#and hes like properly angry over his death so... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heavenlymorals · 4 hours

Note

I absolutely NEED to hear your thoughts on Bill liking Kieran your writing is so good

@escapingsin

Thank you so much ❤️❤️

I am but a servant of the people and I have been put on God's green earth to serve (cunt)- so of course!

Let's start off with the basics- Bill is gay. Though it hasn't been officially confirmed by Rockstar, it doesn't take a genius to see that that man is gay. He's the only male gang member with no female relationship or mention of a female relationship and his sexuality is implied multiple times by gang dialogue: "Arthur and Martha, or Bill and Phil." "Is he about to kiss that guy or punch him."

Oh and the hair pomade request. That was a lubricant back in the day and Bill is balding- doesn't mean he can't use pomade to slick back what he does have, but let's put two in two together, babes. He's messy, stinky (Dutch: "You could try washing"), and doesn't really take care of himself. I doubt he wants pomade for the sake of styling his hair, let's just get that cleared up.

And there is also his reaction to Arthur getting r**** in the swamp. I won't go too deep into it in this post but I have made a post all about it here :

But the main point of that post is that Bill is trying to test the waters to see if Arthur is also gay because I doubt Sonny would tell him what actually happened.

So yes: Bill is gay.

He's also gay in 1899 America, where homosexuality and homosexual acts can be met with jail time or even death. It wasn't a kind time period to gay people and Bill represents this by his general attitude. He's isolated and angry because of men. He hates them and he is attracted to them and that makes him act flustered and violent many times throughout the story. He can't properly express how he feels either about men because even in the gang, it wasn't accepted of him to be gay and it was treated as an out of sight, out of mind sort of thing.

So what does this have to do with Kieran?

Well, Bill likes Kieran, but what makes their dynamic interesting is that while the rest of the gang members, bar Dutch, Hosea, and maybe Arthur as the old guard, have the same status, Kieran doesn't. He is below them because of his former status as an O'Driscoll and any mess up or disrespect can very much end with him getting killed or punished in some way- the amount of characters threatening to castrate him is insane.

Kieran doesn't have the same protection as the other gang members, nor the respect, so Bill can get "close" to him without any real pushback because no one would stop him. And given the frustrations that Bill already has + the homophobia of the 1800s + the opportunity to hop on some "fresh meat", he wouldn't know how to express his interest in Kieran besides aggression and overly friendly aggression.

Like there is the scene where he tries to give Kieran a drink out of kindness. He starts off friendly, but when Kieran declines, he becomes aggressive, and Kieran being terrified for his safety, takes the drink and runs away, with Bill begging for him to come back, confused at the whole situation. He can only do that because of his seniority status over Kieran. Remember the reaction Bill has to Arthur being SA'd? He is playful, not aggressive, and doesn't get aggressive because Arthur, even though he aggressively tells him to get lost, has a higher rank than him.

And of course, you have Charles and Arthur talking about how Bill likes no one and then Charles says that he likes Kieran with both him and Arthur then laughing at it because of what it implies.

Bill likes Kieran but because of the life he lives and the attitudes of society and the gang in regards to homosexuality and just him in general, he can't bring himself to act normally with Kieran to express his attraction to him, which leads to poor Kieran getting terrorized the way he is.

Poor, poor Kieran.

#hope you enjoyed my yapping ❤️#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #bill williamson #kieran duffy #charles smith #period typical attitudes #character analysis #answered

16 notes · View notes

cats-aroace · 1 year

Text

im not finished supernatural yet im halfway throigh season 15, but in alot of the spn fanfiction im reading jack is seen as kindof mostly deans son. idk if its just me but i feel like dean is the keast parental of them all. mary was definatly a mother figure and rowena developed into an fun aunt. cas was definatly trying his hand at being fatherly kindof like he done for claire but i really feel like sam is the one giving of the father figure vibes. i dont know what im missing maybe it comes in the next half of the season but as far as im concerned sam is jacks dad.

#supernatural #spnfandom #spn #jack kline #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #mary winchester #rowena macleod #sam is jacks dad #like dean spent alot of the time trying to kill jack ever since he was born #and just like barley tolerates him #like he was the one about to kill him just before god did #and i get it he accidentaly killed his mum but hes literally 3 years old #and missing a soul and thats jot neseceraly bad like cas technically dosent have a soul #speaking of cas he just floats in and oit of jacks life like he did with claire except jack actually wants him to stick around #alrhough he is trying hes new to the whole emotion thing #and hes like properly angry over his death so...#mary was just a sweetheart to jack and jack was right to call her mum #sad she tried to help jack during a nephilim panic attack rip #rowena tried her best to be supportive always was sweet to him and tried to help him bring mary back #sam was allways there for him (ignoring when he was in other universe) and was always up for a chatbor some advice #jack related the most to sam #unatural powers #no soul #trusting someone you shouldnt #oh yeah dean wanted to lock that child in a box for eternity #i could rant all day but i shouldnt #rant post

28 notes · View notes

ghostfacd · 7 months

Text

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #hunger games

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months

Note

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle).

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation.

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be.

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this.

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want."

"Then leave me alone," he says.

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus."

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions.

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks.

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve.

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep.

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek.

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while.

"I'm so sorry," Remus says.

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause.

You struggle to see him in the dark.

"I should never have spoken to you like that."

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it."

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear.

"I'm too tired," you mumble.

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front.

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows.

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just…

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word.

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch.

"I love you," you say.

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this.

"So don't be sorry."

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way."

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you."

"I know," he utters.

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first.

"I'm sorry."

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone."

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper.

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that."

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips.

"I love you," he says into it.

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night.

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?"

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head.

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

3K notes · View notes

kenntolog · 13 days

Text

𝝑𝝔 studying with cool bf sukuna!! read more here <33

as i have stated said earlier in the series, cool boyfriend sukuna doesn’t need to put that much effort into studying, actually, he doesn’t need to put any effort because he is just smart like that and he’s able to pass through all of his classes and tests with average or above average scores.

knowing that you put a lot more effort into it than he does, lose your sleep over your grades most of the time, pull an unhealthy amount of all nighters when it’s almost the date of the exam and really do care about it all — sukuna respects you for it, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t laugh at you when he scores higher than you, enjoying the angry kitten look on your face and the way you jump at him in an attempt to rip his hair out 😇.

so studying with sukuna is mostly just you guys hanging out just as usual, sometimes at your place, sometimes at his; choices of location even include library and some quiet cafe. but while you do study and concentrate on the tasks, sukuna is just… there lol.

if he doesn’t have any basketball practice or other things to do he always wants to spend with you as much time as he can, so of course he doesn’t say ‘no’ to your suggestion. though, he never actually promises to study with you and usually just sits on his phone, scrolling through his instagram reels.

oh yeah, also if he’s bored it means you’re not getting any proper studying done heh.

those instagram reels with be the death of you, because while most of the time sukuna just stares at his screen with a poker face — sometimes he barks out a cackle so loud it makes you jump in your place with a squeal. it’s so completely out of nowhere it’s crazy, he doesn’t even see the way you react, just shows his screen to you as he continues laughing.

the games he plays on his phone, mostly shooters of course, don’t help either as you can imagine. he gets so angry, cursing and yelling, and you can barely hold yourself together, contemplating if you should slip away into the other room. he will follow you though, you think, eye twitching nervously.

it gets worse when sukuna decides that his phone isn’t entertaining enough and starts intentionally distracting you.

poking with your own pen, poking you with his finger, flicking your forehead, closing your books, closing your notebooks, taking out the items in your bag, tugging on your hair, pinching your side, tickling you, stepping on your toes — doing anything and everything to make you look away from that boring subject and make you pay attention to him instead.

sometimes you get so mad that you just don’t acknowledge him at all and take your things to leave, but sukuna doesn’t let you. catching your wrist and pulling you in to sit on his lap instead, muttering ‘sorry, loser’ through amused chuckles, and then doing the same things over again. so insufferable.

there are moments where sukuna even helps you. when you ask him, of course. it’s not hard to see when you’re struggling over something, but he just loves it when you ask him for help so he waits. the moment you do, he takes his time reading through the question and some pages from the the topic just so he can properly help you come to the conclusion.

he also likes it when you help him with something because you’re so so eager to do that, it’s very sweet. it doesn’t happen often, yet it’s one of his favourite things — to hear you yap about a certain question and topic. though, the things you say mostly go over his head since sukuna gets distracted by your lovely face and the expressiveness of your features <33.

sukuna forces you to take breaks with him using that by the way. cupping your jaw and pecking the plush of your lips so your eyes open wide and don’t divert your gaze to your notebook, dropping the pen in your hand. also likes to use brute force: lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

in the intervals between his apologies, breaks and another round of his self-entertainment sessions, cool boyfriend sukuna also likes to admire you :))

because you do look very cute; all concentrated and focused on your stupid books, the pinch between your eyebrows and the purse of your bitten lips making it hard for him to not wanna mess with you. or kiss you. or both.

