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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

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Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk imagine #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo x y/n

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wildwinterlunas · 5 months ago

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More on Epic!Ares cause "The Lovers" section of God Games will not get out of my head. The thing I don't think fans are recognizing is that Ares's last line "pathetic and weak like his son" is very deliberately meant to provoke Athena, it's meant to test why she's doing this.

Consider how Telemachus went into the fight with Antinous, he didn't have a plan, only a goal, and he stood his ground, no cunning techniques only fists. Which is something Ares would agree with doing, not only that but remember what Antinous and the suitors want to do to Penelope, why Telemachus was fighting in the first place. Ares is a god known to be a defender of women, one of his biggest myths is about him killing a son of Poseidon because he assaulted his daughter. Considering that he likely wouldn't call Telemachus weak unless it was to get to Athena.

Which it did and that show of love and protectiveness over Telemachus is what convinced both Ares and Aphrodite to let Odysseus go. They are not ruled by logic and objectivity, which is what prepared her for Hera and Zeus, with Hera, Odysseus never cheating isn't a logical argument but it's what would work on Hera. With Zeus it was more important, Athena showing emotion and showing that vulnerability gave her the ability to sacrifice her pride. At the end of the song she begs Zeus to let Odysseus go, not longer being the "selfish, prideful and vain" Goddess that she was when her and Odysseus parted ways.

#epic ares #epic athena #epic the musical #epic the musical wisdom saga #epic the wisdom saga #athena #ares

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secriden · 4 months ago

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one reason i think liu qingge has such great potential is that he's one of the only characters entirely free from the PIDM narrative. because he dies early in PIDM, sqq isn't coming into every conversation and interaction expecting lqg to adhere to a preconceived script. this allows sqq to actually see lqg as a person and for his words and actions to be taken at face value.

i just think this is great potential for sqq to still be completely oblivious or in denial about lbh and yqy's attentions (because he's so fixated on how bad/complicated PIDM!sqq's relationships are with them) whilst also catching wind of lqg's growing feelings for him because he isn't hampered by any preconceived notions of what they're dynamic "should" be.

so give me sqq noticing the way lqg's mannerism soften around him, how his gruffness changes, how he spends more time just having tea with sqq even after his meridians have been cleansed as they start to have civil conversation about sect business. recognising lqg's care in returning his fans; seeking common ground over their shared love of monster hunting (even if lqg just cares about fighting them, can he maybe smash them in such a way that shixiong can study them afterwards?) and discussions on cultivation techniques and the differences between bai zhan and qing jing styles.

sqq who is so just so grateful to have someone in his corner, someone he feels safe with, who he doesn't have to second guess during every conversation. someone who was never supposed to be around by this point in the narrative, and so is entirely shen qingqui's.

#listen i just like how devoted lqg is to sqq and how their relationship just isn't as ~messy~ as sqq with lbh or yqy #i could see them developing really good communication once lqg realises that this sqq is different and starts to want to spend time with hi #and on sqq's side not carrying all the PIDW cannon frees him to just see lqg as a person instead of a character bound to a narrative #svsss #scum villian self saving system #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #liushen #liuyuan #svsss meta #liu qingge meta #hui talks svsss

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peachdues · 8 months ago

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KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

WIND AND MOON • Sanemi x tsuguko!Reader

A/N: or, Sanemi nearly murders Maeda to protect Reader’s honor, featuring Reader getting to wear Sanemi’s haori.

A snippet from an upcoming chapter of Wind and Moon.

CW: MDNI • light strangulation (deserved) • implied past sexual assault against Reader (not described) • implied assault of Sanemi’s mother (not described) • protective Sanemi • soft Sanemi • ust kiss already jfc • violence

Sanemi Shinazugawa was never particularly keen on visiting the Corps’ tailor. His hatred for the bespeckled seamster was no secret among the slayers, nor was his reasoning. Most of the Corps disliked Maeda — particularly those female slayers forced to endure his unwanted attentions, who, when presented with too-small and too-short garments, saw his feigned incompetence for what it was: perversion.

Sanemi, however, was the one of the only few who’d ever called him out directly for being a lecherous asshole. And he certainly was one of the only ones who Maeda genuinely feared — enough so, that he became remarkably adept at his job whenever he heard so much as a whisper of the Wind Pillar’s presence.

And yet, Sanemi knew that their previous encounter — one that ended with Maeda pissing his pants while begging for forgiveness Sanemi had been in no position to give as the female slayer he’d groped stood nearby, red faced and humiliated — didn’t seem to have inspired the tailor to make any permanent changes to his deviant habits.

