#and maybe 👀 perhaps...lovers???? 👀
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we all agree kyoutani is trans, right? and he likes iwa so much bc iwa is also trans?
#they're both just so trans#and maybe 👀 perhaps...lovers???? 👀#honestly seijoh is just a trans team in general but iwa and kyoutani t4t besties#hmm...#thinking thoughts#i will send them to bex#kyoutani#iwaizumi#hq#queer hq#wtf jordan
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off-guard — gojo satoru x f!reader
a/n: what happens when the trio follow their teacher once again? will they end in another maid cafe or find some very worthy tea? 👀
“okay, this is the plan: we will follow gojo-sensei to see just what the hell is up with that guy.”
megumi sighs, “last time we did that—the results weren’t exactly ‘pleasing’, itadori.”
yuuji huffs, “I beg to differ!”
“paintbrush is moving! I repeat! paintbrush is moving!” they hear nobara say through the walkie talkie.
yuji and megumi look at each other before nodding and stealthy following their teacher. each one is wearing his respective disguise of wigs and huge glasses.
meanwhile nobara, with a disguise of her own, is following gojo closely, who seems to be going into a certain café. she grumbles before whisper-yelling into the walkie-talkie, “where are you guys?!”
“we’re here, calm down!” megumi huffs.
itadori nods, “yeah! we’re going to get our cover blown like this.”
the three glare at each other before focusing once again on the moving paintbrush. the moment he opens the door, they notice his gaze searching for someone specific.
nobara covers her mouth so she doesn’t audibly gasp. does he perhaps have a lover? if so then she shall welcome the tea with open arms.
nobara, itadori, and megumi are lined outside the window of the café which makes them, undoubtedly, look suspicious. so, to save grace, megumi drags them inside into a table far from gojo who seems to have sat alone.
there is a hint of melancholy yet excitement in his eyes. each of the three prop up the menus to conceal their faces further.
nobara eyes gojo before speaking up, “who do you think he is waiting for?”
“maybe a lover?”
“or a friend,” megumi mumbles, but he rules out that possibility quickly. gojo looks nervous or at least as nervous as he could.
there is the light tapping of his feet and the way his eyes snap to the door every time the bell rings only for his eyes to brim with disappointment when it isn’t the person he is waiting for.
barely a minute passes by, but nobara and yuuji are getting impatient and nobara snaps—as quietly as she can— “where is that person?!”
“just when are they going to arrive?!” itadori joins in.
megumi sighs in the background, “we’ve been here for 2 minutes guys, please.”
their wait ends fairly quickly when they hear the excited gasp of their teacher, who stands up abruptly before eagerly waving at someone, “y/n! sweets! I am here!”
they look towards the door at the same time and they are met with a sight to be seen.
you, someone that was so pretty that yuuji passed out, are waving back at satoru before skipping over to him.
he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and peppering your face with kisses, “you look as pretty as ever!”
“and you’re as flirty as ever, satoru,” you pet his hair softly, “how have you been?”
he sighs, happily, before responding, “I’ve been fine, but I feel even better after I saw you,” he slowly pulls back so he can pull your chair out, “have a seat, m’lady,” he winks, “we have a date to go through.”
you roll your eyes before sitting, “isn’t chivalry dead, satoru?”
“then I must be a ghost,” he hums before sitting down as well.
“I would believe that, honestly,” you chuckle at his offended face before pointing at the top of his head, “you have the white hair and everything.”
the two of you soon get lost in your bickering and conversation. meanwhile, megumi is smacking the shit out of itadori so he wakes up and nobara is gaping at how pretty you look, “how is she even real?!”
megumi spares poor itadori, who finally woke up, before looking nobara, “I really don’t know why she would settle down for someone like him.”
itadori nods, “literally, out of everyone.”
but nobara sighs with a smile which gets the two boys’ attention.
she looks up at her teacher conversing with you, “but they look pretty in love; I mean look at the way they’re looking at each other.”
the boys turn their heads to look at the both you and they have to admit: nobara’s right. both of your eyes speak a magnitude of feelings and all of them are as gentle as a cloud.
it seems that you’re both so preoccupied by the other that you forgot everyone around you.
there is also the way gojo is holding your hand and rubbing circles on it as you talk. he is smiling so contently and so quietly like the only thing he wants to hear is you.
no wonder he didn’t notice them. he is so absorbed in you.
and the way the feeling is mutual just makes them feel very happy for their teacher even if he is annoying as hell sometimes. it’s nice how the both of you are so openly infatuated with the other.
megumi stands up before pulling itadori by the scruff, “let’s go, they need some privacy.”
Itadori struggles as he is dragged away, “why am I always treated like this?! what about nobara?!”
nobara glares at itadori before megumi stops to look at her.
she raises her fists, “don’t you even dare—“
a loud screech is heard from her as megumi drags her and itadori back to jujutsu high. a lot of passersby are staring, but megumi has seen way too much in his life to care at this point.
on the other hand, satoru is sipping his drink as you watch the kids getting dragged away, “these are your students?”
he nods excitedly before grinning, “yup! so, what do you think about them?”
“they certainly take after you,” you snicker and he narrows his eyes at you, leaning forward so his face is directly in front of your own.
“and what’s that supposed to mean?”
you shrug pushing him away with your index finger to his forehead, “it means whatever you think it means; you’re a smart guy.”
he tilts his head, a smirk instantly plastered on his face, “oh, two can play this game.”
meanwhile, in jujutsu high, the first years are sitting in their beloved classroom.
itadori pulls out the camera, “I got pictures!”
nobara snatches it, “great job itadori!” and megumi gives the boy a small thumbs up.
they browse through the many pictures he had taken and the one that catches their attention the most is a photo of you two smiling at each other, so lost in the other’s eyes, so in love.
but nobara quickly gets over it and continues browsing through the photos.
“itadori, did you get the picture?” nobara whispers to itadori and he nods eagerly.
she takes a hold of the new obtained treasure, a photo of gojo beaming without being a smug bastard, and smirks, “we’re going to get so rich after we sell this.”
“I also got this,” megumi says as he shows off a photo of gojo, somehow, getting attacked by a squirrel with you trying to help him despite laughing your ass off.
nobara gasps, “when did you even get this?!”
“a couple of moments after we left? squirrels hate him for some reason.”
nobara cackles, an evil glint in her eyes, “blackmail, baby!”
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or I will send the trio after you
#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk imagines#gojo imagine#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru imagine#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x you#jjk gojo x reader#jjk fluff#jjk gojo x y/n#jjk gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo scenario#gojo imagines#gojo satoru
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the clash | i. hey, ho! let’s go!
hobie brown x goth!reader
word count: 1.1k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie
a/n: it’s here 😎 no but fr, i proudly present a new series focusing on hobie brown, loml. i‘m trying to make it gn, so if you spot anything that needs fixing lemme know. i also did include a bit of a description of what you look like, but it’s mainly just to affirm the gothic spider-person look. and if you don’t like it, you can just pretend it isn’t there, my character designer brain just took a hold while explaining lol. enjoy y’all, there’s more where this came from 👀
now reading: i. hey, ho! let’s go!
next chapter: ii. time bomb
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In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. In reality, the two of you were checking each other out, but no one needs to know that. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Your gaze first fell on his many piercings, which suited him very well. Almost as well as the spikes coming out of the shoulders of his tattered denim vest. “See somethin’ you like?” you hear his thick cockney accent, and you shrug. “The constant changing makes it difficult,” you say, causing him to shrug. “I hate consistency,” he says, staring you up and down. “I like the guitar,” you say, and he nods. “Everyone does.” You raise an eyebrow, and he takes in the way your heavy black eyeliner makes the expression look more exaggerated than it is. His eyes go down, taking in your outfit, which seems to be varying in different gothic styles, but overall is all black with silver studs, spikes, and charms sticking out everywhere. He notices the two of you share a liking for combat boots, and perhaps his favorite thing about you are the intricate and all black spider-web tattoos on your hands crawling their way up your arms. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”
“Feisty for a goth.”
“Instigative as all punks are.”
“What… is going on,’ Peter whispers to Miguel who shakes his head. “I thought they would be best friends?” Peter suggests as he places a binky in Mayday’s mouth. “I did too…” Miguel says, “Maybe this is just a way these types of alternative people talk?”
“Tal vez tengas razón… Hobie does love to be abrasive for no reason,” Miguel concludes, and Peter shrugs and they zone in on the two of you again. “...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”
“For the most part, huh?”
“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond, and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”
“It’s the ideal society—”
“Good start—”
“But completely unrealistic.”
“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”
“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry, and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen; I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”
“Not yet, but we’re gettin’ there,” he clenches his teeth, and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say, and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fuckin’ person and stop usin’ these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”
“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel somethin’ when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Well, that went horribly!”
Miguel punches him on the shoulder, resulting in a soft ‘ow’ and a tiny angry noise from Mayday. “What the hell was that Hobart?” Miguel nearly yells and Hobie snaps his head towards him. “Don’t call me that, neither! They don’t get it. It’s not enough to want to make a difference in the world. You need to take action. Goths love to sit on the sidelines and lament instead of playing the offensive,” Hobie explains, a deep frown on his face, “Watch out for them. They might not be able to do what it takes when it counts.” Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hobie, you’re supposed to show them around—”
“No, fuck that. I’m not goin’ anywhere near that gothic monstrosity,” Hobie says shaking his head in defiance. “We made a deal. You would show all the younger spider—”
“Yeah, well you can shove that deal up your fuckin’ ass, mate, I’m not doin’ shit for them!”
“Okay, okay, calm down there, man. Why don’t you just ask Gwen to help you? Maybe Miles and Pavitr too? That way you fulfill your promise, 'cause I know promises are important to you, and you won’t have to talk to them!” Peter reasons and Hobie looks over at him. He furrows his eyebrows. That would help the situation. And maybe he’d be able to help you see just how garbage your take was with Gwen on his side. “Fine. But I’m not doin’ it cause I need help, and I’m not doin’ it because you told me to. I’m doin’ it cause it’s the last thing that they’d want,” Hobie says, pointing at Peter while saying it, flipping Miguel off, and then webbing away. Peter looks at Miguel who is clenching his fists… and his jaw. “You seem stressed, but don’t worry about it. Not all of us need to like each other, I mean there’s so many there’s no possible way we all could and look at you, you hate Miles even though he’s awesome and—”
“Shut. Up. Peter,” Miguel growls, stalking away while mumbling various things in Spanish. Peter looks down at Mayday. “Tough crowd,” he says as she giggles up at him.
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『 tag list 』
@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @weyrrii*
*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x you#spiderpunk x reader#spiderverse x reader#hobie brown#spiderpunk#spider-punk#spiderverse#theclashofthespiderverse
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Hihi, i wanted to make a request (if it’s open) Your last aventurine and welt pieces were beautiful 🩷
Dr ratio hasn’t gotten the time to spend time with you lately and he works hard, but you are his supportive spouse so you bring him snacks and remind him to take breaks in between and kiss the cheek of his alabaster head as a treat (he has it on) before you do your own work. Now all he can think about is you for the rest of the day (perhaps he would have preferred it on his skin too)
If you don’t write for him that’s fine ^^
No need to rush, tyt! ☁️
YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU.
HUSBAND!RATIO x GN!READER
WARNINGS: annoyed Ratio, jealousy over an inanimate object (?), drowning in work. 2nd person POV (you/yours/yourself)
WORD COUNT: 494
AUTHOR NOTE: i know what you are👀
The day was slow at the Intelligentsia Guild, especially for the infamous Dr. Ratio.
Since the day began, all he has been doing is deal with insufferable morons with a worn-out shoe for a brain! Such imbeciles, Ratio believes time is precious, but unfortunately his students are dumb enough to waste it, even dumber to waste his time by asking how old he is or if he’s single or not.
Those fools don’t have to know that at-work Dr. Ratio is different than at-home Veritas, and can’t they figure out the question themselves by paying the slightest bit of attention to the silver band on his left hand’s ring finger? His attitude should’ve intimidated them enough for their minds to not go beyond the assumption that all he does at home is shower, eat work and sleep.. right? At least, that’s what he thinks.
However, he hasn’t been paying enough attention to the beautiful person sharing the other ring with him; the one he said his vows to. All he does when he goes back home is shower, eat, work and sleep. That’s it. He doesn’t even have time to glance your way, and that angers him.
He put on his alabastor head; His expression was too sour to welcome anyone who dares enter his office besides higher-ups. And just as he was about to start working in peace, a knock erupted at his office’s door, great. Ratio grumbled quietly. “Come in.” He spoke in an authoritative tone, expecting this to be a higher-up or an idiot student.