#— miya writes!#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader

815 notes · View notes

killuintense · 5 months

Text

leon taking care of you while you are ovulating!

it really was a whirlwind of emotions to be on your period, but most of all you suffered even more during the period when you were ovulating and seemed to be completely unhinged with Leon. sometimes you wondered why the poor guy hadn't ended up running away from you the instant that time of the month came when you saw him as a giant stuffed animal to keep your hands on whenever you could.

it was strange and annoying, but all too satisfying at the same time. on the one hand, ovulating you noticed those mood swings, going from happiness to absolute sadness or anger that made you want to crush your own bones. but your cute boyfriend was always there to make up for it, telling you it was okay if you inadvertently got too angry with him or crying for some stupid reason; he never blamed you.

nor did he blame you when you seemed to want to have your hands all over him all the time. but you were horny all the fucking time, and when he was at work you would fantasize about having him touch you at every turn, and when he was with you your hands would become a whirlwind on top of his body "what's going on, love?" he looked confused as you tried to lift his shirt and touch his pecs, pouting as you noticed he was ticklish and gently lowered your hands.

"let me touch you!" your whimsical voice caused him to giggle more, he knew you were like this because you were close to your period, and he always gave you what you wanted because he was weak to you. and it wasn't that it always ended in something properly sexual, sometimes they would just spend whole minutes kissing and he would let you caress his body, squeezing his arms, stroking his hair. It all seemed to make you feel full and satisfied.

that is until your period was near and your tits started to swell and get tender. it was the most painful moment but, as contradictory as it sounded, it was when both of you fucked the most. you were so sore, even before you bled, that the only thing that soothed you was your man's cock. even his hands, without going any further.

you asked him with that puppy face to help soothe the pain in your breasts. your nipples looked like they were about to explode and he loved the sensation of feeling them get so hard the instant he ran his fingertips over them "so cute..." if his fingers weren't enough, he used his mouth to suck on the sensitive skin to make you tremble under him. those massages he gave you, even if there was a connotation of arousal, soothed you too much. his voice resonated with love and care "i have to learn to take care of them from now on, don't i, sweetheart?" he would kiss the skin gently, in that just right spot he knew so it wouldn't hurt but would cause you a 'something' "when you are with your tummy swollen from my baby and your tits full of milk, i have to take care of you so they don't hurt" and there you felt it was the death of you.

you seemed to have everything you needed, because it wasn't really the desire of both of you to be parents —because you were still very young—, but your desires for Leon to impregnate you and leave his mark inside you at that time of the month were too overwhelming. you whimpered when he said those kinds of things to you, when his hands kneaded your swollen, sensitive skin. you were so bad, so needy and ruined that that alone was enough to make you cum... yes, just that.

he laughed softly, as without having to bury himself between your legs you were already completely wet and, much to his dismay, exhausted from an instant orgasm that only left you half asleep in his arms with the pain in your breasts calmer and your mind full of images of you holding the future love fruit of you and Leon in your arms. you seemed drugged by that sensation, almost without being aware before you fell asleep in a tranquility where you knew that even on the most sensitive days you would have your boyfriend to please you in whatever way you wanted.

1K notes · View notes

babyleostuff · 3 months

Text

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 613

. . . just cheol being cheol (aka him freaking out because of your fever)

natalia’s note: very much self indulgent, i came home with a fever all of a sudden like a week ago, and ever since im in desperate need of choi seungcheol

“i’m not dying, you know?”

“i know,” cheol huffed, and threw what had to be the tenth blanket over you.

“then why are you acting like i’m about to pass away?” you laughed, seeing your boyfriend’s focused expression. according to his logic, if the blankets weren’t all sprawled out properly, you’d freeze to death, and his furrowed dark eyebrows alongside the crease between them showed how serious he was about it.

you could hear him mutter something under his breath. he was always like that when you were sick - too worried, and too overprotective. that’s why sometimes you didn’t even bother telling him you were ill, especially with his busy schedules - you didn’t want to burden him even more (he’d probably strangle you if he heard you calling yourself a burden).

to be honest, you didn’t even have to be sick - the second cheol would notice you acting differently than usual he’d be all over you asking what’s wrong. but while usually you were very grateful for his caring nature, now was not the time. “i’m sorry for being worried about my girlfriend coming home with a fever,” he said, looking offended.

“cheol, baby. it’s just a fever,” you quickly grabbed the pills from his hand to get his attention back on you. “i’m sure it’s not even a proper fever, i’m just feeling a bit under the weather, that’s all. there is no need for you to be worried.”

your “illness” was nothing that a long session of cuddles with him and kkuma couldn’t solve, but it seemed like your boyfriend didn’t share your optimism. “fine, do whatever you want,” he grumbled, his pout on full display, and left the room, leaving you too stunned to speak.

with a loud sigh, you fell back against the stack of pillows cheol fluffed up before forcing you to lay down. of course you didn’t mean to make him think you didn't want his help, you loved how big of a caregiver he was (especially when it came to you), it’s just that unlike him - for you, being sick wasn't the end of the world, and you didn't need him to babysit you.

not wanting to argue, you stood up from the bed with a soft groan, throwing off all the blankets cheol covered you with. you knew it wouldn't be hard to appease him, he wasn't really angry, more disappointed that you were rejecting his help.

you entered the kitchen and immediately saw him cutting up some food, probably preparing dinner. “cheollie,” you said quietly, hoping he would look at you. unfortunately, he stubbornly continued to cut the vegetables. "baby, please, i didn't mean to upset you." you walked around the kitchen island and hugged him from the side, burying your head in his neck.

you saw his pout out of the corner of your eye, so your suspicions that he wasn't actually angry were correct. “i was just worried about you," he finally said after a while, and put the knife down. "there's nothing fun about seeing your girlfriend come home all burning up with fever."

“i know love, i know,” you mumbled, and kissed his bicep, running your hand gently over his tummy. “i really appreciate everything you do, but i’d rather cuddle with you and kkuma. we could watch something, and you’d get to hold me, hm?” you smiled, seeing the corners of his mouth turning up a little. if there was one thing cheol could never decline, it’d be a cuddle session with his girls.

“you’ll take the medicine, though,” he said sternly, kissing your hot forehead. “now get your ass back to bed, i’ll be right back” he added.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings

831 notes · View notes

punkshort · 3 months

Note

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #requests

476 notes · View notes

aaagustd · 3 months

Text

maid for you | min yoongi

title: maid for you

pairing: painter/vamp!yoongi x maid/vamp!(f)reader

genre/rating: smut, supernatural, 18+

summary: you can’t deny it; you’re f*cked.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: mentions bl**d and m*rder, bl**d consumption, pet names, f*ngering, squ*rting, teasing, begging, swearing, errors maybe because i didn't look over this, let me know if i missed something

release date: march 10th, 2024; 12:09am est

note: so i was watching death’s game and got a little inspired lol. i’ve been trying to dabble in writing vampire fics so this might be a little cringe. anyway happy birthday to the loml. i’m still writing like 3 other fics for him this month, but until then… you all enjoy. divider by cafekitune.

my masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3 | inbox

“Son of a bitch.”

You nearly slip and fall right on your ass when you enter the studio. Once again, he’s brought home some innocent sack of flesh and carved them into a masterpiece.