So no, Sanemi was already not in the best of moods as he stalked through the hallways of the Butterfly Mansion, in search of the fitting rooms where Kocho had informed him Maeda would be fitting his new tsuguko — you — for your final uniform.

He was wryly optimistic that the lecherous tailor wouldn’t try anything knowing who you were and of your proximity to him. But still, Sanemi didn’t like that he’d left you alone with Maeda for any period of time, and he was eager to get you suited up so the two of you could return to training.

Training. Sanemi had been warned that your breathing techniques, though powerful, were about as stable as a barrel of gun powder near a lit match. He would need to prioritize your precision, your control, before moving onto anything to do with your actual movements and fighting abilities.

He scowled. It would be a long day, he knew. You had an attitude and a smart mouth he was fairly sure couldn’t be beaten out of you, and grudgingly, he thought he might have to just endure it. You’d probably spend most of your time bitching; of that he was certain. But unluckily for you, you’d been assigned to the Hashira with the least amount of sympathy when it came to training; one whose disdain for complaining was rivaled only by Iguro’s.

At least he only worked his trainees to the point of vomiting or passing out; Iguro tortured the poor bastards, and he relished doing so.

And so, Sanemi began mentally tallying up the various exercises and tasks the two of you would undertake as he rounded the last corner leading to the fitting rooms. He would start with breathing techniques, he decided as he reached for the doorknob. Breathing techniques, and then physical exercises — pushups, planks, perhaps even over a bed of tacks for motivation, and then —

All of the Wind Pillar’s internal planning ground to a halt the moment he swung the door to the dressing room open. In an instant, all thoughts of endurance and strength-enhancing regiments dissolved as Sanemi’s vision turned crimson at what lay before him.

His tsuguko; and though you’d proven yourself more than capable of testing his patience, for once, it wasn’t your smart mouth that was making him see red.

It was the sight of you, standing up on a small pedestal before a great mirror, clothed in scraps of fabric that could hardly be called a uniform as the Corp’s perverted tailor circled you like a vulture does a piece of felled prey.

He didn’t need to look at you for long before his vision tunneled in on the seamster startling back from you as though burned, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the reddening face of the Wind Hashira behind you.

Because Sanemi didn’t have to linger; he’d seen enough to know.

Your skirt hung a solid inch shorter than even the Love Hashira’s, its hem barely extending past the tops of your thighs. Your shirt was easily two or three sizes too small, preventing you from fastening anything but the bottom two buttons.

But it wasn’t the egregiously little coverage of your uniform that loosened the lid he tried to keep on his rage. It was your face. Though your back was facing him, he could see every inch of you — exposed as you were — reflected in that great mirror.

There was a rigidity in your limbs that Sanemi clocked instantly as paralysis; and the empty, haunted look in your eyes as they fixed wide and unseeing at some distant point on the floor coupled with the way you’d hadn’t so much as flinched when the door flung open signaled to him that you were not truly present in that room at all.

You were back at your family’s estate, blood-soaked and half-dead as you were forced to endure whatever it was those bandits had take upon themselves to do.

And Sanemi disappeared from the room right along with you. In that moment, he instead saw the countless other female slayers forced to endure Maeda’s greedy, wandering fingers over the years as they stood exposed under his beady little eyes.

He saw his mother turning rigid under his father’s too heavy, too rough hands as he dragged them down her body. Ma, who would force her mouth into that distant, practiced smile she always maintained in front of her children who were too young to understand why Kyogo dragged her by arm out the back of their home as he barked at them to stay inside until she returned.

He saw you; broken and bleeding in the snow, your clothes askew, unable to be left alone even in death; used.

Red. Red. Sanemi could only see red as his feet carried him across the floor.

“M-Master Shinazugawa!” Maeda squeaked as he began trembling; loud enoufh for his voice to carry down the hall, a futile effort to alert any nearby Corps members of the rage burning in Sanemi’s eyes as the latter advanced on him. “How w-wonderful it is to see you a-gain —!”

With nothing but a faint buzzing in his ears and an anger-numbed mind, Sanemi’s hand snatched the tailor around his throat before he could think the better of it.

“I thought I made myself pretty damn clear the last time I saw your ugly mug of the need for you to keep those filthy fuckin’ hands to yourself.”

Sanemi’s voice was a barely more than a growl, low and dangerous and vicious. “And I thought I told you what would happen if I caught you makin’ a mockery out of our uniform again.”