You open the door, a box in your hand, and a wide smile that rivals the sun in its shiny glory. “Veritas!” You call out as a greeting, before rushing to his desk. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll make this quick. You forgot your lunch at my office,” Oh, so that’s where his lunch went. You also worked at the Intelligentsia Guild, also being a teacher of high regard. Opposites attract, they say. All of your students love you, and you’re friends with everyone; An obvious contrast from your husband. You place the lunchbox on his desk with your left hand, the band on your ring finger glistening in the sunlight, the source being the window behind Veritas’ chair.
You then lean in and kiss the cheek of the alabastor head, then the lips. It wasn’t enough, since the head lacked the warmth of skin, but you were content. You give him a smile before you head out the door, just like that.
Ratio slowly took off the alabastor head, looking at it in disgust as if it owes him something. It does, it took away his lover’s kisses. As childish as it sounds, he’s been craving a kiss for a while. He supposes he has to wait until he goes back home, maybe he’ll get all the kisses he wants. In exchange of his work being put aside, even for a little while.
#honkai star rail#dr ratio#veritas ratio#hsr ratio#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail ratio#ratio x reader#ratio x you#hsr fanfic#hsr fandom#hsr x reader#star rail
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Hii, just saw that u have prompts and I wanna ask u if u can do Prompt 9 w/ Aventurine plz?👀
sudden whispering kisses
prompt - first kisses
includes - aventurine
warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, wc - 603
you'd like to think that you would get used to aventurines habits - or atleast find them more tolerable. sure you two hadn't been dating that long but you'd known him longer than this relationship and maybe you were a bit presumptuous to assume you would have a grasp on his ways by now. however it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that somebody may show a different side to them to a loved one instead of a friend.
by no means was aventurine open and honest with people. for too long had he relied on a simple poker face, large gambles and a web of lies to get to where he was - sometimes he wondered if he had lost himself in it. so to let someone get this close to him to allow them into a relationship? he would sometimes admit he'd think it would've been impossible.
getting into this relationship had been no issue but the reality of finally having you by his side was dawning, but he wouldn't back down. it may be slightly toxic to view your relationship as the greatest gamble he'd ever make but it would be all worth it to him if you were his final prize.
and so, due to his real reluctance to actually let his guard down it would take a while for him to commit to something as simple as a first kiss. he was eccentric sure, hand holding, hugs and even chaste kisses to your forehead or hand but never a proper kiss. you would soon find out that the first kiss you'd share with him would in fact be in his most vulnerable.
he'd never admit it, but he started viewing your presence and your embrace as a sanctuary. a safe place. somewhere where he was no longer one of the ten stonehearts and esteemed gambler, instead he was your lover. if he ever admitted this it would be his ultimate show of weakness to you and he just wasn't ready for that.
that didn't stop him from seeking you out after a tiring day that got to him alot more than he'd let on. his mind was practically drained and the only person he'd want to be around was you and so without thinking he seeked out your presence - more requested you to find his room at the reverie to wait for him to exit the dreamscape.
he woke just in time to hear your knocking and made no wait in opening the door and letting you in before checking it was locked properly again. you could practically see the tiredness etched across his face - while he may look completely fine to others, you finally started being able to pick up on these ques.
before he even had time to get in a comment of such, you had grabbed his arm and lead him to the couch in the room. rest was rare for aventurine, and so he unconsciously rested his head against your shoulder for a moment of respite. his mind started wondering in the silence, was meeting you a true show of his luck? and before he knew it he had turned your head to look at him before pressing his lips against yours.
you were taken aback at first but very soon pressed into the kiss with just as much adoration as aventurine showed. eventually you both had to move away with much sadness but at least aventurine had visibly perked up. his life consited mainly on gambles and perhaps he had finally sealed his win for his ultimate prize, the love of his life. you.
#↝✭akutasoda's prompt list✭↜#↠fluff prompt 9#x reader#x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x you#hsr x reader#honkai star rail aventurine#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader
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I saw your reqs open, would you ever consider dom! Dina?
(Perhaps with mommy kink if you're comfortable with that? 👀 whaaat who said that)
ohh i absolutely would. and am. rn. enjoy!! also combined this with another dina request (mean!dom!dina)
dom!dina when she notices you clenching around her fingers stops in her tracks— normally that would be a good thing, but now? far from it.
she specifically told you not to cum, not unless she gave you her permission. her fingers slowly pulled out of your wet cunt, and her face clearly ridden with anger.
“what was the one thing i told you not to do baby?”
you knew exactly what she was talking about, but god did you want to avoid it. she just didn’t want you to cum, it was such a simple instruction, and you couldn’t even do that.
“told me not to cum without asking f’permission.”
she looked up at you and your very obvious pout.
“and what did you do baby?”
you rolled your eyes in annoyance, she knows you know what you did. she just wanted you to say it out loud.
“i came without permission, im sorry.”
“sorry what princess, say it.”
she was still looking at you, eager for a response. you let out a whine, because fuck this was so embarrassing.
“m’sorry mommy.”
“good girl. maybe next time you’ll ask for permission to cum, yeah?”
taglist; @syrenada @satellitespinner @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @ellieslob @starlynnr @enhanct @s4pphicslutt @marsworlddd @sapphiclesbli @ruelliee @antonellavanella @lasting-lover @desireesfics @marvelwomenarehot0 @elliessslut @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @a-little-bit-of-everybody @aouiaa @fairydxll @seraphicsentences @prwttiestbunny @callmewhenyoukan
#— flowersforvi writes#— flowersforvi reqs#dina x you#dina x fem reader#dina x reader#dina smut#dina the last of us#dom!dina
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Oooh since you want dark stuff how would yandere Alastor who falls for the reader , deal with love rivals 👀
You know he's planning something horrible.
Yandere! Alastor dealing with rivals
Pairing: Romantic/Platonic (Dubious on true intentions)
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Violence, Blood, Murder, Threats, Mentioned torture, Forced companionship/relationship.
You can bet that Alastor doesn't want anyone touching what's his.
He is a demon who knows what he wants... and will get it no matter what it takes.
Honestly, he'd be bad if he didn't own your soul... and even worse if he did.
I mean... we've seen how scary he can get in the show, right?
For example, remember when he was protecting the Hotel?
Yeah....
Except... if he feels someone has wronged him by touching you... then he'll draw things out.
Trust me, Alastor will know if someone had gotten too close to you.
He can almost smell another demon's stink on you.
This concept will focus on general behavior with demons, although with bigger names his approach would be different.
For example, Vox.
The Overlord most likely wouldn't get close to you without Alastor knowing.
For this concept... maybe you have some friends who are lesser demons.
Another thing we've seen is how others act around Alastor.
Y'know... other demons run and hide or just straight up... well... die.
So imagine if you had friends who felt they could be close to you.
Honestly, Alastor tolerated it since they seemed brave enough to stand before him.
Or stupid... it depends.
If you were talking to your friend or a potential partner... Alastor would interrupt.
I think the exchange would be even scarier if he did own your soul.
He acts charismatic as usual.
He pulls you aside and against him, a permanent grin as he greets those around you.
He's oddly charming... even though he's irritated that he has to share what's his with them.
Perhaps to even prove a point he'll summon the chain around your neck.
If that doesn't show ownership... then they're dense.
He's possessive... ears flicking as he introduces himself.
They better know he's an Overlord.
Alastor can do basic intimidation like any other demon, but the fun part to him is more... violent.
Perhaps your "friends" aren't swayed by his presence.
Maybe they actually try to stand up for you.
Maybe they try to court you anyways?
Or maybe someone hurts you...?
Point is, if they haven't died yet, they will.
Alastor sees no issue in a bit of torture.
He's probably done far worse.
A quick death is merciful for those Alastor considers rivals.
However, if you had a lover or someone similarly close... Alastor likes to drag out their fate.
His own intentions with you are dubious at best.
Can't really call him a lover, can't really call him a friend...
Perhaps he's a master? Even then... you can never read him.
Alastor would love to tie a rival down and play with them a bit.
He'd get as bloody as he wants, he'd listen to their screams like it's the radio.
He can only laugh as they beg.
No one messes with the radio demon's things.
They should've cowered away like the rest.
Now they're dead at Alastor's claws, all while he whistles away and prepares to see you again.
When you don't see them again, you aren't dumb.
You have a feeling they've angered Alastor.
If you were close with this person or tried to use them to get away from Alastor... He'd make you listen to their screams.
Alastor enjoys dealing with rivals.
He thrives off their pain, this is the same demon who's kill Overlords after all.
Safe to say... you aren't getting away from Alastor.
No one's going to be able to help you...
Their screams are a warning to behave for Alastor... even if you hate it.
"Oh, Darling! You have new friends~ This'll be fun, won't it~?"
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i think any sort of joel x overly sensitive reader would be so cool, platonic or romantic. like they've survived through the apocalypse and you'd expect them to have hardened up a little but they're still so easily brought to tears 👀 joel is like annoyed by it at first but starts to realize that he'd rather they be a bit sentimental than shut off and guarded like himself
break beneath the weight
▹— joel miller x platonic!reader
▹— summary: joel struggles to deal with someone who isn’t as emotionally constipated as he is
▹— a/n: idk what i was doing with this. but. here!!! thank you for the req i apologise if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind :’)
▹— warnings: mean joel, emotional reader, FEDRA lockup, corrupt guards, dare i say… comfort?, (not sure what else! lmk if i missed something) not proofread!
▹— taglist: (ALL) = @rhymingtree (PEDRO) = @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours
masterlist
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Joel Miller knew from the moment he saw you that you weren’t made for life in the apocalypse. He could see it, clear as day, in the way you held yourself, in the way emotions played loudly across your face, in the way your fingers trembled around the blade in your grip.
Perhaps it was pity that led him to take you in, or the absence of his younger brother, who had always had a harder time keeping his emotions in check in comparison to his older brother. Whatever it might have been, he wasn’t sure it was a wise decision. In fact, if it hadn’t have been for Tess’s unexpected care for you, he might have kicked you to the curb already.
But instead, he found himself stuck with your presence. For whatever reason, which he couldn’t begin to understand, you had taken to clinging onto his side, following him wherever he went. Which included going on jobs during the day, and tearing up when he put his foot down after you tried to follow him to a deal.
It was irritating.
And while you had never openly burst into tears in front of him, it wasn’t like it was a secret when you went down the hall, shutting your door behind you.
Maybe, if he had met you before the outbreak, he wouldn’t have been so frustrated by you. Maybe, he could have been kinder to you, could have been the person you deserved. But the reality wasn’t going to fade any time soon, and Joel knew that. He just wanted you to realise it, too, before something happened that made you realise it.
But Joel had to realise that you had lived through this apocalypse just as he had. That you, too, had lost everything. The family you once had, the home you once lived in, and you couldn’t bear to lose yourself, too.
“No.” Joel said, before you had even had the chance for the question to leave your lips. He didn’t even glance in your direction, only continued packing the the bag in front of him. He glared at the bag as he spoke again, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to respond. “—What did I just say?” He asked, finally turning his head to look at you.
“You didn’t even give me the chance to—” You started, brows furrowed and throat tightening at his dismissal.
“—That’s right, I didn’t. So don’t start.” Joel reprimanded, tone flat as he turned back to his backpack. His brows were furrowed, expression practically made of stone, and you wondered, not for the first time, what he was thinking.
You frowned, “Joel.”
“Mind your tone.” Joel responded immediately, still unbothered by your persistence. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was the same tone he used for Sarah, when she was younger than you are now, to remind her of her manners.
“Can’t you just listen to me?” You asked, practically begging him, which might have been dramatic, but you couldn’t help how desperation arose at his carelessness.
“No.” Joel said flatly, unimpressed by the emotion crowding your words. Dealing with your overly emotional nature was so low on his list of priorities, in fact, it wasn’t even on there. It was the very last thing he needed to do with himself, given the demanding nature of the deal he was headed to, courtesy of Tess’s orders.
It was frustrating for you, too, having to dampen your reactions when you were upset, just for his and Tess’s benefit. It was hard to be so alone in your emotions, to feel so isolated even when living with the only people you trusted.
They didn’t understand how you were still so capable of emotion, after everything that had happened. It left you vulnerable, which meant they were vulnerable. But you couldn’t help the way you felt, could you? Was it fair for them to ask you to numb yourself just to be more convenient?
