feeling a sense of relief wash over her.
“I am a fool,” Furina breathes out, “I should’ve been the first to recognize you but I didn’t and now I will pay the price…”
She feels her lips tremble. Was she going to shed tears in front of her God again?
“I know that there’s no way I can fix this but-“
“You’re right Furina,” you interject, “there’s no way you can fix this.”
She looks up at you with watery eyes.
“But I was doing some thinking last night and I want to move on from this.” You finally look down at her examining her expression. “that doesn’t mean I forgive you and I definitely won’t forget what you did.”
Furina let’s out a breath, you truly were a benevolent being. She was ready to do anything for you to give her another chance, even if she had to pull her gnosis out of her chest.
“Thank you for this opportunity Your Grace,” she gives you a smile, “I will do everything in my power to prove my loyalty to you again.”
You decide not to respond to her statement instead turning your gaze to the bundle of flowers on your bedside table. The stems were going limp and the color of the petals were fading. Whoever brought them must’ve forgotten to water them, they’re almost dead now.
Furina stands up wiping her wet cheeks as she gives you a small smile. “Your Grace, would it be alright if I show you around Fontaine? I know everyone would be very happy to see that you’re doing okay.”
You look out the window once more, she was right. There was a large crowd of people who stood outside the building you were in. Many of them holding gifts that they hope to give to you.
You open your mouth to respond but another voice cuts you off.
“Lady Furina that’s not a good idea…”
Clorinde leaned against the threshold of the door, she had dark circles under her eyes as she stared at the two of you. “Their Grace’s wounds are still healing. Walking for extended periods of time could be dangerous.”
Furina pouts slightly at her words but she knew Clorinde was right. If you were to tear your stitches you might not survive another operation, and the mere thought of you dying sends shivers down the Archon’s spine.
“You should let them get plenty of rest for now.” Clorinde suggests, “The medical staff will return tomorrow to change their bandages and give an update on their condition.“
You can see Furina visibly deflate at her words, “I know, I know…”
With a bit more pushing, Furina soon left with Clorinde leaving you alone in the room once again. Suddenly you feel a wave a fatigue wash over you, maybe not getting any sleep throughout the night was a bad idea. You stand from the windowsill and walk slowly over to the bed sinking into the soft material. A sigh leaves your mouth as you close your eyes listening to the sounds of rain against the glass until you eventually fell asleep.
-
You wake up to the sound of small footsteps, their voices are hushed as they walk around the room. You decide to keep your eyes closed, curious what their intentions of coming here were.
“Let’s change the flowers before they wake up. We don’t want to get caught.”
Hmm. So they’re the ones bringing the flowers.
You open your eyes sitting up in bed and your meet with…
…a Melusine?
“Oh no! We’ve been caught!”
The two hang their heads down sadly, as if they were were just caught by their parent.
“So you two were the ones who brought flowers to my bed?”
The Melusine look at each other then at you.
“Monsieur Neuvillette asked us to bring these to you.” One of them confessed.
You blink, “Neuvillette? He asked you to bring these?”
She nods holding the flowers out to you, “will you take them? It would make him really happy if you did.”
You hesitate for a moment, staring at the bouquet in the Melusine’s hands. Even if you couldn’t forgive any of them now for what happened. What good would holding a grudge do?
You take the flowers bringing them to your face to smell the sweet scent. “Thank you for bringing these to me, tell Neuvillette I said thank you.”
The Melusine give you a closed eye smile nodding as they walk towards the door. However before they were fully out of earshot, you hear one of them say:
“Maybe we’ll have some better weather now.”
You look down at the flowers, they truly were beautiful. They were Romaritime flowers, ones they could only be picked with the hydro element. You feel a small smile spread on your face as you replace the other bouquet with the new one. With a busy schedule like his, Neuvillette must’ve went out of his way to get these for you.
-
-
Underneath the cover a darkness, a large ship docks right outside the court of Fontaine.
It was unusual for a ship to come at this time but there was no mistaking that symbol that steered any citizen away as quickly as possible.
“Lady Harbinger, we’ve arrived.”
The Knave stands from her seat, she wasn’t here for diplomatic reasons or for her comrade that rotted in Fontaine’s prison. Her reasons for returning home were purely selfish.
She steps off the boat her heel landing in a puddle the was slowly drying from the warm breeze Sumeru’s desert nearby. The Knave looks up expecting to see rain clouds but is met with thousands of stars spread across the night sky. It was a clear night.
“All of you head to the Northland Bank and do not reveal our true reason for coming here to anyone. I will retrieve Their Grace myself.”
-
© avocad1s 2023
Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys
If your @ is bolded, for some reason I cannot tag you! :(
If you wish to be removed from the tag list you can comment or inbox me and I’ll take you off :)
#genshin cult au#sagau#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#genshin cult#sagau x reader#imposter sagau#sagau impostor au#self aware genshin
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𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 || 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: "Clarisse x reader where readers emotions control weather? If that makes sense"
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Zeus sees Percy being claimed by Poseidon as an act of war, and decides to retaliate by claiming a child of his own
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: show!Clarisse La Rue x Zeus!fem!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Swearing
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Smitten Clarisse ofc (>ᴗ•) !
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k
𝐀/𝐍: Thank you so much for your request, I adore this concept !! I tried my best to replicate the reader’s emotions in the weather through the story, not just after she’s claimed. I hope I did it justice !! Enjoy <3
Terrified tears are streaming down your face and your heart is pounding in your chest. The rain is pelting against the windows now, and thunderclaps seem to shake the earth.
"Dad? I don't understand, what is that thing?" You choke, staring at the pair of red headlights out the back window, censored by the sheen of rain on the glass.
Except it isn't a set of headlights. It's a pair of eyes. Red, glowing, blood-thirsty eyes.
"D/N, are we almost there?" Your mother cries, her knuckles pale as she grasps the fabric of her pants.
"Yes," he grunts, foot hard down on the accelerator. "Y/N, do you see that hill ahead? With the pine tree?"
You squint into the darkness, just about making out the landmark your father is referring to, lit up by the high beams of the car.
"Yes, Dad. But I don't underst—"
"Listen, you must get to that tree no matter what. Don't look back, don't stop. Get past that tree and you'll be okay."
A sob escapes your lips, a crackle of lightning lighting up the sky. Behind the car, the light illuminates the beast chasing the car. A truck-sized mastiff, dripping saliva from a lolling mouth adorned with yellowing teeth. A scream peals from your throat as darkness swallows it once more.
"What is that?" You wail. Before either of your adoptive parents can respond, something large slams into the back of the car.
You're sent spinning, but the Hellhound doesn't let you hit the side of the road. It immediately stops you with a paw, tearing a hole in your car.
The beast's jaws snap eagerly at you, and you scramble backwards. In the front seat, your parents are reduced to slumped, motionless silhouettes. Terrified, you fumble for the door handle behind you, falling backwards onto the concrete and feeling your skin scrape.
You struggle to your feet, jumping away as the dog's fangs tear the car into a pile of coleslaw.
"Stop!" You shriek. Another lightning bolt reveals the landscape around you, and you see the hill towering above you, the pine tree adorning it rocking around in the hurricane-force winds.
Your father's words echo in your mind as your legs pump desperately up the slick, wet grass. They'll be okay, they got out, you think when the Hellhound turns away from the shredded metal, scarlet gaze now trained on you.
You're still nowhere near the top, and now the monster is practically upon you. It runs towards you like an excited puppy, gangly legs crossing meters of distance in seconds.
You're just about to squeeze your eyelids shut and say your final prayers when an explosion of light scorches the ground in front of you, knocking you hard backwards.
You feel your head collide with something, and then it's all dark.
A faint buzz is whining in your ears.
Where am I?
Your eyelids feel glued down when you try to pry them open, and when you manage it you're met with a kaleidoscope of white sheets and plain walls.
Your vision is swimming, but you make out the figure of a girl standing in the doorway. She has dark, coily hair and an unreadable expression on her face.
"Where am I?" You croak, your throat dry and scratchy, probably from all the screaming.
But the girl doesn't respond, just turns and leaves.
Exhausted from the effort, blackness envelopes you again.
"And this here is Cabin 4, Demeter," the boy with black hair says, gesturing to the building.
You sign inwardly, body still tired and aching. In the last few hours you have woken up, been told your parents are dead, gotten told everything you thought about the world is wrong and now you are being given a very in-depth tour of 'Camp Half-Blood'.
The sky is overcast, and you wearily listen as the boy goes on.
"And here is Cabin 5, Ares—" Luke is cut off by an olive-skinned girl storming out of the cabin's door, practically colliding with you.
"Fuck— watch where you're going, idiot!" She growls. When she looks up at you, a flicker of something swims through her eyes, but is replaced promptly by a glower.
"Newbie," she snarls. Behind her, a group of kids seep out of the cabin after her. At her words, they don menacing scowls and jeer.
"She looks awful!" One laughs.
"Push her over, Clarisse!" Another crows.
Clarisse cocks an eyebrow, looking you up and down pointedly. "You guys think I should teach this runt her place?" She asks. She's responded with cheers.
You step back hesitantly. Luke sighs.
"Clarisse, I'm just doing my job. Do you have to be difficult?" He says exasperatedly.
"That's okay, Castellan. You can go now, I'll look after the newbie," she grins, stepping forward to wrap her fists in your collar. She drops you, letting your exhausted body hit the earth with a thud. "Comfy down there, Darling?"
The all-too-fresh memory of falling out of the car escaping the Hellhound resurfaces, and angry tears spring to your eyes.
Your lip curls as you look up at 'Clarisse', her smug smile towering over you.
"Listen," you spit, standing up. "I've just been attacked by an actual Hellhound. It killed my parents. I'm exhausted. I'm just trying to get through this tour so I can get to whatever stiff sleeping bag they give me and go to sleep."
The overcast sky has darkened, heavy black clouds groaning with thunder threaten to release rain.
"I don't need some tough girl who thinks she owns this—apparently—magical fucking circus to tell me 'my place.' My place is back home with my parents. That's where I belong. But they're gone, so shove off back to kindergarten and learn some manners!"
Your voice cracked at some parts, and you know tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. But the dark look on your face gets the message across.
Clarisse's eyes glimmer with that look again, a tiny thing only you can see. But for everyone else, they just see her shrug.
"Whatever, Darling. Just watch where the hell you're going, m'kay," she states, spinning on her heel and sauntering off with her band of Ares kids scurrying behind her.
You sigh, letting your tense shoulders sag. The rain clouds give a shudder and release a light drizzle. You wipe a small tear from one eye.
This is definitely the hardest day of your life.
Your feet glide over the pine needle soundlessly, a hefty Xiphos clutched in your hands.
It's been a week since your arrival at Camp Half-Blood. A week full of training, lessons and camp activities. You have found yourself rather handy with a sword, and you're even warming up to the kid in Hermes' cabin.
Ahead of you, Clarisse La Rue and her band of sheeple are wandering back towards their flag. You're stealthily following them, the chocolate-eyed girl none the wiser.
The sky is bright and blue, flocks of cheerful clouds frolicking around on the sweet summer winds. You feel a thrill of joy pass through you. It's a beautiful day, you've finally settled in, and you are about to beat that bully La Rue.
Well, you would have if, in your excitement, you hadn't carelessly stepped on a twig.
Gods, didn't that only happen in the movies? You wince as the pack of Ares kids whip around, spears and swords brandished.
"You!" Clarisse says when she sees you. "Trying to find our flag, are you?"
She smirks, stalking forward. You step back slightly, heart pounding. Yes, you are quite good with a sword now, but you are no match for Clarisse. Even you can admit that.
She leans in close. "You should know better," she says, her voice honeyed.
A couple of her teammates move forward, teeth gleaming and swords hungry for skin. Clarisse's eyes flash, and she holds up a hand.