The seamster’s cheeks were rapidly turning purple as Maeda sputtered. But Sanemi only tightened his hold around the tailor’s throat, lifting him from the ground until his toes only scraped along the floorboards.

“Y’know, I’ve had to hold my tongue for far too fuckin’ long about you.” Sanemi cocked his head in consideration. A slow, wolfish smile stretched across his mouth, all sharp teeth and a vicious promise that he could and would rip out his throat. “But you’ve got some balls for someone who’s too much of a rutting coward to fight the demons we give our lives to exterminate.”

A crowd of curious and horrified junior slayers had gathered out in the hall, nervously watching as the Wind Pillar threatened to squeeze the life out of the Corp’s sole tailor.

Behind them, you remained frozen on the pedestal, though your eyes had shifted away from the floor, focusing instead on him.

Sanemi wrenched the tailor closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his fingers digging harshly into the soft, fleshy portion of the tailor’s neck. “And you dare make a mockery out of our uniform? You think I’m okay that you’re putting female slayers at risk by not giving them proper protection? What sort of person does that to their comrades?”

Sanemi’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You’re not even fuckin’ human. You’re no better than a god damn demon.”

The muscles in the Wind Pillar’s forearm rippled as his fingers crushed around Maeda’s throat. “And we’re required to put demons outta their fuckin’ misery. So, whaddya think that means for you, shitstain?”

There was a distinct wet dripping against the floorboards as Sanemi remained there, Maeda suspended before him.

Sanemi didn’t need to look down to know what it was; its scent alone was enough of a give away.

Urine.

That feral grin of his only widened. Good, Sanemi thought savagely. The bastard should fear for his life. And who gave a shit, really, if he took out the creep right then and there. It didn’t matter that he was the only tailor in their ranks capable of manufacturing their uniforms with speed and precision. Sanemi would trade his sword in for a needle, if it meant wiping away the stain that was Maeda.

But Sanemi’s wild, murderous rage was tempered by the sudden arrival of the Insect Pillar, who had appeared in the room in a blink of an eye, her small hand wrapped harshly around Sanemi’s wrist.

Her voice was hard and severe as she ordered, “Shinazugawa, stop!”

Sanemi only snarled in response, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter. Just a little more pressure and it would be over, Maeda would never harm another woman again —

Kocho wrenched on his arm once more. While her strength wasn’t enough to force his grip to relax, it did jostle Sanemi enough that he looked away, just long enough to catch the pair of eyes that watched him closely in the mirror.

Your eyes.

Sanemi found himself unable to look away as the two of you stared at one another in the mirror’s reflection. And though that haunted look remained, there was a newfound tightness in your gaze.

Pain, he recognized. There was pain in your eyes, too. And suddenly, Sanemi became all too aware of the fact you were still exposed, only now in front of a greater number of your comrades than before.

Sanemi held your eyes for one more moment before his hand opened around Maeda’s throat.

“Pissed himself like a little bitch.” He sneered, dropping the lecherous tailor to the ground where he crumbled like a napkin.

Maeda sputtered and heaved on the floor, color rapidly returning to his face as he gasped for breath.

Sanemi only looked after him with disgust.

The Butterfly Mansion’s mistress turned sharply toward the entryway. “Away.” She ordered before she turned back. But the instant the word left her lips, the gaggle of junior Corps members who had congregated in the hallway dispersed.

Sanemi cut his eyes to the Insect Hashira and saw a cold rage simmering in her eyes. Eyes that were not looking at him, but were instead glued to the sniveling mass on the floor, whimpering into a puddle of his own urine.

“P-please, forgive me, Master Shinazugawa! I must have packed the wrong uniform — I will sew a n-new one right away —“

“Save it,” Sanemi spat. “And get the fuck outta my sight.”

Though he wanted add in a kick for good measure, Sanemi held back. He was likely in deep enough shit as it was, once word reached the Master about what he’d done. He knew better than to continue testing the Corps’ limits.

Kocho inclined her head back toward the Wind Pillar. “I will see to it that a new uniform is prepared for her immediately.”

She made to step primly over Maeda’s shuddering form, but halted.

Kocho crouched down, low. “I think we both know that you’re better off keeping this to yourself and never mentioning it again, hm?”

Maeda turned his reddened face up toward the Insect Pillar and shrank under her withering glare.

Kocho’s answering smile was nothing but poisoned honey as she dropped her eyes to the wet stain that soaked the front of Maeda’s trousers. “If you wish to hold onto what’s precious to you, that is.”

