#much to the dismay of anyone who gets with him
Note
Hello !! For your IAU requests, either Sky being a good uncle and babysitting the younger Links, or some kind of angst involving Four?
No pressure if you don't want to ! And please remember to take it easy if requests get overwhelming-
Don’t mind me answering this rather late lol, it took me a while to figure out where I wanted to take this! I already did some Four angst, so here’s some Sky babysitting when the kids are all a bit younger :)
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“Yes, Sky babysitting!” Wild yelled, jumping on the couch. “Now we can stay up all night!”
Sky watched his nephew bounce around, the rest of his brothers all equally excited as their parents drove away to have a night for themselves for once, and chuckled. Warriors was busy, and Sun was feeling under the weather, so Sky was babysitting all six of his nephews alone.
Which he could handle. For sure.
“Sorry Wild,” Sky apologized, nudging him with a wing to get him to stop bouncing. “No staying up all night I’m afraid. Your parents said bedtime was eight o’clock, sharp.”
“Did they really mean sharp though?” Legend piped up, smiling innocently. “Maybe Mom said ‘shark’. And sharks don’t ever have to go to bed.”
“Never, huh?” Sky said, and Legend hesitated for a second, then nodded confidently.
“Yeah, never.”
“Never ever. They’d just bite anyone who told them to! RAAAWR!” Wild roared, and leapt off the couch and right onto Wind. His little brother yelled in protest, and Sky quickly pulled Wild off, his nephew still making biting noises and chomping his teeth.
“Why don’t we bite some dinner instead?” Sky said, and Wild paused in his biting, looking hopefully up at him.
“Dinner?”
“Yep. How does mac and cheese sound?” Sky asked, and Wild let out an excited whoop.
“YESSSSS! Can I help?” he begged, and Sky nodded.
“Me too!” Wind shouted, and Twilight wagged his tail where he was sitting with Hyrule on the couch.
“You all can help,” Sky said patiently, scooping up Four and heading into the kitchen. “But you’ve got to listen to my instructions, all right?”
“Yessir!” Wild chirped, and zipped over to the cabinets and began pulling out utensils.
Sky chuckled as his siblings followed, and then got to work on dinner.
Mac and cheese wasn’t hard to make, especially with multiple eager helpers, and everything was going fine as the cheese was added and the pot was stirred. There was a minor hiccup when Hyrule almost added twice as many noodles as were needed, but Twilight managed to stop him at the last second, and dinner was finished with no further problems.
All until his nephews realized mac and cheese wasn’t the only thing they were eating for dinner.
“Peas?!” Wind said in dismay, and Sky nodded as he got Four settled in the booster seat they had for his chair.
“Yep. That’s what vegetable your mom left me to cook.“
“But... peas?” Wind repeated, his face screwed up, and Sky raised an eyebrow.
“What’s so bad about peas?” he questioned, and Wind let out a loud blegh noise, face disgusted.
“Peas are gross,” he stressed, crossing his arms with a pout. “They’re are yucky an’ bad.”
“Wind, they’re not so bad, the rest of your siblings are eating them,” Sky chided, and Twilight suddenly squirmed in his seat, looking uncomfortably at his plate.
“Yeah, even Twilight, and he hates peas!” Wild said cheerily, and Twilight sank in his chair a bit.
“If you eat them with the mac and cheese they just taste like cheese,” Hyrule said helpfully, and Wind looked over at his plate, wrinkling his nose at the way Hyrule had mashed everything together.
“That’s yucky. I don’t wanna,” Wind pouted, putting his face on the table.
“I didn’t even give you that many. At least eat some of them Wind,” Sky pleaded, and Wind blew a loud raspberry, making Four laugh. “...Wind.”
“I don’t wanna!”
Sky looked at Wind, and Wind looked at Sky, neither of them willing to back down. The rest of his nephews watched in interest (all except Four who was throwing peas at Legend, much to his chagrin), and finally Sky leaned back in his chair with a casual shrug.
“Well... if you’re not going to eat them, then you’re not going to get dessert,” Sky said, casually folding his wings behind his back. “That’s a pity, too. I brought cupcakes.”
Wild gasped and shook Hyrule excitedly, and Wind narrowed his eyes, tilting his head up to look at Sky.
“...Cupcakes?”
“With blue frosting,” Sky added, and Wild let out an even louder gasp, nearly falling out of his chair.
“Upake!” Four yelled.
Wind pursed his lips, and looked down at the offending vegetable, obviously feeling rather conflicted. Twilight meanwhile, attempted to slip quietly out of his chair while everyone was distracted, his face strangely scrunched.
A wing stuck out and stopped him right as he began to walk away though, and Twilight froze as he looked up at Sky.
“All finished, buddy?” he asked, and Twilight cleared his throat, nodding. “You ate pretty quickly there. Don’t you want more mac and cheese?”
“No, I’m good,” Twilight said quickly, and tried to edge away from his feathers.
“What’s that in your pocket, Twi?” Wild asked loudly, and Twilight cringed, glancing at his bulging pockets.
“It’s... um... it’s just...”
Legend suddenly became visible behind him, and stuck a hand in his pocket, pulling out a handful of peas.
“Ah-HA!”
Twilight jumped, then gave Sky an extremely guilty look when he raised an eyebrow.
“Uh... how about that? I guess some just... fell in there...” he said with a hesitant smile.
Sky jabbed a thumb back at the table, and Twilight slunk back to his seat, more than one of his brothers giggling. Legend looked particularly smug, and Twilight shot him a foul look as he emptied his pockets back onto his plate.
“Okay. I’ll have peas. I’ll only eat some though,” Wind finally decided, and Sky nodded, inwardly relieved. He hadn’t been sure the dessert tactic would work.
“Thank you. How does five spoonfuls sound?”
“Five spoonfuls?!”
Sky sighed.
Dinner took another half hour to finish, Wild and Hyrule eating several more helpings of mac and cheese, Four throwing food, Twilight and Wind slowly eating their peas. Finally all the plates were empty though, and Sky went to grab the plate of cupcakes.
“Sky, can we watch tv and eat them?” Legend asked as he brought them over. “There’s a movie on tonight.”
Sky hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe... what movie is it?”
“Umm, I forget the title. But it’s the one where the guy has a talking hat and has to save the world with mice guys. And stuff,” Legend said helpfully.
“Four likes that one,” Twilight added, and Sky gave in with a little sigh.
“...Okay. But straight to bed afterwards, and you guys have got to use napkins,” he said, and Wild whooped for at least the third time that evening.
The napkins didn’t help a bit of course. Sky’s nephews got crumbs on the floor, crumbs on clothes, crumbs on furniture... not to mention the blue frosting, that Sky was really starting to regret bringing over. It was a very good thing Malon and Time’s couch wasn’t white.
The first hour of the movie was mostly talked over, sugar-fueled arguments and teasing and general chaos that happened whenever they all tried to sit and do something. By the time the sugar buzz finally wore off, Sky’s patience had grown rather thin, and he was exhausted.
Why did I agree to this again? he thought with a sigh, wiping fruitlessly at a smear of frosting on his shirt. There was big smear all over his sleeve, and it would take him ages to get all of the crumbs out of his feathers.
Before Sky could get any further with cleaning himself up (or griping), a hand pushed on his leg, and he looked down to see Four crawl into his lap.
He snuggled up to his chest, and Wind squished up next to him a few moments later, smile a bright blue. Legend noticed what was going on and wormed into the pile as a rabbit, and Hyrule settled himself under one of Sky’s wings, leaning on his shoulder. Finally Twilight and Wild sat themselves under the other, and they all watched quietly as the hero on the tv had a serious conversation with his talking hat.
Sky looked down at them all, sticky and covered in frosting and crumbs, Hyrule nestling tighter under his wing, Four resting his head back on his chest.
Then he sighed and gave them a soft smile, unable to hold on to any annoyance with six kids all snuggled around him.
Right. That’s why.
(...)
Late that evening, Time and Malon came home and found all six of their boys sound asleep in the living room under Sky’s wings, Sky himself snoring with a faint smile on his face.
...and blue frosting.
Lots of blue frosting.
#answers from the floor#lovely sleepy the loz enthusiast#incredibles au#Incredibles au fic#fic#lu Sky#linkeduniverse#IAU Sky#hmm how to tag all the boys...#IAU kiddos? IAU boys? IAU Links?#I guess that last one works#IAU Links#writing from the floor#anyone who’s been around kids knows the scourge of blue frosting
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fun fact: the first time I played Skyrim, I went into it less than blind. My only other experience with video games had been Mario Kart with an elementary school friend, Skylanders, and Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 on my dad’s old computer. Of course, I was vaguely aware that the game had dragons in it and the memes about it had been around for as long as I had been on the internet. This was total and complete summary of my awareness about the game.
My roommate however, who had lent me her copy of the game to make a new save file on, loved it dearly and was very eager to watch me play for the first time.
Some several hours in and I finally began the Dark Brotherhood quests. We all know how it goes: contact Aventus, kill some old hag, receive a very spooky letter. Strange letter arrives and my interest is now thoroughly piqued. My roommate is thrilled. She loves the Dark Brotherhood questline and is very eager to see my reactions to it. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure what to do with the letter so I put it into my inventory and continue about my day, relatively assured that whatever happens next in the quest will happen naturally.
Time goes by and I still confused about the nature of the letter. Nothing has happened since and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve encountered one of the many infamous bugs of this game. Unbeknownst to me, my poor roommate has begun to realize that I may be dumber than i look and there is a very little chance of me actually getting into a bed at literally any point in this playthrough.