The fear still lingers in the scent of the scarlet liquid smeared across the floor. You push your own impulses to the back of your mind as you begin to clean up Yoongi’s mess like the “loyal” servant you are.

Not like you have a choice; it’s either this—or death.

Unlike the other creatures who have survived for eons in this world, your thirst for human blood has never been fulfilled. Though it calls your name as you drag the heavy mop across the porcelain tile, you can’t imagine indulging when you’re surrounded by humans everyday outside of this place.

You still have to live the life of someone who isn’t a freak. You aren’t some legacy put here to extend bloodlines. You’re just the product of a drunken night between strangers whose life should have ended in your twenties.

You’re just the one who didn’t die.

Every second you spend in this room makes you want to leave and never come back, but you know it is impossible. You made a deal with the devil for your life; there is no backing out.

After an hour or so, the room is spotless again.

As you’re cleaning the last section of the floor, you notice some of Yoongi’s artwork on the wall. Your face contorts into a grimace, knowing that there are people out there purchasing these. Somebody’s family member’s bodily fluids is splashed onto a canvas and is hanging on display in some billionaire’s home. It makes you angry knowing that it should have been you.

“Fucking asshole… I’m not cleaning this shit up anymore—Oh!”

You bump into something hard while you’re walking backwards. Thinking you’ve hit a wall, you don’t expect to see anyone when you turn around.

“Oh, you aren’t?”

Yoongi just stands there, watching you scramble for words.

“I-I didn’t know you were here. I…That was—”

“Save it,” he interrupts.

Once you are silenced, you lower your head. You feel a bit of shame burning in your cheeks, but it’s the least of your worries if he heard everything you’ve been saying while you thought you were alone.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to snap your neck if I felt like it.”

Shit. What the hell were you thinking?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Don’t lie,” he snaps.

He takes a step forward, and you take one back. You try to keep a safe distance between you as if you have a chance to escape. He’d catch you before you could leave the room.

“You’re an ungrateful little bitch, you know that?”

Unfortunately, you don’t know the room as well as you thought you did because your lower back hits a table, leaving you with nowhere else to go.

“I was just venting. Tell me you aren’t that old!”

He approaches you with his arms folded, leaving only a few inches to spare.

“Baby, you won’t live to see this age,” he boasts. “You don’t even feed yourself properly.”

“Who cares?”

He dips his fingers in a tiny drop of blood next to his tools. You scold yourself for missing something in plain sight, but you have to admit that your mind has been a little fuzzy lately.

“I used to care… But since you don't, why should I?”

You turn away when he tries to touch you with his crimson painted fingertip. The smell makes your nostrils flare, but you continue to fight the temptation. When you don’t accept his bloody digit, he places it on his tongue and savors the salty liquid coating his skin.

“Fuck you.”

“Point proven,” he concludes.

You still won’t look at him, but that doesn’t stop Yoongi from staring directly at you, observing reactions. “If you hate it so bad, why don’t you just end it?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

The couple of inches that stood between you are now gone as he steps closer. He’s so close that you’re afraid he’ll hear your thoughts if you aren’t careful.

“What are you afraid of?... Going to hell?”

You scoff. “This is hell.”

Suddenly, he grabs your face, forcing you to look into his dark orbs. You remember them being just as hypnotizing when you met him; if only you’d known them what you know now. You would have ran in the opposite direction.

“But you love it here. Don’t you?”

You aren’t sure if your body craves his attention, or if you’re just desperate to feel something—anything to feel the emptiness inside of you.

“I do,” you utter. “Why can’t I hate you?”

Yoongi leans in, his soft lips gently grazing yours to see if you’ll flinch. You don’t move an inch, and his smirk begins to spread across his face.

“Because you want me just as bad as I want you.”

You’re still within his grasp, but too drunk with what seems like lust to pull away. You don’t want to. Every part of you wants to be his; only he understands the type of hunger you’re experiencing.

He’s the only one who’s capable of satisfying your appetite.

“All you have to do is admit it.”

His cold touch makes you weak in your knees. You have to grip his biceps when you suddenly lose your balance, and with quickness he releases his hold and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m waiting,” he reminds you, and you don’t hesitate to give him your response.

“Please, just touch me.”

When you kiss him, he’s the one who melts in your arms. You hold him tightly as both of you stand there kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes. Your lips smack as they crash together, causing a sound that resonates through the room.

You feel Yoongi’s cold hand move underneath your dress, slowly making its way to your underwear. A moan escapes your swollen lips when he finds your center, exposing your eagerness to feel him inside of you.

“Damn,” he whispers, discovering that you’re already dripping.

His fingers tease your entrance, making you squirm with need. You beg him for more, and he doesn’t deny you.

“Please.”

“I got you,” he assures.

Your body shudders as two of his digits slip into your pussy. You can barely hold yourself because the intrusion is so overwhelming.

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

His thumb caresses your throbbing clit, causing more of your wetness to drip down your thighs. Your hips move in a circular motion, silently begging Yoongi for more.

It is then that he slowly begins to fuck you with his fingers, burying them up to the knuckles in your heat. You grip the table as he speeds up, knowing it won’t take much to get you off.

Yoongi attacks your neck with his fangs; biting gently into your flesh and moaning from the taste of you.

“Feels so good,” you pant into his ear.

He curves his fingers while they’re deep inside your core, and targets your most sensitive areas. The pads of his digits rub against the rough patch of your walls with precision, and within seconds your juices are gushing everywhere.

“Shit, I’m going to cum…”

You cry out in pleasure, holding onto Yoongi with all your might as your body trembles and shakes.

Yoongi keeps going, admiring the waterfall flowing from underneath your dress. Your eyes roll back, drool forming at the corners of your lips as you babble and whine from sensitivity.

“Look who’s making a mess now,” Yoongi teases.

You can’t even feel embarrassed because your body is still coming down from its peak. You’re weak, too spent to defend yourself. You aren’t even sure what you’d say. What could you say?

There’s a puddle where you stand.

When Yoongi finally removes his fingers, he leaves you empty and still wanting more. Your head rests on his chest as you regain your strength.

“I didn’t kill you, did I?”

You laugh. “No.”

After the high wears off, you’re left drowning in your thoughts. They’re all over the place, but you’re certain about one thing. You’re far from satisfied, but you aren’t sure what it is that you want.

“I guess you’re leaving now,” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

You clear your throat, thinking before you speak so your answer isn’t driven by lust. You know once you step into this world, there’s no going back. The only question on your mind is, what’s really waiting for you outside of here?

“I don’t have to.”

“Hm, is that right?”

Yoongi pulls away so he can look into your restless eyes. He can probably see the internal war going on inside of you from where he stands. You’re long past what’s right and what’s wrong. It makes no sense to keep denying the truth when it’s right in your face.

“This is driving me crazy.”

“Oh, really?” he quizzes. “...Or maybe you can’t get enough of me now?”

“A little bit of both, honestly.”

“I just don’t want you to think you don’t have any options.”

You nod. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“Are you?”

“A little, but I’m still curious,” you answer truthfully. “What’s the worst that can happen? You turn me into a painting?”

“I might.”

You smirk. “That’s hot.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart. We should go for a ride.”

“I’d like that.”

The look he gives you could undress a nun. Hell, you struggle to keep your panties on after he winks. You smile as he kisses your forehead and your cheek before he whispers in your ear.

“Good. Now clean up my fucking floor, and meet me downstairs.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #yoongi fics #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #aaagustd.fics

413 notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 4 months

Text

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

956 notes · View notes

happyhauntt · 2 months

Text

fight or flight — poe dameron.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: you and poe have never seen eye-to-eye. most days, you wonder if you ever will.

─── pairing: poe dameron x solo!reader.

─── warnings: reader is gender neutral, reader is han & leia's child, no use of y/n. lots of snarky banter. this was supposed to be flirty fluff but it turned into an angstfest so, yeah, sorry for that. finn eavesdrops and chewie is sassy bastard.

─── word count: 1.6k.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”

Poe ducks his head and quickly manages to conceal the wince creeping onto his features just in time, but crouched in the cockpit beside him, Rey still feels his shoulders go stiff. She presses a hand to her mouth in a weak attempt to stifle her laugh, but she’s not quite successful as Poe shoots her a glare.

