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luvvixu · 8 months ago

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mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

#gojo satoru #anime #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #luvvixu #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst #angst #arrange marriage

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kyokutsu-sama · 4 months ago

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Flashy night

Uzui Tengen x f! Reader x wifes

A/n: Just a flashy scenario for a flashy man. I'm thinking about writing Kyojuro's pov and posting it later🤔

Tw: Slightly suggestive

••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••

"Tengen, I think you better go home man. Your wives must be waiting for you!" Rengoku shouted in the middle of the street due to the noise of the people and the music.

The two friends had planned to go to the entertainment district because of a festival Tengen had mentioned. Rengoku never refused to go anywhere with his best friend, especially if it promised lots of fun and food. They had gone in completely sober and were now completely drunk and barely knew their way back.

"Yeah, I know. My wives love me and everyone knows it!" Tengen said, holding his drink as he danced. He really was an exhibitionist.

"Yes, but if we don't get back soon, you'll end up sleeping on the couch." Rengoku joked, trying to drag his friend out of the crowd. They were now leaning on each other and walking like blind people in the middle of a shootout.

"Now that's not true! They would never do that to me," Tengen said, laughing."They love me, believe me..."

*Meanwhile, at Tengen's house*

"Tengen hasn't come back yet?" Makio asked, arriving in the living room and seeing you sitting on the couch, waiting for Tengen to come home. "Where the hell did he get himself to again? I hope he doesn't have to face a demon on the way."

"It was a possibility... If I didn't know he went out to go to another one of those flashy festivals he likes so much."

"And he didn't even take us with him. Just left us here alone and bored." Makio said, pouting and holding some resentment for his action

"He said he was going with a great friend of his."

"Probably that one who talks really loud, the hashira of the flames... I don't remember his name." She said, looking at the ceiling, trying to remember the name

"Rengoku?" You said, and she nodded

"Yeah, that one! They get along very well."

"I believe he should be arriving soon. I mean, it's almost three in the morning." You said looking at the clock on the wall

"Typical of Master Tengen. He never arrives at the time he says will. Suma and Hinatsuru must be fast asleep by now, and getting Suma to sleep after she found out Tengen went without us was no easy task. That idiot almost cried her eyes out." Makio rolled her eyes, remembering the scene

"Suma is always sensitive..." You said with a giggle. "What about you? Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I just came to see how you were since you were the only one who wasn't sleeping yet, but if you're going to stay there waiting for him, that's fine. I'm going to the bed, good night." Makio said, hugging you and getting up afterwards

"Sleep well."

"Yeah, and be sure to kick Tengen's drunk ass when he gets here!" She shouted from the end of the hallway and you chuckled

"I will!"

You stood there for a while until you heard the front door open and saw the big man stumble on his own steps and almost fall to the floor while laughing out loud. You knew at that moment who it was. You got up from the couch and walked to the entrace hall with your arms crossed as you saw him waving to his friend who was already going home.

"Have a great night my great buddie Rengoku!!"He shout before closing the door

When he turned around and saw you behind him, his smile widened and you were almost blinded by the glow he exuded at that moment. The drunkenness made him hotter than usual but you didn't want to let your guard down at that moment. And you definitely wouldn't.

"Look who's here waiting for me! I'm sorry for leaving my princess alone but since I'm here I think I should make up for my absence..." He said in a seductive voice, approaching and covering your figure with all his tall and wide stature. Oh, he was really stepping over the borders...

His white hair was loose and disheveled, there were a few messy strands on his face, his cheeks were pink from the alcohol and the heat. He was wearing a yukata that was open and exposing his chest. You could bet he was doing it on purpose to tease you.

"Why don't we go upstairs and 'talk' a little about my late arrival?" He whispered in your ear with a little giggle and distributing a few kisses on your neck but you just rolled your eyes and sighed. It was difficult because he really was driving you crazy.

"Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma have been asleep for a while now and I don't want to bother them and besides, Makio herself told me to kick your drunk ass, so..." You said and the hashira laughed

"My dear Makio is cold, but I like her. What about you? Are you really going to kick your husband's drunk and flashy ass?" He said holding your face with both hands

"You deserved it, you know? It's just that you left and came back late and as if that wasn't enough, you didn't take your lovely wives with you."

"I already apologized! Come on, why don't we settle things amicably, my love?" He leaned his forehead against yours, which made things even more difficult for you, who were trying not to give in

"Tengen, don't insist. You're drunk and I'm sleepy." You said, trying to get away from him, who at that moment knelt in front of you looking like a clingy, whiny boy.

"You're not being flashy, Y/n. Why don't you give me a little chance. Please, five minutes! We don't even need to go to the bedroom..." Uzui insisted again, holding the hem of your shorts, but you slapped his hands away and walked away from him

"Damn, Uzui! You're stubborn when you're drunk. Jeez!" You said, and he was silent for a moment while he massaged the hand you slapped, but still with a smile on his face and his eyes shining at you. "And don't make those puppy dog eyes at me. Let's just go to sleep, it's too late." You ordered

Tengen got up from the floor and let out a long sigh, seeing that he couldn't be more stubborn than his wife who was in front of him. However, his ego didn't allow you to have the last word.

Tengen got closer to your ear and bent down a little, which made you feel chills.

"Alright, you win. But one thing is for certainly, I'll deal with you tomorrow. Just you wait!" He slapped your butt and ran to the bedroom while laughing and you felt your cheeks burn with shame.

He really could drive everyone crazy.