After several instances of me choosing to stand outside a shop and wait for 12 hours instead of finding a bed and sleeping in it like a normal person, my poor roommate finally caves and just tells me to go lie down already please
I did like the Dark Brotherhood quest and feel very bad for my roommate and for me that it took so long to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do
#me: hey kendall what was the deal with that mysterious letter i got a while ago?#kendall: *sweating nervously* uh.. did you know that if you sleep in a bed you own you get a well rested bonus?#me: ...#is that what i was i supposed to do?!?!#i also killed cicero on my first playthrouhg much to her dismay because i found his voice really annoying#also ended up permanetly breaking a quest because one of the quest markers to protect an NPC was labeled optional and he jumped in front of#my blade as i stabbed the boss for the last time and died#turned out protecting him WASNT optional as the next thing to do was talk to him to collect the reward#very proud to say however that despite my mistakes i have never once killed Paarthurnax and anyone who listens to delphine is a monster#skyrim#dark brotherhood
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Ah
Almost forgot to say
Shirtless (and pantless) ghoul here soon bc I wanted to show off his tattoos and piercings
#that far#jax rattles#prepare for ghoobies (ghoul boobies)#and food patterned boxers#bw is a hungry lad so he must show it thru his fashion choices#much to the dismay of anyone who gets with him#bc he will show them off and tell tjem where he got them and not shut up#you will listen to him about hotdog boxers and you Will Like It.
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𝝑𝝔 an: so i got like 3 requests ab jealous cool bf sukuna x loser gf dynamic but i won’t be able to tag em since you know they were sadly anonymous. i decided to combine them into 1 fic hehe, hope you guys like it!! read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
cool boyfriend sukuna doesn’t get jealous, alright? he is not insecure or anything like that, he trusts you and you trust him so it doesn’t matter to him if someone tries to woo you or something. but you can be a little dense sometimes since you haven’t experienced a lot of the things people usually do in their teens.
still, he likes to think that you’d be smart enough to reject anyone who tries to make their advances toward you, albeit he is sure if you do it will be in a very polite and a sweet way, much to his dismay. but it’s just the way you are and sukuna loves his loser girlfriend.
but he doesn’t know what’s going on through your mind when this happens;
“do you wanna maybe go out tomorrow?” some guy from your class asks you, a nervous smile as he awaits your answer. you continue collecting your things into your bag and look up at him with a small smile, naively thinking he wants to study or talk about your shared classes.
“sure!” you chirp and then briefly glance at the door of the room only to find your boyfriend standing there, hands in his pockets and a deep frown on his face as he stares at you two.
the guy in front of you almost jumps in excitement from your answer, stuttering out that he will text you later and leaving the room.
“what did that nerd want?” sukuna asks you as soon as you exit the class, his arm taking it’s usual spot on your shoulders.
“oh, nothing much, just asked if i wanna go out tomorrow.”
at that, sukuna’s steps come to a halt as he squints at you with a confused look. “and you said..?”
“i said ‘sure’.”
he exhales deeply before hits the back of your head with a disgusted look on his face, ignoring the way you stare at him in bewilderment, hands flying to rub the spot. but he doesn’t give you time to process anything, tugging you into one of the empty classes and locking the door.
“sit.” sukuna orders, leaving no room for complaint as he lifts you up to sit on one of the desk, planting his hands beside your thighs on the surface as he breathes heavily.
“‘kuna..?” you ask, unsure if you should even say anything while he’s angry at you.
“are you dumb?”
you pout, brows pinching together as you look up at him in genuine confusion, “why?”
“the dipshit asked you out and you said ‘sure’?”
“we were just talking about the lecture so i thought he wanted to study together.” you look down at your lap, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt nervously. “i didn’t realise he meant it like that.”
as mad as sukuna is, he can’t resist that sad little pout on your face; the way your eyes get all wide and bottom lips juts out defensively, cheeks puffing a little. and he is sure you’re not lying to him because he knows you.
he moves away from you, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts and calm down.
“are you mad at me, ryo?” you ask innocently, hand instinctively finding his to tug at his fingers so he doesn’t move too far, although a bit unsurely. “‘m sorry.”
“i’m not mad.” sukuna intertwines your fingers, pulling you into himself gently. his other hand suddenly finds your face, squishing your cheeks together roughly as he shakes your head from side to side with a sinister smirk. “pull shit like that again and i’ll kill ya.”
“ow, ow— sukuna!” you whine, trying to peel his hand of your face, but he doesn’t let go until he kisses your plumped lips a couple of times. “you’re so jealous!”
that wipes the smirk off his face very quickly.
“i’m not, loser.”
you poke his cheek with a bright beam on your lips, “you are, heh.”
“gettin’ cocky, aren’t you?” he pushes your face away with his palm and steps away from you, leaving you to trail after himself with small giggles escaping you.
suddenly sukuna smirks, his arm around your shoulders tightening it’s hold, “i’ll still beat the shit out of him tho.”
“sukuna, no!”
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x you#jjk sukuna#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader
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I thought you'd be different | James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.
Probably part one of two again.
Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.
Masterlist. Part two. Part three
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You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.
“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.
“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.
But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.
You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.
“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”
“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.
“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.
“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.
When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.
You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.
James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.
James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.
James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.
It’s beautiful.
You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.
Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.
You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.
James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.
It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.
Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.
If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.
A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.
Maybe she will.
You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.
That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.
In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.
Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.
But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.
Who are you?
You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.
You’d be disappointed.
I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.
James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.
He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.
But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.
Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?
You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.
No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.
You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.
“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.
“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.
His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.
“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”
“No.”
“Well I did.”
“So it seems.”
“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.
“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.
“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.
“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.
You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”
“Do I have to pay rent?”
“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”
“So not then.”
You huffed.
“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”
“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”
Regulus shook his head in amusement.
Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.
You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.
“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.
For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.
You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”
It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.
James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.
His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.
“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.
“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.
You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.
Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”
“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.
“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.
“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”
You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.
Maybe he was a twat.
Am I a twat?
What the bloody hell are you on about?
Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.
Did you deserve it?
Sort of.
Sort of?
I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.
You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.
Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.
You reckon?
Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.
On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?
If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.
Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?
James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.
Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.
It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.
Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.
“Out with it.”
You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.
“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.
“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”
It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.
Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”
You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”
Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.
“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“
You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”
Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.
“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.
“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.
“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”
James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.
It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.
There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.
James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.
For two different reasons.
James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.
He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.
James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.
Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.
“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.
You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”
James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”
Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.
But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.
“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.
James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”
“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”
Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”
“You know you can call me James, right?”
“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.
“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”
You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”
“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”
His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.
“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.
“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.
“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.
“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”
The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.
James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.
“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”
“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.
James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.
The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .
“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.
You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.
“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.
“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.
“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.
“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.
You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.
By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.
You got up as well.
“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”
James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.
“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.
In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.
Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.
James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.
A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”
When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.
Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.
“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.
You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.
I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.
Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.
James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.
Preview of part two
Part two
Taglist:
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#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter imagine#james potter fluff#james potter angst#james potter x fem!reader#marauders era#marauders#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter oneshot#marauder x reader#young james potter
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DC x DP Prompt
To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!
It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.
No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.
They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.
But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.
That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.
Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.
The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.
What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.
The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.
Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.
From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.
And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:
"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dp x dc prompt#dp dc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp prompt#danny and the gang are fragments of the souls of those the joker + the other criminals killed or got killed because of them#guess who most of danny's soul is made of#hint: he has pit rage#the joker is no longer human that's why they had a hard time cathing him#neither are the bats but neither party knew#i would like to mention that danny is tiny#he missed his growth spurt and is making it everyone's problem#danny is a tiny menace#danny sam val dash and kwan mostly work out in the feld#tucker wes and star are the guys and gal in the chair#Paulina Dan and Jazz are the lawyers who prosecute the crimanals#they always win#duh#ellie is their mascot#shes also a mencae#she sometimes go out on the felid#wearing a tutu#combat boots#and a studded leather jacket#with her hair in pig tails#she also has a spiked bat#she WILL use it
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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ MEET ME IN THE AFTERGLOW ❜❜
.ೃ࿐ post-sukuna fight: no victory comes without a loss, and his win came at the cost of his eyesight
contents: fem!reader. some combination of hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff.
author's note: inspired by levi at the end of aot ꨄ︎
7:58 PM
satoru gojo had always had the best eyes. sorcerer, curse, human – you could search the whole world, and nobody else would even come close.
but the aftermath of satoru's fight with sukuna changed everything. after a long, painful battle, satoru came out on top, but at a great cost. his eyes.
dying wishes are powerful, especially from a curse as strong as sukuna. right before the king of curses was done for, he pooled everything he had left into a final attack to ensure that satoru gojo would never be the same. he succeeded.
now, almost a week after the fight, long after the dust settled and peace had reclaimed the jujutsu society, satoru still insists on wearing his blindfold around the clock.
no matter what you try or how you ask, he stubbornly refuses let you see underneath. actually, it'd be more accurate to say that he doesn't respond at all. after all, to your dismay, he's a master at avoiding questions and delaying answers.
you weren't even sure if there was any change to how he looked. maybe he looked the exact same underneath. maybe he had a couple scars. fuck, for all you knew he didn't even have eyes at all anymore.
you just wish he would let you see the new him. he doesn't even have it that bad – thanks to six-eyes, he can still see the silhouettes of cursed energy. and he wore a blindfold most days anyway, so it wasn't too much of a change.
which is why you weren't sure why he wouldn't just take the damn blindfold off.