"No, go on to the flag. I'll deal with her," she orders. Some of the kids look doubtful, so Clarisse gives you a shove for emphasis. "I'll deal with her."
Reluctantly, the kids peter out. Turning back to you, Clarisse holds your gaze for a moment, before shaking her head with a scoff. But there isn't much venom in it.
"Just stay out of it, newbie," she grunts, swinging her spear leisurely over one shoulder and turning to leave.
You frown in disbelief. "That's it?"
Clarisse pauses, looking at you over one shoulder. "What, do you want a fight, Darling? Because we both know that would just end up with you in the infirmary."
You tilt your head, observing the brown-haired girl. "No, not at all. You're just... not what I thought."
Clarisse scoffs again, but there is even less malice in it. You think you must be imagining the warm glow around her cheekbones.
"Just, stay out of it," she mutters, turning and jogging off into the trees.
You stare after her, cheek tingling where her breath had brushed it.
Of course, you didn't stay out of it. You had followed after her, the girl too flustered to notice you slipping in and sneaking off with the flag.
After your win, the whole camp accepted you fully. Ares still shoots you glares, but no one has dared push you over again.
And yet, no God or Goddess has claimed you. Many campers are after a week or two, but it has been months and still not a sign.
"She's too smart for an Ares," someone guesses.
"But she's too tough for Athena," another had argued.
"What about Apollo? She's alright with a bow."
"Definitely not, have you heard her sing in the shower block?" Someone laughs.
"I mean, that would explain why Apollo hasn't claimed her!"
Every day begins to feel worse than the last, every time you prove yourself worthy you are rewarded with nothing. Even the weather seems to agree, the sky gradually getting gloomier and wetter. Campers have been grumbling about this being the 'bleakest summer ever.'
The only spark in your life, unbelievably, is a certain fiery girl from Cabin 5.
You've been entertaining yourself by trying to worm your way into the stony warrior's heart, your suspicions about her proving correct with every blush and scoff you are gifted with when you manage to sneak through a crack.
The clouds seem to part, letting a beam of rare sunlight through, whenever you're with her. When you're without her, you find your hands itching to touch her, a playful shove or a flick.
A few shoves and flicks later, you find yourself standing in the middle of the training Arena, clad in sweaty bronze armor being asked out by a flushed Clarisse La Rue.
A warm trickle of sunlight sinks into the space between you, both panting from the private spar you were in moments before. You can see every freckle, every dark eyelash on her face.
"Go out with you?" You breathe, lowering your sword from where it was raised. "Like, with you?"
Clarisse scoffs —her nervous habit, you've found— and removes her helmet, resting it on her hip. "Yes, with me, Darling. But if you're already set on Castellan, lift that sword again and we can forget about this—"
"Fuck Castellan, of course I'll go out with you!" You cry, letting your weapon clatter to the ground and wrapping your metallic arms around her.
You don't know what the other campers meant when they called it the 'bleakest summer ever.' All you know now is sunshine and blue-sky days, days filled with summery winds and strawberry picking and secret dates with your tough girl. You hardly ever think about your unclaimed status anymore, too in love to care. You can't even remember before Clarisse.
She's awfully protective of you, always standing up to anyone who tries to push you around. You did wish she wouldn't pick on the newbies, though.
"Clari, he's only 12! Give him a break," you protest. You're sprawled out in Clarisse's sheets as she sits on the end of the bed polishing her spear for Capture the Flag that afternoon.
"Nope. I hate liars," she states simply.
You roll your eyes. Always so stubborn. "Clarisse, he's barely put his foot in the door. Let the kid adjust."
Clarisse shakes her head. "No! He lied about killing the minotaur, he soaked me and my friends—" you snort "—and now he's walking around here like he's better than me! I ought to show that runt—"
You've sat up and pressed a kiss to her lips. Clarisse falters, flustered from the touch. For a girl who isn't afraid of anything, you've found her to be very timid when it comes to affection.
"No one's better than you, Clari," you murmur. Her face sets ablaze. "But, you don't have to prove that, we already know it."
Clarisse hums thoughtfully, leading into your touch for a moment. Then she springs up abruptly, leaving your lips cold. "Sorry, no can do. Reputation and all that. See you in battle, Darling!"
You flop back down onto the bed with a groan as she eagerly sprints off. That's right, you're on the opposite side.
"You really think he's the one, Annabeth?" You whisper to the patch of air beside you. You're crouched behind a bush watching the 12-year-old arch nemesis of your girlfriend dozing on a log after a very strenuous afternoon of dancing and playing with geckos.
"Yes," the patch of air replies. You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. You can't believe you let Annabeth rope you into this.
"Can we please go help Luke and Chris? I'm sure Percy can look after himself," you mutter. "And I'm bored!"
"Well, you won't be bored for much longer," invisible Annabeth says.
You turn back to Percy to see none other than your girlfriend stalking towards him brandishing her red-hot spear. Of course, you groan internally. She does look really good in those camo pants, though.
When the Ares pack start chasing the boy, you're about to step out of your hiding spot, but Annabeth's arm stops you.
"Not yet," she orders.
You may not be as formidable as Clarisse, but you are far from puny. You let her protect you because that's Clarisse's love language. But you can handle yourself perfectly well, one stormy glare of yours can send a camper fleeing for the hills. On top of that, you hate being ordered around, especially from a child.
But you listen, because you're reluctant to be as stubborn as your girlfriend. So you stay expertly hidden as you and Annabeth follow the pack down to the lake. But a flash of anger shoots through you when you see the young boy knocked to the floor.
"Sorry, Annabeth," you grunt, stepping out onto the gravel. "Clarisse! Leave him alone!"
Clarisse doesn't stop her tussle, just glancing over at you. "Stay out of it, Darling."
"You always say that," you growl, picking off one of the Ares kids and combatting him with your sword, and you quickly have him disarmed and on the ground. Suddenly, your head shoots up when you hear a bloodcurdling scream.
"Clari!" You cry, stomach clenching when you see the severed spear in her hands. Her gift from her father.
"Clari, stop. He's not worth it," you plead, running up to her when she hefts the scrawny boy into the air. Your arms wrap around her waist, and you guide a fuming Clarisse back towards the cabins. Percy will be okay, Annabeth will look after him.
Well. You thought she would, but you turn towards a 'splash' to see that the girl has pushed Percy into the lake.
"What the hell, Annabeth!" You begin to call over, but the words dry up when you see his bloody wounds knitting themselves over. Your jaw drops open when you realize what that means moments before the trident appears above the boy's head.
Poseidon, Poseidon, the Big Three, Poseidon, you hear kids all around you whispering. The poor boy looks shell-shocked.
"Fuck that kid," Clarisse says disbelievingly. You rub your hand on her back, once again leading her to the cabins.
"It's okay, Clari. He's just going to get slaughtered by Hades' monsters now, you know they're on the brink of war. You don't have to trouble yourself any—"
You falter when Clarisse stops walking, a look of horror in her eyes. You frown and look around confused when the rest of the Blue Team start staring at you too.
"What?" You ask, following the gaping camper's gaze to the space above your head.
The wind is knocked from your body. Above your head, an icy-white lightning bolt marks you. Daughter of Zeus.
Your insides churn—you're not an idiot, you know what this means. Zeus has seen Percy being claimed as an act of war and decides to retaliate by finally acknowledging his daughter.
The stares, the whispers, the complications, it all stirs in your gut like a hurricane. In the sky, a storm cloud has begun brewing and crackles with lightning.
"Stop staring!" You cry at your teammates, a bright lightning bolt lighting up the sky. Tears well in your eyes, and rain begins to pelt down on the gravelly shore.
When the campers don't move, you shoot them one of your deadly glares. "Scram!" You growl, the following grumble of thunder making them scatter. Only Clarisse stays.
"Don't you understand?" You sob to her, rain mixing with the tears on your cheeks. "He doesn't care about me. He hasn't cared about me for months! I'm just a bargaining chip to him, a plaything to through at his stupid brother!"
You turn to storm off, and the sky growls at you. "Is this me, too? Am I doing this?" You shout, gesturing manically at the sky. Clarisse crosses over to you.
"Screw Hades, screw Poseidon, screw the lot of them!" Clarisse hisses, grabbing your hands to stop you from leaving. "Zeus doesn't deserve you, Darling. Don't let him use you, don't give him the satisfaction."
You sniff, the rain softening to a shower. "I don't want to be like this," you croak, your foreheads touching as you look at your intertwined hands. Tiny sparks are erupting at the contact.
"I don't know, Sparky. It's pretty cool," Clarisse grins.
You laugh, the tension easing from your body. The dark clouds in the sky above blow away. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Why should I let them control me? I'll just explode them if they try."
Clarisse grins, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face and kissing you on the side of your mouth. "That's the spirit, Sparky."
( 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 !! )
© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work
#ph☆ebe's scribbles#percy jackson fic#one shot#percy jackson fanfic#percy jackson#fanfiction#fanfic#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#clarisse la rue
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Eccentricities
Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader
TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!
(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)
Pt 1: Link
Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua
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Pt. 2
It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.
And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.
You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.
Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.
Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.
So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.
But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.
While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.
On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.
You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.
But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.
But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.
Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.
"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.
"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.
"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.
"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.
"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.
Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.
"Whatcha watching?" She asked.
"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.
"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.
You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.
"Hey, Lyla?"
"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.
"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"
Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."
"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.
"Has he ever hired any male staff?"
"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.
You gasped. "Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.
"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"
"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.
"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"
You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.
But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?
It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.
"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.
"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"
"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"
Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."
You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"
Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.
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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.
He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.
When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.
Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.
There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.
Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...
All of those were things he'd glanced at before.
But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".
The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...
He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?
Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.
Pequeña ave. Little Bird.
His Little Bird.
You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.
You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.
Yet...
His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...
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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.
Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.
You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.
It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.
His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.
He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.
So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.
"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.
You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.
"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.
When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.
"L-Look, man! I was just--"
"Shut up." Miguel snapped.
He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.
The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.
"Y-you're--"
"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.
"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."
"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.
"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.
"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"
"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.
The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.
When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.
Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.
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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.
He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".
It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.
Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.
He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.
He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.
When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.
Perfect.
You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.
You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.
"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.
He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.
Spider-Man was a good guy, right?
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Pt. 3: Link
#yandere!miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara
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Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗
I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗
aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!
this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.
jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:
****
"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"
Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."
The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."
"Bats."
Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.
"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.
"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."
"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"
"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"
"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.
Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.
He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.
"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."
The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.
"Fiancé?!"
"You're getting married—"
"When was this—"
"Who are—"
"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."
"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.
Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."
"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"
"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...
Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.
"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."
Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.
"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"
"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"
"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."
****
Your head is on fire.
It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.
You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.
Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.
Yeah. This is not good.
"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.
"Mike, we sent—"
"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"
You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.
Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?
You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.
"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."
A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.
"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"
You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.
Mike sneers and waves the gun around.
"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."
"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"
Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."
You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.
Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.
"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.
He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.
You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.
"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"
"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.
You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—
Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.
"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."
"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"
"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."
You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—
The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.
"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.
"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."
"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"
The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.
"No!"
But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.
"I got you, baby, I got you."
Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.
You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!
"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."
You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.
"B-bomb!"
His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"
The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.
"Let go," he says.
"Wh—"
"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."
And then he lets go.
Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.
Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.
"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."
Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.
You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.
You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.
"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."
Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.
The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.
You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.
"You saved me," you say.
"I always will," he says. "Always."
"Are either of you injured?"
Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.
"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."
Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."
Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."
"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.
Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.
"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.
"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."
He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.
You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."
Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.
Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.
Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."
You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.
"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.
Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."
Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.
"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"
"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.
Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.
"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."
He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."
"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."
"Little Wing, c'mere!"
Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.
"Now that's adorable," she says.
Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.
"Thank you," he says.
You tilt your head. "For what?"
"For bringing him back to us."