"Tengen, you son of a-- Come back here now!" You said, running after him

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba manga #kimetsu no yaiba anime #kimetsu no yaiba fandom #demon slayer #demon slayer manga #demon slayer anime #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #uzui tengen #tengen uzui #tengen x wives #tengen x wives x reader #tengen x reader #fluff #fluff fic #funny scenario

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fatesundress · 2 years ago

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⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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dp-marvel94 · 2 months ago

Text

Real -Chapter 1

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

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Notes:

This story was written thanks to @jackdaw-sprite who commented on a Tumblr post a wrote asking what I should write next with "I haven't read nearly as many of your works as I'd like to before saying which ones I'd like to see continued, but there's one where Danny names a duplicate, and because of ghost logic, the duplicate becomes real. It feels like such a neat idea to play with!" So here I am writing a whole fic about it! Structurally, this is still very much half-fic outline with some important scenes written out. I'm not planning on expanding it beyond what it is. Still, I hope you enjoy the story. :) A note for readers, those here for the DC content especially: this is very much a Danny heavy fic. The focus will be on Danny and Jamie's relationship as the clone goes from just a duplicate without its own life, to a real person with his own identity. The Bats, Jason especially, will be present, and important for Jamie becoming his own person. But those relationships are definitely secondary to Danny and Jamie's.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny runs from his parents and the GIW. Soon, he finds himself living in a crummy apartment and trying to keep a low profile. He doesn't have very much, so he is very excited to find an actually in decent shape couch that someone was throwing out. It's late so, figuring no one will see him, Danny duplicates to have two pairs of hands to get the furniture up the stairs and into his apartment.

Of course, Danny does get spotted by his neighbor, Jason, who offers to hold doors open and help with the unwieldy couch. Names are exchanged: Danny and, after a pause as Danny realizes he has to come up with something for his duplicate, Jamie. The "three" manage to get the couch inside. But now Jason is worried about what appears to be a pair of twins, 16 years old at the most, living alone in the apartment with one ratty couch and a bookbag between them. Jason isn't pushy or overly concerned, but he does make a point to check on his new neighbors regularly.

After the second time running into Jason and being asked about "Jaime," Danny realizes he's going to have to pretend to be his own twin. Duplication is very helpful for that, though he tries not to do it too often and for too long; it does use a lot of energy. He'll just have the "twins" make regular, short appearances together. It's not like he's trying to get close to anyone in Gotham

But inevitably, short appearances escalate into having dinner with Jason. The first is a one off; man claimed he made too much and Danny didn't really have money for food. Plus it was really good. Accepting the hospitality just this once wouldn't be that bad. Of course, "Jamie" has come to dinner too.

One dinner leads to more meals with his neighbor, to Jason trying to teach "the twins" to cook more than easy mac.

Jason's youngest brother meets the "twins" when he pounds on the door during dinner and barges in, complaining that "Father is being unreasonable" and had ground him.

Damian and "the twins" end up huddling in Jason's apartment during Danny's first rogue attack since he arrived in Gotham. Jason ran off as soon as the alert went off, claiming that he was needed at the fire station where he worked. He pointedly says that Damian can stay and look after his non-Gothamite neighbors since he's grounded. The preteen is prickly but does stay put. Danny starts to get restless, unable to re-merge and starting to fear that his energy will waver and "Jamie" will pop out of existence. He nervously eyes the door and Damian threatens to stab him if he tries to leave, saying that "Todd is apparently fond of you both and will be quite peeved" with Damian if something happens to Danny and Jamie.

Well.... Jamie will definitely disappear if Damian stabs him. So Danny manages to maintain his duplicate for five hours, more than twice as long as any time before. By the time the threat is over and Danny can go back to his apartment, he is straining, desperately trying to hide how exhausted and shaky he is from the excursion. He loses hold of the duplicate as soon as the door is closed.

Despite the hardship, maintaining a duplicate is somehow so much easier after that. He can stay duplicated for longer and gradually, he realizes controlling the secondary body is becoming easier. At the beginning, he needed a lot of effort and control to pilot the duplicate, having to mentally direct it to speak or move. He played "Jamie" as being shy and quiet, so there was less talking to dictate. But overtime, the need for mental prompting becomes less and less. Playing "Jamie" became more automatic, more instinctual. Almost like the duplicate runs on auto-pilot, mostly acting how Danny himself would, though more reserved. To an outside perspective, it looks like "Jamie" is finally getting comfortable and coming out of his shell. But to Danny, this was a relief, spending less energy running his duplicate and less time worrying about being found out.

Slowly, Danny meets more of Jason's family. One of Jay's brothers, Tim, runs into him at his coffee shop job and, blinking sleepily, asks which twin he is, before realizing that Danny is wearing a name tag. This leads to Danny's coworkers finding out about "Jamie" and his "twin" visiting him at work.

As the act grows and more people end up meeting "the twins," Danny spends more and more time pretending to be a pair of twins in more and more ridiculous situations. Playing both of them gets easier and easier, more and more comfortable until the twins can banter, share inside jokes, and tell stories from their childhood. Maybe it is intentional, maybe it's subconscious. But slowly, differences develop to differentiate the twins. "Jamie" is growing out his hair. He loves toast and watching documentaries about history. Danny, more and more convincingly, pretends to have a brother until at some points... it no longer feels like he is pretending.

Despite his new friends, Danny is still so lonely. The apartment is still almost bare, the money he gets from his job barely enough. It's never the job he wanted; he wants to be in school now, applying to colleges so he can get into NASA. But he can't do anything to draw attention to himself, not with the government breathing down his neck or the danger of the vigilantes running him out for being a “meta”. And he misses his friends and sister so badly.

One particularly hard night, when he is heartbroken and hurting, Danny lies on his second-hand mattress in the dark, weeping. He mourns his parents turning on him, his heart aching for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. He wishes more than anything that he was not alone right now.

Suddenly, there is a yanking on his core that leaves his gasping. A full body pulling sensation that almost feels like being peeled, except somehow it does not hurt. A second later, it is over and through his blurry eyes, Danny can barely make out a figure kneeling in front of him. Arms coax him into sitting up and pull him into a hug. Danny cries for a long while, not thinking about what just happened, not thinking about what... or who... is holding him. He just accepts the comfort, savors the feeling that he is not alone.

Finally, after the tears slow, Danny pulls back and looks. He lets himself realize what he is looking at. And as he takes in eyes like his, the feeling is something between awe and fear. There is a light in the blue eyes, a spark that he does not recognize.

And as the brow wrinkles in confusion and the mouth slowly works, words spiral out. Words that Danny could never have predicted.