"satoru, please let me see," you beg, tugging at his shirt sleeve. "i miss your pretty face. and honestly, who wears a blindfold to bed?"
he laughs at your incredulous question, but it sounds forced and unnatural. satoru tugs his arm away and waves you off. "let me take a shower, 'kay? i just got out of work, and i'm probably covered in germs."
you hate this new satoru – the one who won't let you get too close or even see his face anymore. he just won't open up to you, and it's frustrating. "satoru, please? let me in."
at the sound of your pleading voice, satoru rests one hand on the bathroom door and sighs before turning around to face you. he's smiling, but it seems so off – like all his smiles do nowadays.
"you try'n to watch me shower, sweetheart?" he cracks, running a hand through his hair. "i know you love seeing me naked, but-"
"satoru."
"get off my dick," he grumbles lightly, before strolling into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. maybe you imagine it, but you could swear that you hear the soft click of a lock turning.
10:34 PM
"good night, sweetheart," satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your shoulder and rolling over onto his side. he still has his blindfold on, and the almost undetectable glow eminating from his skin shows that he has a very subtle form of limitless active.
it's been like this every night.
"satoru, can we talk?" you whisper, trailing a hand through his damp white hair. "please?"
"is it about the blindfold?"
"obviously."
he sighs and rolls over again to face you, the soft glow fading from his skin. "give it a rest, yeah?" he says, exasperated. "i'm not ready for anyone to see."
"satoru, even you don't know what your eyes look like under the blindfold," you murmur. "and do you really trust me that little?"
he lifts one of his hands and rests it on your shoulder, thumb tracing circles as he leans in and says "of course i trust you."
you shake your head and sit up, pressing your back against the headboard. "no, you don't."
"then why'd you as-"
"why do you sleep with limitless on now?" you interject, crossing your arms. "what happened to 'i never have limitless on around you'?" you whisper, quoting something he told you when you two first starting dating. back when he could look you in the eye.
satoru sighs again and sits up alongside you. "you know why."
"you seriously think i'd do that?"
"i..." he trails off, slipping a finger underneath his blindfold to rub one of his eyes. "i don't know. all i know is that i'm not ready for anyone to see me like... this."
"satoru, you can't keep running away from everyone forever," you say, shaking your head again. "you-"
"i know, i know," he mutters. "it's not that simple."
he's stubborn – he always has been. and you're mostly used to it, which is why you know that the best way to get satoru to change his mind on something is to ease him into it instead of pushing and shoving.
so you switch gears, and instead of arguing more you reach out and take his hand. "what are you afraid of?"
"nothing. i'm the strongest," satoru replies automatically. the response sounds so automated, so pre-written that you can't help but smile.
"okay," you say neutrally, trying to reword your question. "why don't you want to show me what your eyes look like? you've haven't even seen them yourself."
satoru smiles sourly and his hands curl into white-knuckled fists around the bedsheets. "and i never will. i'm blind now, remember, sweetheart?" his words are laced with bitterness, even (and especially) in the final word.
but it wasn't you who satoru was resentful towards. it was himself.
how could he have so foolishly let down his guard before sukuna was confirmed to be dead? how could he let his characteristic arrogance get the better of him? he made the same mistake when he was a teen, and now he's done it again as the strongest – although this event may have stripped him of his title.
a mixture of emotions crosses what little you can see of his face, and it's now more than ever that you wish you could be there for him.
but he's the only one alive who knows what it's like to be the strongest.
so as much as you wish you could tell him that everything's going to be okay and that he'll always be the strongest, you know damn well that you don't know and that he might not be.
somehow, this conversation has evolved from your desire to see his face to something more.
a silent, mutual understanding passes between you and satoru, and the thickness in the air slowly dissolves.
"sorry," you breathe. "i was being selfish, wasn't i?"
satoru shakes his head, a smile growing on his face. "nah, you're right. i don't even know what i look like."
he lifts a hand and slips his thumb underneath his blindfold, and after a brief moment of hesitation, slides it off.
to your surprise, satoru looks more or less the same. his eyes aren't cloudy and they still glow with that familiar bright blue. the only difference, which was expected, was how his eyes didn't quite settle on you. they were pointed in your direction, but his eyes didn't entirely focus on you.
"so?" satoru asks, running a finger over his eyes. "how bad is it?"
"satoru, you look the same."
he blinks and doesn't answer for a second, as if he's processing the information. "really?" he asks, an unreadable expression on his face.
"yep."
"oh. well, that was anticlimactic," satoru says with a lopsided grin. he leans forward and scoots down from his spot against the headboard, laying his head on a pillow and pulling you on top of his chest. "my bad."
"you idiot," you mumble, pressing your face into his neck. "i didn't get to see your pretty face for a whole week."
"ah, i believe it was only six days."
"and satoru, you even turned on limitless at night! the hell would i even do? cut your blindfold off in the middle of the night?" you grumble, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "and i can't believe that the only reason you didn't want to show me your face is because you thought you weren't pretty anymore!"
satoru grins lazily and rests one of his hands on your waist, slipping a finger under the waistband of your shorts and idly rubbing your skin. "keep venting, sweetheart. it's cute."
he laughs when you swat him with another pillow and pulls you in for a long kiss. and that's when you know that things might never go back to how they were in satoru's glory days.
but as the night falls and slips away in satoru's arms, you think that maybe, just maybe, this works too.
#osaemu#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo fanfic#gojo fic#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk angst#gojo angst#satoru gojo angst#gojo fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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loser miguel who starts to normalize his perverse thoughts because, if he’s thinking nice sweet things, surely they balance out?
he can imagine your plump ass bouncing on his cock as much as he wants, as long as he pictures himself cooking you a romantic meal right after, it’s fine.
loser miguel who can finally start accepting your hugs again. and thank god for that, he thought he was going to combust without your warm embrace. he had gotten so used to not getting them again, that his cock immediately stiffened the first time around, leaving him a blushing mess when you made another joke about his keys.
loser miguel who starts outwardly asking for any form of physical affection. he’s gone so long without any touch that living without your hugs leaves a burning deep inside him.
he shamelessly stands there after saying goodbye, arms outstretched, waiting for you to run over to him and press your smaller frame against him as you bury your head against his chest, forcing you to get dizzy from his cologne.
loser miguel who puts on a show of being embarrassed whenever someone says your his work wife, or simply more than the best friends everyone at the workplace has come to know you as.
they all know you’re a very touchy feely person, but you’re extra clingy with miguel, and he doesn’t mind a bit.
loser miguel who is over the moon when you want to repay him for walking you to your train the other night.
he has a few ideas in mind, you sprawled out on the sofa with his thick fingers burried in your leaky cunt while stares up at your perfect face with those soft, brown eyes of his. his cock sliding against your slick folds as you beg and whine for more doesn’t sound too bad either, if you aren’t down for him ravaging your clit.
loser miguel who has to make do with you buying him lunch one day because you insisted on something other than the ‘quality time’ he proposed. he was too busy forcing himself not to ogle at your face when he suggested it, to even notice the way your gaze softens at his kind offer, or the flicker of hope in your eyes when he smiles awkwardly at you.
loser miguel who’s too self conscious for his own good. he’s been told countless times how easy it would be for him to walk into any bar and have anyone come home with him.
there’s always plenty of girls who throw themselves at him, the waitresses who tell him when their shift ends, the delivery drivers who offer to settle for a different payment, the women he works with offering to stay behind with him to work on different projects. and maybe if he wasn’t so oblivious he would have said yes at some point, too fed up of his palm and whatever fucked up porn he can find to resist the rush of arousal that hits him whenever he sees a pair of tits.
but that was before he’d met you, it’s different. sophia vergara herself could get down on her knees for him and he would deny her. she doesn’t have your smile, your charisma, you cheery laugh, your perky ass, your soft, homely scent that lingers on everything you touch , no one does.
loser miguel who has to excuse himself from the project meeting because he can’t hide his erection, no matter how many times he changes position.
much to his dismay, the toilets are full and your hand placed lazily on his thigh as you idly fidget with his fingers has left him with an achingly hard cock. so he has to hobble down the, thankfully, barren hallways, cock so hard it hurts to walk.
he pulls himself into the lab, door locked firmly behind him as he pushes himself into the corner. hastily, his hands reach for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling with the urgency that shoots through his veins.
a low, shaky groan escapes him as he finally wraps him clammy palm around his cock, precum already spilling everywhere. he starts of with soft, gentle strokes, hoping that it’ll be enough to get him off but all he can think about is the way you leaned into him as the two of you walked into the conference room this morning.
his deep brown eyes scan the lab lazily until they land on your lab coat. in a moment of desperation, he grabs it and brings it up to his nose, cock instantly growing harder as your scent takes over his senses.
his hand moves faster now, more deliberate and hungry strokes that cause his hips to stutter and countless prayers of your name to fall from his lips.
“migs?” for a second he thinks he’s gone insane. he’s started hearing your voice, feeling your warmth, the sweetness of the air around you, when he knows damn well your in that meeting.
“migs, you okay?” you call out again, concern clear in your shaky tone, “the lab was locked but i couldn’t find you anywhere else.”
fuck
you’re in here. but he’s so close and if you keep standing in that exact position he can see your ass without you even knowing he’s there.
“there you are! i was so worried when you rushed out of that meeting,” you ramble, finally turning the corner, only to be met with the sight of miguel’s head rolled back and leaky cock on show with… is that your lab coat?
“fuck! i’m so sorry,” you yell, hands flying up to cover your reddened face.