All you were trying to do was ask to join Joel on his deal, ask him to show you the ropes. That was all. But he would never even hear you out, and it upset you. Why shouldn’t it? Joel and Tess may have taken you in if their own accord, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to remain completely unhelpful to them.
“Seriously, Joel, I’m just trying to—”
“How many times do I gotta tell you no before you’ll listen?” Joel huffed out, voice raised, as he whirled around to face you. It was instinctive, the way you flinched away from his almost-yelling. He stared at you with unreadable eyes, his expression changed from anger to something you didn’t recognise.
You bared your teeth at him, nose twitching with the effort of holding tears at bay. “Fine! Whatever.” You spat out, spinning around and storming down the hall, slamming the door behind you before you slumped down against it, hands covering your eyes, as if that could stop the inevitable. The tears fell regardless, the tight feeling in your chest making your throat ache. You just couldn’t understand him — you hadn’t even done anything.
There was no need for him to make you feel so… small. He didn’t need to dismiss you like that, and he certainly didn’t need to be so loud about it. Joel knew well enough by now that you were easily upset, a fact which seemed to be a great annoyance to him, which only made you more upset. You were trapped in one prolonged, vicious cycle with him.
The door to the apartment slammed shut only moments later, leaving you in the deadly silence that followed Joel’s exit, without his pottering around to provide any background noise. It made the ache in your throat worsen, and you sniffled, cursing yourself for your tears even as more fell down your cheeks.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Joel was ready to kill you, really.
He told you to stay inside, to hide in the apartment where there was the slightest semblance of safety, and this is what you do? You directly go against his word?
Now, he didn’t tell you why he wanted you to stay in, which he knows, may have been a big mistake, but really… was it so hard for you to just trust him? When had Joel ever done anything that wasn’t to ensure your safety? He told you to stay inside. That shouldn’t need a discussion, in his eyes. After all, he was the adult, you were the kid.
But instead, Joel had come home to an empty apartment, with no sign of your presence for the past hour, at least. And given the gunfire that had sounded just as Joel ascended the creaking steps with his equally aged knees, he knew that if you were out there, you were in danger.
He knows you’re not with Tess, either, because Tess was in another sector, closing a deal with another smuggling ring to bring them into the fold. She had left Joel with the responsibility of keeping you safe, and he had already been nervous the moment she had stepped out. After what happened the last time he was solely responsible for a kid, who could blame him?
Yet, Tess had silenced him with a “Get over yourself, Joel.” So what choice did he have? It was a reminder that Tess had lost just as much, and a reminder of how much better she was at coping.
If Tess got back, and you were still gone, what would he say? What could he say? She would be back by tomorrow evening, which meant Joel had a limited time to find you. Even worse, Joel had that sinking feeling that if he didn’t find you in that time, he never would. Which was something he couldn’t even consider.
He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to collect you from FEDRA custody, the very next morning, after searching all night for you. His time had been spent ducking into tunnels, speaking with contacts, avoiding FEDRA guards who were on patrol, and yet he caught wind of your presence in a facility just as the sun broke the horizon, reflecting the break of curfew.
When he walked in, approached the desk with a familiar FEDRA guard sat on the other side of it, he didn’t notice you immediately. But when he looked past the guard, into the crowded cage, he saw your tear-streaked face, staring at him with wide, glossy eyes.
“Miller,” The guard greeted, sending a grimy smile his way, eyes showing a spark of interest. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked distastefully, fingers splayed across the dirtied pad of paper in front of him.
Joel knew this guy — and he also knew that he preferred to deal with Tess. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here. But Joel had no qualms with convincing this guy to do what he wanted.
“Sorenson.” Joel grunted out, nodding his head. “Kid’s mine. Let ‘em out.” He demanded, crossing his arms as he stood casually in front of the desk. Joel glanced in your direction, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the way fresh tears were rolling down your face.
“Oh, is that so?” Sorenson asked, glancing back and meeting your eyes. He smiled, maliciously, before turning back to Joel. “What do I get, if I do?” He questioned, as if he was in any position to negotiate. Which, to be fair, he kind of was. Only because of your presence, which limited what Joel was willing to do, in the way of putting you in unnecessary danger.
Really, he was probably making a mistake revealing his hand. Claiming you as his. It was just ammunition for dirtbags like Sorenson to come at him with, to come at Tess with, but what choice was there? He couldn’t well let you rot in this cage, even if you did ignore what he told you, because who knew when FEDRA would let a kid like you out? They’d try to recruit you into one of their schools, if nobody came for you.
Joel sighed through his nose, clenching his hand into a fist and ignoring the way his skin stung with the motion, a reminder of the last guy who had gotten in Joel’s way. “I can give you the next two weeks, free of charge.” Joel relented, expression stony as he glanced between the guard and you, as you stood with your face pressed against the bars of your cage.
“Two weeks? C’mon, Miller, I’m doin’ you a favour, here! Help me out!” Sorenson said, voice low, but louder than ur should’ve been. He glanced nervously around as if somebody would come and snap him up, before setting his sights on Joel once again. “Your kid’s in a lotta trouble, man. Four weeks.”
“Three.” Joel replied, firm.
Sorenson tilted his head from side to side, before shuffling through his papers with a nod. He took out a stamp from the drawer at his side, and pressed it onto a piece of paper with your name written at the top. He stood up, making his way over to the cage with a heavy sigh, and counted through his keys until he finally found the correct one.
You practically leaped out of the cage, the moment the door was open, and you headed straight for Joel. He said nothing as you gripped onto him, only putting his arms by his sides as opposed to having them crossed in front of him.
“Three weeks, Miller. Don’t forget.” Sorenson said as Joel ushered you away, and Joel said nothing to him. But Sorenson had dirt on him now, so it wasn’t like he could go against the deal. Tess was going to lose her shit.
He said nothing to you, the whole way back to the apartment, instead choosing to stew in his anger as you clutched his arm, sniffling.
You flinched when the door shut behind you with a slam, letting Joel go and practically curling in on yourself. It wasn’t entirely your fault, you might have argued, if Joel didn’t look so angry. He didn’t tell you that he knew about a Firefly attack in FEDRA, if he had, you would’ve never gone out! You only wanted to go and trade for some new shoes with the cards you had been saving up.
“Joel, I’m— I’m sorry.” You finally said to him, when he was quiet for far too long, when picking at your fingernails wasn’t enough to distract you from his silence. Vaguely, you noticed that your fingers were still trembling when you stopped picking at them, likely from the leftover fear.
Joel scoffed, rifling through a drawer in the kitchen. What he was looking for, you had no idea, but it was distracting him from giving you that scathing look, so you were glad for it. “You’re sorry.” He muttered out, disbelieving. He shook his head, glaring at the drawer in front of him when he finally stopped rifling through it. “What’d I tell you?” He asked, glancing up at you, eyebrows raised.
“To stay in the apartment.” You murmured in response, feeling your eyes well up once more. It wasn’t your fault, not entirely. You couldn’t help the way your body responded to people being angry at you! It wasn’t exactly something you could control.
“To stay in the apartment.” Joel repeated, staring at you with wide eyes. He shook his head again, apparently exasperated by you. “And what’d you not do?” He questioned, staring accusingly at you by now, his hands resting on the counter in front of him.
“Stay in the apartment.” You repeated, frustration coating your words. You knew full well that you had made a mistake, so did he really have to do this? Did he have to rub it in your face? That he was right, as always, and you were wrong? “I said I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
Joel wipes a hand down his face, feeling his age like never before, and sighs at the distinctive tremble in your voice. You were going to start crying, any moment, Joel knew it. And it seemed, given your desire to get away from him as quickly as possible, that you knew it, too.
“I—I made a mistake. I should’ve listened to you, I know.” You continued on in response to his silence, to his exasperation. He didn’t know what to do with you. Raising a kid before the apocalypse was hard enough, but here you were, a kid he hadn’t raised, who he was trying to parent, nonetheless. He doesn’t remember it reaching this level of difficulty, before the outbreak. Maybe that was why.
Joel didn’t exactly understand you, and he had never really bothered to try. After all, his time was spent keeping you and Tess as safe as possible, providing for you as best as he could. He may not understand you, may not know the ins and outs of your mind, but he cared for you. He wasn’t your dad, not exactly, and he’s not sure you could ever be his kid, exactly, but it’s about as close as he thinks it’d ever get.
Joel looked back at you, softening the slightest bit. “You gonna start listenin’ to me, now?” He asked, though it wasn’t really a question. It was more of a you are.
You nodded, movements jerky but without an ounce of hesitation in them. He frowns at the sight, brows furrowed, and sighs once again. “Are you alright?” He asked, then, after everything else was out of the way. With the way your eyes immediately started brimming with tears at the question, he was leaning towards the answer being no.
He stepped around the counter after a moment, in front of you in mere seconds, and his hands on your shoulders ushered you towards his chest with certainty. You gripped his shirt tightly, holding on to any ounce of comfort as if it was the most you had ever been given, and he said nothing even as your tears wet the material.
“I was so scared, I—I didn’t know what was hap—happening.” You confided, and it was exactly how he knew you would be in that situation. It was exactly the reason he had told you to stay in. But still, he’s somewhat sure that you know that by now, so Joel just gripped you tighter, as if he could squeeze the remaining fear out of you.
“I know,” Joel murmured, another sigh leaving his lips, blowing into your hair just below where his chin was resting on your head as he practically curled around you, hiding you from the world. “It’s all alright, now.”
He was still annoyed at you, still irritated by the way you disregarded his direct instructions, and the way you’re so easily emotional, but this was more important. He knew that much. So, he’d hold you as long as he needed to, as long as you needed him to.
And when Tess returned later in the evening, brows quirked at the way you were sound asleep already, Joel’s only response was a tired sigh.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
It’s late one night, when Joel comes to a realisation.
The sun had long-since disappeared into the horizon, and he and Tess had been asleep for at least a few hours when he woke up to movement in the next room over. It was concerning, because you were usually asleep long before either of them. So, why you were up, Joel had no idea.
Whatever the reason, though, he couldn’t imagine it would’ve been a good one.
Which is the reason he got up, waving Tess away when she stirred awake from his movement. She squinted at him, as if questioning what he was doing, but settled back down soon after. She’d had a long day on jobs, Joel knew, which was another factor contributing to him dealing with whatever was going on with you.
He knocked your door, shuffling it open after less than a moment, and froze when he saw you kneeling on the floor, frantically shoving things back into a space below a loose floorboard. Your expression was scrunched up, as if you were trying to physically hold in your emotions before Joel could be exposed to them.
“Hey, kiddo,” Joel said, hesitantly, “Everything alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed, and hand still holding onto the doorknob. He frowned when you nodded wildly, squinting past tears in your eyes to look over at him, to silently urge him to just go. Instead of obeying the silent request, Joel made his way inside after shutting the door until it was just ajar. “What’s all this?” He questioned, peering down into the gap in the floor.
Your lips were trembling, eyes downcast, and you didn’t respond, even as Joel took a seat on the edge of your mattress in front of you. It might have been the most closed off Joel had ever seen you. It was certainly the most effort you had put into hiding your emotions from him, and especially into hiding the cause of them. It was… concerning. Not like you, actually, and Joel found that, as much as your emotional nature irritated him, you being distant was much worse.
His eyes were stuck, for a moment, on a single photo amongst the things in the gap. There you were, far younger than you are now, stood with a gap-toothed smile, beside who Joel could only assume was your father. He had never asked what had happened to your family, and there had only been a handful of times where you had hinted at it. Still, he had never taken the bait, instead choosing to avoid dealing with your emotions.
Today, Joel decided, would be different.
He reached down, plucking the photo from the gap, not saying anything when your hand hovered as if to stop him. He quirked his brows as he studied the photo, glancing between the present-you and the past you, and found more than one similarity. In the photo, he could see the shine of emotion in your eye — happiness, back then. Now, however, the gloss over your eye was one of sadness, despair. Nostalgia, maybe, or even grief. Joel wasn’t the best at detecting emotions.
“This your old man?” He asked, tilting the photo, watching the way the glossy print of it caught the dim light in the room. Joel looked back at you, then, focusing on you properly for the first since grasping the picture, and he found you struggling to hold onto the control of your feelings. “It’s alright, kiddo,” Joel said softly, smiling as best as he could at you, as comforting as he could manage. It had been a long time since he had tried to comfort his child. “You can talk about him, if you’d like.”
You shook your head, rising to sit beside Joel on the lumpy mattress. You plucked the picture from his grasp, turning it over and looking at the faded handwriting on the other side. It was unmistakably the writing of a child — of you, Joel realised, but below it, faded until it was almost invisible, was a translation of whatever you had been trying to say.