"If we... if you keep doing this..." Each word is slow and deliberate, as if each takes great effort. "This...." One hand motions slowly, vaguely, as if un-used to movement. "Jamie won't be a lie anymore."

Danny is stunned. He stares for a long while, unable to process. He does not understand what the words mean, why the spark in those eyes makes him just as elated as it makes him afraid.

So he takes the duplicate's hand and pulls the ecto-energy back inside himself. He reabsorbs it and "Jamie" disappears. And Danny thinks.

Slowly, he realizes how easy staying duplicated has become, how distant and foggy memories from his duplicate's perspective are. He replays the words in his head. 'If you keep doing this... Jamie won't be a lie anymore.' He wonders if they mean what they suggest, and most startlingly.... he wonders where they had come from, if not from himself.

For a few days, he avoids anyone who has met the twins or claims that his "twin" is busy whenever someone asks. But inevitably, his trusty neighbor Jason notices the avoidance and invites himself over to cook dinner. Reluctantly, Danny duplicates; there is clearly no avoiding this conversation.

The dinner is awkward. Danny has a hard time looking at Jason.... and an even harder time looking at his seeming twin. None of the three say much and by the end, their neighbor huffs a sigh and says his piece.

“Look. I know that no one, especially two teens, live in a shitty apartment in Crime Alley if they can avoid it. I don't know if you got kicked out, ran away from home, are hiding from something. And I don’t care. I won't ask. But I was an alley kid. I lost my mom younger than both of you, ended up on the street. I know what it's like just scraping by, trying to survive all on my own. That's why I look out for the kids here. I want to help you guys, no matter what your story is.”

Danny stammers out a disbelieving thanks. He is touched, really, despite the fear of discovery, of vulnerability quivering in his heart. Jason is a good guy and it feels good to have someone who cares. But... the maybe-not-a-lie sits on the couch beside him. A story he could never hope to explain...

Jason smiles, ruffling both of the twin's hairs. He stands to leave. "Take care," he says, almost afterthought. "You're lucky to have each other."

"Jamie" seems to lean, just the tiniest bit closer to Danny at the words.

Jason leaves and it is just Danny and his duplicate. The half ghost releases a breath, letting some of the tension release. He reaches to reabsorb his double and-

A shaky hand grips his forearm. Danny looks, meeting the blue eyes. The spark is back, just the smallest hint in the posture that something is different. Slowly, the brow wrinkles, becoming something worried.

"What is it?" Danny finds himself saying, as if he expects a real response.

"Have... each other." Again, the words are slow as if just the act of thinking is hard. "Not a lie."

Now Danny's brow is wrinkled. "Not a lie? Are you saying that's true? Or asking if it is?"

"Not a lie." The words repeat. "Jamie not a lie."

Danny's stomach knots. He’s heard his duplicate speak dozens of times, even been surprised by some offered puns. But this…

“Not a lie.” One more repeat, this one faster, surer, almost desperate.

Danny looks up again. “Jamie.” He says the name. He’s spoken to his double before in front of other people, as part of the act. But this… it feels as bizarre as it feels right. “Jamie…. Are you… real?”

For just a second, there is something like hope in the other’s eyes. Then, the brow furrows in great effort. “Yes… No….” One more longer, unsure pause. “Becoming.”

“You’re… becoming real?” The words are breathy. Danny isn’t sure whether they make him feel that same hope, or if he feels sick.

The half ghost looks away, staring down at his lap. He doesn’t know what this is, how this is happening. A moment of panic stabs. Is he sick or insane? Or… is it a trick? A trap?

Danny reaches with his mind, trying to feel. A parasite infecting him? Another ghost, trying to overshadow. There is a connection, a bundle of a dozen fine threads. It is a link to… something not quite separate. Danny feels the almost presence at the end, the not-quite himself he is speaking with. And… It is like cradling a baby bird. Small, fragile, and so young. No malice, just pure innocence.

The half ghost looks up again. His hand shifts, feeling the cold flesh. His fingers press, the almost flutter of a heart beneath the skin.

The awe from that late night rises, a question echoing in his head. What happens if he lets this continue?

He… won’t be alone. Danny remembers that night, crying on his mattress and desperately wanting comfort. And all those times hanging out with Jason. The jokes and banter started as an act to sell the lie. But… weren't they so much more now? Danny had pretended to have a brother and in pretending had imagined one… Now that brother, that twin sat beside him.

But at the same time… fear spiked. What would happen if he didn’t stop this? Could he even stop this if he wanted to? It feels inevitable, unstoppable. Not if he stays living next to Jason. But… if he tells the truth? Or if he runs, starts again somewhere else. He could reabsorb his duplicate now and let this whole thing fade into memory. Jamie would disappear…

A wave of fear surges from outside himself. Danny meets terrified eyes. Something in him softens, crumples.

“Jamie?” Danny asks again and can almost feel the heart-flutter solidifying. “Do you want to be real?”

There is a pause, the fearful face becoming something narrowed eyes and sure. “Yes.” So much determination. Danny feels the one thread of dozens snap.

“Alright then.” Danny heaves a sigh, deciding.

He will hold out as long as he can. He will stay duplicated, keep Jamie here until he’s not a duplicate at all. Jamie will be real.

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #my fic #Danny Phantom clone

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ghcstao3 · 7 months ago

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vampire x monster hunter……….i am so respectfully asking for more (im foaming at the mouth)

(original post) i shall do my best. again i got a little out of hand with word count. cw blood (of course)

John knows he should be happy about Simon's return.

He knows he should be happy to be reunited with his once-best friend even if it's after over a decade, because all this time he'd thought Simon was dead. He knows he should be happy that Simon would return here, of all places, to make amends, to catch up, to do whatever it is old friends are meant to. He knows this.

And yet... John can't help but feel on edge.

John is happy, of course he is. It isn’t often he’s surprised as he was when the knock at his door had been Simon. It isn’t every day an old friend returns from the dead. But he can only be fed the same excuses over and over so many times before he grows wary in Simon’s presence, which is really, truly the last thing he wants.