You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"
"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x yn#jason todd imagine#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#red hood fanfiction#batman fanfiction#batfam fanfiction#dc fanfiction#inbox#blurb
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ive been a halfhearted dnd defender for a minute, bc i was really involved in indie ttrpg twitter for a while and I Am Not Anymore because frankly. it just got too hostile and crab bucket-y. a lot of people acting like critical role or dimension 20 were opposing them by playing a game that had widespread brand recognition (and also getting mad whenever critrole played something OTHER than dnd. i haven't forgotten how hostile everyone i knew in that scene was when critrole played monster hearts. like what do you want??) or like people who play dnd are popular jocks and people who play indie games are bullied nerds. when actually we're all nerds. nobody is cool here.
and i would especially get frustrated when people would recommend games to play instead of dnd that are not at all a comparable experience, or didnt have the same things people liked in dnd. sure, you could play Masks if you want to play a superhero game instead of just reskinning DnD, but Masks is about teens, and the fact that you're playing as teens is core to the mechanics, so it's not a good suggestion for someone who wants to play as adult superheroes. sure you can suggest someone play Blades in the Dark if they want to play a heist team, but BitD is incredibly punishing! every time ive played it, it felt almost impossible to get a full success at anything. that can be fun, if that's the kind of game you want, but if i want to play a game where i feel cool and like im good at things, then BitD is not a good replacement! I cant tell you how many times I've seen people say that you don't need to just reskin dnd when there are games that are more specifically tailored to the experience you want, and then in the same breath act like the games they're suggesting ARENT specific actually and can be used to craft any kind of experience you want. Is the genre baked into the mechanics, or isnt it? because it cant be both!
and thats not even getting into when people would suggest replacements that aren't even close. a lot of "dnd sucks nobody should ever play dnd. instead of dnd, why don't you play MY game, where youre a couple thats getting married in 2 months and you're still planning your wedding?" like... why would i play that instead of dnd, if i want to play dnd? those have nothing in common, beyond the fact that theyre both tabletop games. it's like saying "Instead of watching Star Wars, you should watch Get Out!" sure, they're both MOVIES, and Get Out is GOOD, but i think to suggest that someone who wants to watch Star Wars would have an equal if not better experience watching Get Out instead devalues both. They're not interchangeable because they're trying to do entirely different things
So I would get incredibly frustrated when people acted like people who were choosing to play DnD were just making a mistake, and that they couldn't possibly be getting anything out of playing that game specifically
ALL THAT BEING SAID wizards of the coast sucks ass and they can clean my balls. they should get put in the stocks and i should get to pelt them with tomatoes. i like playing in the sword and sorcery fantasy setting, and dnd was always my go-to game for that because Dungeon World is the worst game I've ever played (i can think of one or two other games in the same sort of setting, but i haven't tried them or met anyone willing to run them) but ah well. WotC can eat shit for this copyright bullshit
#anime life#anyway idk if this post was interesting or meaningful at all#i just wanted to get some of my thoughts written down and organized
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Intoxicating: (Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader AU) 18+ WARNING
Pairings: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader
Warnings: toxic relationship, possessiveness, strong language, SMUT, mentions of tattooing needles, sexual themes
Authors Note: Hello lovely people, I decided to write this Modern!Aemond AU as I have been imagining him covered in tattoos recently and I need the thought out of my head lol! This will be the first part of what will be a mini series. So please enjoy a slightly toxic tattoo artist Aemond, WARNING THIS DOES CONTAIN SEXUAL THEMES THROUGHOUT. MINORS DNI!
The quiet buzz of chatter and jazz fills the small space of the corner café you find yourself in, the weather outside is dull and it seems the heavens have opened themselves up as the rain pelts off the pavement outside the quaint café. There’s a chill in the air today as Autumn seems to be in full swing with the vibrant orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees to find their home on the ground, the latte clasped in your small palms provides a small semblance of warmth as you wait for your best friend Helaena.
Lost in idle thought you are startled slightly by the sudden arrival of your best friend; however, a look of genuine surprise is etched across your features as Helaena’s brother Aegon accompanies her. You rise from your stool pulling the siblings into a gentle embrace a smile working its way across your face. You never had any siblings, so the pair are the closest thing to family you have.
Aegon and Helaena are both tattoo artists possessing an incredibly popular joint a few streets over from where you are currently situated. Due to the popularity of the shop you rarely get to spend much time with them, making today even more special.
You have several tattoos yourself but have never had any done by the siblings, as well as a catch up today was also a consultation deciding after much milling you wanted the two most important people in your life to help create something beautiful that would remain with you for long after.
After chatting for what feels like hours you relay to them some of the ideas you have for the piece you want to get on your thigh. Both sketch small pieces of the design continually looking at each other then to you. Aegon’s eyes are drawn to the watch that is situated on his wrist the thick leather strap concealing part of the tattoo inked on his wrist.
“Shit!” Aegon startles you with his sudden outburst, Helaena seeming to understand the reason for the alarm.
“I am so sorry (Y/N) but we have to go, Aemond is watching the shop and we have clients lined up back to back for the rest of the day!” You roll your eyes unintentionally at the mention of their brother.
“Play nice (Y/N)” Helaena fake scolds you at your reaction to Aemond’s name being mentioned.
You see Aemond Targaryen was Aegon and Helaena’s brother and joint partner in the studio, he also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. Let’s just say things did not end very well between you both and have yet to see each other properly since besides seeing him through the back of the shop or skulking about in the background of a facetime call.
“Anyway, sunshine we will be in contact in the next few days Helaena will text you once the design is finalised to get your ok then we can lockdown a date.” Aegon kisses you on the cheek bidding you farewell with Helaena following close behind.
It’s three days later when Helaena texts you informing you the design is complete to your shock, before you can text back replying your phone buzzes indicating an incoming call. It’s Helaena.
“My darling Helaena hello, everything ok?” you greet her over the phone.
“All good babe, are you busy just now?” Her tone rising in question.
“No darling I am free, what’s up?” wondering why she is asking.
“Can you pop over to the studio, I am here thought you could come take a look at the design and see what you think. I can nip next door and get coffee if that’s any incentive!” you can hear her chuckle on the other end of the phone. As if you needed any incentive to go and see your best friend.
Throwing your hair up in a loose bun before pulling out a few loose strands you grab your shacket from the hanger next to the door and slip on your boots, grabbing your keys and making your way to the shop.
It’s about 20 minutes later when you arrive at the shop looking slightly wind swept, the smalls of your cheeks-tinged pink with the temperature outside. Pushing the door open you can see Helaena sketching away on her notepad, Aegon is nowhere to be seen.
After greeting each other Helaena invites you through the back of the shop leading you to the coffee like a dog to a bone, sensing your desperation for something warm to calm the chill settling over your body.
Little does she know the chill isn’t from the weather outside but at the mere thought of running into her brother, praying your ex is not in the studio and instead skulking about somewhere else. You are not prepared to interact with Aemond today, if only you can just get to the design, you can leave and hopefully avoid any interaction or mention of him altogether.
Sensing your unease as you look over your shoulder eyeing the door Helaena leans in closer and whispers.
“You can calm down (Y/N) he is mid-session with a client, I doubt you will see him.” Her hand rests atop your shoulder.
This does little to settle the swirling sickness in your stomach.
Sitting nursing the latte in your hand you look over the design Aegon and Helaena came up with and your eyes begin to well, the piece is special its beautiful. You embrace your friend who hushes you trying to settle the rising emotion in you.
Something catches your eye on the other side of the office, on the swivel chair sits a jacket. A leather jacket. You recognise it immediately as the jacket you bought Aemond for his Christmas 2 years ago, you had it custom made for him hoping to tailor it to his frame and personality.
You can’t believe he still has it, the way the both of you left things you expected him to have thrown it away or burned it in some cathartic outburst. A chill runs up your spine as you pick up on a smell that makes your hair stand on end and your mouth water. You remember it well, it’s Aemond, his aftershave. When you were together it drove you crazy, the smell almost intoxicating.
You are torn from your daydream when behind you the office door opens, the way Helaena’s eyes widen and the chill up your spine increases tells you all you need to know about who exactly it is that is at the door.
“Do I not even get a hello?” Aemond grunts from his spot against the door frame, entering the room to find what it is he originally entered the room for.
Your lack of response gives him all the answers he needs about how you feel about his presence in the room, a dry laugh escapes your mouth.
“Figures Princess” he sneers as he opens his desk drawer to grab a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Kiss my ass Aemond” you don’t acknowledge him instead raising your middle finger behind you.
What you didn’t expect was for him to make his way across the room to lean down next to you, Helaena’s features register a look of utter panic.
“Have done before Princess.” His mouth is at the small of you ear, the statement sends a violent shudder through your body as he uses this opportunity to exit the room.
The rest of the day is uneventful and thankfully there are no further interactions with your ex-boyfriend. The design needed no further changes and so you and Helaena settle on a date for the following week to get the piece done.
The Following Week…
Grabbing your keys, you lock the front door to your apartment making your way to the studio. Today is the day you are getting your thigh piece done, the piece is a combination of various flowers and vines that will wrap around your inner thigh and down your knee.
Grabbing coffee and a family sized bag of sour patch kids you arrive at the studio excited to start your session.
When you enter however you are greeted by an apprehensive Aegon who approaches you with hands raised in defence.
“(Y/N) don’t panic, Helaena is ill she’s had to go home for the day.” His look tells you this is not the worst part of this encounter.
“I am in the middle of a session with a client, or I would do it.” He continues trailing off slightly with nervousness.
“Aegon please tell me you have just moved my appointment and you aren’t going to tell me what I think you are going to tell me.” Gods be good please do not get stuck with Aemond.
He emerges from the back of the shop leaning against the door frame behind the front desk, arms crossed over one another. A shit eating grin plastered over his annoyingly gorgeous face.
“Fuck no!” you exclaim attempting to make a dash for the door before you are caught by Aegon who carries you through to the studio despite your attempts to squirm away.
Finally, you accept defeat deciding it’s better to get it done and just not interact with him, settling into the wrapped chair sliding off your trainers not wanting to dirty the chair.
“Looks like your stuck with me Princess” he deadpans setting up his equipment.
You can’t help the pitted feeling that grows in your stomach looking at the man who was the love of your life, his hair is tied back in a loose bun with a few strands loose framing his sharp jaw and fierce cheekbones. Your eyes rake over his firm tattooed body, the black of the ink covering his body accentuated by the stark white of the sleeveless top he dons. His lower half clothed in ripped black jeans, the clink of the metal chain attached ringing in your ears.
Your mouth is salivating, he’s wearing that fragrance. You shake yourself from your unprompted horny daydream willing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure.
The first hour passes quickly and no words are exchanged, Aemond has the outline of the top piece done. He glances up from his hunched position as he eyes you reaching for the bag of sour patch kids.
“You know you are predictable right?” his voice is low as he continues to tattoo over the stencil on your thigh.
“How so Aemond, please enlighten me.” You reply lifting a handful of sweets into your palm, you are about to pick up the green one when Aemond interrupts.
“You’re going to eat the green one first, followed by the red and after all that you’ll out the purple one in a pile to the side because you hate the purple ones.” You huff in annoyance because of course he is right, you are a creature of habit and you do hate the purple ones. So instead, you decide to lift the purple one between your fingers, coughing to ger his attention you gesture for him to take the sweet between his teeth instead.
He lets out a quiet hum of approval at the tanginess of the sweet which sends a jolt straight to your core, you missed the delightful noises he used to make when you fucked him. The way he would throw his head back when you took his cock in your mouth, lapping at the head before taking him down your throat.
“Open your legs” his tone is dangerously low as he pushes up the fabric of your skirt; you are taken aback at his suggestion.
“I-Im sorry w-what, are you mental!” you want to shrink up the chair but would most definitely fuck up the tattoo if you were to do so.