She doesn’t blame him, really. You are… Well, sort of scary when you’re angry.

There’s more than just a spark of your mother’s fire in you, that’s for sure.

Glancing over her shoulder, she finds you standing in the doorway, regarding the pair of them with a ruthless glare so sharp it might leave a mark.

Rey is suddenly pretty sure that Poe didn’t talk to you like he said he would.

“I go for a nap because I haven’t slept properly in two days after you—” The finger you jab in Poe’s direction might as well be a knife, the way he flinches, “— get us stranded in First Order territory after leading us on a wild goose chase, knock out the comms and the navigation with your, frankly batshit, behaviour which I have spent hours trying to fix, and then I left you with one simple instruction.”

Which… Alright, not all of that is strictly fair, Rey thinks, because at least half of the chaos of the past few days can be attributed to sheer bad luck, and another third can be blamed on decisions made under pressure whose outcomes boiled down to bad or worse.

It’s not really Poe’s fault. Not anymore than the rest of them, at least.

But Rey knows how you feel about this ship. The Falcon is your inheritance, the only real home you have left in the world. It’s all that is left of your father.

You were protective of it even before he died, and since—

Rey clears her throat. “I’m just gonna… go check on Finn.”

Poe’s expression reeks of betrayal as Rey scoots past you to go and find Finn, who’s loitering in the main hold with Chewbacca, but she’s not about to hang around and get caught in the crossfire between the two of you.

She doesn’t have a death wish.

Finn looks just suspicious enough, when she locates him, that she doesn’t even bother scolding him for eavesdropping. She’s about to do the same, after all.

“He told me he checked it was alright before we started reconfiguring the navicomputer.” Rey folds her arms across her chest, frowning in the direction of the cockpit. Your voice is still rattling down the corridor towards them.

Finn clicks his tongue. “Evidently not.”

In the cockpit, Poe pushes himself to stand, resting a hand on the back of the captain’s chair. Your voice is hard as duracrete as you take a step towards him, crowding the small space with so much of your frustration that it feels difficult to breathe.

Poe wonders if the sensors are on the blink, and someone popped an airlock somewhere, because the air feels a little thin. You jab in the chest with your finger, and all he does is blink, suddenly lightheaded.

“I gave you one instruction. I said, the nav systems are rebooting, I’m going grab some shuteye, don’t touch anything. And what do you do?”

“The console was beeping!”

“I don’t care if a damn mynock got in here and started eating it, I said don’t touch it.”

“But it’s alright for Rey to touch it?” He’s being petty, he knows that, but an angry flush has started creeping up your neck, and he wants to know what you look like with your cheeks coloured that delightful shade of pink.

“Rey didn’t break it!” A ragged breath tears from your throat, and you rake a hand roughly through your hair. “She knows what she’s doing. I trust her.”

“And you don’t trust me, is that it?” Something like sadness swirls low in his gut as he waits for your response. It hurts him to ask, even though he’s wearing his bravado like a mask, even though he likes pushing all your buttons because when your eyes flash like that, it’s like standing in the eye of a hurricane or falling in zero gravity.

You’re not friends, he knows that. Not since the day you met, and you pressed a blaster up against his neck in the cargo hold of your old ship and he’d grinned down at you as if getting his life threatened was his favourite pastime.

He’d been trying to steal it. You’re still not sure what happened, exactly, except that there were Stormtroopers firing at your ship — which, honestly, was held together by little more than string and sheer stubbornness at that point — and your mother’s favourite flyboy watching you with a bizarre hope in his eyes, and you’d just… hated him, in that moment.

Hated him for crashing into your life and dragging you, kicking and screaming, back to the life you’d fled. Hated your mother for her good heart and your father for running away. Hated the whole damn galaxy for not killing you when it had the chance.

Poe had wanted you to take him to D’Qar, but you’d spent too long leaving things behind to go back now, so you’d dropped him at the nearest safe outpost and prayed you’d never see him again.

Clearly, the universe had other plans.

It’s been years since that first encounter, but neither of you have warmed to one another since then. There’s very little point, you think. He’s unbearable, always needling at you, picking at all of your defences as if he has a right to know you.

It doesn’t matter. In the end, everyone leaves, one way or another.

You just wish he’d hurry up and do it, already.

You’re not friends, but you’re something more and something less, and the way your lower lip twitches at his question feels like a punch to the gut.

“Why should I?” You blink at him, and a moment later you realise how close you’ve grown, almost chest-to-chest with this man who drives you mad. With a rough swallow, you force yourself to take a step back.

He doesn’t move. Hardly dares to breathe, with his mouth curled into that little half-smirk he knows you hate, because it hurts that you don’t trust him, but it would hurt more if you knew it.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

A scoff. “Well, for starters, I don’t think you’ve ever had a plan that didn’t blow up in your face.”

The familiar howl of Finn’s laughter rolls down the corridor, quickly cut off by a quiet thump and a low, pained groan.

Poe blinks at you. “Excuse me?”

“And you don’t take proper care of the Falcon!” The controls and all their exposed wires serve to prove your point.

Turning on your heel, you march out into the corridor, abandoning him in the cockpit. He stares at your retreating form, unable to kick his brain back into gear for a few seconds, but a moment later he’s striding after you.

“I take care of the Falcon!”

A huff of laughter bubbles out of you, entirely lacking in humour. “Lightspeed skipping.”

“That was one time!” His voice squeaks out of him much higher than he’d like, and as they emerge into the main hold, he clears his throat. “And the Falcon was fine.”

You come to a stop so suddenly that he can almost hear your shoes screeching on the floor. “It was twice, and just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. That seems like a lesson you should’ve learned by now, but no, you keep pushing it!”

Reckless and stubborn, headstrong and utterly selfless. Not for the first time, you regret being dragged back into this mess. Your life hadn’t exactly been peaceful before — you are your father’s child, after all — but it wasn’t this.

How many more heroes will you watch die before all of this is over?

How much of it can you take?

You watch one of those heroes stare at you, now, and it feels like you’ve swallowed a handful of broken glass.

Behind you, sitting at the dejarik table and making absolutely no attempt to disguise his eavesdropping, Finn leans close to Rey. “You’d never guess they were married, huh?”

He’s whispering, but it’s not exactly quiet.

As if you’re suddenly possessed by the same entity, you and Poe whirl around, mouths agape. “We are not married.”

An uncomfortable heat curls around your spine at the thought of it. Married to Poe Dameron? You cannot imagine anything worse.

Chewie, seated opposite Finn and Rey, makes an exasperated sound. Rey can’t help but snort.

You narrow your eyes at your father’s oldest friend, resting your hands on your hips. “‘Could’ve fooled me?’ Chewie, what are you talking about?”

As your wrath settles upon a new victim, Poe takes the opportunity to slip out of sight, with every intention of hiding in the Engineering Bay on the opposite end of the ship until the danger has passed.

Marching quickly down the corridor, Poe drags a hand over his unbearably warm face and feels like something beneath his ribcage is itching to crawl out. He thinks it might be his heart.

Married to you. Yeah. He can’t think of anything worse, either.

#star wars #poe dameron #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #* chapter update.

184 notes · View notes

awyeahitssam · 4 months

Text

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears.

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly.

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm.

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked.

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously.

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late.

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord.

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year.

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection.

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud.

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy.

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder.

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had.

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.”

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well.

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever.

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully.

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just…

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.)

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask.

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place.

Ithurtsithurtsohshit.

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

“It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand.

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved.

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream.

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked.

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases.

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily.

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic.

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice.