She narrowed her eyes coldly, as though squinting for something, before she rose with a faint scoff, her threat hanging over Maeda like a cloud.

The Insect Hashira turned back to Sanemi. “I trust you will see yourselves out?”

Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude toward his comrade — likely only one of two among the Pillars who wouldn’t rat him out to the Master — and curtly nodded his head.

Kocho only gave him her usual, practiced smile. “Until next time, then.”

With that, the mistress of the Butterfly Estate departed. The moment the edge of her haori flapped around the corner of the doorway, Sanemi dropped his attention down to Maeda.

“Fuck off.”

The tailor made not a peep as he scrambled to his feet and he left the dressing room without a word.

——

Finally left alone, Sanemi turned to you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, surprised. He’d addressed you by your first name — something that, until this moment, you’d been fairly sure he hadn’t known.

You made some noise in response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, exposed as you are.

Shinazugawa didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go.”

While you were just as eager to get the hell out of the dressing room and away from the Butterfly Mansion, you remained rooted in place upon that platform.

Not a moment had passed since Maeda had first unveiled your new attire that you hadn’t been acutely aware of your own exposure.

You gulped and cast your eyes around the room. You found the neat pile of the clothes you’d worn for the trip here folded in the corner of the dressing area. While Shinazugawa had made a point to keep his eyes on everything but you, you couldn’t fathom having to wear the scrap of a uniform you’d been given for the entire journey back to his estate.

But nor did you want to change again; you couldn’t, not when that would require you to be left alone, a possibility that seemed nearly as daunting as having to brave the trek home in little more than a loincloth.

You agonized over your options, especially as you felt Shinazugawa’s impatience mount. You shifted anxiously from foot to foot, arms wrapped tightly around your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your breasts concealed as you struggled to make the words — any words, really, dislodge from where they’d become stuck in your throat.

Annoyed by your lack of inaction, Shinazugawa looked back into the mirror. In its reflection, you saw him open his mouth, ready to snap at you, but the moment his eyes connected with yours, it closed.

An understanding passed between you right then, as heavy the silence that hung between you.

Shinazugawa considered you for a moment before his hands went to the front folds of his haori. A strange shyness fell over you while he shrugged out of it, causing you to drop your gaze as he rounded the pedestal, haori in hand.

He shoved the ball of white fabric at you, though he kept his gaze fixed pointedly at the ground. “Here. Use this to cover up.”

Timidly, you plucked the Wind Pillar’s haori from his outstretched hand and quickly turned away.

Though it sat cropped on him, the hem of Shinazugawa’s haori extended past the laughably short one of your skirt, providing your backside with a bearable degree of coverage.

It was warm; and to your surprise, it smelled nice, a familiar, grassy sweetness washing over you as you pushed your arm through one of the holes.

Shinazugawa had turned his back to you, his hands notched firmly on his hips as he waited. You tested the reach of his haori, relieved to find that you could wrap it around your front and hold it easily in place by folding your arms across your chest.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The white fabric reached a good three inches down your thighs, all vulnerable areas sufficiently covered.

It would do, you decided. At least until you returned to the Wind Pillar’s estate.

“I’m ready.” You said softly after a moment. Shinazugawa only looked back at you and nodded, before the two of you quietly made your way through and out the Butterfly Estate, setting down the path that led home.

Neither of you spoke for the entire journey. Instead, you were left to stare at the broad expanse Shinazugawa’s back.

The Wind Pillar wore a slightly modified version of the Corps’ uniform, you realized. His top was sleeveless and without the presence of his haori, you saw that his biceps and shoulders were just as solid and well-defined as the rest of him.

No wonder he’d been able to lift Maeda so easily from the ground; Shinazugawa’s biceps were huge. Though, you noted with some mild interest, the skin of his arms was just as scar-specked as the rest of him.

Idly, you wondered whether the scars dotting his face and body were products of his years with the Corps — a tapestry of battles hard-won, or whether they, like yours, were part of a past he wished he could forget.

You arrived back at the Wind Pillar’s estate shortly before sunset. The moment he set foot inside the gate surrounding his manor, Shinazugawa turns to you and holds up a hand.

“Wait here.”

Without another word, he disappears inside of his manor, leaving you alone in the courtyard, slightly bemused.

The Wind Pillar returned a few moments later, a familiar, dark green fabric draped over his hand.

“Here,” he held out the material to you. “Still had one from when I was a Mizunoto. Might not fit you properly, but it’s better than nothin’.”