He looks up before smirking, “So I can do the linkwork of the stencil on your inner thigh…” you sigh in relief whilst also cursing yourself for wearing a skirt why didn’t you just wear shorts. “Good to know that’s where your mind went, still as horny and eager as ever.” He pats your inner thigh before getting to work on the stencil.
Your mind drifted back to all the times you spent between the sheets with Aemond, the sight of his head between your thighs always a favourite.
You and Aemond broke up about 5 months ago after one major blowout argument. You had been out with Aegon, Helaena and a few friends at a bar on the other side of town when Aemond decided to lay into a friend of a friend who you were conversing with. Aemond you see is jealous, possessive and hard to read, after months of constant arguments and accusations of cheating being thrown around this one evening was your final straw deciding to break your own heart and end it.
Aemond didn’t take the breakup well, for weeks after he would bombard you with calls begging you for another chance and promising endlessly, he could change. When you stopped replying to the texts and blocked his number you thought that was the end of it until he showed up at your workplace and caused a scene. After that you kept your distance and avoided any contact with him fearing it would only make things worse.
Until last week that is when he entered the office and today where it seems the cycle has come full circle with him between your legs again, albeit for different reasons.
“I can hear your mind going a million miles an hour Princess, also your thigh is trembling so whatever thought it is that you have right now pack it up or I will end up fucking this up.” He doesn’t look up from his position, but you can feel his breath on the delicate skin on your inner thigh. Combined with the sensation, the smell of his cologne and the image of his head between your parted legs you are utterly fucked. You are sure your thong is utterly soaked; you curse the seven for the situation you find yourself in. You continue to pass sweets to Aemond as he works on the tattoo and a memory flash before your eyes of the night, he fucked you in here, it was after a particularly bad argument when you found yourself against the wall with Aemond. His cock pounding your cunt relentlessly, the anger from the argument fuelling the two of you fucking.
The memory has your cunt utterly soaked and you swallow loudly trying to conceal your heaving breaths from the man infront of you.
His knuckles are void of any colour he is gripping the gun so firmly, his teeth chewing the inside of his lip and his nostrils flared.
“(Y/N) …” he pulls your attention to him as you hum in response.
“I can smell your soaked cunt from here Princess, do you have any idea how much self-control I am demonstrating right now.” He sets the gun down on the table and sit up still between your legs to face you.
“Do you have any idea how hard I am right now; how hard it’s been to be inbetween your gorgeous thighs and see you lost in your horny little thoughts. To have to sit here for hours smelling your deliciously wet cunt and know you are soaked and not have my cock buried deep in that fucking cunt. Do you know how badly I want you right now.” He is growing more agitated as he continues with his rant and your eyes drift down to his crotch to see his jeans impossibly strained from his throbbing cock.
It’s all a blur but before you know it you are on him, hands fisting in his hair furiously and lips pulled into a searing kiss.
You utterly breathlessly “Fuck me, please fuck me Daddy!”
And with that both of your clothes are discarded furiously and the door locked as you prepare for your ex boyfriend to absolutely fucking ruin you once again.
#modern!aemond#hotd#hotd aemond#hotd smut#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond targaryen imagine#modern!aemond targaryen#modern!aemond targaryen x reader
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Small Spoon / Joel Miller Imagine
Request: sis i am a simple woman
i saw small spoon joel and now i need a fanfic
GIRL I got you I got you @aninnai
Also sorry in advance I mixed a bit of what happens in the game with what happens in the show for fun lmao
If you enjoy, please comment and let me know! It really helps so much :)
Warning: strong language, mentions of explosions and injuries/blood, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of guns and a little nsfw!
(I do not own the Last of Us or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @lousolversons.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
Like the Boston quarantine zone, the apartment was draped in darkness by the time you slammed the door shut.
It had been a disappointing day all round: first Robert steals your guns and pills and decides for extra fun to jump you on your way back home, then queen Firefly herself decides that during your excursion through the other side of town’s checkpoint is the perfect time to bomb the place. You spent half the time trudging back along the side streets picking shrapnel out of your bleeding shoulder, and the other half waving off some straggler friends who were concerned about the new bust over your lip.
‘Robert. It was that goddamn Robert again’, you’d say and wave them all off back to their card games or their street sweeping duties. A few raised eyebrows or wolf whistles as they turned, but everyone knew that with Joel and you still together, it wasn’t you they should be worried about. It should be the fury in Joel’s eyes as soon as he found out a hair on your head had been harmed; it was the warpath, the ravage, the raging heart flinging and panging against the bars of its cage that would bring the whole state to its knees with its laceration.
The docks could wait till tomorrow. To be honest, at the moment, you were that tired you couldn’t really care less about your new lot of lost cargo. All you wanted to do right now was to kick off your muddy boots, crawl yourself into bed, and splat your face straight into the warm, broad expanse of the man that would be waiting there to lie beside you.
Speaking of, Joel had promised he would try and wait up for your return. By the way you shouldered your splintered apartment door, pushing with all your force until the creaking hinges finally gave in and swung open to the familiar musty smell of your shared room, you could already tell he hadn’t managed it. Instead of a pistol to your face in the case of you being a stranger, or one of Robert’s men, or even some half-hearted grumbles of salutations from the man who should have been hunched over the table trying to fix the new dent in his pistol, you were greeted with slain silence.
As you kick the stack of training manuals by the kitchen counter out of the way, the train of events before your arrival back home became even more crystal clear. By the half-thrown chipped tumbler and the fractured looking pill bottle left abandoned on the dining table, it wouldn’t even take FEDRA’s soldiers two guesses to find out how well his day had gone too.
You tiptoe around the side of the bed and squint, barely able to make out the gentle rise and fall of the sleeping man’s chest through the broken slants of the shades. Bless his heart, even in his sleep the crinkles in his forehead are as deep as the currents of the Allegheny River. He must be having a nightmare, from the way his mouth keeps fumbling and his fist squeezing into the frayed edge of his pillow. Even the vapours of moonlight that slanted in through the cragged skyline, the sharp pelts of spotlights that skim from time to time through your bedroom window like phantom shadows couldn’t soften the man’s haggard face.
With a sigh, you press the back of your hand fondly over the scruff of his cheek, trying not to wake him as you lean down to press a quick kiss against the creases on his forehead. No amount of light seemed to be able to crack through this man’s walls; no peace, little hope, and even less optimism, and still his fingers move out across the bed to try and reach yours as if on some invisible tide.
The gesture is small, but coming from Joel Miller it meant everything. It isn’t much, but you were the first person in twenty goddamn years he was willing to offer the remains of himself, his heart up to. So far, you hadn’t let him down; if you did, the both of you knew that he would regress even back further into himself, warping back into the shadow of a man he had been all those years ago when Tommy first left. When he left behind nothing but repressed rage and grief and a loathing so inflamed it could have scared a clicker stiff. At himself, at his brother, at the world - you could never tell. But you understood one thing for sure: Joel Miller wouldn’t be able to survive another loss. It would destroy him, change him too far beyond recognition that even he couldn’t come back from it.
You could tell from his dreams, that in the end, that’s what he thinks he deserves. And yet he always still reaches out, in one way or the other. ‘That’, you think as you let your hand fall from his face and flop it back down towards your lap ‘is the part of him that Sarah managed to get. That sweetness is just begging to be let out.’
You smile as you stand up and stretch, taking in a needed deep breath after the day you’d had. The same day you’d had for the last ten years, over and over again. And yet it was worth it, as you paced over the creaking floorboards and headed over to your side of the mattress, if it always ended like this: with comfort, stability, and a beating heart beside you.
‘Scootch.’
Only an incomprehensible murmur and two barely blubbering lips were your sign that Joel had even recognised what you were saying, but after a groan he obliged and shuffled his body over to the right. It left you ample of opportunity to slide in stealthily behind him, Joel already lifting his arm up in anticipation for the feel of your fingers over the side of his jean shirt.
For his sake, you pretend that neither of you notice the tremble that rushes like shooting spores straight down the muscles of his body. Instead, you relish in just languidly letting your fingers float like fireflies over the side of his hip; you spread them out, dancing through the coarse light just before you reach the bone. You scratch against the material, letting it ride up until your fingernail comes in contact with his flushing skin. Teasingly, you grab at the meat of his hip and enjoy the way he puffs out, unconsciously pushing himself back against you. You trace your fingers further forward, inch by inch, tracing the inseam of his jeans...and then suddenly stop. You only start again when he gives a hoarse groan in warning: one that reverberates through his back and makes your breath hitch as it grumbles against your chest.
You press yourself flush against him, giving in and properly wrapping your arm round his waist until your hand reaches his stomach. Finding his bellybutton, you give it a little poke which earns you a kick back from his leg in retaliation, but you can hear the light chuckle he admits despite himself.
‘Late night again, huh?’, he mumbles out. His pursed lips are half open and don’t rise from the pillow. As he lethargically blinks a couple of times, he pretends it’s because he’s too tired too move. He knows deep down in the pit of his stomach, though, that you’re too astute that let that lie fly over your head. You know the man too well, and you know damn rightly that he’s enjoying the feeling of your face smooshing itself into that little soft dip to the side of his shoulder blades. He’s just far too stubborn to ever admit it. But even so, Joel Miller’s silence speaks wonders.
‘Oh, same old same old. Robert’s being a little asshole again.’
‘Oh he is now, is he?’, he turns his head, making as if he’s trying to get up but your quick to push him back down again.
‘He and his little gang of morons can wait until tomorrow. I, on the other hand, am freezing cold. And you, Joel Miller’, you squeeze your arms into a vice around him and lift your legs up to slide in between his knees. They rest heavily, tangling against your own, and the weight is the most wonderous thing you’ve felt all day. ‘You are the best source of heat in all the damn zones put together.’
He lets his elbow rest comfortably on top of your own despite your words, so used to the back and forth between the two of you by now that they just wash over him. In fact, when he feels your forehead bump against the small litter of freckles you know line the left side of his shoulder, that spread of constellations running from the dip of his neck down his left shoulder blade, he even chuckles.
You feel his hand slide down from where it was resting under the cup of his chin to entangle with your fingers. He tugs them in to the heat radiating from his chest, and you take the opportunity to scratch out against the loose buttons of his shirt.
‘You just keeping me ‘round ‘cause of that? If I’m so damn warm, maybe I should go and donate all your jackets to FEDRA.’
You press a kiss against the tightened denim of his arched back and smirk.
‘Yeah, well maybe I should start selling you out for some ration cards. Five of them cards for a ten minute hug with Joel sounds like a pretty easy business to me.’
‘As long as I get 50%.’
‘25% and you’ve got yourself a deal.’
In a surprisingly tender move, Joel brings your intertwined hands up and presses an unhurried kiss to the back of your knuckles.
‘Hmph, we’ll negotiate in the morning. Maybe I’ll make it so you’re my only customer, and then I get the best of both worlds. Hugs and ration cards.’
He says the last part with a sarcastic intonation, but even he can’t stop the helplessly hoping sigh that whistles through his teeth. He shuffles back against you and closes his eyes against the creeping crimson threads of sunrise that begin to shoot out from behind the alleyway corners.
‘How about now, we just settle for hugs. I have no doubt you’ll manage to get Robert’s ration cards tomorrow as well.’
‘Back to business, huh? Sure thing boss.’
You manage to get enough momentum to hit his belly with your hands. He pretends to double over, pushing against you a little too hard and nearly thrusting your abdomen backwards and straight out onto the floor. You manage to grab onto his biceps, though, and clamber back up safely against him. He pulls you tighter, using his free hand to draw circles over your forearm. Once you’ve both settled down on the mattress again, you take a final yawn and settle your chin down on his shoulder.
‘Good night Joel.’
He hums. ‘Night, night, sweetheart.’
As consciousness began to ebb, your mind going into free fall, swirling with the beautiful chaos of oblivion, you could just about make out the hoarse whisper of Joel against his pillow. His voice cragged with the effort, with the heaviness of it, with the consequence of it, yet every word managed to ring out true. It was the most genuine, honest sentence Joel Miller had dared to speak since his baby girl had died, and he was petrified by the choice he was making.