Being told I'm not hungry, I'll eat later would only be of any worth if Simon had said it once or twice, and not for every meal offered. It might be a cause for concern if Simon did not still appear consistently healthy and sated in spite of it.

Not to mention the sneaking out at odd hours. New creaks and groans have since developed in John's old house, ones Simon wasn't aware of, clearly, until the first time he makes his mistakes. It all just... worries John. Frightens him. Of course people change, and certainly over thirteen years, but it all seems to raise far more questions than there are answers that Simon is willing to give.

And then all of the sudden it makes too much sense, and John finds himself wishing Simon had never come back.

With the regularity at which people disappear in and around the town, John doesn't notice any difference after Simon's arrival. No increase or decrease, no change in occurrences that might tip John off to a new creature needing to be hunted.

This particular hunt was meant to be carried out like any other; John was heading out alone as the creature he was after didn't pose so much a threat to require help, it would be clean and quick, then he'd return home. He leaves a note for Simon, who may or may not have gone out himself, grabs his gear and vanishes beneath the cloak of a cloud-filled night.

Vampire, is what little information he'd been provided with, and so vampire is what he prepares himself for.

John has long since been a stranger to bloodshed. Really, it's necessary he not be squeamish, especially when so often he comes across scenes like this—this being the messy feasting of what could only be a newer, more inexperienced vampire. The unfamiliar hunger like nothing else usually makes them far more reckless when it comes to finding food.

This fledgling isn't any different, judging by the large smears and smatterings of blood leading right to John's culprit.

A figure sits hunched in the dark, accompanied only by the sound of tearing flesh. When John had first been learning, the lack of breathing that should be present when drinking so fiercely had made him uneasy, but now it merely serves as a reminder that he should hold his own breath, lest he catch the vampire's attention.

John wields a silver dagger, creeping forward as carefully as he might in approaching a wild animal—these monsters are just about the same, anyway.

But John underestimates how elevated this particular fledgling's senses would be. They pause the moment John takes a step toward them, sitting up straighter, immediately alert. Their face remains obscured, but John can see them cock their head, presumably listening for his pulse.

He expects an attack. Expects a fight so as to not become the next course.

What John hadn't expected—or maybe a subconscious part of him had—was for the figure to rise slow and cautious, head bowed in what John might dare call shame. What he hadn't expected was for the vampire to turn on their heel and have John met with none other than—

"Simon?"

His head remains hung, silhouette still impossibly imposing. It's hard to discern much in the low light, but John imagines Simon's irises are currently a scarlet red as opposed to their usual warm coffee brown, if evidenced by the blood that covers his face and drips from his chin.

"Johnny." His voice is hoarse, but it's most certainly Simon's. He can probably hear the way John's heart picks up pace, be it out of fear, or be it out of use of a nickname Simon has so far avoided since their reunion. "Johnny, I'm sorry."

“Simon, wha—“ John frowns and finds his guard falling, yet his grip on the hilt of his knife only tightens. “I don’t—“

“I can’t help it,” Simon rasps, begging. “I can’t… I learned how to control myself, I did, but when I’m around you…”

Simon is directly in front of John in the blink of an eye, frigid hands curling around John's, around the dagger. He allows the tip of the blade to dig into his abdomen, unflinching as it pokes past clothes and just barely breaks skin. John holds steady, more than capable of pushing it further, but unwilling to hurt—or kill—Simon until he's given a reason to.

Never mind the mangled corpse on the ground just a few feet away.

"How long?"

"Johnny—"

"How long, Simon?"

Simon doesn't meet his eyes. They're dark either way like this, in this lack of light, but John still feels like something isn't quite right about it.

"A few months. A year, maybe. Two," Simon confesses. "It's all muddled."

For reasons John can't describe, somehow it stings knowing this... affliction has only been short-term. Because instead it could have been an explanation for Simon's disappearance—let alone that of his family's that he still often wonders about. Because instead it could have been a reason for Simon to have stayed away for so long even as an adult.

But it's not.

"Then why come back now? And why come back here?" John hisses. "You're a fuckin' dafty, y'know that?"

Simon's mouth parts, and for the first time since his arrival John finally catches a glimpse of his fangs; razor sharp and promising a swift but violent death for John should Simon's instincts get the best of him.

He then seals his lips in a thin line, swallowing whatever words he may have had prior. Simon offers a solemn nod of his head, his theme of shame so insistent.

Against John's better judgement, he retracts the knife. Tucks it away, and forces space between them. The overwhelming stench of iron is beginning to make him nauseous.

Softer, much softer than Simon deserves at the moment, and far too reminiscent of a past long gone, John says, "You were supposed to be the leveller-head between us."

Simon huffs. "'Be easier if constantly listening to your pulse wasn't driving me mad."

Oh.

"Oh." The pounding in John's ribcage does him no favours in picking up speed again. Then, suddenly realizing where and why he is, John attempts to steel himself, clenching his jaw and taking deep, slow breaths to calm the flutter of his heart. "Well, quit listenin' then."

Simon regards him curiously, in a way so painfully familiar to a past life.

A silence stretches on between them, tense and riddled with uncertainty. John tries, pointedly, to ignore the elephant still in the room, but between the blood and the smell and the looming issue of them being a vampire and a monster hunter, it's nigh impossible.

But even still—John thinks it'd be less right to kill Simon now, than to let him free. To bring him home.

John sighs, suddenly and immediately overcome with fatigue. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger for just a moment, rubbing the skin to unsuccessfully self-soothe. He wishes there was some sort of... protocol, for this. Maybe then things could be easier. Could make more sense. Just for once.

"I'm not—" John pauses, takes a breath, shakes his head. "I won't kill you, Simon. Not... now, at least."

Simon nods. "That's all I can ask for."

"Good, because that's all you're getting." It's a lie, and they both damn well know it, but just a little longer would John like to linger in ignorance. "Now just... clean this up before anyone sees. We'll talk about this more in the morning, alright?"

"Alright."

John offers a tight smile, whether or not Simon can really see it.

"Right. Goodnight, Simon."

"Goodnight, Johnny."