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way…

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

#my writing #Voldemort #Horcrux #concussion #ficlet #Harry being Harry #what can you do

282 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Being Jason Todd's kid (Platonic)

Warning: at the beginning y/n has a shitty mom and neglectful (+abandoning them) plus a mention of Jason’s death of being beaten

You knew for a long time your mom didn’t love you, even your young 8 year old mind could tell

From the way she looked at you with disdain and disgust

She was still your mom though so you loved her

Loved her despite the yelling and sending you to your room with a granola bar as your dinner

It was fine

Everything was fine

All you had to do was keep doing your best to make her love you like in the books you’d read at school

So you did your best to appease her

You’d bring her the sticks that would create the smelly wisps of smoke that would stain her gnashing teeth as she yelled at you

Or bring in the amber coloured drink in glass bottle she liked

You tried it once cause the tap didn’t make water anymore but you didn’t like it

It felt as if it was burning your throat and tongue as it slithered down your parched throat like venom from a snake

When she feel asleep on her chair you’d place a blanket around her but left the tv on

She got mad at you cause of that the first time

You made rules in your mind on how to properly dance around the tiggers that would make her angry

Some you didn’t really understand as to why she got angry over it but you avoided it anyways

Just keeping quiet and silently going about your day to make her as happy as you could

She never took you out much, often leaving you at home when she’d get groceries or went to work

But as a surprise she told you that you’d be going with her to carry the bags

It was night, but you didn’t mind it much since you’d always preferred it

Made getting your mom the smelly sticks easier when it was the man at the cashier at 711

Eventually as you walk further into the city with her you see that your in an area you’d never been before

It’s scary, really scary but you don’t say a word

You don’t say anything when she tells you to wait at the curb beneath a streetlight as she walks off

Cold concrete kissing your palms as you sit there, a lone 8 year old waiting

Still wearing pyjamas and barefoot as the cold chill of the night began to set in

It’s nothing you can’t handle, besides she’d be back soon

She said she would

And if your actions were right you couldn’t break a promise

She’s just taking awhile is all

Maybe it was busy!, yeah that had to be it

People were just busy shopping cause they were at work in the day

So you wait some more

And some more

And now your shaking as you hug yourself

You can’t go home cause you don’t k is the way back and your afraid to leave incase she came back and got mad

There’s a slight chatter sound as your teeth clatter from how much your shaking

The tears feel so cold against your cheeks that you swear they might become frozen to them

There isn’t any noise except for the occasional honk streets away, the night is calm

Until there’s a marsh crash and curses come from the alleyway across from where you sit

It makes you go still and tense

Until a man exits it wearing an odd red mask with glowy eyes

He stumbles out and curses with a weird almost electric sound to his voice before he locks eyes with you

“Oi kid!, what are you doing out so late and alone?”

He takes as step forwards and you scoot back a little bit, still shaking as he now notices how your not wearing much on a cold night

He takes off his jacket

“If I give you my jacket will you tell me your name?”

“I heard I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…can you tell me your name?”

At this nods and as he got closer you dont back away like before

You let him place the large jacket over your shoulders, it’s big and bulky and reminds you of a blanket with the fluff on the inside

He says his name is red hood, something that makes your eyes light up with familiarity

You’d heard about him from your mom watched the news, mentions if the name but never what he looked like

There was also something with him and Batman? But you didn’t really know a lot about it from the snippets you heard

“Does that mean your a hero?.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. But close enough”

“That’s cool, mom said that hero’s were a sham. I always thought their cool, I’m y/n by the way”

“Kid how old are you?, what are you doing out here?”

You go to hold your fingers up to show him but you don’t remember what’s past five

Mom pulled you out of preschool saying she’d Homeschool you but never did

Whatever you had learned was from tv and the limited books you could read

You begin to tear up in frustration

“Hey it’s ok kid. Second question then, what are you doing out here”

“Mom said she needed groceries and she let me come this time so I can carry the bags. She said that I had to wait here till she’s come back”

He goes rigid at that but you don’t notice

You curl up in a ball and zip up the coat around you

Now properly protecting you from the cold except for your feet

“Mr hood can you wait with me. I don’t wanna be alone”

“Sure thing”

So he sits himself beside you on the curb

To pass the time he pulls out a small book labeled “pride and prejudice” and begins reading it to you

It’s nice having someone to read with

He uses different voice for different characters, giving them posh accents that make you giggle

But as time ticks on he notices how your shoulders droop more

Along with your smile

Eventually he stops reading and puts his book away

“She said she’d come back…she’s coming back right?”

It sounds so broken as you ask this, you turn your head to look at him and he sees your reddened eyes that have tears lining them

The only sounds you can make are choked sobs and sniffles as the masked vigilante pulls you into a hug

You grab onto him tightly, small hands digging into the metal plating of his armour

Afraid he’d leave as well just as everyone else in your life did

“Do you have a dad you can go to?”

“Mom said he left because of me…so I don’t think so. Do you think if I go home she’d be mad at me?”

He feels his heart shatter a bit at that and he doesn’t know how to respond other than gently rubbing the back of your head

Jason at this point in his life knows he’s not in the best place to care for himself let alone a kid. He’s a walking corpse back from the dead, wanting to get revenge as his mind unscrambles itself day by day

But as you sob he knows he can’t let go

Those memories of his mother staining his mind along with the sound of your crying

The betrayal similar to this where she willingly led her child to a certain death

He also doesn’t trust the foster care system nor any system for a matter of fact

He’s seen his share of messed up kids that have been created through them

So in that moment Jason makes an impulsive decision he wouldn’t ever regret

“Do…do you wanna come with me then?. You gotta keep my identity a secret though, k?”

“O-ok Mr hood”

“Just call me Jason kid”

Yeah so first couple weeks Jason struggles since he hasn’t exactly looked after a child before

Your an independent kid from the conditions you lived in before but that makes him worry quite a bit

Especially when you have a small snack and call it a dinner

So he just takes small steps, and also reads parenting books…a lot of them actually

He still has to set you up a room so he lets you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch

It’s easier that way cause he’s afraid of accidentally hurting you while having a nightmare

Which he still gets quite frequently

You don’t seem to mind, just thanking him for sleeping in a nice bed and having blankets that properly keep you warm

Before you came along he kinda just got takeout but he knows that isn’t the healthiest thing so he actually starts cooking

He’s pretty decent at it due to helping Alfred and for like the first time in your life you have a proper meal

You have to hold back tears and it makes his heart crack a bit at the sight

Jason hires an online teacher before sending you to school due to the fact your a bit behind in what a child your age needs to know and he doesn’t trust that Gotham is safe enough yet

Speaking of which he’s protective, like real protective for good reason though

He’s still running around at night with Bruce chasing him along with Gotham being a cesspool

So it’s safe to say that it’s not exactly a safe place for you

Won’t admit it but he purposefully buys you clothes that are red cause he thinks it’s cute

Especially if you say you want more red cause it reminds you of him

100% makes it a tradition to read a chapter of a book to you each day and teaches you to read better through it

He gets better from time and experience

Whenever he comes home battered and angry he makes sure to take his anger out on something before he heads into the apartment

He doesn’t wanna accidentally scare you or snap by accident

You try to help him with his wounds (as best as an 8 year old can) and he melts

Another thing that makes him melt is when he walked in on you trying on his helmet and leather jacket

He laughed and then played with you before putting on some ABBA that y’all danced to

It takes awhile but once he gets your room set up he’s really proud and happy with himself for once when seeing your smile

It was when you thank him that you accidentally called him dad

You freeze and go to apologize but he just hugs you

And you feel tears hit your shoulder

“No it’s ok, yeah I’m your dad now kid”

When your about 10-13 he sends you to school since your properly caught up and he thinks it’s probably best you make friends

He’s already at this point gotten you a fake ID with a new last name since he knows if you have Todd then Bruce is gonna look into it

While he isn’t trying to get revenge anymore he’s still not on the best of terms with the old man

A metaphorical wall between them that leaves Bruce at a distance

Jason likes it this way though since no one knows about you

Giving you a relatively normal life

Now that your a bit older he shows you some of his favourite tv even if it’s still not the most age appropriate thing for you to watch

But as long as no one knows you can watch Buffy but shhhh

Loves binging series with you but also enjoys watching movies as well like lost boys

He’s got a soft spot for older films that will probably be transferred to you

Oh and murder mysteries like knives out (Damn you Bruce)

You don’t remember your birthday so he uses the day he found you as it

And at this age he goes 100% on them

Like guess whos gonna go see hadestown?!?