But by god, if it was a choice, if it was a chance that he had to take.
‘I love you.’
#the last of us#joel miller#tlou#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#the last of us imagine#tlou imagine#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel tlou#joel the last of us#x reader
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Putting together a timeline for the Collector's backstory
Hi!! For the Future just happened!! It was insane!! Anyway as a Collector superfan, fantasy worldbuilding fanatic, and also Collector's actual chosen dad (real, not fake, he revealed this to me in a dream /j), I decided to try and interpret the crumbs we got both from direct and indirect clues in the new episode, as well as tying back to earlier episodes.
I want to start first with the paintings on the Archive halls, which seem to tell a story. I chose to interpret them, from the first shot we see them in, as chronological from left to right, as that usually tends to be how one would read things (at least in the west, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about manga and all that, but I don't think the crew was following manga rules).
Here is a picture of the hallway I am using for reference. This specific shot seems to only have unique paintings aligning (there is an animation quirk that happens later on that makes it not so but I will get to this later), which is why I have elected to extract the timeline from this. Another reason is that, as we will see, the first three pictures definitely seem to fit in a neat chronological order, which would make it hard to doubt the placement of these paintings as being chronological here.
The first seems to depict our Collector, as the smaller one of his species, and three, bigger collectors. For convenience's sake I am in fact choosing to interpret these paintings as being things that happened to him and part of his memories. It makes sense: there is an emphasis on this smaller figure several times throughout the paintings and I cannot think why Collector would put random pictures of some other child collector's life, as well as we have to imagine the crew wanted to tell a story with these, otherwise they would be as random as the sun and moon paintings on the other side of the hall.
So it seems in this first picture, the bigger collectors, perhaps his family, are observing a planet, maybe even the planet the world of the Demon Realm is on.
Here is where I take a detour to add excerpts from the book Collector had King read to him (I should eventually make an analysis post on why Collector wanted this read to him, but all in its due time):
As the book states, collectors, by nature, observe things and then collect them by keeping them in stasis.
Going back to the painting, all indicates that this would show these particular collectors, likely the family of our younger Collector, were interested in the planet the Boiling Isles is on, and this painting depicts the first stage of their plan, observing this planet.
As a quick aside, I would like to say it is likely collectors do know what families are, and they may even form familial bonds and hierarchies. One such nod to this is of course Collector calling Odalia "Mamadalia", but also, this:
It is barely visible, but in a few quick shots you can see the next page of the book. Not only does it seem to use the words "interdimensional" and "dimension(s)", likely referring to the nature of collectors themselves or their residence, but it also uses the word "Family".
So, to recap, three adult collectors, likely our Collector's family, had their sights set on the planet the Boiling Isles is on.
And one of their first contacts was the Titan Trappers.
We now know that despite the resemblance to titans at first glance, titan trappers only wear their skulls and pelts to look like them, making the hunt easier, as well as to, I imagine, indicate pride in their spoils. The indication we have this is not a titan is primarily the spear utilized here, the fact the fur does not match the rest of the body, and the yellow glowing eyes.
I will discuss this further down through showing evidence with the other paintings, but there seems to be a recurring theme in the paintings that depicts the trappers and collectors as always having yellow eyes, whereas the titans are depicted with red eyes.
As Lilith explains further on, books found in the archive detail that a titan's power can actually cancel out the collectors' powers.
She also goes on to say that this why Collector's predecessors (her words not mine) wiped out all the titans.
If such is the case, then that explains why they chose to ally themselves with the trappers. It's likely they needed an intermediator, otherwise they would have not been able to fight the titans full on. In exchange, they likely shared whatever arcane knowledge they could to help in the fights, powering up the trappers.
This would line up perfectly with the trappers' worship of their Grand Huntsman, who as we all know, derives from the Collector and his entire species in aesthetic and looks.
As for why they did not want to risk peaceful contact with the titans besides the reason of their powers being able to be canceled out by titans, there is also the crossed out passage in the book:
Though our Collector declares he tried to "fix" it, we can still clearly see what was originally written, implying that any creature who attempts to stop their work shall meet a deadly end, and maybe even the entire planet will have all of its life wiped out.
So it is likely the titans were not fond of the collectors attempting to collect things in their planet, and fought back, causing the collectors to learn firsthand of their weakness to a titan's power, and to then ally themselves with the trappers.
Which, leads again, to the second painting, depicting two collectors in front of a trapper. The taller one, which I assume is part of our Collector's family, is trying on a skull.
By their side, I will assume is our Collector, due to the smaller stature, and something curious about the body language placed here for him seems to indicate he is examining the skull before putting it on. This could indicate he had an interest on the titans from early on. This will be important later.
As a quick addendum before we move on, I have come to conclude it's highly likely collectors have the ability to change size. In the first painting, the three adults are larger than the entire planet, with our Collector being only a bit smaller than the planet itself. However, in this second painting, the adult is not even as tall as the trapper depicted here, which, if we assume trappers are common witches and demons simply adorned with pelts and skulls just like the modern ones, were not as giant. Similarly, Collector is also way smaller, hence the theory that they change size.
We have seen our Collector possibly changing sizes in canon as well, both in the Owl Beast dream as their hooded figure form seemed massive, and then when they have just broken out of their prison. It's possible collectors scale down their massive size to fit whatever planet they are on.
Next is the third painting, which depicts a familiar scene...
Indeed, this seems to be an almost one to one recreation of the mural we see in Echoes of the Past inside King's castle. We even receive some extra content to it: We now know the titan depicted here had wing like structures on their arms, as well as was protecting an egg, and was accompanied by a smaller, likely juvenile titan.
Notice also how they both have red eyes, but the trapper has yellow eyes.
This all but confirms that the mural is depicting a trapper smithing a titan (whether it is our Titan we do not know for sure), and that the collectors had a hand in this.
Moving on, we have this painting:
Again, going out of the assumption the smaller figure is our Collector, he seems to be approached by four other adult collectors. These collectors however, are slightly different than three he was earlier with: first of all there are four of them, they have no split faces, and their hats are adorned with celestial bodies on their tips. For the sake of convenience I will refer to these as "The Elders", as their difference from our Collector's supposed family, as well as possible authority denoted by their hats, makes me think they are older and more powerful than our Collector's family.
Anyway, The Elders appear to be satisfied with our Collector, one even extending an open palm to them in a friendly gesture. I confess my interpretation of this is more speculative than the other paintings, simply because of the vagueness of it and how it does not seem to tie well into any other pictures or current lore we have.
But my current understanding is that, since one of The Elders is making such a gesture at Collector, they are maybe giving something to them, offering an opportunity. Their authority would certainly denote power above even Collector and his family, so they would likely be able to call the shots in their hierarchy.
Due to this, and considering the next paintings, I have elected to interpret this as The Elders entrusting Collector full control of watching over and collecting things from the planet he and his family had their eyes on. If this happens chronologically after the deal with the trappers as well, this could indicate the Elders have deemed it safe for our Collector to take over.
It also would explain why he calls himself The Collector, he's the designated collector for that planet, the caretaker of this planet and the one meant to observe and collect from it.
Which makes this next painting all the more interesting.
Collector, is surrounded by what seems to be four baby titans. They have their arms up, reaching for him, running to him. Playing. His expression also indicates happiness, eyes wide, hands on his chin, a little smile.
Recall for a moment that in the painting depicting the first contact with the trappers, our Collector had stopped to examine the titan skull. He was interested in them, he wanted to play.
This would align with Collector's "fixing" of the book, going to the lengths of desecrating what is likely an ancient book that dictates/documents the entire culture of his species to ensure his message of playing and friendship is more important.
If we take this painting and the book addition in conjunction, we can come to the conclusion Collector, once left alone, went out of his way to befriend and play with whatever titan babies were left out there. He was likely happy with this, as nothing about this picture indicates a struggle. And once again, these are definitely titan babies due to their eyes being red.
One may be concerned considering the fact the stars here could indicate they are in space, but there are a few counter arguments to this: Collector does not seem to imagine someone could suffocate in space as he suggests people on the moon could just hold their breaths, so this contradicts the idea he would have had experience with this.
The baby titans also seem to have playful body language rather than showing any anguish. And furthermore, when discussing the painting with my boyfriend he pointed out the blue waves could be an abstraction of the shoreline, indicating they were playing on the beach. In short, it is just the simplest explanation this depicts a peaceful scene rather than one with the babies suffocating, as it would not align with the rest of the story here.
There is also the matter of Collector straight up denouncing "the others", which we can only assume refers to the other collectors. It's no wonder he would feel that way, since they were the reason for his new friends' families being all but wiped out, and were less interested in playing with the creatures they observed and rather only preserving them.
Which only makes the present of the Isles and the state of titans and collectors all the more worrying, as well as concerns us with a last, pretty elusive painting...
This is what I meant by animation quirk: Getting a picture of this painting was so hard because it's the very last one in the timeline line up I showed you in that first screenshot, but when the camera zooms in on King and he runs up to get Hooty and we SHOULD get a proper look at it...
... It's pushed back again and the last two paintings get repeated. Which makes me think this is either an animation error, or they REALLY want to make it hard for us to get it.
BUT! After a bunch of rewatches and looking at some slowed down clips again, I was finally able to find the ONE place it repeated, on the scene where Belos!Raine is walking down the halls ominously.
And it is quite the revelation.
This depicts three adult collectors, likely our Collector's parents, staring down menacingly at a titan... perhaps THE Titan this time? It's worth noting this is not the same titan depicted in the painting with the trapper hunting down one that was protecting their egg, as that one had smaller wings and a skull that covered their entire jaw, whereas this one's skull only goes to the muzzle, just like King's does.
Something interesting is that this titan is accompanied either by other very weird looking titans, or these are other creatures that inhabited the Boiling Isles at the time and were also casualties in the collectors' path.
There is also fire surrounding this picture, which makes me think again of the "clear the earth, scorch the air" verse. It's also odd these collectors are approaching the titan(s) despite the fact titan magic could easily push them back, so it could be that they are betting it all on this and going on to cause massive destruction. But the titan seems to be holding up a hand as if gesturing for them to stop, or wait... they're not fighting back like with the trappers. Why?
Well, if this takes place after the painting with Collector playing the baby titans, it's possible these titans had become accustomed to our Collector and did not expect such an attack. It's likely they may have at first understood that this Collector was a child, one that was more interested in playing and befriending them rather than hurting anyone, and cautiously took them in.
Now, whether it was a misunderstanding with Collector's family thinking they were in danger or they were angered by their refusal to hurt titans... we know how the story ends. The titans were all wiped out, safe for King's egg, and Collector was sealed away by King's dad, likely one of the last things he'd ever do.
Overall I think our Collector's backstory is both horrifying and sad. Horrifying because of what his species is capable of, but also sad because despite his efforts to make peace with the titans, it couldn't save them and cost him his freedom. It's no wonder he was so happy to see a titan again, and latched onto King: this is like his second chance.
#the owl house#toh spoilers#toh analysis#toh theory#toh collector#the collector#toh titan#Commander's orders
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Happy Valentine’s Day, here’s an extremely sappy mini-fic based off of @trans-luis-serra ‘s headcanon that Luis is a crybaby 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
Leon gasped in pain as his knees collided with the hardwood floor of their bedroom. He toppled over sideways, tangled in a sheet, thrashing around to try and get his bearings, get his knife into his hand, protect himself-
“Leon?” A concerned voice pierced through his distress, Luis’s voice, bringing him back to his senses. He wasn’t in the mines in Valdelobos, he was in his room, very much safe. He quit his thrashing, placing a hand over his chest to will his heart to stop pounding, as he took gasping breaths. He opened his eyes to find his husband moving across the bed to look at him, obviously still drowsy and confused over the commotion.