You accept his offering and then it over in your hands, eyes running over the crisp white destroy sewn into the back. Below the shirt is a pair of pants, in the same, dark-green tinted hue as the shirt.

“I know it doesn’t mean much,” Shinazugawa’s voice was gruff as he spoke. Curious, you lifted your eyes to find him rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “But if I’d’ve known what he was gonna pull —“

You shook your head. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want his apologies. To apologize meant there’d been an expectation, and expectation meant there’d been some trust he’d broken. While he may have been your master — while he may have been the one whose face you could not forget from that day — nothing about either of those things meant he owed you anything.

Shinazugawa looked like he was going to argue, but he closed his mouth and turned away.

Good, you thought. At least he knew to pick his battles.

“We’ll start training once you get your uniform in.” He said after a moment, turning away to retreat into his estate. “Get settled here and once it arrives, we’ll start.”

You nod, your fingers clenching tightly around the front folds of his haori. Though you know you’re safe out here, that Shinazugawa has no interest in overstepping any of your boundaries, you still feel too exposed.

More than anything, you want to retreat to your small room at the back wing of his manor, and disappear under your covers.

The Wind Pillar seems to know, for he only gives you a curt nod, before he turns back to the great, sprawling Estate, and takes the entry stairs up two at a time.

You wait a moment before following. You’ll have to figure out how to return him his haori, you realize. Perhaps you’ll drop it off at his room later in the night, when he’s likely to be asleep, or maybe you’ll wait until breakfast —

“Y/N.”

Your foot halted mid-air as you lifted your head to him, waiting.

Shinazugawa lingered on his engawa, though he kept his back to you.

“I won’t leave you alone with another man again. That’s a promise.”

You wanted to snap at him that he shouldn’t do this — he shouldn’t create obligations that he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep. That was the only way this transaction between the two of you would work; Shinazugawa would train you and once you’d gathered enough of a grip over your own abilities, you’d fuck out of his life and pursue your own, greater ambitions.

That’s what you should say, and yet, his words strike at something soft in you. Reminds you, once again that for whatever reason, he is someone you can rely upon; someone you can trust.

The exception.

And it’s because of that, you only respond, “Thank you.”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer fanfic

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slttygeto · 2 years ago

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SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.

જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!

“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.

“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.

“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.

Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.

“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.

“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”

“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”

“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.

“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.

“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.

“That’s a little fruity—“

“Finish your food.”

When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.

Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.

“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”

“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.

“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.

“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.

“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.

You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.

Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.

Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.

“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.

“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.

“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“

“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.

“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.

“Oh, okay then,”

Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.

Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.

You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.

“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?

Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.

Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.

“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.

Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.

He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?

His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”

Oh, not anymore.

“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.

Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.

“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?

“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.

“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.

“Yeah, we will.”

He was officially and totally fucked.

It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.

While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.

And then there was Geto.

Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.

He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.

Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.

“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.

“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.

“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”

“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.

“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“

“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.

Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.

How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!

Do you have something to share with the class?

It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.

“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.

“Hm?”

“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.

“Hate you?”

“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”

Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.

“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.

It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.

“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.

But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.

Slowly that is.

“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.

“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.

“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.

“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”

Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.

Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.

But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.

Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.

The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.

Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.

The guy’s just trying to sleep

Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?

But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.

“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.

“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.

“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”

“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.

“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.

“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.

You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.

“God, it smells horrible.”

“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.

“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.

“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.

The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.

Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.

It’s too fast for its size!

Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.

“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.

You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”

“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.

And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.

I killed a huge curse on my own!

What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.

The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.

Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.

He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.

And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.

You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.

“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“

“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.

“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.

“And I was very mad,”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.

“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.

“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.

“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.

“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.

“The coolest.”

Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.

The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.

“Sugu—“

“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

#moon's works #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #geto x you #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk getou #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago

Note

Hi I love rereading all your fics and prompts! Like, multiple times throughout the day. I have a schedule. Your works are my literal bed time stories (wow that sounded weird).

Anyways (before I ramble any worse). Any updates for Child support? I just love it so much and wondering if there's more

John throws himself to the side, barely avoiding a grab from a fifth-dimension demon throwing a fit after he rejects its request to marry his son. He rolls across the ground, powering up a spell, as he mentally curses his age.

Maybe Batman was right. He should work on his physical form a little more.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this-" Whatever the demon was going to say is lost after John's spell slams into its chest, throwing it back out of his dimension and sealing him from his Earth for fifty years. The spell is helpful, but fifty years doesn't mean much to demons, and it will wait decades to come back and bother them.