“ay coño,” he husks, still pumping at his cock, too close to stop now.
you try to back away but those gentle, mahogany eyes you love so much are glowing a fierce red, drawing you in closer to miguel and his burning desire for you.
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#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#spider man 2099#spiderman 2099#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel fluff#fluff#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x y/n#miguel smut#miguel o hara#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x reader#miguel au
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MOANER, GROANER, OR WHIMPERER ?
what sounds do the seventeen members make in bed ?
NSFW CONTENT ! MDNI !
a/n: GUYS i am so sorry i haven't written in so long ╯︿╰ i lose motivation for things VERY easily. anywho,,, if anyone has any requests or anything feel free to send them in ! ( just be prepared for me to take my time to respond ϵ( ‘Θ’ )϶ )
MOANER:
jeonghan:
when i tell you this man has the PRETTIEST moans i mean it. borderline angelic. every noise that comes out of his mouth has you on the verge of orgasm LITERALLY. he's upstaging you i'm sorry !
joshua:
the things i would do to hear him moaning.... 28:50 of the youngji interview is EMBEDDED in my brain. def more on the quiet side, his moans are pretty low in volume, but he is for SURE right next to your ear cuz he knows how much his moans affect you.
jun:
pathetic moans. PATHETIC. loud, whiny, GUTTURAL moans. he also has no shame. and i mean that. does not care how loud he's being. he has to let you know how good you make him feel, who cares about who hears ? also def makes those ah- ah- ah- sounds before he cums
minghao:
hao's moans are like josh's, low in volume but close enough for you to hear. gives me the vibes of someone who doesn't make much noise in bed, he prefers to focus on your blabbering, but when his sounds grace your ears, it is HEAVENLY. ( his moans are borderline whimpers too just saying )
seungkwan:
DEEP. DEEP. SO DEEP. yk that one good to me performance where he said "make some noise" in his deep ass voice ? yeah, that's his tone in bed. moans coming straight from the chest LAWDDDDDD. was pretty shy at first when it came to making noise, but after seeing how badly it affected you ( because who wouldn't go insane hearing them ), he just goes AT IT. unless he's in sub mode and is borderline sobbing
GROANER:
seungcheol:
bro. words could not describe how hot this man sounds ( i would know we're actually married ). GUTTERAL groaning. genuinely sounds like he is working out ＞︿＜ lets out a groan every time he pulls out, followed by a whimper when he shoves his cock back in :/
wonwoo:
practically inaudible with how deep his groans are. all you would be able to hear is this deep grumble. rarely likes making sounds in bed as he prefers to be all ears for your moans, but hey, sometimes good sex makes a man whimper okay there's nothing wrong with that :3
vernon:
kinda like jun, in the aspect that his groans have a pathetic tilt to them. every sound he makes, no matter how hard he tries to keep them in, just ends up sounding absolutely RUINED. im talking you'd think he was crying from how desperate he sounds ( maybe he is who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )
chan:
he's right on the barrier between groans and gasps. OMLLLL HIS LITTLE GASP WHEN HE FIRST SLIPS IN !!!!!!!!!!! no shame either he wants to let the whole world know he's getting the best pussy of his LIFE. anime girl ~gah~ kinda noises IM SORRY
WHIMPERER:
jihoon:
dooooont care what you think. he WHIMPERS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! his whimpers are very low in volume however, he knows that if the guys ever found out the little noises he makes for you he would be a goner. tries his hardest to hold the whines back, much to your dismay, but at least then you get the gorgeous sight of him biting his lip till it bleeds (/▽＼)
seokmin:
man does not care how embarrassing his sounds are he NEEDS you to know how good you feel. he is the EPITONE of whimpers. men be afraid to moan in their girls ear, but seokmin is sobbing out "f-fuck oh m- oh my god- 's good, 's good-" and other barely audible curses :3
mingyu:
his whimpers are WET sorrynotsorry. im saying he's borderline drooling. dumb puppy can't help it if your cunt feels so good :( sobs, cries, just the most desperate and shaky words tumbling from his mouth ( if he can still form words is a different story ).
ALL OF THE ABOVE:
soonyoung:
does not give a FUCK what noise he is making, he's just going for it. somehow sounds like whimpers, cries and growls all in one ?? also yes 80% of the time he is growling but are we suprised. just says any word that comes to his mind too. bro does nawt understand why people hold in their moans... if it feels good, it feels good you know ?
not proof-read ! lmk if there's any mistakes (づ￣ 3￣)づ
#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#svt#svt x reader#svt smut#scoups x reader#scoups smut#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan smut#joshua x reader#joshua smut#junhui x reader#junhui smut#hoshi x reader#hoshi smut#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo smut#woozi x reader#woozi smut#minghao x reader#minghao smut#mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#dk x reader#dk smut#seungkwan x reader#seungkwan smut#vernon x reader#vernon smut
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Hii! Saw your request for requests. Can we have something with Reader meeting a driver unexpectedly while shopping it partying or working out, whatever and neither one realises the other is a celebrity until they mention it to their friends or coworkers
who…? (OP81 x gn!Reader)
you meet oscar while shopping for clothes, neither of you recognise each other, much to the dismay of your friends.
w/c: 936
a/n: hi! if you want any other driver please dont be afraid to ask!!! (masterlist)
TW: cluelessness, a few uses of y/n (and one use of y/n_l/n)
Your fingers glide through the row of neatly hung shirts. You stay focused on the shirts, not really caring about anyone else in your surroundings.
As your sights land on a black graphic tee, you place one hand on the shirt and abruptly stop in your tracks. Before anything else can happen, someone walks directly into you, causing you to stumble back.
You curse under your breath but look up and sheepishly apologise to the man.
“Sorry-” He says first, with a thick Australian accent no one could miss.
With one hand still on the graphic tee, you nod subtly and apologise.
The man’s eyes are glued on the shirt which you have your hands on.
One of his hands slides up to the back of his neck as he rubs it, clearly thinking about something.
“Sorry, did you want this shirt?” You ask, to which the man nods.
“Yea- but I mean if you were planning on getting it…” His words slowly descend into just a mumble of sounds.
“It’s just that it has my name on it and I thought it was pretty cool.” The man points to the giant words on the shirt.
“Oscar?” You raise an eyebrow and the man nods rather violently.
“Yea, my name’s Oscar. Piastri. Oscar Piastri, so yea, pretty cool shirt.”
You shrug and hand him the shirt, “Well, you can take it, not like it says y/n or anything…”
“That’s my name.” You clarify and Oscar nods in response.
Oscar takes the shirt from you and smiles, “Thanks.”
“No problem, have a good day.” You smile as he walks off.
The interaction is clearly not something you were expecting but you continue on your day, picking out another shirt before heading off.
—
“So… anything interesting happen?” Your friend says, leaning back on their chair.
“Yea, I had a weird thing happen at the thrift store.” You say.
“Spill.”
“I was looking at this shirt and then this guy bumped into me and asked me if he could have the shirt since it had his name on it.” You recount.
“What was his name?”
“Oscar. Piastri, or something like that.” You draw random shapes in the air as you speak.
Your friend chokes on her water, almost spitting it onto you.
“Oscar Piastri?”
“Yea, I didn’t know-”
“You met Oscar Piastri?”
“Yes… am I supposed to know him?”
Your friend is exasperated, “And you didn’t like… take a photo or anything?”
“I mean, he didn’t really ask for it, would’ve been pretty weird…”
“THE OSCAR PIASTRI!?”
—
“THE Y/N!” Lando’s jaw is almost on the floor.
“I mean… yes?” Oscar’s shoulders slowly shrug up.
“AND YOU DIDN’T TAKE A PHOTO OR ANYTHING?” Lando screeches with the decibel levels capable of deafening someone.
“Well- it would’ve been weird to just… say that.” Oscar tries to justify.
“THE Y/N? FOURTEEN TIME GRAMMY WINNER?” Lando violently shakes Oscar, “AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN LIKE-”
Lando sighs loudly, clearly unable to form any more coherent sentences.
—
“OSCAR PIASTRI? F1 ROOKIE OF THE YEAR? THE GUY WHO WON THE QATAR SPRINT LAST YEAR? PROBABLY THE BEST F1 ROOKIE?”
Your friend is almost shouting in incoherent sentences.
You cover your ears, “Okay! Chill- I’ll google him or something…”
You take out your phone and google the name ‘Oscar Piastri’. The search results tell you all you need to know about Oscar Piastri.
“Okay… wow, so my bad on that-” You chuckle awkwardly, “I mean, he was pretty nice.”
“You BETTER somehow, someway get a photo with him!” Your friend grabs your shoulders and shakes you.
“Okay, okay!” You raise your hands in surrender.
Your friend goes to refill her cup of water which leaves you alone, pondering.
Oscar Piastri. He seemed pretty tame, and pretty sweet. Your interaction with him made you feel… an odd sense of comfort, not being begged for photos when all you wanted was to buy clothes.
It was the first time in a while and you kinda liked it.
You take a selfie, and post it to your story.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard.
When you meet THE Oscar Piastri and don’t realise until an hour later.
You chuckle at your own joke.
ps. nice shirt.
You smile, content with yourself as you post the story, turning off your phone and putting it on the table.
—
Lando shoves the phone in Oscar’s face.
“LOOK!” Lando shrieks.
“The y/n knows you exist!” Lando cheers.
“You better fix this, or maybe I’ll NEVER get a photo with ‘em EVER!” Lando shouts into Oscar’s ear.
Oscar rubs his temples and sighs, “Alright, alright Lando.”