John hovers only a second, hooked on that nickname as he's always been, before he finally pivots on his heel and starts off the other way, turning a dutiful blind eye like he really shouldn't be doing.

He had missed Simon, he really had—but he's afraid to start wondering if this will all be worth the trouble, in the end.

#ask #if you see mistakes no you don't. heart emoji #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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where-ismydonkey · 4 months ago

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DCA PROMPTOBER - DAY 1

BEST FRIENDS

Honestly, you weren’t sure when it happened. The fact that you and the daycare attendant you once were sure you despised, being considered best friends. But it was only if someone gave you a few moments to sit in the shock of even being considered friends, you could try and fathom being best friends.

When just few months ago, in the midst of your petty squabbling, you could hardly work together for the children’s sake? Yeah, right!

Though, it was entertaining to bring up to Sun as you two cleaned up the aftermath of a fun, slime filled day. You scrubbed at a kiddy table, where a glop of sticky slime with beads and parts of pipe cleaners in it taunted you. Huffing, you tried to distract yourself from the burn in your arms you worked to clean it and piped up, “Hey, Sun?”

“Yes?”

"Do you know why some people think we're best friends?"

Suddenly, the usual tap, tap, tap of Sun's very being—Whether it be drumming his fingers or tapping his foot—was gone. The room was rendered silent, suddenly, save for the mechanical hum you'd grown accustomed to hearing. At least that wasn't gone, as he stood there so still it made you raise your eyebrows.

Until he finally spoke, moments later.

"Best friends?" he sounded amused, tilting his head as he held onto the rag he was using to clean. The rays around his faceplate began to spin slowly as he asked, "Now, what exactly about our interactions would lead anyone to believe we're best friends, hm?"

"Dunno," you shrugged. You could practically feel his confusion, and it made you want to laugh. But you continued with as straight of a face as you could muster, "Charlotte says we're always together, and Willow thinks we've grown softer toward each other."

Which was a crazy thought, honestly. You two worked together because you had to, not because you liked to. Bills needed to be paid, damn it!

Sun just turned his head away and huffed. He leaned upward, wiping the top of the tall cubbies. Since you couldn't reach that far, he had recently offered to take over cleaning that area. He huffed, "I believe they should be focusing on their jobs instead."

"How sassy. And please, Charlotte's employee of the month."

"I don't know if that makes things any better or worse, honestly."

You snorted, a sigh of relief leaving you as the slime finally unstuck. Wrinkling your nose, you dashed past the animatronic to toss it into the trash. Turning around, you found him working on sanitizing the kids chairs. His large figure was crouched over, working on it as quiet as you'd ever seen him.

But you shrugged it off, and the rest of the evening went on like usual. The occasional remark or two to something you brought up from your day. Or a laugh and shake of the head as he recalled the silliest things the children had told him from earlier.

Normal, almost nice.

And when you two finally finished cleaning, you practically power walked to the door. Your lower back was aching, and your neck was stiff from how you had it angled. Cleaning the tubes in the play structures had beat the shit out of you. Honestly, you couldn't wait to be out of here.

And on most nights, you supposed your animatronic coworker would feel the same. But instead, he was still and silent again. Watching as you double checked your belongings in your bag.

What was with him?

It wasn't until he spoke that you raised your head to look at him, "I'm still confused as to why we're considered best friends, you know."

Oh, that.

"Yeah," you admit, glancing away. You shake your head, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. And you candidly said, "Me too, honestly. But just forget about it, okay? Goodnight and see you tomorrow, Sun. You too, Moon."

The robot stood there, and you felt his pupilless eyes on you. It felt like an eternity, as you began to walk out of the playroom, before he murmured, "...Likewise."

———

Hi! I've never posted any writing on here before, much less anything surrounding the DCA but I've recently gotten into writing them and I'm trying my hand at posting it now. Posting it a littleeee late but this was a last minute decision eeek

Thanks to @bluerasbunny for creating the prompt for DCATOBER 24! Hope you like it!

#dcatober24 #dca fandom #fnaf dca #fnaf sun #sun is a littleeee sassy #reader is a daycare assistant #they did not like each other at first but got over it eventually?? or did they?? or did they actually and now who knows whats going on

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dfortrafalgar · 10 months ago

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Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #special delivery

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asterifish · 6 months ago

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Love You... // Lee know x male reader

Synopsis: m/n is in love. Hopelessly in love. When he first saw Minho, he was head over heels. M/n couldn't stop thinking about this mysterious dance major, and when they met, they felt as if their lives were complete.

Type: One-Shot

Genre(s): 🍂,❣️(see pinned post for key)

Extra Notes: reminder that 🪐 stands for m/n, and happy reading!!! There's gonna be 1 more fic after this released today :)

Story under the cut!!

"Chan Chan!! Chan wake up!!!"

🪐 was practically jumping on his hyung's bed, a big smile on his face. Jumping up almost immediately, the older male rubbed his eyes "🪐, its so early... Whats wrong?" Chan stifled a yawn as he looked at the younger, confused and worried.

"Channie, I passed the cutest boy when I was on the way to your dorm, I swear to god! He was like... glowing!! Is that even possible? I mean I..." 🪐 started rambling as he tried to describe the male, but his voice cut off as Chan laughed.

Patting 🪐's head, Chan smiled. "You are so in love already, aren't you?" 🪐 dramatically sighed and shook his head, "Are you even listening to me?! I'm describing GOD here!!"

"Okay okay 🪐, how about you actually describe him, yeah?" Chan sighed and slipped out of his bed.

🪐 followed Chan closely, rambling about the mysterious boy again. "So... You know how I have to pass the dance studio to get to your dorm, right? Okay so I was walking and I decided to look into the studio to see if Seungmin was there, but he wasn't. Not the point...."

Chan hummed softly as he listened to 🪐, finding the whole situation funny so far.

"BUT!! as I was turning to leave, I swear to god!! I almost bumped into him OOOHHHHH I was so embarrassed.... Anyway this guy had brown hair, and omg his eyes were so pretty!!! I watched him walk in and I stared for like.. ever it felt like." 🪐 continued, now bouncing on his heels excitedly.