By god he loves you so much, like goes from big intimidating vigilante to gentle little shit when he gets home

Sometimes you try to stay up late to be awake when he gets home

You usually fall asleep and it always makes his heart warm and fuzzy at the sight of it

Definitely takes you around on his motorcycle and makes you your own helmet to match his

You best bet your gonna be the fucking coolest kid in school with the leather jacket he gets you

He teaches you how to defend yourself and stick up for others

And not to let people step over you

Sure he gets some calls from the office but when he hears little Tommy was being a dick he’s taking you to get Dairy Queen and a pat on the back

You also get a lot of his sass as well

Like you’ve gotten in trouble several times for being a smart ass to terrible teachers

He affectionately calls you “little shit” “ankle bitter” “kid” and “brat”

In return you tease him for having white hair and calling him “old man”

At this point he hasn’t told you about Bruce and his revival but you know he has something against Batman

And for now he leaves it at that since he would prefer to tell you when your a bit older since your still a kid

No matter what he’ll get it into your head to NEVER become a hero or vigilante

Seeing him come home battered and bruised is enough to convince you of that though

Along with that he also teaches you about picking and choosing fights and when to know that you should get help

He doesn’t show up to pta meetings at Gotham academy cause he’s kinda scare Bruce is gonna be there and have some questions

There have definitely been some times while taking you out for something that he narrowly avoided his family

Speaking of which despite them not knowing about you, you actually know about them

Jason actually entrusts you with the information that their the bat family to you since he knows you won’t tell anyone

Even if you did it would sound like a kid spouting off fun theories

You once called Nightwing a dick for a joke and he turned around all confused until he realized what you said

When you told Jason he laughed his ass off about it

Every year for Halloween he lets you borrow one of his spare masks and y’all go out for trick or treating

At the end of it you guys have a tradition of eating some of your spoils of candy on a rooftop overlooking Gotham

When you become a teenager he’s surprisingly really good at dealing with you

Partially because Jason’s still a grungy teen at heart lol

Y’all don’t really have misunderstandings since he puts effort into making some communication is key

Unlike with Bruce who he feels never tried to see his viewpoint Jason makes sure to see your one on topics and issues

But that’s the rare case you guys actually have a discussion like that

Jason actually really happy if you start dating and isn’t really bothered by it?

He knows you can handle yourself and trusts your judge of characters unless he gets reallly off vibes about them

Like serial killer kinda vibes

Then he’s stepping In

If you do have a bad break up though he’s 100% taking you to egg that persons house

And the he takes you to a nice dinner while you both shit talk or if your not feeling up to that he gets ice cream and y’all watch your favourite happy movie

Whatever career you want to pursue you can bet that he will support you

He’s your biggest cheerleader and if it came to it he’d get Pompom’s to prove a point

If you don’t know where you wanna go that’s fine as well!

He doesn’t fucking know what he’s doing with his life either lol and he certainly doesn’t have a conventional job (that’s for sure)

He’s super happy if you begin experimenting with different styles especially if it’s something kinda alt, grunge or punk

Cause then you both can match and he can give you some of his old stuff he’d think you like

At this point in your life he’d be really happy if you share some of your favourite music with him

He has a lot of range and versatility in his playlists but he isn’t as up to date with modern music as he’d like to be

He’d probably really like Doja cat, tame impala, Lovejoy, and Mitski

God if you show him Mitski expect to one day find him crying whilst listening to it

If you ask him what’s wrong he’ll just say “it’s one of those days” (Me)

Speaking of which, this is the time where Jason actually opens up about why he has nightmares so often and why he hated Bruce

It’s definitely a bit jarring to hear about him being beaten to death and then revived

And you definitely get a bit upset that Bruce didn’t do anything to really get revenge on the joker

Though you know your view is biased from being Jason’s kid and watching him growing up have full on horrific nightmares that would make him wake up screaming

How his mom betrayed him as well

It’s a big thing for him to talk about since he usually prefers to not relive those memories in his mind

But he knows that you’d learn eventually and he’d prefer if it was from his mouth

For him to tell about his trauma when he felt that both of you were ready

You feel closer to him in heart

And you hug him like when he had found you all those years ago

And Jason finds himself content

Any concert you want to go to he’s probably tagging along since he enjoys those type of events

Even if it’s for a musician that isn’t his favourite

He finds any hobby you have or anything you wanna collect

Cause he wants you to be happy and even if he doesn’t get it per say seeing your smile makes him understand

If it’s something he also likes though then be prepared cause your sharing that collection with him

And you both are gonna geek out over shit

He still reads to you as a small tradition you’ve both continued since him taking you in

Just you snuggled beside him in a cocoon of blankets as he reads a book of your recommendation aloud

A vinyl playing on a low level in the background

That alone pushes him to never give up when on patrol

He has you to return to, he has someone who he cared for more than his own life

The only bit of normality he has in his life after being thrown into the bubbling green waters of the Lazarus pit. Coming back as a broken and lost man hellbent on revenge and lingering rage

And of fucking course it’s during one of these nights as he’s reading Carmila that Bruce and Dick decide to drop by

“What the?!- Jason who the hell’s that?!?”

“Do we lie orrr?” “Can’t lie to em kid, their like living lie detectors” “those don’t even properly work though, you can cheat them easily” “it was an analogy”

“Can still hear y-“

“Shut up dick”

“They know?”

“Yeah well…of course I’d tell my kid about you guys”

“I’m an uncle?!?. How long have you had them?!?, how?!”

“How old are they?”

“I’m right here you know, Stop talking as if I’m not you geezers”

Haha yeah….Bruce is having a crisis realizing he’s technically a grandpa now

Hurray

There are like 2000 things going on in his mind right now and he definitely needs a chair to sit down on

He’s still in his costume so his emotions aren’t really showing but you can definitely tell he’s not ok by how he’s leaning against the wall looking kinda faint

He happy but at the same time he’s kinda upset that Jason never told him

Like, you’ve had a kid for years and never told me, your dad?!?

Jason definitely needs to have a talk with him and explain his side of the situation (which you practically force the two of them to do)

He’s kinda akward around you but not in a bad way, moreso in the “so kiddo what do you kids like these days” kinda way

He’s missed out on countless years of your life and didn’t even know you existed up until now and now your suddenly revealed to be his grandkid

He has like years of birthdays, Christmas’s, Easter’s and every other fucking holidays to catch up on

He starring holes into you by accident and your dad has to lightly smack his arm to tell him to stop lol

He means well though and you know that

Meanwhile Dick is ecstatic cause he’s an uncle!!

He’s already ready to brag to everyone he knows about it and be like “pshh that cool but I’m now an uncle”

Bro’s sitting beside you and asking everything about your interests and achievements

It’s kinda sweet since he’s just nodding along adding “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” every once in awhile

It reminds you a bit of a golden retriever

But with that also comes the little devil on your shoulder tempting you to mess with him a bit

And you do so

“I have the best insults from here to metropolis”

“Want to prove that?”

“Sure. I bet you have so much ass hair that when you have diarrhea it comes out as filtered water”

They quickly learn you have Jason’s mouth if not worse

Wither you or Jason realize it or not your both alike in more ways than one

#platonic #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader

1K notes · View notes

stories-and-chaos · 4 months

Text

Shrike: Drinks with Mimzy

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 1587. Cw: aphobia, alcoholism, cursing]

——————

The day after Lucifer’s visit, you went hunting. Not for souls or deals. Or…well one soul and in particular. And you didn’t intend to make a deal with this one. It took some time, checking various bars and clubs. You didn’t know which ones she was likely to frequent nowadays; being an Overlord didn’t give you much chance to go bar hopping with girlfriends.

So it wasn’t until early evening that you found her. Sitting at the bar, clearly tipsy, nursing another glass of whiskey, and bitching to the clearly annoyed bartender was Mimzy. You watched her finish her latest glass. “Gimme another one a these sugar.”

“Make that two, cher.” You came up next to Mimzy and slid a bill to the bartender. He looked even more annoyed at the idea of there being two whiny bitches at his bar but he got your drinks. “Thanks cher,” you said with a smile.

Mimzy glared at you. “Ugh, the fuck do you want?” It didn’t stop her from grabbing the drink you paid for.