He searches your name on instagram, following you before opening your story and liking it.
He sends a message your way by replying to the story.
oscarpiastri: Hi :)
He doesn’t really know what else to say.
You hesitate to respond, you think hard about what to say back. You don’t even know what you’re worried about.
y/n_l/n: hello mr oscar piastri.
—
A few months pass and you find yourself standing in a paddock belonging to McLaren.
“Hello 14-time Grammy Winner.” You hear a voice come from behind.
You have to admit, F1 wasn’t something you thought you’d be interested in, yet here you were, with the help of your friend.
“Hello Mr Piastri.” You say and smile when you see him wearing the shirt.
“Guess we should formally introduce ourselves?” He chuckles and you nod.
You clear your throat, “Can I get a photo, Mr Piastri, I’m a huge fan.”
Oscar laughs and pats your shoulder.
“May I get a photo with you?”
#formula 1#f1#formula one#f1 fandom#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#oscar piastri#op81#f1 imagine#f1 x male reader#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#y/n#f1 x gn reader#mclaren#not beta read#not proofread#f1 fanfiction#f1blr#you are taylor swift#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fic
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Drops these thoughts in exchange for absolutely mauling your art.
Saved catnap would be down right horrifying to encounter in the woods-
If your just going for a quick walk, I think he’d just stalk you, ensuring you never get close to Angel’s property.
If you’re there for other reasons……well….CatNap has been debating making a new shire for Angel….(much to everyone else’s dismay and horror…)
And if the person sneaking onto the property has features resembling Angel (hair, eyes, clothing, etc), it gets a little…..off putting to into the barn….
(Also the image of CatNap just licking poor Angel while they’re sleeping beside him is so strong. Even more if he’s doing it to annoy DogDay and rub his scent on angel. Gotta lay your claim to your savior somehow!)
(oh god...catnap barn shrine.... consists of some stolen shirts, a comb, perhaps a throw blanket and some pillows, a picture (with anyone other than y/n scratched out) stolen from the mantle, a spare hairtie or two...anything catnap can get his paws on while the others are distracted or out of the house)
and the idea of catnap occasionally "borrowing" his savior has been on my mind. like, he'll get just close enough to them, quietly from behind, to subtly breath a little red smoke on them. just enough to knock them out. then he'll gently carry them up to his nest in the barns' hayloft. he just wants to hold them, but knows y/n doesn't trust him enough to really let him close.
he spends that time where they're knocked out nuzzling them and purring up a storm. he knows the stupid dog will be breaking down his door to retrieve y/n as soon as he realizes they're gone, so....catnap makes the most of his time with them.
–
ive also been imagining a scene where y/n leaves dogday and the girls inside to make dinner, and goes out onto the back porch. it's dark, and they can't really see much beyond where the porch light can reach, but...they know catnap is out there. they can see the barest trace of his lanky silhouette in the trees beyond the barn.
his white pupils glow through the gloom. his heavy stare pins y/n in place.
with no better ideas, y/n sits, legs dangling over the edge of the deck. they maintain eye contact with catnap. after a beat of silence, they make the one noise no cat can resist.
pssp pssp pssp.
catnap is confused, if the perk of his ears and small tilt of his head is anything to go by.
but, he does take a slow step out of the trees, recognizing the sound as a summons. he begins to cross the yard, getting closer, never taking his eyes off of y/n. his slow stalking gait is anxiety inducing, but y/n tries to keep it together. they have a plan.
they want to get catnap more comfortable with them, with the house, to help better integrate him into their little family. perhaps a little TLC will make the stray cat more personable.
he looks ready to run despite his intimidating facade. his long tail flicks from side to side. curious, but cautious. his eyes never leave y/n.
catnap slowly gets closer and closer, eventually coming into the light. y/n always forgets how big he and dogday actually are; that sheer size is less threatening on dogday, who y/n knows won't hurt them. they're not so sure about catnap.
the massive toy looms over them in spite of his cautious, low posture.
y/n slowly raises their hands, palms upturned. an invitation.
catnap's eyes flicker to their hands for a second before returning to their face. y/n can only hope he understands what they're inviting him to do.
the feline slowly, carefully, steps forward. he sets his heavy head into y/n's palms. he begins to purr when they ever so softly begin to scratch his chin and behind his ears.
moving out of y/n's space, catnap backs away. quiet and uneasy, y/n lets him go. they know that the process of "rehabilitating" him will take time and patience. getting him used to them and the others will be a struggle. but for now, they're just happy that they could get him to accept touch at all.
he knows that the small, tentative smile on their face is...proud, perhaps. happy that he's accepted their care. despite his hesitation, he soaks in the feeling of his savior's hands on him. he can't remember the last time he'd felt a gentle touch. catnap leans into the motions, eyelids drooping a little in contentment. his white eyes remain locked on y/n's face, his pupils dilating a bit. they seem more at ease with him like this. he basks in their simple affection for several minutes, his purring the only sound; he's thoroughly enjoying the peaceful moment between the two of them.
however, a crash from inside and the raucous voices of the other toys startle him into alertness. his eyes widen, pupils shrinking back to slits and his ears lay flat against his head. he hears y/n gasp in surprise, pulling their hands back. catnap's a bit disappointed at the loss of their touch, but knows that it's better not to invite the ire of the other toys by lingering too long. the moment has passed, and he can feel y/n's unease growing again.
the large toy stalks off into the darkness. y/n waits until he's safely beyond the trees to stand and open the door. they cast one last look into the night before heading back inside to mediate whatever accident just occurred.
catnap, as standoffish as he appears, treasures the small gesture he's just received. he returns to the woods, pleased and purring to himself; thinking about the scrap of affection he's been granted from the hands of his beloved savior. he'll be sure to seek them out for more.
#the vibe between yn and catnap is so weird#its very much like befriending a stray#but the stray is somehow both standoffish AND obsessed with you??#so it wants your attention so so so badly but isnt willing to get close for very long#poppy playtime#catnap#catnap x reader#technically
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Touchdown
Playboy!Jock x GN Reader
CW: playboy behavior, mentioned nsfw
🏈Brandon was the star player in the school football team, who had his pick of anyone he wanted because of his good looks and talent in sports.
🏈He was used to short relationships that meant seemingly nothing, it was always just them walking up to him all flustered, him flirting, then a one-night stand or two, then a breakup that left them either a sobbing mess or with a burning hatred for the jock, either way, he thought nothing of them in the long run.
🏈He was sitting with the rest of the football team during lunch when he saw you. He wasn't sure if you were new or not, there were many people in the school that he didn't pay any attention to, so seeing you for the first time made him intrigued.
🏈You were sitting alone in one of the tables close to the corner to get some much-needed peace and quiet when you feel a weight on the bench next to you. You turn and see Brandon, a member of the football team. You raise a brow at him while taking a bite out of your food.
🏈The fact that you seemed so uninterested in his presence was amusing to him and he started making small talk to you, a little teasing and playful insults sprinkled in, perhaps some flirting if you squint.
🏈But all you did was reply to his questions about your life in the driest ways possible with absolutely no interest in conversation with a playboy like him.
🏈You've heard of him before from some friends of yours, how he's fucked probably half of the cheerleading squad and had a lengthy history of chatting up girls just to fuck them and leave. All of this and the way he presented himself to you as some stuck-up douche who's only talking to you in order to make fun of you made you annoyed and a bit revolted by him.
🏈Brandon on the other hand couldn't get enough of you. The more he talked to you the more interested he was about you as a person. You were modest, you had interesting tastes in music, you had cool hobbies he's never heard of before from anyone he's talked to in the past, and most of all you were...beautiful.
🏈You weren't that different from everyone else compared to looks, sure you were a bit prettier but average nonetheless, why does he think you're so cute all of a sudden?
🏈the bell rang, and you immediately stood up to walk to class, much to the jock's dismay.
🏈He takes your hand before to went off with a gentle but tight grip.
🏈"uh...so you like, have good english scores right? You think you could tutor me sometime?"
🏈Ohhhhhh so that's why he talked to you, because you were a nerd and he needed you to copy homework from.
🏈You offer your English essay, but he refuses, asking if you were available to help him to make his own.
🏈You were pleasantly surprised to say the least, you never thought someone like him would choose tutoring instead of copying from someone else for an easy A+.
🏈You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. "huh, Alright. See you after school then..." You then run off in hopes you wouldn't be late to your next period.
🏈Brandon stood there a bit frazzled, why did he say that? Why does he want to be tutored all of a sudden? Why was your smile so precious? Why is his face heating up???
🏈Before he could get his thoughts together, his friends approached him, ushering him to start moving or else he'll be given another detention. He snapped out of his confused state and tried to laugh off the thoughts of you swirling around his head.
🏈Who the hell were you to make him feel so...good?
an: making a part 2 soon, probably, hopefully. requests are open so feel free to give any suggestions of more funny lads to write about!
#oc yandere#yandere oc#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere male#x reader#x male y/n#x male reader#x male oc#x gn reader#oc x reader#jock x reader#yandere!jock#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere x male reader#male reader#female reader#gn reader
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Incomparable
fandom: Bridgerton
pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader
summary: you don’t fit in quite well with the rest of the ton, but you still manage to catch the eye of the Viscount
note: this is for the girlies with resting bitch face, warning this is a fem!reader as much as i prefer a gender neutral reader, the heteronormative regency society just doesn’t allow it
this was already once posted before on my since deleted blog by my same current name but has been slightly edited :)
It was only one of the first balls of many and you were already regretting your unfortunate position as a newly presented flower of the season. You never thought you had what it took to be this year’s diamond, nor its ruby, nor its pearl, or any jewel for the matter. In your eyes you didn’t have the effortless glimmer that Daphne Bridgerton had last season nor the graceful steps of this season's ingénue, Edwina Sharma.