"You swear you've never seen him before this?" Chan was thinking to himself, trying to figure out who the guy could be. 🪐 nodded, "Never seen him anywhere before!"

"Did he have brown eyes?" Chan suddenly asked, his eyes sparking with mischief. 🪐 squinted his eyes, face twisting into a frown "Channie.... are you saying you know him?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." Chan smiled and shook his head. "You'll see 🪐, you'll see."

WHAT????" 🪐 screeched. "WHATS HIS NAME?? PLEASE TELL ME PLEASE PLEASE I GOTTA KNOW" 🪐 was now shaking the older male, wanting an answer immediately.

"All I can tell you is that his name is Minho, alright? You'll see later on." Chan smiled and led 🪐 to the couch.

. . .

"Hey Seungmin? You here?" Minho opened the door to the dance studio carefully, looking around. He had promised the boy that he would help him with the more difficult parts of the dance they were doing for a project, but Seungmin wasn't there.

Slowly starting to warm up, Minho couldn't help but notice that there was a boy standing at the window of the studio, seemingly watching him. Minho didnt really mind at first, since a lot of people liked to peek into the studio every now and then.

As he kept stretching, he noticed that the male never went away. When Seungmin finally came out of the back, Minho turned to him. "Hey Seung? Do you know that guy?" By the time Seungmin looked over, the male was gone.

"What did he look like?" Seungmin asked, tilting his head. As the two walked to the center of the dance studio, Minho described the male he'd seen. "Oh! That was 🪐-hyung! He was probably looking for me." Seungmin smiled and shook his head.

"🪐?" Minho thought out loud. "Yeah! He's really close to Chan so the others and I hang out with him a lot, we should..." Seungmin's voice trailed off as his phone buzzed. "Oh hold on hyung, let me take this."

Minho nodded and then continued warming up, he didnt get very far before he started thinking about the male again. "🪐, huh? I wonder why i haven't seen him before..."

. . .

🪐 was excited for the next day, he was practicslly skipping through the halls on his way in between classes. "Yo, 🪐!! Whats up with you lately?" Chan grabbed 🪐's arm and turned him around. "You've been acting really weird..."

🪐 didn't answer, he just giggled to himself and wiggled excitedly. Chan sighed and shook 🪐 lightly. "Come on, I want to introduce you to someone."

🪐 whined but reluctantly followed behind the older male.

. . .

"Seungmin, where are you taking me?" Minho frowned as the younger male dragged him throughout the campus grounds. He had no idea where they were going, and sighed again.

. . .

It had been a few days since 🪐 had first brought up Minho and Chan and Seungmin had made a plan for for the two to meet. So, the two dragged their friends to the designated meeting spot. When they got there, Seungmin told Minho that he'd be right back and then disappeared. Chan had told 🪐 that Seungmin was meeting him, and had left suddenly as well.

. . .

🪐 had gotten to the park earlier than he'd expected to. He didnt know why Chan would just leave suddenly, but it did give him time to think. 🪐 had been sitting on a bench for a few minuted before 🪐 felt someone standing over him. 🪐 looked up with a confused expression.

"Can I help y...." 🪐's voice trailed off when he noticed that the person was Minho.

. . .

When Minho reached the park, the first thing he did was look around for his friends. He knew that they liked to play pranks on him, so he was on high alert. But instead if seeing his friends, he spotted a familiar face. 'Is that 🪐? Whats he doing here?'

Walking over to the other male, Minho smiled softly when he realized that it really was 🪐. He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before 🪐 noticed, looking up with a confused expression.

. . .

"Hey, you're 🪐, right?" Minho started, shuffling his feet a bit. 🪐 nodded and smiled, "you're Minho!" Laughing quietly at 🪐's boldness, Minho nodded. Sitting down next to the other male, Minho sighed.

"So.. I guess this was their plan, huh?" Minho said after a while. 🪐 looked over, seeming to think about it. Nodding slowly, 🪐 agreed.

"I..."

"Would you like to..."

The two laughed as they talked over each other, but Minho couldn't help but stare. 🪐 was so much prettier up close. He didn't even realize how close he was until he'd kissed 🪐.

. . .

"SO YOU KISSED HIM???" A voice screeched, causing Minho to jump. It was now a few days later, and he was telling the story to Felix.

"I mean... yeah? It was an accident but I think n/n enjoyed it." Minho shrugged his shoulders and sighed. Just as Felix was about to say something else, there was a knock at the door.

"Can someone answer that? It's just 🪐!!" Seungmin called. Felix wiggled his eyebrows at Minho and pushed him towards the door. Groaning, Minho opened the door, leaning on it.

And there 🪐 was, in all his glory, a bright smile on his face.

"Hi Minho! Is Seungmin there?" 🪐 asked, his head tilted slightly. Looking at the male in front of him, Minho shook his head with a smile. "You're such a Golden Retriever n/n. Come on, he's probably in his room."

A few hours later, 🪐 and Minho were snuggling on the couch. They had been watching a movie, so both were quiet. When Minho looked down at the male in his lap, he smiled. "Sleeping.... God I've really fallen for you Hwang 🪐."

Permanent taglist [2/30]: @foxilsdenn , @succubus-hansol

Works belong to @asterifish | reblogs help me a lot!

#kpop male x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader fluff #asteri's🪐fics #stray kids #male reader #male x male reader #m!reader #x male reader #non idol au #Spotify #minho x male reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho x male reader #minho skz x male reader #minho skz #stray kids x male reader

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piratefalls · 1 year ago

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“You are", he says, "the absolute worst idea I've ever had.” - me @ ao3 after watching the movie and thinking "there's probably fic for this."

i like lists. i've lost sleep reading fic like it's gonna disappear the second i look away. i'm making my problem yours. i'm sure a lot of these won't be new to people since they pre-date the movie and it's far from comprehensive but. i'm late to this party. i also can't make gifs, so enjoy the basic canva header.

(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings

One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man. It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry. I want to marry this man.

God Save the Blessed American President Mom by zipadeea

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.” “June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.” “Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”] -- On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life. Alex gets shot instead.