“I miss him.” You said, instead of anything else. You thought, perhaps, that this was something Joel could relate to. That it was something he could share with you.
“I know,” Joel sighed, placing an arm around your shoulder, squeezing as gently as he could manage to. He wasn’t good with emotions, not anymore. Feelings weren’t a Joel Miller special, and he preferred it that was. He preferred not to linger in his pain, in everything he had ever suffered through. He didn’t want to feel it.
But you… you were something else. Something purer, than him, he thought. While you were quick to tears, easily scared or stunned, you also radiated a certain happiness. It had taken over the apartment, so much so that Joel couldn’t even remember the shade of grey it had looked before you started staying with them. No, with you here, everything seemed warmer. And Joel Miller wasn’t an emotional person, anymore, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be again, but you made him feel something. Even if it was just a bit of warmth in such a cold world.
Despite your tears, Joel thought that you might just be the strongest of all of you. After all, he didn’t possess the strength to face his emotions, not like you did. He couldn’t bring himself to feel. But if you could, if you could manage to retain some sort of happiness, if you could hold on to some of the happiness that came with these tragedy-tinged memories, why shouldn’t you? Why should he shame you for that? For being stronger than he is?
“I know.” Joel repeated, frowning down at the picture in your hand. Not for the first time, he wished that he had a picture of his Sarah. “I miss her, you know.” Joel told you, lightly, voice right. It was possibly the most you would ever get out of him, but as you looked up to him, teary eyed and aching heart, you knew it was enough for you. Even this slight glimpse into his feelings, it was enough.
“I know.” You responded, squeezing Joel in return, and you felt the way a slight smile lifted his cheeks at your gesture. “It’s going to be okay, right?” You asked, glancing back down to the other bits and bobs you had kept, all to remind you of what you had lost, of what you had had.
“I think,” Joel paused, shaking his head at himself after a moment, before he squeezed you tighter. “You’ll be just fine.”
#joel miller imagines#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#joel miller father figure#joel miller x platonic!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x gn!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel miller one shot#tlou imagine#tlou imagines#tlou one shot#tlou x reader#tlou x you#heartpascal writes
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i miss who i used to be
Summary: In the aftermath of Ultron, two Sokovians find themselves contemplating their pasts and their loneliness in the present. When their paths cross again, they might just find comfort in one another's company.
Word Count: 1379
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Warnings: grief/loneliness/a lot of reflection on topics of that nature
A/N: First part of a short series of sorts? Childhood friends to lovers kinda vibe which maybe could have been a one shot but I wanted to try something different! I have the next part written but after that, let me know what you'd like to see happen between Wanda and R (any interactions/conversations to be had/etc.) and it might influence where this story goes 👀
Part 1 of 'half of my hometown'
series masterlist
next part ->
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If there’s one thing she knows, it’s grief.
Wanda Maximoff was born and raised in a war-torn country; she’s borne witness to a lifetime of destruction, endured suffering, and experienced the slow death of dreams. It seemed like there could be no worse feeling since she’d already experienced it all, but life seemed determined to prove her wrong.
After all that, it took her brother.
If her life were to be likened to the myth of Pandora’s Box, then Pietro Maximoff would have been her hope – the one bright light in her life that she believed could never fade, that would never leave her. From the second she was born, and for 26 years thereafter, Pietro had always been by her side; no matter what happened, they went through it together, reacted together, and emerged alive on the other side together. For all their disagreements, Wanda couldn’t think of a single experience she hadn’t shared with Pietro. Which makes this new feeling – the painful, unenviable knot of loneliness in her heart – all the more terrifying.
Pietro will never share it.
Months continue to pass, with Wanda taking notice of nothing but herself becoming more withdrawn, avoiding Stark's parties and spending more time in her room, where she can let the loneliness consume her. She really did try when the Avengers first brought her to America, but Pietro had always been the social twin, and the conversations only made his absence more pronounced.
Wanda's mood worsens as her loneliness grows, but only she can see the change in herself. The team hardly noticed the difference -- they hadn't even known her before her grief, so how could they see what it had caused in her?
Lingering on the thought, Wanda realises there is no one left who remembers the girl she used to be before the pain and grief and suffering. She used to believe that her childhood friendships would last forever, but those friends are likely gone, she thinks, lost to the rubble just as her family were. Wanda Maximoff is the last person alive who could ever remember her true personality, but now, even she isn’t so sure.
»»————- ★ ————-««
On that same night, in that same building, you suffer from the same line of thought. Brought from Sokovia to America in your early teens, joining SHIELD was your way of doing good in a world you knew firsthand needed help. You hadn’t expected it to be your own teammates and colleagues who had been causing the troubles in the first place; some went under with HYDRA’s exposition, but many remained, passing test after test because, despite the presence of their names on documents approving the bombing of your birth city, they truly had no allegiance to HYDRA. They are SHIELD agents throughout, but that doesn’t make them ‘good’.
Your sense of hope is naive, really. It’s a remnant of the lingering childhood sentiment that you would make the most of your escape to America, to make real change and bring peace to the friends you left behind. By now, you’ve seen the worst of SHIELD, endured mockery for your opinions, watched the organisation fall and then rise again only somewhat cleansed to assist the Avengers, yet you still work for them. Perhaps it’s fear that keeps you here, perhaps it’s delusion, but either way, you find your workarounds and do your best to progress.
That’s the situation that leads you to now, patrolling the halls of the Avengers Compound at 2am, pondering what you are even working for now that the only evidence left of your country’s capital city is a crater full of rubble.
Loneliness takes centre stage when you work night shifts – an unfortunate coincidence considering loneliness is what caused you to take the time slot in the first place. You don’t want to work with your colleagues, always feeling like you’re on the sidelines of the group, never quite as close to them as they are to each other – now exacerbated by the seed of doubt that any one of them may have seen your country as a necessary sacrifice, an inevitable fatality in a world of war.
It’s easier to work alone, you tell yourself again, but you begin to doubt it.
With no country to return to, no relatives, and no friends at work, you wonder how else you can change yourself before you finally fit in. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to be alone.
»»————- ★ ————-««
Those thoughts are interrupted by whirring machinery, and you suddenly snap to attention and creep towards the Avengers’ gym. An intruder wouldn’t settle down for a quick training session, you imagine, and lower your guard marginally, but still ready yourself for a confrontation – there shouldn’t be anyone around at 2 am.
You walk in, only to stall immediately when you see a familiar brunette on the treadmill. She’s not one of the Avengers you’ve met before, nor one of the ones you’ve only seen on TV despite living in the same building – she’s new then, you conclude, or an intruder, but that doesn’t explain why you feel like you’ve seen her face before.
She looks up and her eyes widen when she sees you, before she shuts the treadmill off and quickly ducks her head. You don’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters while she hurriedly gathers her things, “I didn’t think anyone would come in here.”
You know why you recognise her now, the accent giving it all away.
“You’re Sokovian.” The woman clearly wants to leave; her belongings are bundled in her arm and she’s taken several quick paces aiming to pass you to get to the door, but she pauses at your statement and finally raises her head to meet your gaze.
“You’re not.”
“I am,” you reply, somewhat indignantly.
“You don’t sound it.”
Your natural accent had slipped over the years, it was true, a mix of natural evolution and forced acclimatisation on your behalf as an attempt to better fit in had led to the accent you now had. Not good enough to fool your American-born colleagues, but enough, it seems, to fool your fellow Sokovian. You think carefully, the new accent is so well practised that you struggle to separate what comes naturally and which parts you condition yourself to speak with. Eventually though, you speak and let the traces of your Sokovian past shine through.
“It’s been a while,” you tell her, “13 years since I last saw Novi Grad. I thought I’d return one day but… I guess not.”
Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head ever so slightly, the action once again striking you with a sense of familiarity. She seems to shake herself out of it eventually. She tightens her grip on her belongings and finally inches past you, not speaking again until her hand is on the door handle.
“I suppose neither of us can ever return home… your accent is rusty, Y/N, but it’s nice to see someone else survived.”
You jolt suddenly at her use of your name, but she’s gone before you can even turn around and acknowledge that she recognises you too; all that remains of her is the door slamming shut in her wake.
Memories crash back to you of the first half of your life, it's enough that you need to take a seat before allowing yourself to reminisce. It's been thirteen years since you last saw Wanda, but you'd never forgotten the shy brunette you used to run to and from school with; the girl whose apartment you would visit whenever the power went out, to huddle together and make up stories to entertain yourselves.
You wonder briefly why she left the gym so suddenly, rather than staying and catching up, but you realise that even you need a moment to process the fact that one of your friends, a memory from your past, is not only still alive, but also living in the same building as you. It seems likely that you'll see her again, and you hope it's something that she wants too.
You're already planning to give her time, but no matter how the night started, the encounter plants a seed of hope in you that the future might just be a little less lonely.
next part ->
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General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories
(Might do a series taglist for this too - let me know if you'd like to be added! @family-house-of-m you have no choice but to be tagged)
#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagine#mcu#marvel#ikan writes#wanda maximoff & reader#ikan homh
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For your horror au, may I request self aware Lilia Vanrouge (or Cater Diamond) reacting to us choosing him (taking his hand)?
I'm unsure about your character limit (I read your rules, but perhaps missed that).
About Lilia(or Cater), his reaction and maybe what he would do if possible 👀
If u don't wanna do it it's okay!
Thank you!💗✨️
Sentience presents:
Hand
Self aware Lilia, Cater x reader
Tw: yandere
Plunging your hand in that mirror took a great deal of courage on your part.
Ebony swirls around within the confines of your screen, twisting and turning like a serpent uncoiling itself from its nest. Its scales shimmering, light catching and dancing on those shards of dark obsidian. Even as you peered into the depths, there was nothing there.
Only the faint reflection of your eyes wide open, staring back at you. What lies beyond the screen? Despite your uncertainty, the curiosity got the better of you. You’ll never know for sure unless you take the plunge.
Lilia
The first thing you feel was the bite of someone’s nails. As sharp as well honed blades, gently grazing the back of your palm. Fingertips roughened with callouses press against your palm, scratching and yanking at the plush of your hand. The hand of a seasoned warrior, one who isn’t shy to the horrors of battle.
Glancing upwards, you meet a pair of eyes. Pupils wide open, coloured with the deep, dark crimson of wine. They had the same richness as well. A certain intoxicating quality that only drew you closer and closer. An odd quality that just kept you wanting more.
Lilia Vanrouge.
The character whose hand you opted to take at the start.
He tilts his head ever so slightly, a sneaky grin dancing on his lips. Lilia’s fingers creep in between yours, intertwining them with a sickeningly sweet tenderness. The kind of fondness one would only show their true lover.
Flipping your hand over, he sinks onto his knee. Gently coaxing the back of your palm towards his lips. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel his breath waft over your bare skin.
A burning warmth, lingering for just a brief moment. Before you could even savour the sensation, it vanishes. Disappearing into thin air. You could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk flicker on Lilia’s lips, the smug smile of a victor.
A sharp sting struck your palm. Pain jolting through your skin, before fading into a dull throb. Glancing down revealed nothing but red. Beads of blood dripping down small wounds on your hand. Puncture wounds.
Lilia looks up once more, lips dyed scarlet.
He knew you’ll take his hand.
It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Darling.
Cater
Warmth engulfs your palm. Long, slender fingers coaxing yours apart, before they slip within the gaps. Holding your hand, palm to palm. Close enough for you to feel a pulse beating into your skin. An erratic beat, thumping with all the passion of a fiery salsa.
You’re unceremoniously yanked forward, body slamming into someone’s chest. A weight presses into your waist, an arm snaking around you. Clutching you as tightly as it humanly could, as if you were the last thing it would ever hold.
Half-lidded eyes meet yours, your features reflected within those emerald green pupils. A red diamond was painted onto his cheek, yet even that was wrinkled ever so slightly.
A vague memory bubbled into your mind. The faces of the characters you scanned through through joining the game. This was the one you chose, wasn’t it?
A Cater… Diamond.
As your eyes light up with recognition, Cater lets out a bright laugh. It sounds a bit wrong, fractured on the edges… as if it was forced out. Moving forward, he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. Cater’s arms snake around your torso, giving you a quick squeeze.
A friendly hug of greeting, he claims.
Even then, you felt that his touch lingered a little longer then it really should. The feeling of his breath on the base of your neck… it made your skin crawl. Arms prickling with goosebumps, you couldn’t help the tension that crept into your shoulders.