Of course, you had prepared all your life for this moment like every upper class girl. Knowing all that you should to be presented into society. You sat through the pianoforte lessons and even tried your hand at singing (which was a terrible mistake). You learned to embroider from your mother, much to the dismay of your aching fingers which always manage to burn and go numb far too quickly for her liking. You read all the textbooks even though you much preferred novels, never understanding the point of your tutors' comments about men wanting to marry educated girls. Quickly learning as you grew older and more outspoken that gentlemen like to know a woman is well read, but hardly ever that they use that knowledge in conversation.
But somehow, even after the painstakingly long hours at the modiste getting fitted for new dresses and the even longer time you spent getting into them, none of it was enough. Not the lessons, not the newly dropped hem, not the hours of sitting for your hair to be expertly styled and bejeweled by the finest gems your family had to offer. Still every other lady and her mama have had to comment on how you are so far from even the realm of possibly being considered a diamond. You heard their whispers through the silk and lace of their folding fans as clear as the night.
‘They barely graced the Queen with a smile,”
‘They’ll definitely grow to be a spinster with that face,’
Oh, but this wasn’t only from the women, of course not, they just have the decency to try and say this behind your back. You are well aware of how men love to grace you with their opinion, despite you caring very little for it. They always have the audacity to say these things straight to your somber face as if it would do you any good.
‘You know, you would be slightly prettier if you smiled,’
‘If you would smile, you would seem much more amiable,’
and most recently,
“I am sure more gentlemen would ask for a dance if you didn’t look so miserable, my Lady,”
You had been approached by a well-respected gentlemen named Mr. Hastings when you had escaped your mother’s disapproving clutches to find solace at the refreshments table. Drinking lemonade desperately wishing it were wine. He asked you to dance. Much to your misfortune you couldn’t fain a full dance card as the one clutched in your gloved hand was mockingly empty. This left you enduring a dreadfully boring conversation about his horse, how much it had cost him, how much it is actually worth, and just how incredible this horse was. You quite frankly wished to be anywhere else. As would anyone else you’re sure, but while they may have hid that behind a polite smile you showed your boredom evidently in your downturned lips.
But what would be the point in hiding it? You were tired of the facade that enwrapped these balls and society. Everyone was smiling, but was anyone truly happy? Even then who is happy and just goes around smiling like some loon. You were having a terrible time parading around the room with your mother’s stern grip on your arm showcasing you like a piece of meat, or a show pony— or to be terribly on the nose, Mr. Hastings prized horse.
Then once you had finally escaped her and found peace hoping to blend in to the wallpaper, you have been made to endure small talk and dance with a man you had little interest in. All while he made you listen to his horrendously dull conversation and he had the nerve to ask— no, to want you to not look miserable. This man who looked like molding swiss cheese and only spoke of his horse.
“I beg you pardon, sir?”
“That you look as if you are attending a funeral, my lady,” he says as he spins you following the choreography of the dance, “It is only polite that you smile as we dance.”
His own obviously fake smile is painted across his face, all thin lips and no teeth as he eyes you expectantly waiting for you to obediently heed his suggestion—or more likely it was a sort of social command. Polite society would have deemed you to be all smiles and perfect wit, to ease yourself out of this treacherous conversation you were wormed into with a poised grace or give in to his orders with a sickly sweet smile because it would be rude not to, no?
But no, indeed. You were not going to give in. No matter how many whispered or backhanded compliments you received only on your first night into society. You had seen how your female cousins and older friends had broken their backs to bend to the whims of society. Left behind forgotten ideals to suit their new suitors to get the ring and the wedding that would never even scratch at their fanciful girlish dreams of prince charmings and knights in shining armor. You would not let society break you.
“Well, I would smile if I was having a nice time. Maybe if you said something funny I would laugh or if the conversation was pleasant,” you had stopped dancing now, tired of this day and all the niceties and manners you were to follow.
You stood before him with your jaw clenched and your brows furrowed absolutely seething, “But you are far from pleasant. All you do, sir, is speak of your race horse and how much it is worth to you. If you care so much about your horse, I wonder why you ever wish to marry when all your attention seems to be going to your insipid horse!”
“Why you rude, intolerable girl—”
You didn’t care any more about the staring eyes of the ton or the gasps from appalled mamas. You would have welcomed all of Mr. Hastings angry words to at least hear something real for the first time all day. But instead he is cut short as the figure of a man approaches your side.
“I beg your pardon Mr. Hastings. How dare you raise your voice to a lady, have you no honor or decorum?”
Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood before the two of you. Chin tilted upwards and shoulders set back in an unspoken challenge with the less titled man in front of you.
His question goes unanswered, but he continues nodding to you, “I believe the Lady makes a very agreeable point, sir. You speak entirely of your horse and nothing else, this would bore any with a brain in the ton.”
You almost would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked. What exactly was the Viscount doing? You hardly ever spoke other than short introductions and nods exchanged while you were in the company of his sister and your friend, Eloise.
But there was not a moment to think on this further as the scene that was forming around you was all too captivating. Mr. Hastings, who it should be mentioned once more felt so prideful of his horse, can be seen visibly shrinking shoulder hunching forward slumping as if he were a little boy who lost a game. He clears his throat, “Well then, I shall take my conversation elsewhere.”
Before he could turn to leave the eldest Bridgerton son stops him, “Sir, you have forgotten to apologize to the Lady,”
Mr. Hasting freezes in his place turning to eye the man and you bite your lip fighting the laugh that threatens to erupt at the odious man whose eyes widen and mouth becomes agape like a fish out of water.
“My apologies,” the words seem to clog at his throat and so he says nothing else. Nodding, “Lord Bridgerton...” and your name before meekly making his way through the crowd, his head down avoiding the gazes of the onlookers.
At this point most of the ton had gone back to their conversations around you, though there were still some lingering eyes as the dance floor had been oddly shaped as you and the Viscount remained standing in part of the appointed area. Anthony notices this and leads you further into the crowd.
Once he finds an agreeable spot he stops turning towards you, “I actually do wish to counter your statement, my lady,” he begins. You expect for a moment to be met with some stern lecture from a man who seems to think he’s entitled to an opinion of you as if he were your father (who you also do not think should have an opinion, but alas it is only 1814). Anthony surprises you however as instead he grins and says, “I actually believe Mr. Hastings would marry his horse if the Queen would allow it.”
And you couldn’t help but laugh, despite all your pride and pettiness to not grace this event or anyone in it with any pleasurable countenance. You laughed loudly tilting your head back, jeweled neck on display even letting out a small snort against your will. When you finally compose yourself, giggles dying down at the thought of Mr. Hastings in a horrid muddy green suit with a horse in a wedding dress, you can’t fight the smile that falls on your lips. Although unnatural to you, the light hearted joke and your vivid imagination make it easy. It lasts for a few seconds before you become very conscious of it as you let your lips fall back to their usual place.
Though if anyone was truly looking for it— which Anthony was— they would see the slight quirk in your lips as you told the Viscount, “It looks like you’ve gained the honor of making me laugh, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“I relish the title, my lady,” he says and you can tell he does from the smile that meets his ears, all teeth and pushed back cheeks. You acknowledge that this might be the realest encounter you have had since your debut. Anthony Bridgerton smiling from ear to ear was a sight to see.
He continues, “But I do have to disagree with the comments I have been hearing tonight. Smile or no smile you present the ladies looking to wed this season with quite the competition.”
“Me? Hardly, did you not hear my Lord, my countenance would never get me a marriage proposal,” you say fiddling with the hem of your gloves at your wrist.
“I would disagree, I think any reasonable man in attendance would be foolish to not see how incomparable you are, my lady.”
Incomparable.
You fight it like you had once your laugh, but you feel the heat spread to your cheeks and the nerves that begin to twist in your stomach. You didn’t need it, but the compliment was well appreciated after a night such as this one.
Giving you no time to compose the fluttering in your chest, Anthony adds, “Any lady who manages to be bold enough to tell Mr. Hasting how insufferable his horse talk is, ranks high in my book.”
“Well you might be the only one, sir,” you try to be as brave as you feel and dare to smile at him, but his gaze causes you to look away bashfully. That is when you notice your mother approaching and wishing not to make a fool in front of the Viscount you excuse yourself, “I do believe my mother has just been informed of the scene I have caused, so if you’ll excuse me.”
But before you can turn to go he calls out your name placing his warm bare hand on your own gloved fingers making you turn back to him.
“Would you save me a dance?”
And despite yourself, Anthony Bridgerton manages again to make you smile, “Of course”.
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Detective Oblivious - Various Genshin Characters x GN! Reader
★ Summary: Your best friend lately has been acting strange. Could they have a crush on someone?! You have to get to the bottom of it…though perhaps you can start by noticing how they look at you
☆ Characters Included (Separate): Alhaitham, Ayato, Kazuha, Xiao, Yelan, Ningguang
★ Genre/Trope: Romantic + Fluff + Maybe a bit of Crack
☆ Warnings: None
★ Extra: HSR Ver Here // Semi-Proof Read
Honestly I don't blame you for not noticing Alhaitham likes you. He's very hard to read. But at the same time, it doesn't take a detective to notice how he's more careful with his words when talking to you. He doesn't necessarily care what you think of him, even if he likes you, however he does wish for you to see him in a more positive light.