Leon stood up, groaning at the ache in his knees from the impact of throwing himself out of bed. “Nightmare,” he explained as he climbed back onto the mattress, pulling the sheet over the two of them and settling back down, “I’m fine, sorry for waking you up,” he planted a kiss on Luis’s cheek and laid on his back, taking deep measured breaths to chase the lingering panic away from the corners of his body. Luis seemed to hesitate, but then followed, curling himself into Leon’s side rather than moving back to his own side of the bed. Leon simply wrapped his arm around his love’s waist, thankful for the comforting weight of him after the disorienting dream, beginning to drift back off until he felt Luis let out a little shuddering breath.
“Baby?” Leon said softly, brushing a hand over Luis’s shoulder. He didn’t answer, just shook his head and attempted to bury his face into Leon’s chest, sniffling a little, “Luis, are you crying?”
“No,” came a muffled reply, but there was wetness evident in his voice, and his shoulders shook.
“Oh, baby,” Leon cooed, gathering Luis in his arms so he could pull him fully onto his chest. This was one of the things that has surprised Leon the most as they got to know each other after Spain. Luis was an easy crier. Leon would never forget how he caught him trying to subtly wipe away tears when he had offered his apartment as a place to stay after they first got to the states, and it had only ramped up in the years since.
When they watched movies, happy or sad, Leon could usually expect to look over and find his husband with glassy eyes, wiping at his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. When he brought home a little gift from work, some trinket that made him think of Luis, he could expect at least 5 minutes of Luis struggling to form a word to thank him as he fought back tears. Luis had had to wear sunglasses when they went to Ashley’s graduation so he wouldn’t embarrass her with his red splotchy eyes when he met her college friends (he’d been sobbing in the stands 5 minutes prior). Leon thought it was wonderful, genuinely, that someone who has survived so much could be filled with such softness.
He hugged Luis to his chest, “it was just a dream, love,” he whispered into his hair. Luis gave a wet chuckle, “I’m supposed to be telling you that, it was your nightmare,” he muttered bitterly. “True,” Leon agreed, smiling where he had his lips pressed into his husband’s dark hair, “but I’m okay, aren’t I?” He pulled back so Luis could look at him. Luis nodded weakly, sniffling again. “You go through too much,” he whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke Leon’s cheek, “I hate thinking about you not being safe in your own dreams,” his face crumpled again, frame shaking. Leon shushed him, cupped his face in his hands and pelted kisses over his cheeks and nose, using his lips to brush away the wetness there, peppering a series of rapid-fire butterfly kisses over his mouth and jaw that didn’t stop until Luis was smiling into it, breathing evening out a bit.
“I am safe,” Leon said after he was satisfied Luis wasn’t going to burst into tears again, “the dreams can’t hurt me. And even if I do have a nightmare every now and then I have my cute husband to get all worried over me, which I imagine is the waking up equivalent of having a girl waiting for you to return from war.” Luis laughed softly, rolling his eyes, but he certainly seemed like he was calmer.
“Do you think you can go back to sleep now, baby?” Leon asked, brushing Luis’s hair out of his eyes gently. He nodded, nestling himself back into Leon’s side, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath. Leon gave him one last squeeze before they both drifted back off, wrapped up in each other. They would most certainly wake up tomorrow with numb limbs thanks to the position, but they couldn’t be bothered by it as they fell asleep soaking in the weight and warmth of one another, the great privilege it was to be here, safe and sound.
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Bring Me Home: Chapter 2 Part 4
Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.
In this segment, Sam and Tucker join the chaos!
First, Previous
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As they walked to the burger joint, Danny would point out areas of damage and talk about the fight that caused it. Tim kept track of every comment and was already trying to think of methods to minimize it in the future.
His friends were eating the stories up. Bart especially had way too much fun asking about Danny’s crazy rogues. Skulker was his current favorite. “He wants your pelt?”
“I know, right? He’s so extra.” Then Danny pointed up ahead. “We’re almost there. You can see the building from here. And those two people are my friends.” Danny waved a hand in the air and two teens, one dressed all in black and the other in yellow, waved back.
Danny sped up and soon it was Tim’s turn to give introductions. “Hi! You must be Sam and Tucker. I’ve heard so much about you guys from Danny. These are my friends, Conner, Bart, and Cassie.”
Sam shook his hand. “From Gotham, right? I love the vibes there. What I wouldn’t do for a single good gargoyle in Amity.”
Tim laughed. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me. Most people try and say they’re sorry for me growing up there. As if Gotham isn’t my home.”
Tucker elbowed her. “That’s our resident goth for you. I’m the tech guy. I’d go just for a chance to check out Wayne Enterprises. The stuff they produce”—he held his hands to his chest—“I’d be in heaven.”
Conner grinned. “Well I’m sure Tim could pull a few strings to get you a tour, what with being Bruce Wayne’s foster kid and all.”
“Kon!” hissed Tim even as Tucker’s eyes lit up.
“Bruce Wayne is your foster dad? You must always get the newest tech. Can I see your phone? At least check out the specs? What I’ve heard of it is to die for! Wait, Danny, is that the phone you were working on? Is she as beautiful as they say?”
Danny groaned and rushed to slap a hand over Tucker’s mouth. “Licking my hand isn’t gonna work, Tuck! Quit gushing at my friend. Tim is interested in an ectobattery, so we’ll stop by your place before returning to my home to grab some for everyone. Then you can at least see the hardware. But you won’t be looking at the software. Capiche?”
Tim glared at Conner as Danny let go of Tucker’s mouth.
“Fine.” Tucker pouted even as he aquiesed.
Sam rolled her eyes. “Quit your fanboying, Tucker. It’s embarrassing.” Then she greeted everyone else. To Conner, she said, “Cool look. Are you actually punk or just taking the aesthetic?”
Conner’s eyes were wide and he looked over to Tim who just shrugged at him. “I— um, I don’t know. What does it mean to be actually punk?”
Sam grinned and opened her mouth, but before she could start talking, Tucker interrupted. “Let’s go in and order. I want my meat and you can continue this conversation inside.”
“Boys!" Sam threw her hands up in the air. "If you ate something besides meat, you’d have more stamina to keep up!”
Tim bit his lip to hold back a laugh. They really were just like Danny said.
Danny groaned. “Sam! Tuck! It’s fine. Lets go in and place our orders. Then you can lecture Conner all about counterculturalism and punk values.”
Conner looked between them all. “Wait, why am I getting a lecture?”
Tucker shook his head. “Dude, you’re the one who asked Sam about what makes someone punk. You’re not getting out of this one.”
Danny made a noise of agreement. “But don’t worry, Sam makes her lectures interesting at least. Enjoy being radicalized!”
Tim put his arm around Conner. “Let me know if you need to get out of it.”
As they made their way inside, Tucker moved so he was walking next to Cassie. “So, Cassie, right? Where are you from?” His voice was pitched low.
Wow, so Tucker really was as bad at flirting as Danny always said.
Cassie realized something was up, and her tone was wary as she answered, “Um, Gateway City. You ever been?”
Tim looked over his shoulder and raised and eyebrow at her, silently asking if she wanted him to intervene. She shook her head slightly and twitched a finger towards Bart who was on her other side.
“Hey!” called an unfamiliar voice. “Watch it, Fentina!”
Tim turned forward just in time to catch Danny who’d been shoved backwards by a boy as big as Conner.
“Really?” asked Danny. He squeezed Tim’s hand as he got his balance back. “What was that for?”
Tim took a step forward and made a show of sizing the boy up. “You must be Dash. Danny’s told me a lot about you.”
Dash sneered at him. “And who are you? Some other nerd?”
Conner stood taller at his side and he felt Cassie and Bart take up positions just behind him. Cassie was the one to snort and quip, “Nerd? What decade are you from? The eighties wants its insult back. Or was that a seventies thing?”
Tucker snickered. “Yeah, Dash. Nerds rule the world right now.”
“Well you don’t rule high school,” said Dash, crossing his arms.
An equally large Asian boy took position next to him. “Yeah, we’re in charge for now. So move it.”
Danny bristled next to him. “I wasn’t even in your way!”
Tim cleared his throat. “Dash Baxter, right? Oldest child of Zachary and Alice Baxter. Dog named Poo—” Danny slammed a hand over Tim’s mouth and he glared at his friend.
“Oh my god, Secrets! What have you done? I swear to god, if you keep going…”
Behind them, he heard Bart laugh and say, “And that’s Bingo for me!”
“Well, damn,” replied Conner. “And I was so close.” If he wasn’t so pissed off at Dash, he would’ve rolled his eyes at their antics. He was so not at risk of going evil.
Dash was staring at all of them, mouth open. “Who are you?”
So Tim spoke into the hand over his mouth as he glared back at Danny. “He deserves it.”
“Nope, don’t care.” To Dash, Danny said, “This is a friend of mine. He and his friends are visiting from out of town.”
But of course things couldn’t just be left at that. Tucker spoke up to add, “He’s Tim Drake. His foster dad is Bruce Wayne.”
Danny turned his glare on his friend. “Tucker,” he hissed.
“What?” the boy shot back. “It’s true!”
Dash snorted. “Right. I’m just supposed to believe you’re friends with a kid of the Bruce Wayne.”
“You don’t have to believe anything,” retorted Danny. “Just let us go order our food in peace. I’m just trying to have a fun evening with my friends.”
Dash glared at him again, but his eyes flicked to the rest of them, lingering especially long on Conner. “You’ll regret lying to us, losers. Come on, Kwan. I need a shower after touching the twink.”
Tim twisted out of Danny’s hand. “What the fuck did you just call him?”
But the two boys didn’t turn around as they stopped out of the restaurant and Danny gripped his bicep and Conner put a restraining arm around his shoulders.
“It’s fine, Tim,” said Danny. “You know they’re always like that.”
“Say the word, Polaris, and I’ll do it.”
But Danny just shook his head and started pulling him towards the counter. “Let’s just order our food and sit down so Sam can give Conner her lecture on what punk is.”
Tim clenched his teeth, but allowed himself to be pulled to the counter where they ordered an obscene amount of food thanks to the appetite of four metas. He insisted on using B’s card to pay for everyone.
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Next
This scene was a ton of fun to write. And Tim gets to meet Danny's bullies in person for the first time. He has several years of pent up frustration from the stories Danny shared.
Tag List Part 1
@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst, @feral-bunny31, @lunaria618, @ghostreblogging, @ace-aro-as-shit, @job-ross-the-second
#dpxdc#danny fenton#tim drake#dead tired#all their friends#bart was warning tim he was toeing the line again#(but he did get bingo)#sam is gonna lecture at conner#will she win a convert to some of her causes?#she's gonna try!
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— Accidental Intruder
Summary: With Leon away for work the storm outside bothers you more than it usually would. The sounds you hear downstairs however scare you more than the storm ever could.
Word Count: 1.5k
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader
Tags: thoughts/assumptions of a break in, reckless handling of a knife, hurt/comfort, pet names (sweetheart, baby), established relationship
A/N: ok so,,, this man has been plaguing my life for weeks now, then this idea popped into my head, now here we are. this is my first time using tumblr in years so please bare with me as i figure this shit out lmfao. i kinda sorta proofread this so if you find anything i missed or tags need to be added lemme know! also i wrote this at 3 am so if stuff doesn't make sense... my bad LOL
When you and Leon had first started dating he had warned you that his job would keep him away more frequently than what’s considered normal for a romantic relationship.
“As long as you come back to me in one piece, I don’t mind.” You had told him. You had meant what you said, at least… mostly meant it.
It was times like this that maybe you had been lying just a tiny bit.
It was storming outside, waves of rain pelting the walls of the house you share with Leon. The power had gone out a few hours ago, the rage of the storm knocking it out only a few minutes after the rain had started. The lightning was bright as it ignited your room in a faint blue hue in random intervals, the following thunder roaring so loud it’s been shaking the entire house.