“What, I can’t buy my friend a drink or five?” You expected hostility but damn. This seemed excessive. Fortunately you knew the way into her good graces: free drinks.

“Friends?!” she growled. “You come here saying we’re ‘friends’ after what your husband just pulled on me?!”

You sipped your whiskey, doing your best to let her fury wash over you. “From what I saw, Alastor pulled you out of yet another situation, and told you to take off because your problem trashed the place.”

“Like those sharks made much of a difference to that tacky joint. If anything I did you bastards a favor, free demolition.” She laughed nastily and finished her drink. You caught the bartender’s attention and nodded to Mimzy. You slid him another bill as he supplied her with another glass; it was high enough denomination to cover whatever she’d had already.

“Maybe you have a point, cher.” Not really, but you didn’t want her to close you out yet. You needed her less hostile, at least for now. “Here, let me treat you today Mimzy. Make it up to you.”

“Oh you know just how to butter me up doll.” The curvaceous blonde gladly accepted. If she owed 50 grand to loan sharks, doubtless she had tabs at every place in the city that sold alcohol. Which made up the majority of businesses in Hell.

You drank sparingly, just enough so she felt you were having a grand time together. You had the bartender keep supplying her refills; he seemed in a better mood now that someone else was dealing with the sloshed demon.

You let her bitch about everything in her afterlife and responded with soothing noises. In the end, you wanted to know how much shit she was in. This was the first time Alastor had sent her packing; you weren’t sure how she would react. You hadn’t missed the pink mark on her back on her shoulder blade. It hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen your old colleague.

Once she paused in her rambling, you asked about the mark. “I never expected you to get a tattoo, cher. What convinced you?”

The drinks and your apparent sympathy were enough to keep her talking, especially if it was something else to bitch about. “Ugh, that. Had to get it for work. One of the club owners works for someone that works for someone that works for one a’ the Sins. Greed’s head honcho.” She sipped her drink, starting to slow down as she got drunker. “The Sin bastard likes to mark any Sinners working for him, like some horny creep.” She downed the rest of her current whiskey.

“‘Course if you and your beau were properly grateful. I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit.” She pointed at you, empty glass in hand, her eyes looking unfocused and angry. The bartender moved to give her another drink but you made a cutting motion. This was the first time you heard anything of this.

“Grateful for what?” You asked, unable to help yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember what she could be talking about.

She looked at you, black and pink eyes wavering. “Fucking, of course!” You could only tilt your head. “Jesus Christ, it’s been a century and you’re still clueless? It ain’t cute anymore dollface.” Mimzy set her glass down harshly. “Sex, Y/N. S. E. X. If me and the gals hadn’t said anything, you and Alastor woulda never figured it out. You’d probably still be frigid little virgins in Hell.”

Your jaw dropped as you felt a cold spike in your core. You actually had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been stabbed. No, it was just words from someone you’d still thought of fondly. The alcohol didn’t excuse Mimzy; if anything it made her more honest.

Has she always felt like that? No… you remembered her saying she thought you and Alastor were good together. That she wanted you both to be happy. Somewhere in all those decades between then and now, things changed.

She was smirking as you processed all this, glad that she managed to hit you where it hurt evidently. In the way only people who are hurting can do, she kept pushing. But she didn’t realize what exactly hurt you. “You’re probably both terrible in bed too. Lemme guess, you just lay there while he tries to remember where to stick it?” Mimzy kept going as you stayed silent.

As her insults grew, the betrayal of a friend gave way to comedic disbelief. You started chuckling, then you were outright laughing, pounding your taloned fist on the counter. It was a good thing you had finished your drink because all the glasses around you jumped.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Your laughter finally got her stream of rudeness to stop. The indignant look on Mimzy's face just made you laugh harder, your feet kicking in glee.

“Oh, damn, I’m gonna pee myself. Fucking Hell Mimzy! Oh fuck, I needed that laugh.” You wheezed and took deep breaths until you could look at her reddened face without laughing. “Cher, you got one thing right; I still don’t understand all this nonsense about sex. Alastor still doesn’t either.

But that’s never mattered. I’ll never understand why you people think that’s so important to us. Maybe we wouldn’t have ever done it. I doubt that but we also would never have cared. You and so many others are so obsessed with sex that you can’t even imagine a relationship without it! It would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

Mimzy blinked at you, confusion, anger, and drunkenness warring in her expression. “Even now, you don’t get it! Cher, you insulting us about sex didn’t hurt. You’re a friend and my friend thinking I was stupid hurt.”

You ran your hand down your face. “Mimzy, cher, I’m just going to back up my darling here. If you want to redeem yourself, you’re welcome at the hotel. But don’t come calling otherwise. Especially if what’s his name, Mammon? The Greed Sin, comes after you. We’ll gift wrap you for him before we tussle with a Deadly Sin.”

Pulling the bartender aside, you paid for her outstanding tab, along with tonight’s drinks and a generous tip. “I paid your tab here, so you can call that payment for that talk years ago. Find me when you decide to not be a bitch.” You tucked one of your feathers into her headband. “Au revoir cher.”

Mimzy snatched the feather out and crushed it in her hands. “I don’t need you or him. I don’t need your hotel! I hope those angels kill all of you next Extermination Day, bitch!”

Back at the hotel, Alastor was in the parlor, listening to Charlie’s plans for her visit to Heaven. “Soooooo, how did it go?” he asked in a sing-song tone once he spotted you. You’d told him your plan to find Mimzy before leaving.

“As well as could be expected. I don’t think she’ll bother us anymore. I told her we’d gift wrap her for whoever came looking if she tried something like yesterday again.”

“Hmm, but that would be such a waste of good gift wrap.”

Later that night, in your suite, you went into more detail about your conversation. You were on Alastor’s lap, venting your hurt and tears. “I know she’s gotten worse in Hell, that she’s been using you, but I thought she was still our friend.” He let you get it all out, handkerchief at the ready when you were.

“I thought so as well, cher,” he said quietly. “I hate to admit it but Husk pointed it out to me. We can’t have her interfering though.”

“No,” you said simply, drying your eyes.

Alastor looked down at you, that sharp edged smile just a bit softer than usual. “I think I know what can help you for now, my dear.” With that he stood you both up and started humming, a question in his eyes. Your voice felt a bit hoarse from crying but you hummed along, practice making you harmonize. Then he swept you into a dance.

After a few numbers, you felt up to singing. The two of you danced until you were tired (Alastor probably could have kept going but he didn’t have an emotionally stressful day). That night you fell asleep in his arms, glad you’d married someone that understood you like he did.

——————

A/N: this is more than a little self indulgent on my part. My frustrations with aphobes knows no bounds. Kinda prompted after discussion with a therapist concerning aphobia and the nonsense acespec people deal with. Never forget how valid you are. 💜🤍🩶🖤 💚🤍🩶🖤 Cheers darlings!

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin mimzy #alastor #alastor x reader #asexual alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation #aphobia #aphobes fuck off #aroace

226 notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 1 year

Text

folklore: this is me trying ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ folklore masterlist

summary: widowed!jake sully x female!reader, no use of y/n, angst, marriage of convenience, jake being mean? but he is a grieving boy!, mentions of death, TW!! it is not explicitly mentioned in this chapter but in this series it is eluded to death during childbirth, it might be mentioned later on, but i will do my best to not go into too much detail

word count: 1,898

sempul (n) - father ; sa’nok (n) - mother

‘ite (n) - daughter ; ‘itan (n) - son

comments: hi honeys, i am really excited about this series, i hope you enjoy it as much as i do. that being said, with what i mentioned in the summary, if anything seems like it will be too hard of a read, pls skip past this, your mental health is far more important! but i will do my best to not dive deep into the topic. but ok tysm, love you all!! byeeee mwaaaah ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

next ✩

- pandora, omitikaya forest, 2162 -

You swallowed roughly when you felt a lump form at your throat, desperately trying not to cry as the tears swelled your eyes. How did you end up in this situation? Why was Eywa punishing you this way? “When we mate-I do not wish to create Tsaheylu. That was reserved for Neytiri and I.”

Jake’s words continued to echo in your mind, “What?”