Thankfully, John will likely be long-dead before then. It's always been his solution for most of his problems. Pushing a problem to a later date where it can become someone else's problem.

But what about his son?

Danny, who was half of Time itself, would likely be around in fifty years. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to leave Danny with all his messes. He'll have to learn a new banishing spell and find some instructors who could teach him an entirely new magic dueling technique.

It was the responsible thing to do. Ugh, fatherhood was making him an accountable bore.

John heaves himself off the floor, sweat pouring from his forehead, and grimaces. On the stove, the eggs he was cooking for Danny's breakfast are smoking, burnt into a dark black smudge. The House of Mystery's old wood groans, displeased with all the smoke, and a second later, the stove and counter vanish as the house creates a hole to drop them out of.

"Now that's just plain rude," John tells the house, dusting his knees. "It's not like I asked to be attacked first thing in the morning. What am I going to feed Danny now?"

The house's floor tiles shift in what John has come to learn was meant to be a shrug. The blasted thing has started copying Danny's teenage behavior, including that of his son's friends, and now seemed to enjoy rebelling against John whenever possible.

Thankfully, the house also seemed to really like Danny because one of the drawers opens, and a local Gotham breakfast dinner menu is flung at him. John catches the sheet with a sigh. He won't have to go too far when dropping Danny off at school.

"Morning, Dad," Danny greets, walking into the room wearing his Gotham Academy uniform. The dark night blue blazer, black tie, and dress trousers make his son look like the heir of the second most powerful being. It only took one glance to see that Danny came from nobility.

John knows he's a handsome bloke, but he had nothing on Clockwork's human form. That man was a temptation itself, and it looks like Danny has inherited his beauty.

John will never know how the brats in Danny's other schools could not see that. His son was perfect. John fights the urge to summon a camera. He always thought the fools always showing off the children's pictures were idiotic. Now that he's a father, he understands.

He smiles, "Morning, love. How about we go out to eat for breakfast?"

__________________________________________________________

They arrived at the dinner just as it was opening. John told Danny to order some black tea and went to the bathroom. He was only gone for a few minutes, but when he returned, he found his boy surrounded by a group of teenagers wearing the same uniform.

There was a splash of angry red on Danny's face as a girl gestured to him, obviously mocking him, and the rest of the teenagers laughed. Danny's hands were clenched in his lap, shoulders hunched, and head lowered as another teenager reached out and flickered his ear.

This one was wearing those ridiculous American leather jackets for some sport. He was also the biggest teenager there, a boy who thought himself too important for his own good.

John's jaw clenched.

Bullies.

Danny had bullies at Gotham Academy. Why can't his son just be left alone?!

John was just about to march across the room, ready and willing to fight a group of children, when Danny suddenly raised his head to yell in the face of the leather jacket git.

Alarmingly, the teenagers don't have the reaction that John expects. The large boy blushes, and the teenagers all seem to grow flustered.

No, John realizes with horror. No, they fancy him. The little rats bothering Danny are into him. Were all the other bullies just dumb kids who were terrible at flirting, too?

He is so stunned by the realization that he misses the way Danny attempts to push past the boy and somehow ends up tripping over his own two feet. He tries to catch himself on the table but the thing tilts over and their drinks fly.

Danny ends up half on the ground covered in drinks and looking bloody misaberle as the rest of the children snicker. John draws to his full height, deciding that it didn't matter what these kids felt for Danny.

His son thought they were bullying him because they made him feel terrible. So they were all going to feel the wrath of the one human who bullshits his way to being one of the mightiest spell casters in history.

"What the bloody hell are you urchins think you're doing!?" He yells. The kids all take one look at him before they scatter, rushing towards their posh cars outside.

"You alright, love?" He helps the boy to his feet, wiping some liquid with a napkin.

Danny looks small as he wipes away at his eyes. There weren't any tears; he was just taking the tea that had run down his face off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Do they bother you a lot?" He asks, anger growing in his chest. "We can go to your headmaster."

"No! Telling the principle will only make things worse!" Danny shouts, looking up in alarm. "Besides, they don't really bother me that much. Damian can usually scare them off. They should go for me, I can handle it; most other kids don't."

Fuck, where has he heard that phrase before?

It's alright if he hits me. I can handle it better than Mum.

John takes a breath through his nose, willing it to calm him down. This is another change that has come to be ever since he learned about Danny. Before, John would have gone off the handle, started a fight, yelled till he was red, drank, or slept through his issues, and damn the consequences.