Usually you find comfort in storms like this, but with the power out and the knowledge that you’re home alone so late at night you can’t help the fear that surges through your body with every crack of thunder and every new wave of pounding rain.
You’re curled up in bed, wrapped up in the dark blue comforter that adorns the bed. A resounding clap of thunder has your eyes squeezing shut, a tremor working its way through your body. You wished Leon was here with you, murmuring his reassuring words in your ear, holding you tight against his chest. He’s told you thousands of times throughout your relationship that he would always keep you safe and in this moment all you want is him to do just that, keep you safe against this storm that sounds like it’s trying to shred its way into your house and whisk you away in a drowning and overbearing wave.
He’s away for work and the message you had woken up to early this morning had told you he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow, maybe the day after.
“Get a grip..” You mutter to yourself, clenching and unclenching your fists that are wrapped up tightly in the blanket. The sound of rain fills the room like staticky, white noise and you huff, annoyed at how fearful you are of something that’s never bothered you until now. Throwing the blankets off your body you slide out of bed, tensing at the low rumble of thunder.
“Stop being a baby.” You chide yourself. “You’ve never been afraid of storms, don’t start being afraid of them now. It’s just some rain.”
You shuffle into the bathroom, the old gray hoodie of Leon’s you’re wearing keeping you warm against the chill of the house. Turning the faucet to cold you run your hands under the water, letting the water drench your hands. Running your now wet hands over your face you use the cold water to help calm your nerves. It starts to work, until the floorboards downstairs creak. The fear you were trying to ease rears its head, stronger than it previously was.
The sound of heavy footsteps traipsing across the floor of the living room has your heartbeat picking up speed, the rhythmic thump thump thump echoing in your ears.
Someone's in the house.
Fear thrums violently throughout your body, bottom lip quivering as you suck in a quiet breath. You're unmoving, terror rendering you frozen where you stand. The house falls silent for a moment—save for the sound of the rain—before the footsteps pick up again, louder this time. Whoever is in your house is heading for the stairs.
You feel tears start to pool in your eyes as all the worst possible scenarios invade your thoughts. Forcing yourself to move you dart back into the bedroom. You race towards Leon’s side of the bed, dropping into a squat as you fumble with the bottom of the mattress, grabbing the knife you know he keeps stashed there. Gripping the handle tightly you move towards the bedroom closet, slipping quietly behind the door, holding the combat knife closely to your chest.
The intruder makes their way up the stairs, footfalls echoing through the hallway. You suck in a quiet, sharp breath as the door to the bedroom opens. The tears you're trying so hard to keep quiet are trickling down your cheeks, your bottom lip held tightly between your teeth in an attempt to stay silent and undetected. Knowledge that your phone is on the bed somewhere in the mess of blankets, the only thing you could possibly reach help on, leaves you shaking even harder.
The person trudges around the bedroom, boots scuffling against the hardwood floor. Stuff sounds like it’s being moved around, something being dropped on the floor as well as the sound of something dropping onto one of the bedside tables in the room. The intruder stops walking, the sound of their steps leading you to believe they're at least by the bathroom.
Just when you think the intruder is going to leave after finding no one in the house, the sound of footsteps are heading your way. The closet door swings open and then you're screaming, bringing the knife you have held close to your body towards the person in front of you, eyes shut tightly in fear. A hand wraps around your wrist, overpowering your strength.
“Sweetheart!” A familiar voice yells, startling you so bad you let go of the knife, not even registering the sound of it clashing to the floor. Eye’s flying open, you look up, meeting Leon’s gaze.
“What the hell are you doing?” Leon questions, his voice a melting pot of confusion, anger at having a knife swung his way, and immense worry for his terrified lover.
“I-I thought someone broke—,” You heave, sobbing at this point, “broke into the house!”
Leon quickly bends down and grabs at the knife, sliding it across the floor away from the two of you so there’s no danger of stepping on it. Attention back on you he reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his t-shirt clad chest. His lean arms are tight around your body, encompassing you in the feeling of safety you always miss when Leon’s away.
“The storm was fr-freaking me out,” You suck in a hiccuping breath, trying desperately to calm down. Your face is hidden in the curve of his neck, your words almost inaudible. “Thought wiping m-my face with cold water would ca-calm me down..”
Leon runs his hands up and down your sides, face pressed into the soft locks on top of your head. “Breathe, baby. Follow my breathing.” He makes a point of taking noticeable breaths.
Little by little your sobbing dwindles until stray tears are dripping off your chin and you're able to breathe normally with only a few hiccups lingering.
“I could hear you downstairs, but I didn't know it was you. I grabbed your knife from under the mattress and hid in the closet, I didn't know what else to do.”
“Oh sweetheart…” Leon presses a kiss into your hair, hands still trailing up and down your sides. “C’mon, let's go to bed.”
He leads you to the bed, stopping at the edge of it to undress down to his briefs as you climb into the bed. Leon slips under the covers after you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you into his embrace. The warmth of his bare chest helps ease your frayed nerves as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, side pressed flush against him. The arm not wedged between the two of you slides over his stomach, seeking to be even closer to him than you already are.
The storm that was scaring you earlier was helping in calming you down now that you have Leon here, the thunder not as scary as Leon’s strong heartbeat fills your ears.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. I saw the blankets all bunched up on the bed and figured you were burrowed beneath them, I didn’t even think to check to see if I was right. I just assumed you were asleep.” He murmurs, the kiss he presses to your temple an extension of his apology.
“You didn’t scare me on purpose..” Your words come out mumbled as the adrenaline in your system starts to ease, leaving you feeling tired.
“Doesn’t matter, I still scared you.”
You yawn, burying your head further into his shoulder. If it’s uncomfortable for him he doesn’t say so and even if he did, you probably wouldn’t move. He’s far too comfortable and you’ve missed him so much that he’s going to have to deal with you seeking closeness now that he’s back.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.”
Leaning up you press a kiss to his jaw before you settle back down, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t forget to pick up your knife in the morning.”
His low, baritone laugh rumbles in his chest, drawing a small smile to your lips. You barely hear Leon’s words as you succumb to the warmth of him seeping into your skin and the sleep overtaking your body.
“I won’t.”
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy drabbles#leon kennedy imagines#resident evil#resident evil drabbles#resident evil imagines#resident evil leon kennedy
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The First to be Forsaken
been in the works for a while!! This was actually a request that got deleted.
So to the anon who requested a reader who was cursed by Hylia like Eda in the owl house, this is for you!
tw: chronic illness, death
۵♡۵
The ache in your hands never lessened and the maring cracks in your skin never healed. It made for a rather ugly sight, all considered. The creeping vine-like scars showing in rather gorey details the tainted flesh.
No medical salve nor healing spell could rid you of the malice that poisoned your blood. And according to the words of the fairies themselves, it’s latched to your very soul. It festers, feeding off of your energy until you’ll be left as a husk. A puppet with no one to pull its strings.
It’s not pleasant knowing you’re going to die, but it’s less so knowing that no matter how often you pray to the goddess it will not be fixed. The divine never needed to give reason for why they shunned that which gives them power. Still, the chain did what they could, and for that you had many thanks.
Wild always had hearty food to replace the energy stolen from you, Legend let you wear whatever charmed jewellery you wanted, Time would never let you take night shifts, Warriors would carry you on the days you were too fragile to walk, Twilight doubled as a bed and his pelt as a blanket, Four made braces for your brittle joints, Hyrule was always testing different mixes in hopes that one might lessen your pain, Sky would hold your hand and talk to you on the days you could walk to make sure that you had something to distract from the crying of your nerves, even Wind spared some of his grandmother’s soup in hopes that of it didn’t rid of pain, it might ease your distress. Your Heroes were funny like that, sacrificing whatever they had for anyone that needed it, no matter how precious their time or belongings are. Certainly not a coincidence they act this way. They’ve seen what’s become of you under the neglect of the gods. And you’ve seen the familiar ache in their eyes, the recognition of themselves within you.
The newest hero, First —well perhaps then he’s the oldest— was in many ways similar. He too would offer you stories and ballads from his time, forgotten by the time the next era rolled in. His words had a majesty that had the whole camp turn an ear to follow whatever tale he recalled. And by the time it came for you to lay your head and rest, your woes would be far off from the front of your mind.
He’d sweep you off your feet both in the figurative matter and the literal. With only the gentlest graze of your skin and only the sweetest words that could be uttered did he regard you. He did not hold you to a sense of pity, as was common among many who knew of you, but a genuine care. A care for you beyond measure that he’d shown on many occasions that he would stop at nothing to ensure that if you could not be comfortable, you could be content.
And currently you were, despite it being a bad day.
The champion watched over the cooking pot carefully and the traveller flicked through one of his journals, looking for a combination of herbs that might be of help to you. The two passed questions back and forth in an effort to find an overlap of medicinals they haven’t already tried.
You had Twi’s pelt, Sky’s sailcloth and First’s scarf to try and dull your cold flashes. You leaned back against the First hero as his arms warped around you and his face buried into your shoulder. You shiver as the next cold wave hits, wincing. The moment sits in silence before his arms around your abdomen gently pull you closer.
“I am sorry for what she did to you, My beloved.” His voice was deep and poetic as usual, the unwavering strength he displayed to the world melted to softness at your touch. Through the staticky emptiness that settled in your brain, the question stood, alone and without any real context nor answer.
“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow and you look over at where he rests his head on your shoulder. He draws a heavy breath, mumbling something into your layers of clothing.
“Hylia- all of this because of her vanity. I am sorry you fell victim.” There is a pain in his voice, a guilt he’s held for long. Shackles upon his wrists that he’s not willing to let himself be freed from. You suppose it is him where their united care for the world came from, no matter how unrequited. He’d bleed himself dry for the world if it meant that it’d be better.
“I don’t mind being here with you all” You hear the distant rowdy laughter of Wind and Twi, and you find it in yourself to bask in this one moment, “It’s certainly worth it. To me, at least.” He grumbles happily, kissing the nearest place of unscathed skin he can find, right below your jaw.
“I am glad, Dearest. But that-“ His voice wavers as another chill wracks your body. You can only find a wince as you try to block away the ever advancing chill.
“That is not what I meant. I- It’s because of her that you cannot find rest. It is she who whittled down your bones and set alight your nerves” You find nothing to say as you stare at him, urging for more. “She thought it was wrong for me to love you, to long for your care and yearn to hold your heart. So, she tainted y-“ You wish to hear his words. A muse longing to read the poets works, and yet-
The words grow fuzzy as the gloom within you swells, gnawing painfully at your bones. It seems that you had forgotten exactly how brittle you were. It was always hubris that killed heroes, wasn’t it? But that didn’t make sense. You were no hero. How could it be hubris if you never meant to taunt the gods. How could that be- you weren’t dying, are you?
They said you’d be ok.
You’ll be ok right?
Everything will be ok?
The pressure in your head doesn’t stop growing and your stomach hurls.
The sun is so bright.
It hurts.
She’s taking you again, isn’t she?
#linked universe#legend of zelda#linkeduniverse#link x reader#linked universe x reader#link x you#lu first x reader#lu first#fir’s library
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(Ironically) Oh My God... ( o.o)
Do... okay, so there are many, MANY religions... JUST here on earth. Right?
Not all of them think there is "an afterlife". Some think there is a NEXT life. Potentially MANY lives. Some also believe in JOURNEYS you must take, to reach THE Afterlife. Or perhaps periods of judgment. Evaluations of WORTH. So forth and so on.
What I am saying is?
There? Are Ghosts who probably just straight up REJECT the premise that they are dead. Oh sure, YOU might be. Or BELIEVE you are. But they KNOW they aren't.
Because The Gods Said So.
Some, are also, AWARE they are Dead. But reject that? All this? This is it. No, no. This is the MIDDLE. They are supposed to GO somewhere. They haven't FOUND it. But when they DO. They will, as a community, make a map for those who follow and head on in! It'll be great!