Aww, why so on-guard? Cater’s not going to hurt you. Well, unless you give him a reason to.
He’s waited for this moment since forever!
So you better not ruin it, love.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#sentience#self aware au#Lilia Vanrouge#Lilia Vanrouge x reader#Lilia#Lilia x reader#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader#cater#cater x reader#protection potion♦️
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SO. This little bracelet my girl Kate is wearing 👀👀👀 I have. Thoughts.
(⚠️Kate Laswell x wife!Reader thoughts up ahead)
What’re we thinking folks? Perhaps a little token from her lover? A personal gift from her dear wife?
Maybe…She doesn’t wear a wedding ring because it’s too obvious. An exposed weakness. Laswell’s worked too hard to hard to keep her wife safe to throw it away with something as obvious as a wedding ring.
But the thought of leaving her wife for the first time in years to go back in the field with absolutely nothing to hold her close?? Unacceptable. Laswell can’t fathom it.
So no wedding ring. She doesn’t do necklaces either—choking hazard, could be used against her.
And then she spots the perfect solution: an engraved bracelet you’d given her a couple years ago on your anniversary. It was a simple piece, the only detail on the metal band was the engraving bearing the date of your anniversary in Roman numerals. Subtle. Just the slightest personal touch of you for her to carry with her.
She keeps you close, while also keeping you just far enough to keep you safe. It’s a delicate line she’s walked almost her entire career.
Nothing would come before your safety.
Maybe you notice the bracelet just before she leaves. Your finger trails over the engraving, tracing the digits of the monumental date.
“Come home to me, Kate.” Your voice is just above a whisper. “Please.”
“Always.” Kate’s voice is self-assured, as usual, as is the kiss she presses to your forehead. “Always.”
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on the phone during (; — kokushibo, muzan
Author’s Note: no normal thoughts allowed! 😤 Only 😏 thoughts! 😂
on the phone during (; — kokushibo, muzan
Kokushibo x Reader, Muzan x Reader
Word Count: ~900
CW: 18+NSFW, degrading language, Fem!Reader, implied bondage, overstimulation, squirting
Emergency Request Fulfilled: I was wondering if you write for Muzan and Kokushibo. It might be crazy, but it could be funny. The reader is Sanemi’s sister. Maybe some headcanons of Muzan and Koku making love with the reader, while she’s in the middle of a call with their brother? They try to stay focused but our evil pals make it hard👀❤️
~faqs~
Immediate disclaimer that these headcanons are going to be #short bc they’re for an emergency request
(I specify in my faqs that the trade off for emergency requests being prioritized is that they’re also consequently ~shorter)
Anywho, onto the spice 😌
Update 1: jk, it’s mostly crack oops 😅
Update 2: jk, I got carried away writing Muzan’s 🥵
KOKUSHIBO
—Alright, so I just read a bit of Kokushibo’s backstory on wiki (which is what I often do when writing for unfamiliar-to-me/new characters #don’t mind me being an anime only gal)
—And DAMN
—I knew it was tragic, but like *le sigh* 💔
—I digress 😶
If you were on the phone w/ someone Kokushibo might deem ~competition, then he’d def be cocky and sly and merciless #riperoni your pussy as hell 😎
But since it’s Sanemi aka your brother?
Kokushibo’s mostly embarrassed 😖
“Hang up! Hang! Up!” he hisses into your ear, thrusts stuttering at the sound of Sanemi’s irritated grumble crackling through your phone, “Why did you even pick up?????” 😭
“No, Sanemi,” you grin faintly, biting at your tongue to suppress a breathy whine, “I’m not busy.”
“You’re having sex,” Sanemi scoffs plainly, markedly unimpressed, “Is this payback for when you walked in on me and-”
“YOU TOLD ME YOU’D BE OUT FOR THE NIGHT.” 😡
“Plans change. Sorry our house was closer.”
“Sorry you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet,” you snap, “Sorry you couldn’t text me a heads up so I could stay the fuck away!”
“WELL YOU GOT YOUR REVENGE, SO END THE FUCKING CALL.”
“Why didn’t you end it when you realized what was going on?” you smirk
“Because I wasn’t 100% confident,” he growls, tacking on darkly, “Until you confirmed my suspicions, of course,” scowling to himself, “And I’m trying to be less of an asshole and not just randomly hang up on you.”
Meanwhile, poor Kokushibo’s cock is slowly but surely softening, his hands splayed awkwardly on your ass 🫠
“Aww Sanemi, that’s actually really thoughtful of-” 🥺
*Sanemi randomly hangs up on you* 😞
“Are you satisfied?” Kokushibo pouts immediately, chest pressing hot against your back as he leans over you, practically batting your phone out of your hand, “I need help.”
Giggling, you roll your hips backward, chin turning to peer at him, “Thanks for your patience.” 😇
“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters, watching the arch of your spine, thumbs digging into the plush of your sides, quickly recovering from his momentary loss of arousal, voice lowering smoothly, “You’re going to help me, hm?”
“Am I?” you hum nonchalantly, clenching your walls around him, laughing at his unabashed groan
“You certainly are,” he murmurs, always so poised before the storm
You know you won’t be answering any more calls when he pushes your face into the mattress, other hand slipping between your thighs
“That’s right sweetheart, you’re going to help me cum with those pretty, needy orgasms of yours.”
MUZAN
—I did my best to write Muzan ~not entirely toxic, but like, well, it’s Muzan lmao 🥴
Needless to say, Muzan and Sanemi do not get along 😬
But, again, since Sanemi’s your brother (vs a potential/past lover), I don’t think Muzan would be particularly fond of you talking on the phone w/ Sanemi during sex 🤨
Perhaps a case of butt dialing would be more likely?
Or maaaybe
Sanemi’s calling you repeatedly (for stupid, sibling shit lol)
But you’re in no position to answer 🫢
No position to answer = tied spread eagle to the bedframe w/ a vibrator held firmly—by Muzan, obvi—against your clit, bedsheets already damp from your sweat and earlier orgasms
And eventually, Muzan loses his patience 🙃
Sure, he could just relocate your phone
Or break it
Or put it on Do Not Disturb
But he already dislikes Sanemi, so he might as well put him in his place (???)
—Muzan, Do Not Disturb really would’ve solved the prob, but #you do you 🤠
Still holding the vibrator against your clit, Muzan reaches for your phone 😵💫
“Hello Sanemi, most people give up calling after their second attempt.”
Your head lifts when Muzan says Sanemi, both intrigued and flustered, but before you can voice your confusion, Muzan pinches your thigh Pay no attention here, focus on cumming for me
“Why the fuck did you pick up?” Sanemi snarls
“Because your sister’s occupied.”
“The hell does that mean?”
Smirking, Muzan glances nonchalantly at your trembling form, your orgasm steadily building as your shiny, swollen clit makes a mess of the vibrator
“Do you really want to know?” Muzan drawls, mouthing a command to you
Cum
Your silent orgasm spills over as Sanemi promptly hangs up (no doubt red in the face), Muzan’s smugness permeating through the bedroom at your open mouth and dazed expression, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overstimulation
Bc Muzan’s still holding the vibrator against your clit
“Keep going,” he murmurs, fixated on the pleasure-pain writhing through your body, soft ropes taut as you try (and fail) to escape from the vibrator’s pressure, your strangled wail music to his ears, “That’s it darling, just like that,” his stare fully darkened and in control as you convulse, finally squirting with a overwhelmed scream
Taking pity on you, he sets the vibrator aside, rubbing greedily at your shaking legs, your skin smeared and glistening as he roughly thrusts two fingers into your pussy, relishing the wet, sloppy noise of your essence
“What a filthy cunt,” Muzan grins, “So beautifully wrecked.”
Dw! 😃
You have a safe word in case you actually feel wrecked, and Muzan respects your boundaries 🫡
After all, he needs to gain your trust before he can push them 😃
—WOWIE I did not mean to get so intense for Muzan 🫣
#headcanons#modern au#demon slayer smut#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#kokushibo kny#kokushibo demon slayer#kokushibo x reader#muzan kny#muzan demon slayer#muzan x reader
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𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗒𝖾, 𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒
the cast // series masterlist
chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5
word count: 4.5k+
tag list: @starvviss @lov3rgirllll @starless-nightz @random-girls-loves
author’s note: so...first chapter, how are we looking?? 👀 Also, there’s no way for me to be this consistent with my book 😮, let’s hope i can keep this up!
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
‼️ DISCLAIMER FOR THIS CHAPTER ‼️
Just Some Cursing
Bold Italics are the Flashbacks
Bold Italics with the ‘Single Quotation Marks’ are spoken in 1st POV.
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
Born from the same father but different mothers, your sibling bond with Percy was unbreakable, certainly unconditional. Your mothers were very close, growing up as best friends from when they were teenagers, accomplishing every achievement together for the sake of you and Percy’s life.
Of course, your moms fell in love, hosting a small spring wedding when you were 10 and Percy was 6 years old.
‘Look…. I didn’t want to be a half-blood. Being a half-blood is dangerous, it’s scary. Most of the time it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you think you might be one of us, my advice is to turn away while you still can because once they know who you are, they’ll sense it too and they’ll come for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘My name is Y/N Jackson-Matthews, I’m sixteen years old. Am I a troubled kid? Depends on which context you put this in.’
‘To my parents, I’m the easy and less rebellious child, never causing fights unless provoked, maintaining good school grades, and protecting my brother from trouble. I didn’t mind any of it, rather enjoying being the protector of the family. It makes me visible and seen as an equal to my other family members. Don’t get my parents wrong, they love and care for me very much, but I always felt invisible, blending into the sidelines, due to my shy nature. Luckily, I’m still growing out of that mindset and managing to be an outspoken girl and not a pushover.’
‘So what happens when the protector is unable to protect? Do they give up instant hope and cower in shame? Or do they fight back, willingly seeking a second chance to redeem themselves? The answer to this question is unclear. Whether you make a change or just bystand like others?
With everything going on, from the upbringing of your heritage, both of your mothers went through thick and thin. Developing from friends into lovers hardly changed anything, presumably their love maintained massively for themselves and shared children. A loving family of four was maintained by dark secrets that cost lives.
After many years of moving from states because of unexplainable sightings you and Percy witnessed in confusion and never properly settling down in schools, Yancy Academy was persistent. You and Percy managed a full school semester at Yancy, and your parents were proud of it.
Everything was going well, Percy finally found a friend, Grover Underwood, the boy was a little peculiar but his personality was a sweet innocent one. Yes, you didn’t have any friends but you were fine with it, half of your schoolmates weren’t even worth the time. So, you just hung out with Grover and Percy, defending them against bullies, particularly a redhead named Nancy Bobofit, who was your classmate.
Despite the girl bullying your younger brothers, she never bothered you to the extent she did with others. You shared most of your classes with her, due to being assigned to AP Classes because of your academic gift. Perhaps, maybe she’s always flustered by your mere presence, her rosy cheeks, giving her true feelings away. Even when it’s with a single glance from you, the redhead girl would duck her head and turn the small smile she had on, plastering it with a hardened frown.
‘Until the day that changed, too…until the day one of them decided to come for me and my brother too. My family’s fate will all be in my hands. And maybe I wasn’t prepared for it, nobody was prepared for it. I’m a protector and nothing we hate worse is an unprepared attack.
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
Yancy Academy hosted a field trip to the Met Museum about Greek Gods for History Week. Standing beside your younger brothers, Grover and Percy, observing about the many Greek God statues on display while Mr. Brunner briefly discussed Greek History.
Keeping a clipboard in your hand with a worksheet attached to it and you fidgeted with the pen in your other hand. You couldn’t concentrate on anything.
“What you see here, they are not fictions. They are not fantasies. What you see here are the truest and deepest parts of yourselves. Friends…the gods, the monsters, the heroes, you see here in this room are reminders of what we are capable of.” Mr. Brunner explained to the students.
You released a tired sigh, throwing your head slightly back as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and leave to buy snacks.
Greek Mythology wasn’t your favorite thing to learn about but surprisingly your brother, it’s the only subject he wholeheartedly admires.
“Now, on your worksheets, I want you to choose one of the subjects you see here and describe it. Not just how it looks but how it makes you feel. Hmm…okay, c’mon.” Your History teacher claps twice, urging everyone to disperse and start the assignment.
You blinked down at the clipboard holding your assignment, trying to read the instructions. Your vision goes blurry as you squint your eyes, not believing the sight. Were you seeing things now? Since when do words start to rearrange themselves on paper? That whole ordeal caused even more confusion and an even further increasing headache.
Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder which brings you back to reality as you turn around to face the person. You shake your head, realizing you are in a public place and daydreaming again.
“Hey, Matthews,” Nancy smirks.
“Hey, Bobofit.” Your eyes slanted at the girl’s presence, wondering why the sudden intrusion.
“I was wondering if you had another pen that I could borrow. I seem to have lost mine,”
You nodded with a small smile, about to grab the extra pen from your sweater pocket before your brother joined in the conversation.
“Isn’t that the pen behind your ear?” Percy points out.
You raised your head and scanned the girl’s face as her red hair made it harder to decipher the pen. Nancy’s face flushed in embarrassment as her eyes widened at the blonde’s attempt at humiliation. The redhead absolutely hated that he succeeded in embarrassing her, and in front of you, too. Finally, you spotted the well-hidden pen, observing the writing utensil, safely tucked behind the bridge of her ear.
“Oh yeah, you do have a pen. You don’t need mine.”
Your brother smiles in satisfaction at Nancy’s embarrassment and your cluelessness in the entire situation.
“Yeah, so can you get lost now?” Percy says with a disdained face.
Nancy glares and scoffs at your blonde brother before turning her attention back to you with a half smile. “See you later, Y/N,” she waved with a flirty tone.
You nodded, watching the redhead saunter off to her friend group once again.
“I still don’t get why you even interact with her,” Percy exhales.
“Trust me, I don’t know myself.” You answer him, “Maybe, I want to kill her with kindness,” You joked with a dry tone.
“My sister is always the jester,” Percy rolls his eyes.
“Shut up, doofus,” You shove him. “Let’s hurry up and finish this worksheet so we can buy snacks, I’m starving.”
“I swear you think through your stomach,”
“Whatever, Perseus.”
You two chuckle to yourselves as you both look up at the statue in front of you. It was Perseus, standing victoriously while holding the decapitated head of Medusa.
“What do you see?”
The whole scenery changed, and instead of the museum being crowded it was empty, just the family of four. You, Percy, your mom, Jessica, and your mother, Sally. However, your ages also regressed there too, you were 10 and Percy was 6 as you all stood before the statue. It was a past memory.
“Perseus…that’s me.” A six-year-old Percy answered his mom.
“Mm-hmm, that’s who you’re named after.”
“Is that why you named me after him? Because he was a hero?”
“What makes you think he was a hero?”
“Because he kills monsters.”
“And what makes you think that she was a monster?”
“Mom…”
“Not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster.” Your mom, Jessica continues with the conversation.
“This Greek talk is sooo boring,” You mumbled to yourself.
“I named you after him because when he was a very little boy he and his mother were placed in a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king.”
Your mom looked at her two children as she spoke, “All alone, afraid, and at night, his mother would whisper in his ear; “Hold fast Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us for we are unbreakable as long as we have each other.”
“And against all odds, he managed his way to find a happy ending,” Sally concludes.
You and your mom shared a glance of boredom as she grabbed your hand, sneakily walking away from your brother and mother. You two left the museum and headed towards the food stand outside, ordering two medium-sized pretzels.
“We got pretzels,” You cheered, chewing on the pretzel in your hand as you skipped back inside the museum with your mom.
“And you didn’t bring me any!” Percy yelled in astonishment.
“Why yes, of course, because you and mother were boring me and mom about all this Greek mythology.”
“It’s not my fault your attention span is so short!”
“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Perseus!”
“Just shut up, Y/N/N.”
Before you two could argue again, your mom hit your arm, silencing any of your upcoming words, and replacing it with a hurried yell. Soothing your arm in pain as the impact still subsided, and you pouted at your mom.
“In public places, we use our inside voices, remember.” Sally gently reprimands her two children.
“But—“
Her warning tone was to be carefully treaded with. “Y/N…”
“Why didn’t Percy get hit too?”
“Don’t take that tone with your mother, missy,” Your mom lectures you with a firm stare. “Don’t make me get the belt.”
Neither of your parents were wearing belts and you wondered where she was gonna find one. For once, you decided to keep your smart mouth shut and avoid the consequences this time.
“Fine, we’ll be even.” Sally sighs, briefly hitting Percy’s arm harshly, wincing when his eyes start to water.
“Sorry, mom.” You held your head down in shame and bashfully took another bite of your pretzel.
He cries and you walk over to him, rubbing his back with your free hand, attempting to comfort him. Soon enough, you soothed and wiped his tears away and gave him a huge bear hug.
“Don’t cry, brother. I’ll keep you safe from our mothers.”
He sniffles at you, still staying silent, reciprocating the hug back and not budging.
Pulling away from the bear hug, you grinned softly at the young blonde. “We’ll share my pretzel if you like.” You shoved the half-eaten pretzel into your brother’s face.
Percy wipes his remaining tears away, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reaches for the desert.
You smiled at your generosity and so did your parents at your kindness shown towards your younger brother. They loved seeing you two get along, too bad that wholesome moment quickly diminished as you began to shout again.
“Not a big piece, you hoarder!”
“How about we get you two separate pretzels?” Sally bargained with an unsure shrug and her wife, Jessica stared at her in disbelief.
“We’re not getting them separate pretzels.” Your mom, Jessica, shakes her head.
“Why not?”
“Can’t you tell, Percy, we’re broke?”
“How broke are we?”
“We’re not broke.”
The family of four started to leave the museum as you walked hand in hand with Percy as he munched on the remainder of your pretzel. You weren’t going to fight him about it because you were getting another one.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sweetie, I’m sure.”
“You’re not very convincing, mom.” You skipped to the pretzel stand with Percy by your side.
Sally smiles down at you. “Y/N takes after you,”
“Oh, please, no she does not.” Your mom scoffs in disagreement.
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
“Mom!” Percy yells out and he breaks his pencil in the process, startling some nearby students.
You glance at your brother in confusion, seeing he’s finally out of his trance state, returning to the harsh reality.
“I’m right here, sweetie,” Percy searched for the voice and internally shrank upon the actual voice of the person. It was Nancy, who was just publicly humiliating him in front of everybody. “Mommy’s here!” She fakely cooed, drawing out some laughs from her friends and others.
You glared at the redhead, smirking to yourself when she backed down and turned away from you two.
“Just ignore her.”
“Well, it’s getting quite hard not to. She’s like a pest, a human-sized annoying pest that you can’t get rid of.”
“Mr. Jackson and Ms. Matthews, you two will learn to control yourself, do you understand me?” You wince at the sudden harshness of Mrs. Dodds’ tone.
“Us?” Percy asked in shock, pointing to the group of girls, ready to defend himself.
“Listen here, lady, we didn’t do anything wrong—“
Mrs. Dodd sharply cut your statements off. “Do you understand me?”
“He can’t help it, Mrs. Dodds. Percy’s special.” Nancy wanted to be desperately involved. Oh, she’s definitely going to get what’s coming for her.
“I will fight you in front of everyone here and show you who’s really special.” You start to walk closer to the posse of girls but a strict voice halts your actions.
“That’s enough!” Mr. Brunner rolls over on his wheelchair to the two of you, “Pay them no mind. When you’re ready to hear what the gods have in store for you, they’ll tell you. I believe in you, in the both of you.”
“Thanks for the unnecessary inspiration, I guess,” You shrugged.
Mr. Brunner pulls two black pens from his suit, “And I believe you two will be needing this.”
Immediately, Percy accepts the pen from his teacher but you aren’t easily impressed or gullible by a basic pen.
“No, thanks, I already have an extra pen.”
“Take the pen, Ms. Matthews.” His demeanor was serious as you gulped, taking the pen out of his hand.
“It’s a pen, though.” You spoke dumbfounded, looking at the pen skeptically.
“Why, yes, Y/N, it is a pen,” Mr. Brunner nodded in agreement. Was he being sarcastic with you?
“Do you want us to write something with it for you?”
“Hang on to them. ‘Tis a mighty instrument,”
“It’s just a pen.” You argued. “If you’re that lazy to write, that’s not my problem, Mr. B.”
“Good day, Y/N.” He rolled away in his wheelchair. “I never knew a girl could have so many questions for a simple thing.” He murmurs to himself.
“What’s so special about this pen?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, observing the simple black ink pen.
“Just let it go, sis.”
“I’m only doing that because lunch is finally here.” You shoved the pen into your sweater pocket.
“All you’re worried about is food.”
“Of course, what else is there to worry about? Food won’t hurt or pretend to love me, food is life.”
“Why do you always do that?”
“What do I always do?”
“Get real depressing when you’re hungry.”
“It’s either a depressing state or a bitchy state, be grateful.”
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
The trio sits by the huge water fountain and begins to eat their sandwiches while everyone else is talking and standing around with their friends.
“There are all sorts of schools of thought about what drives that kind of bullying. Childhood trauma, a feeling of inadequacy..” Grover lists off.
“Look I get that Nancy has issues, I’m just getting tired of her taking them out on me.” Percy exhales, “I feel like maybe it’s time we do something about it.”
“You could make an appointment with Mr. Kane.” Grover suggests, “He’s really great at talking to—“
“I was thinking more of shoving Nancy into the nearest dumpster,” Percy confesses with an innocent smile.
“Oh…” Grover raises his eyebrows, “That’s not what I really had intended in mind.”
“I like it, let’s do it.”
“No, no, no, Y/N, Percy, have you two learned nothing?”
“Hey, I do learn stuff, I just forget about the consequences…sometimes.”
“If there’s one thing I know about bullies, is that you should never ever stand up to them,” You frowned at that piece of advice.
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“It isn’t right.” You piped up. “That’s a stupidass logic, Grover, you’ll just give them more power than they actually need. The only way to stand up to them is to fight, make them scared of you after you beat their ass.”
“Look…I know this place is hard for people like us but we’re not gonna be here forever. There are better places out there.” Grover reassures his best friend.
A slice of cheese comes hurling your way and it lands on Grover’s face, echoing a smacking sound.
“Oops…” Nancy smirks, balling up the piece of garbage in her hand and walking away.
“Percy….”
You piped up, opening the bag of chips, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”
Percy abruptly stands up, frustration consuming his mind, storming over to Nancy and holding his hand out. At first, Nancy stared at him unimpressed with a teasing smile to further anger your brother. Seriously, what was going on with your eyes today?! First, words were disoriented on your paper and now Percy had telekinetically thrown Nancy into the nearby fountain. He did all that within a few feet, possibly two feet away from the redhead girl.
The girl went flying back a few feet in the air, screaming at her sudden height before landing into the fountain. You stare in pure amazement at the sight, laughing slightly at the girl’s hysterics.
How was he able to do that? Did you have that same ability?
“Shit…I would have done the same thing.” You admitted.
“Percy pushed me!” Is the first thing she shouts that causes you to rush over to Percy’s aid.
“What, no I didn’t!” Percy stammers.
There were murmurs and crude looks sent in your brother’s direction but you ignored it.
Judgmental looks were the least of your concerns, moreover, the annoying buzzing sound getting louder. You found the source, furiously shaking in your sweater as you hesitantly pulled the shaking pen out.
“There you are.” A familiar voice rang out, capturing the siblings’ attention. It was Mrs. Dodds’ voice and she was walking menacingly toward you two. The woman still telekinetically speaks
“We’re not fools, Percy Jackson & Y/N Matthews.
“Mrs. Dodds, you okay?”
“It was only a matter of time before we found you two,”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped Percy’s wrist on instinct by your protective nature, pulling him behind you. Both watched as she stalked closer…and it looked like she was transforming into a creature. Slowly but surely, wings started to sprout from her back and her true body revealed itself.
Mrs. Dodds wasn’t even a pretty creature either, yet you only appreciate her color of scales.
“Where is it, half-bloods?” She steps on the stairs of the fountain, “Where is it?” The creature flies above you as the sibling duo stumbles back, fearful of current threats. Too appalled by the sight of everything, Percy held onto your hand tighter as he hid behind you, resting his face in your sweater. As long as he had you by his side, he’d be fine, that’s what his parents said.
‘Protect each other and you’ll be fine. Love and care for each other and you’ll be fine. Don’t ever turn your back on each other, you’re blood siblings and that’s never changing.’
All of a sudden, she plummets down at the two of you with the intent of attacking. Her height is as intimidating as she looks and you internally bite back a gulp. You just hoped she couldn’t smell emotion, and use that to her advantage because your fear was too distinctive right now.
“Hmmm….not you…you can put up a fight,” She glared at you.