He's got to think with a clearer head now. He owes Danny because of what his other father will do and because John wants to be the kind of father he never had.

The waitress rushes over, helping them get things set to right, and Danny apologizes for repeatedly knocking on the table. She waves away his worry, stating she saw the group and that, as someone who's worked near Gotham Acadamy for years, she knows what kind of students go there.

She also mentioned seeing what happened to the scholarship students over the years after nodding her head to Danny's pin. John hated that it was a requirement for Danny's uniform as a "show" of his accomplishments when all it did was single him out as a target.

While his son is distracted, John sends a quick text message to Bruce, informing him of the bullying Danny is going through.

Bruce responds with a single message: "It shall be handled." for once, he doesn't roll his eyes at the theatrics. A small thump on the window makes him glance up from his phone screen.

Pressed up against the glass is a blond teenage boy with wide eyes, breathing heavily and looking like a child staring at a feast of their favorite foods. John makes a face as the teenager's palms' and nose lean more into the glass, disorientating his image, but nothing could top the manic grin on his face.

John follows the boy's eyesight to where they practically devour his son, who is busy looking at the pasty bar. The waitress told him to pick anything he liked in the house to try and cheer him up from his bully.

Danny takes his sweets very seriously and studies his options with hyper-focused determination. He bends at his waist to look at the far-back brownies, and the teenager in the window lets out a cat-like growl of approval.

Alarmed, John steps in front of Danny, blocking him and his bum from view. The teenager, wearing the same uniform as Danny, and John was pretty sure he's seen this kid at Gotham High School when they had been touring the place before deciding to take Burce's offer, locks eyes with him.

John doesn't have to see into the stranger's scowl to confirm what he already knows.

That was not a human in control of the body. A demon likely took the unfortunate human for a joy ride. John raises his hand, spell crackling at his fingertips, and the scowl turns darker as the demon wearing the stolen face seers.

Just as he is about to fire off a spell, Danny's voice cuts through the tension, stepping around John with a happy "Bernard!"

His son walks up to the window before freezing and then looks back at John with the same bone-chilling expression of anger that he has only ever seen on one other being. That one being who could make the very fabrics of the universe fall apart despite not shouting or rampaging.

Danny inherited Clockwork's anger, it seemed.

"That thing is overshadowing my friend Bernard Dowd." Danny's voice is low and echoing. Somewhere behind him, John can hear the waitress gasp for air as the room's pressure increases, to Danny's displeasure. "I'm going to kill it."

John's knees shake as he fights to stay upright. "Alright. Make sure you finish murdering it before your second class. You have a chemistry test today."

Danny nods, walks outside, and grabs Bernard's arm to drag him into a dark alley. The dumb thing looked pleased, spraying something into its mouth. I thought Danny was going to snog it.

Fool.

As soon as Danny left, the pressure disappeared from the dinner, every human inside sighing relief once they could breathe better.

"What in the world was that!?" The waitress demands, her voice strained with fear.

John turns to her with a shrug. "Puberty."

Outside, a loud honk is heard as a certain teenager in a leather jacket slams his head against his steering wheel with a wail. His friends are quick to comfort him to the best of their abilities. They likely saw Danny drag the possessed human into the alleyway.

Good.

"Do you have any alcoholic drinks?" He asks the horror-stricken woman. "I need something strong."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Ah, a coffee then. Black. Strong. Anything to help me raise my boy and get through the day."

There is a long pause before she responds. "Of course, and it's on the house. Not easy being a single parent to....whatever that was."

At least she has a heart.

#dcxdpdabbles #child support #Part 5 #John is trying to be a good dad #Danny keeps getting bothered by demons and other beings for his hand #Bernard was seen having one conspiracy theory conversation with Danny and got possessed over it.#Danny is being bullied #But it's just humans not knowing what to do with their feelings for him #Bernard wakes in a alley in a cold sweat with Danny smiling down at him #crack taken seriously

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parfaitblogs · 1 month ago

Text

winter wonderland ❀ s. reid x reader

in which it snows, you have a vision for a snowman, and spencer reid is all too easy to convince.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. brat enabler!spencer reid!!! pathetic corny potentially tooth rotting fluff. they kiss a lot. word count: 1k a/n: wrote this for margot because i mean she did request it… lol… brat enabler spencer reid is prevalent but i mean that's just the parfaitblogs' spencer reid on the reg…

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

If Spencer Reid were ever to pursue a prosecuting career, he'd hope to God you are never his opposition.