You could feel the frustration seeping out of him, tense and angry, as if what he said made perfect sense and you just didn’t understand. It was not fair, not to you and he knew it. “You-that is taking so much from me.” Your bottom lip quivered, it felt like someone had shoved a piping hot metal down your throat. “I understand we do not love each other, but-but this is something we look forward to our whole life and you will not even give me the courtesy of mating with me properly? Hold no true loyalty to me, nor I to you?”

Your tears began to fall in the next instant, bursting out as you refrained from holding back and sobbing loudly. Mo’at had come to both of you separately, informing you that Eywa had called upon her after the passing of Neytiri. The Great Mother wanted your path to cross with the Olo’eyktan.

Jake’s ears felt hot as they pressed down flat against his head, he was angry. Angry that the world had taken his mate from him, angry that the clan was forcing him to move on, angry that you did not understand where he was coming from. Besides his four children, there would never be anyone he loved more than Neytiri.

The thought of bearing his soul to you was too much, he would not risk his heart again. “I love Neytiri, you and I-we don't love each other, you said it yourself. I would never disrespect her by giving that part of myself to anyone else.”

He was being mean, he knew it too. “Many words have been used to describe you, but no one ever said you were mean. You are being cruel.”

Jake let out a deep breath, eyes starting to leak tears of frustration as he watched you cave in on yourself. You were mourning your future, what could have been for you, what you were never going to have.

“I had to let you know before this continued any further. Eywa has given us signs, I will respect her wishes and treat you with dignity as my wife, the kids-they love you. Neytiri loved you. And I am sorry I cannot give you a life filled with love but I can protect you. I will stand beside you through every moment.”

You said nothing, heart heavy with grief. “I know it is a lot to ask, but I need your help. Please.”

Your eyes caught Jake’s, tear stains down his face and as he pleaded with you, begging you. “You understand I will be giving my life to you. Depriving myself to find someone who loves me?”

Jake’s ears turned downwards, still pressed tightly against his head and he felt the guilt web it’s way through his entire body. He felt the rejection coming and he did not blame you. It was not a fair trade, he got a wife to look over his kids, care for him and his family and you got a love-less union, being upheld for appearance sake only.

Your throat dried up as he stayed silent, tears never ending from your eyes as they flowed down to your neck and chest.

“I’m trying, look-I cannot do that to Neytiri. I have never loved someone so deeply, when she and I promised ourselves to each other it was because we both knew that was right. We both knew we were meant to be by one another’s side-and creating Tsaheylu with you, it would rob the sentiment because we do not love each other, you said it yourself. I-I do not know how to phrase that gently, I do not wish to hurt you, only to be honest.”

There was a beat of silence, it was so defining that Jake's ears started to ring uncomfortably. You owed so much of the person you were to Neytiri and because of that you would not let her children suffer, “I will do it.”

Jake’s head snapped up, fear and gratitude on full display for you to see, your eyes had concealed themselves, your stare was cold and devoid, resignation as you came to terms with your future. “How will we go about this? I-” You paused and let out a breath through your nose, “I cannot stand in front of the clan and lie, celebrate as if this is normal, or joyous.”

You grumbled out quietly, “Feels like a death sentence.”

If Jake heard your last comment, he said nothing. His brain was still trying to process you agreeing to do this, why you would, he does not know.

It was as if you were reading his mind, “I am doing this for the children only. I know Neytiri would want someone to raise her kids, she would never want them to lack the love of a mother. And although I am not one, I loved Neytiri as if she were my sister, and for that the kids will never not know kindness from me.”

Jake’s shoulder sagged with relief, the last few months had been so very hard. He was trying to be a good father and help his oldest three process their grief while trying to not let his own swallow him whole.

You felt so nauseous, something swirling in the pit of your stomach trying to force its way up your throat. This was too much, too raw for you to accept. You pitied yourself but pitied the man before you even more. Jake’s throat felt rough, as if someone had forced sand down his mouth, “I will announce that we have mated at tomorrow's feast, that it happened the night prior.”

Your eyes dilated in fear, “You want me to leave with you tonight?”

“It is the only way I can think of to get Mo’at to stop pressing us. If they know we plan to mate, then they will watch our every move.”

Jake was trying to be sympathetic, trying not to be mean but he needed everyone to get off his case. He needed to start healing from the pain that leaked into every aspect of his life from the second Neytiri was taken from him. And he was right, you were tired of the sympathetic looks being sent your way as you walked by.

Everyone in the clan knew of the love Neytiri and Jake held for each other, you never stood a chance. The whispers were the worst of it, and at times you wondered if it was true. You wondered if Eywa had truly turned her back on you.

“Fine. I wish to let my parents know, they will not expect my sudden departure.”

Your voice and face were void of any emotion, cold as if the flicker within you had died, Jake felt the guilt embed into his soul. Everything he touched burnt out, fizzled and turned to ash. But he would not let that happen to his children, he would not let them feel the loss of a mother and your love for Neytiri drove the both of you to put your feelings aside.

Jake was about to thank you, as much as he did not want this he knew this was a larger sacrifice for you. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he watched your body go rigid as the tent entrance was thrown open. Your mother and father had walked in, followed by all of your younger siblings. The happy chatter died as they saw their oldest daughter and the Olo’ekytan in their family home.

Small streaks of tears down your face instantly put your parents on edge but your father turned to Jake to greet him properly. “Olo’eyktan Sully, how are you?”

Jake's fingers reached his forehead, head tilted downward as his hand extended forward, “I am doing well, and yourself?”

The small talk ensued as you stood by the corner of your home, trying your best to avoid your mother’s concerned gaze. “‘Ite, what is the Olo’eyktan doing in our hut?”

Jake tensed up, fear gripping at his throat as he watched you with careful eyes, he was not sure if you would be able to do it. Lie to your family, from what he had gathered from Neytiri you all had a close bond, even more so after your sister Zewlay was killed by the RDA.

“Sempul-Sa’nok, Jake and I-” You paused, trying to force the words out of your mouth. Jake cut in quickly as he saw your form begin to shake, his legs making quick work as he crossed the tent to you, stiffly wrapping an arm around you to keep you up.

“Your daughter and I have mated before Eywa.”

Those eight words sealed your future and it was deathly quiet besides the gasp that left your mothers mouth as your eyes pooled with tears. “Oh ‘ite! I am very happy for you both.”

The tears fell from your eyes instantly, “Thank you, Sa’nok.”

Your mother instantly pulled you out of Jake’s hold, engulfing her arms around you as your body shook, “Why the tears my sweet girl?” Her voice dropped quietly as she whispered into your ear, “Are you not happy with the union?”

You pulled away from her, eyes jumping to your fathers as she wiped at the tear stains. Confusion evident in his gaze,“No-no I am just sad to be leaving you all. I just do not wish for you or Ma’Sempul to be angry with me.”

Your father said nothing, still trying to process what your mate had said. After a short while he slowly made his way to Jake, your fathers head was held high as he kept eye contact with him. Jake would not be shocked if your father would have strangled him, he was eerily quiet as he approached him, “Take care of my daughter, ‘itan.”

Relief flooded your system, eyes drifting towards Jake’s and you gave him a small nod, reassuring him all was well. “We must celebrate! Let me call on Mo’at and begin the preparations.”

“No!”

Your mother stilled and confusion littered her features, “Sorry Ma’, Jake and I do not want such a fuss over us. That is why our union was kept for just the two of us. He will announce it during tomorrow's communal feast and that is all.”

Your mother was about to protest but your father removed her from you, “If that is what you wish ‘ite.”

You nodded swiftly, moving towards Jake as you refrained from tensing up again, “Yes-I will pack some things and leave tonight.”

Your family was happy for you, they knew with the Olo’eyktan by your side you will always be loved and protected by the clan. “May your union prosper against all odds. Though we know the Great Mother makes no mistakes.” They could not have wanted anyone better to love you, oh how wrong they were.

“Thank you, Sa’nok.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully x reader #folklore: jake sully ୨୧ #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #jake sully smut #neteyam sully #loak sully #kiri sully #avatar #atwow #atwow x reader #neytiri #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar 1 #avatar 2

2K notes · View notes