Familiar Gravity by cmere

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, and he pulls back to look Henry in the eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking me in this chair for, like, weeks. Every time you sit down here with your stupid book.” Henry likes it when Alex speaks Spanish and Alex has a request.

Am I the Asshole? by everwitch

AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend? It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral. -- In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.

Everybody needs good neighbours by railmedaddy

To nora(9.37pm): So a funny thing happened My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked From nora (9.38pm): WHAT DETAILS NOW Which neighbour? Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?! ALEX Or Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

this is the worthwhile fight by dearhappy

It's not that Henry's scared of their future, he's never been more sure of anything in his life. The thing is they're still trying to figure out how that future is going to look. And he worries about how it'll affect Alex's career in politics.

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces by 14carrotgold

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?” Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?” Ah. - Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood by chamel

“I’m glad you both see it that way,” Dr. Chen says. Then she closes her notebook and folds her hands on top of it. “I think I’m starting to get a sense of where the issues lie. The good news is that you’re both here, and you’re both willing to work on this relationship. That’s promising. Not all of the couples I see are even at that point.” “Sorry, what?” Henry says, voicing Alex’s stuttering thoughts as well. (After one too many fights at work, Henry and Alex are assigned mandatory reconciliation therapy by their boss. Except the therapist thinks they're there for couples therapy... and surely, a bet on who will break first makes more sense than actually correcting her, right?)

Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by allmylovesatonce

Alex Claremont-Diaz is relocating back to Austin to join his dad's firehouse. His days as a firefighter in Washington D.C. ended badly, but no one knows that, or knows why. And he plans to keep that close to his chest. He has to shove it back down if he wants to seem like a normal person, if he wants to do the job, if he wants to get along with his new crew, and most of all, if he wants to get to know the hot British firefighter on the squad. No one can know what really happened.

thinking (about last night) by rhosyn_du

“I hope you know that I am literally never going to stop reminding you that you said that. I’m going to, like, take out an ad in the student paper. Maybe hire a skywriter or something. I am definitely telling Pez." "I hate you," Henry tells him. "Lies," Alex says, still laughing. "You know you love me." Henry lets out a heavy sigh. "Well," he says softly, "that's rather the problem, isn't it?" “What, you think we’d be better off if we still hated each other?” “I think," Henry says slowly, "I’d be better off if I could figure out how to stop being so stupidly in love with you.” It takes a few seconds for the words to really register, as distracted as Alex is by the heat of Henry’s breath and wondering how much it would cost to actually hire a skywriter. Once they do, it takes a full minute before Alex can move. Can breathe. Can think. Finally, he forces out a whispered, “What?” When that gets no response, he tries again. This time, his voice actually cooperates. “Wait, what?” The only response he gets is a soft snore and Alex realizes that Henry, the utter fucking asshole, has passed out on his shoulder.

you're the reason i let myself fall by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)

Alex doesn't quite know what to expect when he walks into a room with a glowing screen separating him from the person in the other pod. The entire experience makes him skeptical. How can you fall in love with someone you've never met? Or: Love is Blind AU

Sharper Head, Wilder Heart by Dawg1515

"This could work out,” Henry offers. “It could,” Alex replies. “That’s good, then. Someone’s going to have to walk me through the brilliance of Empire Strikes Back, after all.” “Sweetheart, if we’re legitimately dating now, I’m forcing you to watch every movie that has Harrison Ford in it.” “Duly noted.” Or: When the Queen decides it’s time for Henry to settle down with a woman, she arranges a courtship between him and Alex Claremont-Diaz, closeted political powerhouse. Alex secretly tells Henry he’s trans, and Henry tells Alex that he’s gay. To say they become an amazing couple would be an understatement—but nothing is ever that easy for a prince and a president’s son.

every version of you (i love) by coffeecatsme

“So,” the voice narrates as the man squishes the dog’s cheeks and laughs at himself. “There’s this guy that lives next to me with the cutest beagle in the world and this little guy climbs to the fence every day to drop his toys off at, like, 5:30 on the dot, I’m not kidding.” The camera shows the man boop the dog’s nose and press a little kiss to his forehead. There’s a ball in his hands that he hands to the dog, but it slips from his mouth all over again, making the man reach down to grab it. He glares at the dog, but even then he’s still smiling. “And this guy always walks by and picks up the stuff and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever you have no idea.” The camera zooms in farther into the man’s smile, genuine and wild, as he pushes his wild curls away from his face. His eyes flicker up when another figure walks into the frame, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in waves. The man’s smile, impossibly, widens. “Oh. I’m also pretty sure he has a crush on my neighbor.” Or, 5 times David greets Alex with something that belongs to Henry, and 1 time he greets Alex with something that belongs to both of them.

The Duke Who Loved Me by annesbonny, Inareskai, schmulte

This Author knows as well as anyone how much you, gentle readers, enjoy a scandal and a love story. And what could bring more delight that two young gentlemen who bring both of those wherever they go? Join the Duke of Mountchristen and the, untitled, Mr Claremont-Diaz as they attempt to find a Love Match amongst the gossip of the ton.

The Edge of Glory by politics_and_prose

Subject: CD-10 To: Alex Claremont-Diaz ([email protected]) From: Natasha Wallace ([email protected]) Alex - You know how you jokingly told me to let you know when Mayfield was vulnerable and/or not seeking re-election? Tash

lying in the low light by smc_27

The thing about having a one night stand with the guy your sister is close friends with and gatekept from you is that it becomes really fucking important that she never knows. Or, Alex and Henry have a one year stand. Or, Alex and Henry are in a relationship, only they’re the only ones who don’t know it.

what we might do (if we stop keeping a secret) by indomitablelove

'This isn't how I wanted to tell people. I thought we'd get the chance to do it right.' - Red, White and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston, p.327 --- or, in another world, Alex and Henry get to do it right.

Who Could Love You The Same as I by MariaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Inside was exactly what Alex had found himself dreaming about ever since that night at Kensington. The kind of dreams that he forced himself to forget once he woke up, but dreams all the same. A gold band, simple and smooth, with a single square diamond embedded on top. It was small, modest, exactly to Alex’s taste. ”Holy shit,” he said again. “Holy shit.” That was a ring. That was, unmistakably, an engagement ring. Hidden in his boyfriend’s coat. And he had just found it.