Too many of his firm personal rules held no weight when they challenged your own, and his ground almost always dissolves under his feet the second you disagree.

Like going out in the snow.

One minute he was appreciating the grey skies and white sheet covering the ground, and the next, he was pulling boots and winter clothes onto his body to cover up.

An argument that he so sorely lost, that began with you asking him to go out into the snow with him.

His response had been, "No, there's still snow falling—" not really "—and it'll be freezing."

"That's what warm clothes are for!"

And even if he wanted to back himself up and not give in, you were handing him a scarf and a sweater, regardless. Never mind the fact that you had already dressed up ready for the snow, looking warm and so pretty, and Spencer was but a man ridiculously in love with you.

So, he let you drag him out to the snow without any more complaints.

And you had agreed on a snowman. A simple, normal snowman with a carrot nose and pebbles for his buttons. The only compromise made was Spencer agreeing to you using his purple scarf to wrap around the snowman's neck, instead of a typical red one like he was imagining.

Truth be told, making a snowman with you was proving to be very difficult.

His first battle began with you refusing to wear mittens out of the house, claiming you needed the extra grip for the snow to make the perfect shapes. A fifteen minute dispute was what it took for you to reluctantly cover the skin of your hands. Even then, he caught you trying to remove the fabric from your fingers time and time again.

The second battle lay within the design of the snowman. You begging to make something fun, and Spencer reminding you of the agreement to make a normal snowman until you gave up.

And yet, somewhere between the collection of the snow, rolling it into balls, and putting the snowman together, it developed from a regular shaped snowman, to one with ears strangely resembling a bunny.

You had conned Spencer Reid, and made a bunny snowman.

"How did this happen?" he mumbles, almost exasperated, as you grin proudly at the snow creation presented before him.

Mind you, he knew exactly how this happened.

Your lips had found his in the short period of time between picking up the carrot and carrying it to put into the snowball head, and truly, he is unable to focus when you are that close to him. Which should not be held against him.

A gentle kiss that parted with the fog cloud of your two breaths mingling, the cold nipping at your lips, rendering him thoughtless and confused for half a second too long. That was when the carrot had disappeared.

Then, as he was placing the pebbles over the lower half of the face for the snowman's smile, you had turned him around to face you, coaxing him in for another kiss that he — this time — had enough willpower to say no to.

Your response was to shove a fistful of snow into the crook of his neck, encouraging a snow fight he had been trying to avoid this entire time.

"You do know that smothering my neck and face in snow can cause frostbite. Or hypothermia. The cold can encourage heart attacks and—" You threw another snowball at him.

"It's a snowball. It wont kill you."

Really, he should've picked up on your distraction techniques sooner. Usually, he did. You were easy enough to read once he had gotten to know you, and your antics were a regular enough occurrence that he could tell when you were in a specific mood.

But still, you had deceived him, and he hadn't suspected a thing.

"Do you like her?" you chirp from beside him, a large grin on your lips.

"A snowman. We agreed on a regular snowman."

"It is a snowman," you protested, albeit weakly, staring at the crooked, bunny resembling pile of snow. "She's... unconventional."

"It's a bunny."

"But isn't she cute?" you press, staring up at him with widened eyes. "Say yes. Please say yes."

He huffs, his breath painting the cold air just past his lips. His resolve is seemingly incredibly easy to dissipate when you stare at him like that. "Yes. She's cute."

You grin at his agreement, standing on your toes to peck his cheek.

Though, he's quick to catch your waist and tug you closer, melting cold lips against your own. Out of shock and maybe too much glee, you laugh, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

Fingers lift to your hair and thread through it, and you're grateful the two of you had decided to play with the snow in your backyard. You aren't sure if he'd kiss you like this out the front of your home.

"Can we compromise and make another regular snowman?" you ask him, the second his lips part only a fraction from yours.

He pauses, his eyes searching your face, inevitably for a hint of you trying to deceive him once more. Certain he finds none, he nods his head. "Yes. We can."

You happily smile back at him, your head turning to the side so you can look at your bunny snowman once again. "She's growing on you, though, right?"

"I guess," he turns his own head. "She kind of looks like you."

Your eyebrows furrow. "Oddly shaped and on a lean?"

"Cute," he clarifies with a laugh, locking eyes with you once more. "Be kinder to yourself."

"I am."

You're met with a pointed look, but he's an expert at picking his battles with you, for he sighs, then simply says, "Just start rolling more snow."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia's advent calendar ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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