Instead of attacking you first, she decided to take Percy, knowing he was too young to understand anything. So she uses her wing to shove you away from your brother, her strength forcing you to separate from the blonde.
“No, Y/N!” Percy yells as you go flying back and crash landing into the hot dog stand truck.
Once you are down, Mrs. Dodds redirects her attention to Percy with a hiss, and the blonde stumbles backward, desperately trying to escape but falls down.
In a second, the monster is on top of him, her clawed fingers briefly skimming over the color of his shirt as she analyzes the terrified boy, “Where is it, half-blood?”
“No,” You whisper, tightening the pen’s grasp, viewing the scared interaction of your brother and that creature.
Hastily getting up from the ground, staring in bewilderment at the transformed gold sword. Huh, guess it was more than an actual pen.
Stabbing the creature in her back, ignoring her first hiss, repeatedly stabbing the monster until it was fully weakened as she eventually began to disintegrate into brown dust.
After the monster dies, you stagger onto the floor, barely sitting down with sense.
“Y/N…” His voice becomes disoriented as your vision changes into a black abyss and everything goes silent.
“Are they dead?” Someone asked.
“Are they okay?”
Managing to open your tired eyes to see a circle around, looking down on you as a groan left your mouth.
“Give them some room, please.”
By the kind demand, some students disappear, mingling back with their friends while Grover stays behind, helping you and Percy off the ground.
“What happened?” Percy breathlessly asked.
You glimpsed over at a drenched Nancy with a towel wrapped around her shoulders, who was glaring daggers at your brother while being comforted by some strange woman.
Turns out, Nancy actually got what she deserved a few minutes later and it was hilarious and shocking at the same time.
“Where’s Mrs. Dodds?”
Percy’s question goes unanswered.
“I didn’t do anything to him.” Nancy exclaims and the woman escorts her away, “He pushed me.”
“Everybody go back to your lunches.” He commands the other students, who still stare and murmur amongst themselves at the sibling duo. “It’s all right Y/N and Percy, just need a moment, that’s all.”
“I didn’t understand, didn’t anyone just see that? Where’s Mrs. Dodds?” You persisted.
At your question, Mr. Brunner and Grover shared a glance.
“Y/N, there’s no one here by that name,”
“Yes, there was. She had white hair in a 1950s hairstyle, wore a trench coat, and totally gave off creeper stalker vibes.
“As I said before, there’s no one here by that name.”
“You sure?” Percy questions.
“I’m quite sure,” Mr. Brunner reaffirms with a tight-lipped smile, “All right, class, let’s move soon. Let’s go, finish your lunches.”
Long story short, all three of you got called into the principal’s office, and heavily questioned because of the earlier incident with Nancy. This talk was definitely not going to be good. By the time you were ready to leave, Grover shocked you with his statement, claiming he saw Percy push Nancy into the fountain.
Observing your brother’s reaction to his best friend’s huge lie, betrayed by the other boy, ultimately thinking he was just like the rest. You gave him a small smile, rubbing his back to reassure him that you were there for him. That’s what you always do, protect and love your younger brother like your life depends on it.
Guess, that’s the end of going to this school, you and Percy are going home! Might as while call your parents and inform them of your early visitation.
Sitting on a bench with your belongings beside you, Percy looks gloomy, probably still portraying Grover’s betrayal in his mind. He seemed to be out of it and you didn’t bother him either. This was his time to reflect on everything that happened so far.
“None of this is easy,” Mr. Brunner strolled in, “Not for you two, not for any of us. I’m very concerned about you two, I saw what happened at the museum.”
“I didn’t touch Nancy.” Percy’s self-reassurance started to sound like a plea. He just wished for Mr. Brunner to believe him, because it seemed like no one was on his side, except for you.
“I know you didn’t. At least, I know you think you didn’t.”
“Listen here, Mr. B, I saw what happened too and my brother’s telling the truth.”
“Do you want to tell me what you think happened? You can tell me. I might just understand.”
“You wanna bet?” Percy tilts his head.
“Percy…Y/N,” He lowly chuckles, “I’ve seen a lot of young people go through this sort of thing in my time, but of all of them, I suspect that…you might have the most difficult journey.”
“Oh, because that puts us at such ease,”
“It was not meant to put you at ease,” Mr. Brunner recorrects you. “I suspect that you two are special. So much more so than you know.”
“Just…stop.” The blonde boy heavily sighs. “Okay, I don’t need any more stories about how special me and my sister don’t realize we are. They aren’t helping in the slightest.”
“And I’m pretty sure I’m dyslexic,” You interrupted. “If that counts as special.”
“Ms. Matthews, you’re special but not in the way you assume.” Mr. Brunner implies.
“How is that relevant?”
“It’s not, I just wanted to feel included.”
“Of course, you do.”
A green, vintage two-seater truck pulls up, signaling your departure for returning home.
“This is our ride, we’re going home.” You spoke to the History teacher, “Get your bags, Percy, let’s go.”
Percy nods at the teacher before retrieving his bags and following into the Yancy Academy truck alongside you. Once you two were settled in the vehicle, the driver revived his engine and pulled out of the driveway.
Goodbye, Yancy Academy, you were decent while it lasted.
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ
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© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.
#her pretty girl series#dior goodjohn#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x fem!reader#clarisse la rue x black!reader#clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader#clarisse la rue series
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Hii Lisa my beloved!💕💕 I'm in my Kaz phase again and some stupid ideas have been running through my head constantly. Hoping you could turn it into a wonderful fic, if you like the idea of course.
Kaz x reader with slight Nikolai x reader😌
So, reader is a Grisha with healing abilities (hidden like Alina). After a tragic event, the loss of their family hit hard and they were taken into care by some people that worked at the palace. That's where reader met Nikolai, they became best friends and later enrolled in Army, became lovers all of that. Reader's healing powers were slightly special in the sense that when they used them there was a golden glow all around, making the wrong people believe reader was a sun summoner. After being madly in love for some time, reader got kidnapped for their powers. Tortured for 2 years, reader was saved by our lovely Crows. Reader believed Nikolai never looked for them (false because he did desperately until he ran away and became Sturmhond after believing that reader died)
Reader becomes a Crow, falls in love with Kaz, they have a relationship for 2 years or so and then, one day they fight about something and right at that time, Nikolai makes his way to their bar. Reader and Nikolai have an emotional meeting that leaves Kaz insecure and jealous.
The ending...well I think reader should stay with Kaz buut I'm not opposed to something else👀
Whatever you want my dear Lisa. I hope this makes sense and it's not too insane. I love you and thank you💕
my beloved!!! this request is literally incredible, why are your ideas always exquisite????
masterlist
You don’t like it when Ketterdam is quiet. This jilted city of yours is always loud, always rowdy, and on the few instances in which it isn’t, the whole place seems to hold its breath, just waiting for something bad to happen. Sometimes you hear things you shouldn’t when there’s no background noise to cover it up. Sometimes, worst of all, you dream.
This dream is not a good one. You only know this after waking. The dream leaves quickly, as all dreams do, slipping back away under cover of night to haunt some other sleeper. You let it pool in your trembling hands, dripping out through your fingers despite your best attempts to stop it from abandoning you. It must have been a tumultuous dream indeed, because for a moment you thought you were back. Back in Ravka. Back with him.
Ravka is not yours anymore. It was, once upon a time, or so you let yourself believe. You were born in a small village near Adena, home mostly to craftsmen without merit and tradesmen with a fear of leaving their homes. It was a quiet, get-what-you-will existence for the most part, up until the point when you reattached a woman’s severed leg with a wave of your hand and discovered you were a Grisha.
Healers are valuable commodities in a war-torn nation, and you were shipped off to Os Alta before you knew it. It would have been lonely there in a city fiercely divided between Grisha and non-Grisha, were it not for the one friend you made there. A prince, of all people. A second son who wanted nothing more to run. Nikolai Lantsov.
You and Nikolai were just children when you met. It took years of close friendship for you to trust each other enough to fall in love, and even then, it was your best kept secret. Princes do not fall in love with witches. Grisha do not fall in love with mortal men. You kissed him behind locked doors and swore it would be enough for you, even if it wasn’t.
Perhaps it would have been, if Fate had been content to let you rest in mere complacency. There was one singular trait that separated you from the rest of the Corporalnik Healers at the Little Palace, one minor mark of difference. You can heal a patient just as well as anybody else, but for some reason, you glow when you do it. A warm, golden light emits from your palms whenever you use your gifts. His sunbeam, Nikolai used to call you.
Maybe people listened in too closely when they shouldn’t have. Maybe someone connected dots that didn’t exist. Maybe it’s just that in a country like Ravka, a country split by the Shadow Fold, a country in desperate need of Saints, it would be easy to overlook someone’s mortality in the hopes of discovering their own salvation.
That’s your best guess as to what happened to you. What you remember best is the aftermath, not the reason. You were taken from Os Alta in the dead of night, your hands bound in chains so you couldn’t fight or use your gift. You tried to scream, but they had a Squaller, a damned traitor, who stole the breath from your lungs before any sound could be heard.
They tortured you for two months, hoping you’d break and show that you really were the Sun Summoner they’d get paid to sell. It never happened, so they dug harder, cut you more, cared even less. You waited in dark and squalid rooms for someone to rescue you, someone like Nikolai, but no one came. No one Ravkan, at least.
You always wondered if you could put a time cap on the love of a prince. It turns out you can: four months and six days is all it took for Nikolai Lantsov to give up on you. You spent four months and six days waiting for him before hearing that he’d officially stopped mourning you in public to go to university, and the remainder of those two years in wondering how little he must have cared for you to give up just like that.
You have no doubt that your captors would have spent far longer than two pathetic years in trying to extract a Sun Saint from your exhausted spirit were it not for your rescuer. A far different savior than you expected, to be sure, far more bloodthirsty than any guardian angel you’ve ever heard about, but he did the job. He always does.
That’s Dirtyhands for you, you suppose, he gets what he wants. And if what he wants is a Healer at the low cost of having to break into a smuggler’s ship while it paused briefly in the Kerch harbor for supplies, so be it. Kaz Brekker was there for money and he was there for a new soldier to serve in his gang. You happened to fit both bills.
At first, you hadn’t known if you were actually safe or in even more danger than before. At least Kaz wasn’t torturing you outright– that was a start, wasn’t it? You didn’t trust him in the slightest at first, nor him with you. It took months of slow, apprehensive acceptance for that to happen.
It took longer for hesitant acquaintanceship to turn into friendship, and for friendship to turn to something more. Something like happiness. Something like the pure contentment of knowing that there is one person out there who would burn the whole world down if you were ever hurt. Nikolai mourned you for an appropriate time, but if the roles were reversed and you were in Ketterdam when you were kidnapped, Kaz would never accept your loss.
He’s all but told you this himself. There was one instance in your first six months of being in the Barrel when another Grisha hunter decided you would make decent prey. You were only an hour later than expected, but ten men were killed and a pleasure house burnt to the ground by the time Kaz got you back. You never feared getting taken again. You think he’s quite proud of that, even if he’ll never admit it to a living soul. Only the dead tell no tales.
So the Barrel is your home, so bloody kruge becomes your daily bread and butter. You wouldn’t want any other life. There is always the fear that you would someday lose that confidence, but you swore that time was over. Apparently not, though.
All that time spent learning to live again, and you still wake up in cold sweats, half sure that you’re back in your birth country and no better off than when you started. Kaz doesn’t deserve that. Your guilty conscience makes you want to beg his forgiveness, so you slip out of your room and up the stairs to his office without a second thought.
You know better than to think that Kaz Brekker would be asleep a few hours past dawn. You’re not entirely sure that he ever sleeps at all. It wouldn’t surprise you if he found a way to optimize his waking hours such that he never needed to close his eyes. Being able to capitalize on the time everyone else spent sleeping would certainly give him a leg up in the race of the Barrel rats.
Sometimes, when he’s feeling charitable, Kaz lets you heal him just a little bit, not the sort of injury reduction associated with broken bones but that of eliminating exhaustion. You’ve learned how to use your gifts without touching skin. Maybe that’s why he wanted your skills on his side in the first place, just in case.
The door creaks slightly when you come in. It is well within Kaz’s powers to oil the dratted thing, but you think he likes the sound. It serves as a warning of an intruder if he needs one, a reminder that he is no longer alone. It tells him that you are here now, and he looks up from his seat at his desk. The only sign that these aren’t normal working hours for anyone else is the slight dishevelment of his appearance, dark hair falling haphazardly over his eyes from being frustratedly pushed out of the way one too many times, his clothes rumpled and jacket removed.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks.