So even though you've been friends for so long, his sudden change in how he talks to you is so you can hopefully see how he feels about you as he believes you'd be able to notice but well...much to his dismay and annoyance, you don't.
You got the part that he likes someone, but not that those feelings are directed towards you. Have you not seen the longing stares he gives you when you're doing anything? How he's more lenient in what you're doing?? How when he was The Acting Grand Sage, how he always looked over anything you wrote to him first???
Clearly not as, as when he enters his home he can see you talking to Kaveh to see if he knows anything about who he likes. Kaveh, noticing him behind you, simply smiled. Although Alhaitham wants to confess to you, he'd rather him telling you directly or you finding out yourself without the need of help from others. And Kaveh knew this...
"Oh, he likes yo-"
A book was suddenly thrown at Kaveh as the Scribe quickly took you away.
"Wh- hey! He was going to tell me something"
"Didn't want him to say something I should be saying...I should be the one telling you I like you"
Many people caught on to the way Ayato treated you differently towards others, in fact. Both Ayaka and Thoma knew he liked you before he himself knew. Yet, why was it that everyone but you knew how much he held you dear to his heart?
Ayato never had much free time to be frank, however unlike his other friends and even family. He would never send anyone as many gifts as he did to you. Anytime you liked something you'd have it delivered to your house right away. You always thanked him for it, beaming as you looked at it. Although you did slightly feel bad as some of the things you off handily mention wanting are quite expensive. But the Commissioner doesn't care. Seeing that smile is enough for him.
What he does care about however, is how dense you are towards his acts of affection. As stated, he gives you more gifts than anyone else he knows. But another thing he does that he's surprised doesn't get you to catch on, is him "jokingly" calling your Mx Kamisato (he's half joking, he does want to marry you)
What surprises him more is that you somehow think it's directed to someone else?? You question him on who he's referring to even though he was looking directly at you.
Eventually he gently backs you into a corner and makes you face him, turning your chin towards him.
"My dear...I've tried everything but you don't get the hint. So I'll say it here...I love you~"
You found some poems that Kazuha had written, and it's about someone. In fact, it's about someone romantically. This caused you to quickly search for who said love poem is about.
One of the kids witnessed you ranting to yourself about who could've taken the samurai's heart and told Beidou, who then found it amusing enough to tell Kazuha who at first laughs it off before realising you've likely read the poems he wrote. He is thankful you haven't found out it's about you, but at the same time. He doesn't think you've met anyone that's like you, and the love poem does describe you near perfectly. Still...at least you haven't found out?
He watches from a small distance as you glance at him before looking away. This happens a lot, especially when he's talking to a friend who questions your behaviour. In fact, you've done this so much that people assume you're Kazuha's partner and want his attention. They even comment about it to which you both politely explain that you're just friends.
Eventually though, he makes no comment when someone assumes the two of you are dating, which makes you question him which leads to you finally figuring out who the love poem is about.
"Wait so...the love poems..."
"Is about you yes, I like you"
I can see him being quite confused himself when he realises he likes someone and might even tell you about how he's feeling. He won't directly say who it is but he tells enough to let you know he's fallen DEEP in love with someone.
Now the two of you are trying to figure out just who's the one making his heart beat faster and clouding his mind. In truth, Xiao quickly realizes it's you that's causing it. But he can't tell you, he's a bit too flustered to tell you, especially with how cute you look trying to figure it out yourself.
So he lets the search go on, he allows you to drag him to meet various people and see if he feels his heart beating faster. And while it does, that's only because you're beside him. Nothing else. He was happy enough to let you guess till you gave up, he didn't think you'd like him back anyways.
However Hu Tao would beg to differ, she's been listening to you rant about how you loved Xiao and all that stuff. In fact, she's even heard from Zhongli that Xiao likes you. So when you come along with the Adeptus in tow and ask him if he feels any different towards her. She has a feeling she knows what's going on. And why not play matchmaker?
"You don't feel anything at all?"
"No..."
The funeral directly quickly piped up, gently pushing you into Xiao's arms and watching his face burst into shades of crimson.
"What about now? Having the love of your life in your arms is bound to make you feel something right?"
She...out right flirts with you. And not in a way to get info from you, just...actual flirting. Yelan knows what she wants and tends to get what she wants. More so in terms of information, but she also wants you and will try anything to make you realize her feelings for you.
She probably knows you like her as well, so this should be easy right? Just flirt with you and you'll get the picture right?...Yeah...
"I would love to spend the future with you y'know darling~ Especially in the same house"
"Oh that would be great"
"Exa-"
"Rent would be so much cheaper if we were roommates"
She...finds your obliviousness cute...in a weird way though. She finds it even more cute that you do in fact recognize her flirting eventually...but think she's using you as practice. Now she spots you trying to figure out who it is so you can help her more. And "act" like her crush. She does need to eventually tell you so you can stop searching, I mean. The answer is clear if you look in a mirror.
"C'mon Lanlan, you need to tell who you actually like"
"Hm? Oh but I am sweetie~"
Ningguang is obviously highly respected and of course has her own set of admirers. You used to see her reading each letter with care and consideration before laughing. Not in a hateful way, truly she's grateful people like her that much. But recently she seems to read them a bit faster, seemingly searching for one name in particular.
It's clear to you she wants a certain person to be in her pile of confession letters. And you'll figure out who. I mean, what better way to help your friend then finding out who she likes and seeing if they like her back right :D
Well...word got to her that you've been searching through some of her things, nothing personal but just around her office. Not to mention observing her more closely lately which she plays off as you being interested in what she has to say. But when she hears that you've apparently scared a poor soul with some of your questioning she goes to confront you.
To which you weakly explain you want to help her find out if her crush likes her back or not. She simply laughs a bit, surprised. She's been giving you special treatment ever since she found out her feelings for you. You've been given bigger discounts because she just cannot let her "darling" pay so much. Alongside other things she thought were obvious hints in the hopes you'll write her a confession letter.
"Well...if you want to help me find out if they like me back, answer me this"
"Yeah?"
"Do you like me?"
Anyone else find it hard to know when someone likes them? Cuz I do, hence this idea sprang forth. Not all the characters included are ones I simp for but I thought it would be interesting to add them (I literally only simp for Alhaitham and Ayato out of the characters included tbh nsoaorgr)
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin imagines#Alhaitham x Reader#Alhaitham x You#Ayato x Reader#Ayato x You#Kazuha x Reader#Kazuha x You#Xiao x Reader#Xiao x You#Yelan x Reader#Yelan x You#Ningguang x Reader#Ningguang x You#Kamisato Ayato x Reader#Kamisato Ayato x You
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the day of my execution
sukuna x reader
summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick.
w/c: 2.7k
tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n.
a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though.
series masterlist // masterlist
truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.
"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."
"we need to talk."
sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"
"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.
"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."
"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."
yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?
"no one else would be so brazen."
it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.
"i should call gojo—"
"that is out of the question."
"do you want to keep her safe or not?"
sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."
yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."
"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."
yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."
before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.
that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.
once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."
"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"
though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.
"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."
gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."
"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."
"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"
"almost anybody—"
"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."
"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."
"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."
gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.
"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."
"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"
"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."
sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.
but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.
for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.
and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.
"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.
"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."
sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.
he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.
"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.
"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."
crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."
"it's fine. it's only a little glass."
when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"
"i don't make a habit of it."
"i know. the question was rhetorical."
sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.
"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.
he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.
and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.
but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.
it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.
so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.
reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."
"what.. what is it?"
he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"
you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."
you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.
strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.
"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"
"sure of what?"
"that i should have it."
he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.
he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"
"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."
sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."
his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.
moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."
and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?
"but promise me something anyway."
"anything," you say without delay.
he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.
"promise you won't ever take it off."
you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.
you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.
"say it."
"i promise."
he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."
it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.
it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.
"i... i don't know what to say."
"well, that's a first."
"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."
"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"
you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."
he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."
you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.
he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.
you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.
although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.
it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.
his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.
now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.
but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.
he has to get back to you after all.
the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:
for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.
in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.
and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.
however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.
the very thought makes him sick with grief.
looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.
he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.
so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.
opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.
your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.
you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.
"you're back," you rasp.
"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.
you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."
"charming."
you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.
you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."
he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."
recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."
"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."
"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"
he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."
he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."
you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.
"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.
he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.
"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."
"what?" you ask sleepily.
"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."
"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."
"i'll hold you to that."
and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.
a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3
taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @wineyoungie @vduxx @inflatabledinosaurs19 @harrystylesfan2686 @silentmajesticfox @am-the-renegade @certainduckanchor @moons-reblog @scarletrosesposts @th3-audac1ty @darlink-xoxo @ayeputita @nanmiik @namjooningera @hermxssaa @annieleonhardtsbitch @nugget-eater123 @integers @thefunbanshee @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress @luckypeacevoid @kiki17483 @ruttteerr @yourbelloved @heyohalie // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.
#m!writes#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna imagines#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna imagines#sukuna fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna fluff
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The Mysterious Visitor I
Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)
Synopsis: On a cold, snowy dawn, a naive young girl knocks on the door of Wayne Manor in search of her brother, whom she hasn't seen in a long time.
Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad.
Word count: 2.1k
Note: I felt the need to emphasize that Talia is very attached to the reader and kept her hidden from Bruce. Although it's obvious that the reader is their biological daughter, I still haven't specified her physical characteristics.