There are FAITHS in the Zone.
Beliefs that were compatible enough, that they Did Not Die.
And they'd probably like to tell you about it.
Why WOULDN'T they? It was a VERY important part of their daily life, originally. And NOW? Is frankly a Highly Topical Subject, don't you think? The discussion of "is there a God?" Is KINDA important to have, when you're stand outside the gates to SOMEWHERE, and none of who can agree on WHAT is on the other side.
Is it better to stay here? Were we abandoned? Is this a punishment or a blessing? An accident? Freak occurrence? Are there Gods HERE? And if so, does that mean WE can become one? What does that MEAN, if we can?
All HIGHLY important topics to discuss.
But! It's made all the more pressing because? There's all these OTHERS! Who have never even HEARD of your gods teachings. And therefore? Don't know where they are.
They, innocent people, have been TRAPPED HERE, for centuries if not longer. May be condemned to be trapped FOREVER. Anyone with even a scrap of empathy would be HORRIFIED.
The problem is that THEY are horrified too. Think YOU are trapped. And of course, your first impulse is to tell them they are Wrong... but?
Are they?
What if NEITHER of you are Wrong? Elder Beings keep insisting this place is INFINITE. It is therefore ENTIRELY possible, this is a place to simply? Store the place before afterlifes. Like a busy road.
After all, your Gods certainly never mention these new people. And THEIR God (singular, correct? Right.) never mentioned YOUR people. Surely they WOULD have, if it was important!
And such concensus starts to build. Because everyone is trying to move on, pray, ascend, or otherwise do as their holy scriptures told them too. They are ALL rather lost and confused. And UNLIKE those Fight-y violent sorts? THESE fine religious folks are pleasant and sensible.
Even if no one can quite agree. Meh. SOMEONE is right here and I shall live assuming it's me until proven otherwise, respectfully and as the gods preached.
And it's quite literally like religious Fandoms, to make light of things a bit. There is bickering. And "stop that infernal CHANTING, I can't here my self pray!" *chanting grows louder in protest* "ARGH!". And trying to make new, confused ghosts welcome.
It's one of the ZONES within the Zone. Like slowly gravitating towards like, until the Zone itself started to just naturally shuffle them all together in clumps. Like with the academics.
Now why? Do I even bring this up?
Because! I think it would be HILARIOUS if everyone wanted to convert the Newly Crowned Ghost King to THEIR religion, under the belief that he could? As some sort of Holy Divine King, ask GOD(tm) : "Bruh. Wtf are we supposed to be doing? We are SO LOST. Can we have a hint?"
And yeah, half of them are like "just for fiiiive minutes! We can totally kick you out of the Temple afterwords if you don't like it! You totally WILL, obviously, because it's AWESOME. But, like, if you WANT too! Five minutes! Pleeeeeease???"
While the others are just shooting Informative Pamphlets out of alien potato cannons in FULL religious regalia. As Danny flees at full speed. Getting pelted.
Maybe some real weird Space Monk is just ( o-o) *is under Danny's Bed. Makes eye contact when he leans down to look for his shoes* "one of us? One of us?" "How did you even get passed the ghost sheilds?" "The Gods have many paths." "Not helpful! And terrifying! Get out from under my bed." *awkward scurry* 👉👈 "one of us?" "No. Back to the Zone, you know better." *sad mantis-otter Space Monk noises*
Just? As a writer, I am a bastard. And I think Danny should get harrased by Court Officials wanted him to Govern more. It's funny. He is a teenager and doesn't know shit. It's like watching an Esteemed Academic Conference being lead by someone's toddler. They don't know what's going on! But they Sure Are Giving Answers! :D
@hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter
#dp#dp lore#dp religion#religion in the ghost Zone#religion in the afterlife#how DO you reconcile?#convert the king campaign au#playing telephone with god#using the ghost king#might as well#nothing ELSE worked
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He never should have gotten lost
Truthfully, it was not Bojan’s fault. The caravan was hurried across the icy roads in fear of the approaching blizzard, the mounted guards pushing the desperate people and stock animals alike. It wouldn’t matter, they were doomed across the Käsivarsi, it was always too treacherous for a band of inexperienced Traders. The panic and hurried chaos found some of the wagons sliding and the animals pulling them spooked and scattered. The guards shouted for the rest to grab the horses lest they be lost in the wilderness.
And so he found himself here, lost in the frigid woods following hoof prints that disappeared under the freshly falling snow.
Bojan shivered as he moved silently as possible through the trees, afraid to whistle for the missing animals lest he attract unwanted attention…
“Susia,” the gruff voice of a bearded hunter warned, they had stopped briefly in a village overlooking the Kilpisjärvi. “Wolf packs. They travel together, hunting animals like your horses. Will kill you in your sleep, they stay away from fires. Sleep in shifts.” The guards took any advice from the locals, trusting their knowledge of the wilds.
“And boy,” the hunter addressed Bojan who startled at the sudden attention. “You watch for Väki. He hunts for people like you. Foolish people.”
The guards all snickered at that, Bojan huffed and pulled his coat tighter, stomping out of the hunter’s shack.
Foolish indeed, he scowled as his fingers and toes froze. He could find the road again, to hell with the horses-
BAM
Something slams into his back, throwing him face first into the snow. For a brief and panicked moment he thought one of the horses had charged him, the force was so strong it knocked the wind from his lungs, but as he scrambled to crawl away, he heard a deep growl.
Wolves
In his panicked state he let out a yell and felt a powerful grip grab at his shirt collar, wrenching him onto his back.
Oh God it’s gonna tear my throat out-
The cold press of metal against his windpipe startles his screwed shut eyes open.
Green.
Bright, glowing, inhuman green irises bore into his hysterical brown ones. A deep snarl, like a wolf erupts from human lips. Human?
No, not this creature.
His skin is a pale greyish-blue and his ears are pointed and curved, he’s shirtless save for a thick cloak of pelt’s around his neck and shoulders, strong and powerful looking arms level a curved and pockmarked knife to Bojan’s throat. The creature’s other arm is raised, his hand not flesh and blood but a twisted claw of tree roots and bark, fingertips hooked and wickedly sharp. His expression is pulled into a fierce glare, dark brows furrowed over even darker eyes that hold two glowing orbs at their center, a hypnotic and terrifying stare meant to shatter the bravery of any foolish man who strays from the path…
Just like Bojan did.
“P-please-“ Bojan stutters, grasping his barely-there knowledge of the Finnic language to attempt to communicate. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass-“
“Caravan.” The creature growls back, Bojan spots sharp, canine-like teeth behind his scowl.
“Yes! Yes I am with the Caravan on the road, we only need to find our horses-“
“Horses gone.” The strange being spits, slowly pulling the long knife away from Bojan’s throat. “They run far out in the forest, wolves will chase them down” He moves to stand back, not letting his guard down or stowing his weapon. “You not find them in time.”
Bojan slowly pulls himself up out of the snow, his back now soaked with melted snow and making his breath catch from the cold.
“Y-yes. You are probably right, I will go back to my people, I-I’m so sorry I disturbed your territory-“
“Not mine.” The creature says, Bojan sees now that he’s actually taller than the creature, but it doesn’t make him any less intimidated.
“You die before finding horses, too cold for your kind.” The stranger huffs and sheds his wolf pelt cloak, handing it to the shaken human. “Take. I find your horses”
Bojan looks dumbfounded, shivering hands grasping the cloak.
“But-“
“I bring them when your people asleep. You tell no one about.” The being glares, his burning eyes piercing through Bojan. He raises his twisted root hand and curls his fingers open, Bojan swivels around to the sound of cracking wood and stares in awe as the forest’s dense trees bend open to reveal a path.
“Follow, your people not too far away.”
Bojan shakes himself out of his gawking to turn and thank the creature-
But he’s gone.
His gaze darts around for any signs of the strange being, but not even footprints are left in the white blanket of snow. He is pulled out of his shock by a harsh shivering of his frozen body, quickly pulling the thick coat of furs around himself.
Warmth.
It’s unnaturally warm. Smelling of thick pine and iron and something undefinably sweet. He burrows into it further.
As he goes to follow the path in the parted trees, he spares one more glance behind him, a small smile on his face.
“Thank you” he whispers to the empty air.
<><><>
I’ve been reading all about Finnish folklore lately and what better way to express my excitement than to make an au no one asked for :D
#my art#kidvoodoo#käärijä#jere pöyhönen#bojan cvjetićanin#bojere#new to this fandom please be nice to me lol#it’s a meetcute with folklore creatures and traveling merchants way out of their depth :D#apologies if the Finnish was terrible I am pulling from some books on national parks lol#also I’m so sorry this will never be a full fic because I am not a confident writer :( I will make up for it by drawing more pictures tho
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a/n- yeah, i’m still not over the leaks
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“-it funny. Just the idea of Annabeth trying to sit quietly and draw all day,” you spoke into the quiet atmosphere of your bedroom, a queasy Megumi nuzzled into the valley of your chest, little sniffles coming from him as you read a chapter from one of his favorite books.
A heavy comforter was thrown atop your bodies, his body supplying more than enough heat on its own, but the doctor said warmer was better anyway, especially when cold sweats would pelt his form simultaneously. “Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them dow-”
“I thought Athena was the war one,” came a scratchy voice to your right, the usual teasing tone Gojo used with you gone from his arsenal, replaced by the signature rasps of a sore throat. Looking up from your book, you turned to look upon your very sick lover, his blue eyes red and shot from fatigue, slow blinks indicating he was genuinely awaiting your answer.
A sympathetic smile pulled at your lips as you just nodded and pulled him closer, his soft hair tickling the skin of your neck as he rested the back of his head against your shoulder, his long form sinking down the bed, hip just below your hip, side to your side.
“Then why would she like architects,” he mumbled, eyes closing to get his much-needed rest, relaxation melting his limbs before a jab was dealt to his side, ribs aching from a tiny elbow, its little bone just sharp enough to knock a cough out of him.
“Listen,” came Megumi’s irritated response, the boy clearly too tired to put up with your lover’s antics, huffing as he nestled back into the comfort of your arms, which used his back as a makeshift table, holding the book up once more to continue reading.
Stifling a laugh at the scowl you knew was gracing Gojo’s features at the moment, you read to your makeshift patients, trying your best to mediate between them and keep the peace whenever a petty argument rose.
…
“… I am Thalia,’ the girl said, ‘Daughter of Zeus’”.
Closing the book with a contented sigh, you peeked down to find Megumi sleeping soundly, his pale face finally gaining a flush of color after days of palidity. Combing his hair away from his forehead, you tested his temperature with the back of your hand, your hope for his recovery short-lived as his skin felt as scalding as ever.
“Fuck,” you whispered, worry for the little boy lying on top of you building as you imagined how bad he must feel and the fact that you couldn’t cure him on your own.
“He’ll be okay,” came that scratchy voice again, a warm hand rubbing smooth circles on your thigh, Gojo sensing your racing thoughts of desperation, could tell from your shift in mood alone that you were scared Megumi’s sickness could possibly get even worse.
“I promise,” he added, his own fingers carding through Megumi’s silky hair this time, the two of you watching the young boy, his uneven inhales slightly evening out at the feeling of his “father’s” touch.
The sight had the worry sitting in your chest dissipating, if only for a moment, and you relaxed back against the headboard, nodding to acknowledge that you trusted him, trusted that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Megumi.
“Besides, we’re unkillable, love” he somehow purred, rough voice aside. An incredulous scoff bubbled out of you at his comment, shaking your head in disbelief at Gojo’s pure nonchalance, his own laugh slipping from his lips. Once again, Satoru Gojo knew exactly what to say to push buttons, the only difference being that it was an adult elbow jamming into his side this time.
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#can you guess what my favorite series was when i was little#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x female reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#dad gojo#baby megumi#megumi fluff#jjk x fem!reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader
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