“Could you?” You return.
Kaz rolls his eyes. “I don’t need sleep.”
“Of course you do,” you say matter-of-factly, “You’re still human, Kaz, despite your best efforts to turn yourself into a machine.”
“I think it would be less productive to be a machine,” Kaz muses as he considers the stacks of ledgers before him, “think of the rust. Also, I don’t trust any gadget not to break down when you need it most.”
You snort, closing the door behind you and walking to the window behind his desk. “Machines aren’t the only ones breaking down all the time. People do that too.”
Your voice trails off on your last sentence, and Kaz cuts off his stare with his ledgers, turning his chair to face you. When he speaks again, his tone is gentle. It would surprise anyone but you.
“You’ve had another nightmare about Ravka again, haven’t you?”
You deliberate over your words, opting instead to perch on Kaz’s window seat and draw your legs up to your chest. He already knows the answer, anyway. “Yes,” you reply at last.
Kaz nods once. “It’s not real. The dream.”
You laugh bitterly. “I know that. I just hate the way I keep thinking about that place. It makes me feel weak.”
Kaz frowns. “You’re not weak. If you were, I never would have hired you.”
You can’t stop a faint grin from flitting across your face. “So romantic, Kaz.”
“Isn’t it?” He asks.
You glance at him over your shoulder and register genuine bewilderment on your face. To Kaz, you suppose, that is the height of romance after all. A true validation of your worth, a promise that you are enough.
It makes you smile. “You’re right,” you decide, “it is. It’s good to know my position is safe.”
“You’re safe,” Kaz repeats. He stands, walking over to the window. He doesn’t lean against you, but you can feel the exhale of his breath on your shoulder, the ghost of the touch you will never force him to give. “I will make sure of it.”
The two of you stare out the window at the rising sun. A new dawn is coming, bringing with it a new day, new surprises. Some of those surprises, as it turns out, will be far more shocking than you could have ever envisioned.
You’d like to say that you recovered from your nightmare pretty quickly after that, and you did collect your wits, but the jittery feeling stays with you well into the evening. You decide to stop by the Crow Club once dusk sets in, both as a favor to Kaz and for yourself. Once you do your usual perusal of tables, only having to point out one particularly gifted cheater to the guards, you allow yourself to drift over to the bar and order your favorite drink.
You see Jesper briefly in between rounds of Makker’s Wheel and talk idly for a few moments before he drifts off again. The Crow Club, albeit one of the fastest places in Kerch for money to leave your pockets, still feels like home to you. The rowdy hubbub, the dim lights, all of it is yours and has been for some time now. The Barrel is not safe, but this is Kaz’s place, and that means you never feel threatened so long as you’re within its walls.
Maybe that’s why you don’t register the new presence until it’s too late to run. The thought that the young man standing before you could ever be here at all is utterly bewildering. This is the Barrel, this is your mess of dingy canals and hopeless cases. What reason could Nikolai Lantsov possibly have to bring him down these parts?
You blink and he’s standing there staring at you like he’s seen a ghost. All the cockiness drains from his step as his jaw unapologetically drops. It is loud in here, but you swear the volume drops just long enough for you to hear him with perfect accuracy as Nikolai whispers:
“Y/N?”
He says it like a prayer delivered by a dying man, every syllable infused with impossible hope. You don’t respond, but something in your expression must confirm his question anyway. Either that or your face has changed so little in the five years since you saw him last that Nikolai can recognize you anyway, even in the smoke-filled haven of the Crow Club.
He draws forward by impulse, steps quickening the closer he gets to you. In all honesty, you have no idea what he is about to do, nor how you would respond, so you find yourself unquestionably grateful when Kaz emerges out of nowhere to stand in between you and Ravka’s younger prince.
Nikolai pulls up short to avoid running into him. “Who,” Kaz says, voice low but cold as a blade, “are you?”
Nikolai’s gaze darts past Kaz to lock squarely on you. You find yourself answering in his stead. “This is Nikolai.”
You can’t see Kaz’s expression from this angle, but you can imagine the way his eyes must narrow anyway. “Nikolai from Ravka?”
“The very one,” Nikolai replies, a touch of that same bravado in his tone you remembered so well.
Kaz scoffs. “Impossible. How’d you cross the Shadow Fold, then, prince?”
Nikolai gestures to himself, and only now once the initial shock of seeing him is starting to fade away do you realize how absurdly he’s dressed. “I left Ravka when I thought Y/N died. I go by a different name now. Sturmhond.”
You laugh in spite of yourself, a high sound bordering almost on fright. “You became a pirate?”
“Privateer,” he corrects, and judging by the quick answer you’re guessing it’s the same knee-jerk response he gives to everybody.
Kaz shifts slightly, allowing you to see the glare he’s not bothering to hide. “And what are you doing in my city, privateer?”
Nikolai swallows hard. “I heard a rumor about a Healer. A Healer whose hands glowed when she saved someone’s life. I had to know.”
Kaz looks like he wants to physically cut the source of this information out of Nikolai’s throat, but you beat him to it. “Why would you care now? You never tried to find me.”
Nikolai’s eyes flash. “I tried every day until I heard you were dead. I mourned for months.”
“Heard,” Kaz comments, “you never found a body?”
“Obviously not,” Nikolai says, glancing towards you again, “Why didn’t you come back to Ravka, Y/N? Why didn’t you try to find me? I missed you. I loved you. I still do.” He holds out a hand to you. “My ship leaves in one week’s time. Come home with me.”
You find yourself flinching back. Since your first days on the shores of Ketterdam, you’ve long since learned to disguise any sign of weakness, but Kaz knows you well enough to look for signs of trouble in even your slightest of expressions.
The small catch of your breath now tells him all he needs to know regarding Nikolai’s offer. Kaz’s hands curl around his cane, causing the black leather to crease like skin. “Y/N is safe here, Lantosov. She doesn’t need your war-torn country.”
Nikolai’s brow furrows. “Who are you to speak for her?”
“I’m the one who actually saved her instead of giving up,” Kaz says simply, “I’m the one who gave her a home.”
Nikolai’s eyes flit to you again, and you nod. “I loved you, Nikolai, it’s true, but I moved on when you did. Ketterdam is where I belong. My time in Ravka is over.”
You see Kaz straighten up imperceptibly by your side. From the way he’d spoken to Nikolai, you hadn’t thought he harbored a shred of uncertainty regarding where you would want to go, but it appears that his worst fears were assuaged by you asserting that you wanted to stay with him.
Nikolai swallows hard. “I won’t blame you for wanting to come home.” Only myself, you can sense him mentally adding on. It is a shame that time has not robbed you of the ability to tell what he’s thinking.
“I already am home, Nikolai.” You tell him.
He nods and leaves without another word. You watch him go, and he does not look back. Nikolai has had quite a long time to mourn your absence. Tonight may have set him back a little bit, but you have no doubt that he will recover just as he did before.
“Thank you for staying,” Kaz murmurs when Nikolai disappears from the club.
“Thank you for fighting to keep me here,” you whisper back.
Kaz’s eyes are sharp when they meet yours. “I will always fight for you.”
That, you think, is the difference between him and Nikolai in the end. Nikolai will carry your memory with him wherever he goes, but Kaz would never allow someone to take you from him in the first place. He would go to war to keep you safe. In a way, you think he already has.
You have the perfect view of Fifth Harbor from Kaz’s office window. You wonder if he planned it that way, so he could see both who was entering his life and who was leaving it. The two of you stand and watch Nikolai’s ship leave for Ravka once more. You wondered if it would hurt to see a ticket back to your place of birth evaporate from between your fingers, but it doesn’t. It’s just like you told Nikolai, isn’t it? You are already home. There is no need to leave.
requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!
grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @story-scribbler, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker imagines#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker oneshot#grishaverse#grishaverse imagines#grishaverse x reader#grishaverse oneshot#shadow and bone#shadow and bone imagines#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone oneshot#kaz#kaz imagines#kaz x reader#kaz oneshot#grishaverse kaz#grishaverse kaz imagines#grishaverse kaz x reader#grishaverse kaz oneshot
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Your Love Triangle with Kid & Killer is awesome 😍 would you write more HCs for this Poly relationship? I imagine doing more quiet hobbies and activities with Killer like cooking or shopping and a lot of cuddling on the couch (and maybe some Vanilla Sex 👀). While with Kid you could have really hot hard sex, beeing creative in his workshop or listening to Punk Rock music. 🎶🎧
Kidd
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• Activities arranged by Kidd would certainly be more chaotic and riveting, likely involving new or experimental ideas
• Kidd certainly enjoys all of the soft moments, but he loves to break up the pace by pushing some boundaries
• Events involving concerts, festivals, amusement parks, and other high energy outings where the three of you could let loose would be Kidd’s preference
• Kidd is very adventurous in the bedroom and is willing to try most things as long as everyone else is comfortable
• The Captain is a rough lover but he’s very attentive to your likes and dislikes, I can specifically see him being very keen on spanking if you’re up for it (in a playful way of course)
• Prone to living in the moment, Kidd would not shy away from taking you in the middle of his workshop should the mood strike
• Perhaps you needed something or just wanted to check on him, Kidd would be hulking over some contraption with toned muscles glistening beneath a fresh sheen of sweat
• The Captain would notice your gaze and flushed face before you could even register your own thoughts, working to exacerbate your already flustered state
• It wouldn’t take long for his metal hand to sweep the lingering tools off the top of his workbench and into the floor, your sweet self filling the empty space while being spread open to the heaviest metal on his playlist
• Maybe Killer would hear some suspiciously erotic sounds overtoning the music in the room where his two lovers were last seen and enters the room to find the two of you enjoying one another, his addition to your spur of the moment session being welcomed and yearned for
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Killer
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• Activities arranged by Killer would be intimate and cozy, often ending in the three of you lounging comfortably in the company of one another
• Killer enjoys all the high-pace antics that are typically drawn up by Kidd, but he has an innate preference for the softer moments
• Expect to participate in more personal things like baking, watching movies, attempting to build things together, and other private activities that bring the three of you closer together
• Killer is a very attentive lover and wants to please his partners above all else, he’s not quite as adventurous in this aspect but is still a lot of fun
• Praise is a large part of Killer’s behavior when he’s in the mood, you can almost always tell what’s coming next when overt compliments and recognition begin to pour from his mouth
• Maybe the two of you are lounging on the couch waiting for Kidd to return from tinkering when the barrage of compliments begins, Killer rather proactively pointing out all the things he adores about you
• Your embarrassed expression would spur him on, prompting him to make use of his hands in finding either your waist or thighs to begin kneading
• He’d purposely inch closer and closer to the explicit areas of your body, reveling in your gasps as he eases the two of you into more physical activities
• Killer would bring himself to rest on his knees in front of you, lifting your legs to sit on his shoulders as he indulges in the arousal he’d built up within you
• He’d take his time to ensure that Kidd would have the opportunity to walk in on the two of you, ultimately securing an exponentially more graphic evening involving all three of you
⋆⁺₊⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆⁺₊⋆
#kid pirates#one piece#one piece fanfiction#anime#one piece x reader#eustass kid#killer one piece#massacre soldier killer#killer headcanons#captain kid headcanons#eustass kid headcanons#one piece headcanons
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hypothetically….
what if… there was an enemies to lovers, slow burn, mafia au fic… the ghafia, if you will… starring (dark) copia… what if i discovered the canon fact of copia having a gun… and i took that and ran.
and, hypothetically of course, there was an OC named arianna diodati who’s copia’s (very catholic) rival’s daughter… and he uses her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants…
and, also hypothetically, he becomes hellbent on corrupting her catholic ways….
then what if i told you… this was coming soon, very soon and there’s a teaser below the cut… 👀
and…. maybe…. chapters 1 & 2 of “God Called In Sick Today” can be found right here
trigger warnings for series include (but won’t be limited to): angst, abusive relationship, violence, gun use, kidnapping, blood, religious trauma, corruption kink, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, slow burn, dark romance
~~~~~~
Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she could care less about.
She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”
“Yes, please,” she smiled.
It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.
She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.
Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.
~~~~~~
thoughts? if this sounds like something you’d want to dive into… let me know in a comment you want to be added to the tag list!
#fic teaser#copia x oc#copia#papa emeritus iv#papa copia#popia#copia smut#copia angst#mafia au#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost the band#the band ghost fanfiction#copia emeritus#ghost copia#popia copia#papa emeritus 4#papa emeritus iv x oc
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