Part I Part II Part III
It was late at night when the doorbell of Wayne Manor rang. Much to Alfred’s dismay, he seemed to be the only one awakened by the sound, as he didn't hear anyone else getting up to answer the door. Whoever was waiting outside seemed patient, or perhaps shy, since it took a good two minutes for the bell to ring again. A single chime, just like the first time.
It was snowing now; no one would be crazy enough to show up in the middle of the night in this cold unless it was something important. Because of this, Alfred hurried to slip on his slippers, moving as quickly as he could to the entrance, but still cautiously peering through the peephole to see who the visitor was.
All he could see was the top of the head of someone very short, with a few strands of hair standing up, covered in snowflakes.
“Who is it, Alfred?” The sudden question from behind didn’t scare him, but it did surprise him. Dick had been awakened by the sharp sound of the doorbell the second time it rang and came down quickly to check.
“I don’t know yet, Master Dick,” the butler replied, intrigued, glancing quickly at the boy to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes. Alfred noticed how he stepped forward, obviously cautious about who might be on the other side. “I can handle this, sir,” he stopped him while turning the knob and opening the door without giving him a chance to protest.
Alfred tightened his robe as he felt the cold air rush in, ruffling the white hairs on his head and making the hairs on his arm stand up. He looked in astonishment at the young girl standing before him, clearly suffering from the outside temperature. Her lips were trembling and chapped, with a trace of dried blood coming from one of the cracks. Her rapid breathing also did not go unnoticed, forming a cloud with each exhale.
“Can I help you, miss?” he asked with furrowed brows, feeling pity for her condition. Perhaps she was just a street child seeking shelter; you didn’t seem dangerous in any way.
“I-is this the W-Wayne Manor?” The question came out stuttered, and your eyes had a confused expression. He wasted no more time and extended his arm to pull you inside. It didn’t seem right to leave you out there.
“Come in, come in. Don’t stay out there, it’s not healthy.” He had that concerned, almost paternal tone, and you didn’t refuse his gesture. You grabbed the old man in a hug to keep safe from the cold, grateful he didn’t push you away. In fact, he pulled you closer, placing both hands around you and guiding you to the largest couch in the room.
“It’s just a girl,” he announced to Dick, who had been trying to peek at your figure since the door had opened.
“And who is she?” Dick moved closer, sitting on the couch facing the one where you and Alfred were seated and embraced. You didn’t seem to want to leave Alfred’s side anytime soon, appreciating the warmth he provided, clutching him firmly.
“What is your name, dear?” You heard the old man’s question, but it took you a while to respond. Alfred didn’t mind being ignored, or at least he thought he would be, already averting his eyes from you until your fragile voice was heard.
“Y/n,” you pronounced your name simply, so quietly it could only be understood due to the common silence of the early morning.
“What were you doing out there? Where are your parents, young lady?” Alfred pressed on with more questions, rubbing one of his hands on your back to bring comfort.
Now that he could look at you more attentively, he saw how well-dressed you were. And just by feeling the fabric of your coat, he knew it was an expensive garment. Your knowledge of Wayne Manor also didn’t escape him. It didn’t seem like something important to note in this situation, but you certainly weren’t an abandoned child; you were probably lost and knew them somehow.
His question seemed to upset you, as you turned your face to hide it, avoiding giving an answer. He noticed your reaction and decided to change the subject: “Let’s take off this coat and get a blanket. What do you think?” He moved you away, already pulling the sleeves of the garment off your arms, and you didn’t resist. The coat was damp from the snow and definitely no longer served to keep you warm.
“She’s going to get hypothermia if she stays like this,” Dick said hurriedly as he went to get a blanket, finding a thick enough one on one of the armchairs. Someone must have left it there before going to bed.
“I will light the fireplace,” you heard the old man say as he got up from the couch and picked up some sort of stick, probably a large lighter, to start the fire.
You opened your mouth to try to thank him, but stopped yourself, finally feeling shy upon realizing you were in strangers’ home. You felt a large, soft blanket wrap around you, turning your eyes to see the tall boy crouched in front of you, draping it over your shoulders.
“In a few minutes, you’ll feel better.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned, and you felt guilty for disturbing their night. You regretted disobeying your mother; you were supposed to be home now.
Dick saw your lost look, wondering who you were. Your expression was distant, and he thought you were lost in thought, until he felt your hand grab his wrist, preventing him from getting up. Your touch was gentle, yet cold, and now your eyes were focused on his.
“Does Damian live here?” you asked hopefully.
“Damian?” This caught him off guard. He was confused, processing for a few seconds what he had heard. From his confused tone, you felt your hopes fading, thinking he had no idea who you were talking about, but his next words encouraged you a little more: “How do you know him?”
You hesitated. At first, you weren’t sure if they were trustworthy, and your mother always said to be careful with whom you spoke. Growing up within the League of Assassins made you aware of how evil some people could be, and having grown up under Talia’s extremely protective arm, who treated you like an untouchable jewel, you were limited to conversations with few people, developing an abnormal fear of strangers. But bad people wouldn’t have taken you in as they did, would they?
“We’re siblings. Is he here?” Your confession didn’t carry the same weight for you as it did for the two men in the room. Alfred heard well, and like Dick, widened his eyes. Neither of them remembered Damian ever mentioning he had a sister. If you were truly an al Ghul, where was Talia? That woman might have had the blood of a viper, but she didn’t seem like the type to let her daughter wander alone at night.
“You said… He’s your brother?” Although Dick’s question was directed at you, he looked at Alfred, who returned an intrigued frown.
“Yes.” Your voice sounded simple to him, still not noticing the tension in the room.
“Master Dick,” Alfred said his name as a cue to follow him, walking away from the couch, and the boy quickly stood up. You found it strange and turned your neck to see them going to talk in the corner of the room in whispers, watching them with curiosity.
“I think it would be wise to inform Master Bruce.” The butler sighed, trying to speak as softly as possible, knowing you were watching them. “If she is Ra's al Ghul’s granddaughter, it’s convenient to take her home as soon as possible and avoid any unnecessary conflict with the League of Assassins.”
“You think she ran away from home?” Dick asked, turning to see you, who now was no longer watching them but had your gaze down, playing with your hands.
“I suppose so,” Alfred said punctually, moving away and walking to the stairs, climbing them with his usual formal posture. “I’ll wake him up. Stay here.” He seemed calm, but inside he was worried.
“Right…” Dick murmured to himself while taking slow steps back to the couch. He analyzed your face for a few seconds before sitting hesitantly beside you. You were almost disappearing inside that blanket, wrapped up like a cocoon, and he found it a bit amusing. All he could see was your head and hands.
You didn’t bother to say anything, nor did he. Instead, he clasped his hands together and paid attention to anything else, trying to hold back the urge to ask questions but couldn’t help himself: “So, you’re Talia’s daughter?”
“You know my mother?” You raised your gaze, and your tone was excited by the possibility.
“Not personally.” He picked at his nails before deciding to keep the conversation going, as the silence was becoming too uncomfortable: “My name is Dick, by the way. But you probably know that.”
“The old man is your grandfather?” For the first time, you referred to Alfred as “the old man” out loud, which made him smile amusedly. Dick found it funny how the nickname sounded innocent, imagining how the man would react knowing someone had referred to him like that.
“It's like he was. He's family.”
“Is Dami your family now?” You asked, trembling with the answer. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you couldn’t help feeling jealous, and you hated it. It was an excruciating feeling, mixing sadness, anger, and other confusing emotions.
Dick frowned at your question. You seemed disappointed with the idea and it didn’t escape his notice how you were completely unaware of Damian’s current life. It’s been more than two years since he came to live here, enough time for Dick to see him as he always saw his other brothers and participate in patrols as an equal.
“He’s my brother too,” he tried to sound compassionate, and suddenly the silence returned, as you didn’t want to talk anymore and he didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in your throat and your heart felt heavy with each new beat. “How old are you?” He tried again, this time changing the subject.
“Twelve,” you answered immediately, but then shook your head and corrected yourself: “Thirteen.”
“Twelve?” Dick repeated the first answer to try to confirm, letting out a muffled laugh at your strange confusion.
“It’s thirteen.”
That was impossible. Damian was thirteen.
“I still haven’t gotten used to the new age. My birthday was on Monday.”
Damian’s birthday was on Monday.
Dick swallowed hard. He lost his voice for a few seconds, trying to piece things together in his head. He felt his heart race with nerves, doubting if he had been hearing voices all along.
“Y/n, right?” He said your name, seeing you nod positively. “Are you and Damian by any chance… twins?”
You heard him well, but couldn’t help feeling your heart ache with sorrow. He had no idea who you were, even after you knew Damian saw him as a brother. The realization that Damian hadn’t even mentioned you was painful, and as you felt the tears start to roll down your cheek, you quickly wiped them away.
“Hey, hey. Why are you crying?” He moved closer, brushing your hair back with his fingers. You seemed to be the type to answer yes or no questions with gestures, as you nodded positively to him once again.
“Twins…” Dick whispered to no one, trying to come out of shock.
“Y/n,” he called your name hoping you would pay attention, but you continued trying to dry the unstoppable tears. “Y/n,” he called for the second time, and you finally looked at him again.
Now, analyzing your face after what he had just discovered, he finally noticed how much your features resembled Bruce’s. It was like he had been blind and now could finally see.
“Does the name Bruce Wayne mean anything to you?”
“He’s the owner of this house,” you said nonchalantly, as if that was all that mattered and you needed to know.
His next breath came out shaky, completely incredulous. ‘Damn Talia,’ he cursed mentally. This night would be long and, undoubtedly, very complicated.
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