—— Or, Alex finds the engagement ring that Henry had hidden, and does exactly what you’d expect him to.

As the World Falls Down by 3bowtruckles

So while we all knew that the 2020 written in the book would be glorious fiction, we didn’t realize that reality would throw us something to take 2020 even further away from the book’s events. This story is where I attempt to merge our 2020 reality and the fiction of RWRB, using research (a LOT of research) to try to figure out what the trajectory of reality might have been. The story starts picking up the timeline after their late-February trip to Paris. After that, it's strictly AU, but I try to keep a lot of the intents of the events in the book (for instance, Alex's trip to confront Henry in Britain after the lake) while still making them fit the narrative I've created.

We'll Change the World Yet to our Dessire [sic] by cresswells

Alex and Henry are engaged and ready to share their announcement with the world, but after the media circus surrounding their forced outing Queen Mary wants them to do things properly this time. To Alex’s surprise, ‘properly’ apparently means taking a Royal Tour around Europe as an official couple. Ten days, five countries and lots of unnecessary wardrobe changes. What could possibly go wrong?

where clouds look like mountains by weather_stained

Four months after the election, while still learning to navigate the complexities of being in a public relationship, Alex finally has the chance to show Henry around Austin.

We'll Invite Something In by smc_27

Alex is grinning a little too hard. This is absolutely idiotic and pointless and fun. The cover of Hello UK with a photo of him pulled out and a photo of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Fox-Mountchristen whatever the hell the rest of his names are (Alex knows; he being a dick) with the admittedly stupid but flattering headline which reads: His Royal Highness: He’s just like us and crushes on Pres ACD.

Henry's Cold, Empty Tower by DracoWillHearAboutThis

“I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.” When Alex storms Kensington Palace, Henry sends him away. Then, their relationship gets leaked, and it's Henry's turn to fight for Alex.

behind the diamond-shaped glass by Celaestis

Five times Alex and Henry used tea and biscuits to communicate, and one time they don't need to.

The Byline by rosetintednerdglasses

Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by r_holland

Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep. Warmest regards, ACD *** It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

words on the tip of your tongue (but please don't say them) by viciouslyqueer

So close. He was so close to saying those words that have lived inside him for so long, and now it's gone, a moment that slipped right between his fingertips before he could grasp it. Now he’s floating in the middle of the lake alone, the ghost of Henry’s touch still lingering on his skin and an unknown, heartbreaking feeling in his chest. — Or: canon-divergence where Henry doesn't leave the lake house.

The Grand Tour by lucky (revolutionbarbie)

When Henry returned from an audience with Queen Mary looking stony faced and grim, Alex had immediately feared the worst. She had requested to see Henry – and Henry alone – the moment their plane had landed at Heathrow on a visit to Pez’s new shelter in London. Alex had suggested that they go to see her together just to spite the old hag, but Henry wanted to keep the peace. Since moving to Brooklyn, they had entered into an uncomfortable détente with Queen Mary and Henry was loathe to be the one to break it. “She wants us to go to Australia. It would be an unofficial Royal Tour, of sorts, with stops in several cities and a short visit to New Zealand. Three and a half weeks in total.” “She wants to send us on an all-expenses paid Australian getaway? Count me in.”

come and get me by rizcriz

The email arrives 8 days after Henry left the lake house. He contemplates deleting it without reading, but it sits in his Alex inbox, where there are over seventy emails favourited, and somehow it feels wrong and weirdly impersonal. As if leaving without a note were any different. He stares at the from line with an aching longing that seeps into his veins. It settles on his heart like a tangible thing; something warranted and cruel that casts shackles around the aorta and locks them tight so that he might never love again. -- or, alex sends an email instead of flying to KP.

Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge

"You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.” "You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine." Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?" *** Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.

idk I'll do a part two if anyone wants.

#rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue #fic rec #fic rec list #i try not to do multiple authors on the same list so #just assume if they're here i read all their stuff plus their bookmarks lmao #for the record I have 100% read the book I just didn't think there'd be fic for it lmao #rwrb rec list

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thatonepersonwhocantwrite · 10 months ago

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Wonderland pt 1

Part 1 (Eventually) Yandere Luke castellan x Gender neutral reader

Summary you're from wonderland well at least you're mother is you're father is a God. The best swordsman in camp takes an.... interesting and obsessive liking to you

Also I feel like we offen forget wine isn't the only thing Dionysus is the God of but madness as well. I currently have bad writers block and couldn't currently think of anything else to add so I decided to split it into parts since I needed to post something.

Trigger warnings nothing yet, but eventually in future parts yandere themes like stalking, manipulation, kidnapping (extra)

You weren't from this world well......technically you are you were from a part of the world everyone thought was made up just another part of the human imagination......Wonderland . Wonderland was very.....disconnected from actual sane people or large bustling cities like New York. Your mother was probably one of the subjects of the queen of hearts just kinda surviving. Your father isn't exactly normal either he was also never around. Honestly as much as you love your mother it was kinda hard to imagine a God falling for her or really a God falling for anyone in Wonderland because while some of the inhabitants of Wonderland is more sane then others even the more sane ones start to go insane eventually.

Which is why when you were 13 you ran away from home. Although you had no clue where to go or what to do now you had left Wonderland. You're clothes and mismatched socks probably also made you stand out to by standers because in real life on Earth the other humans weren't used to seeing people dress in bright colors and patterns unless celebrating. After a few days of wandering aimlessly you ran into help or rather help ran into you.

You were desperately scrounging around for food thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave home when you felt someone run smack into you causing you both to tumble towards the ground. "Oh my pan! I'm so sorry." A male voice said. He had ...goat horns? Ehh not the weirdest thing you've ever seen. "Are those horns really or .....?" You asked. "They're real. Oh I'm Grover. " Grover replied. You weren't sure what to say or do and that's how you met Grover. After about a week of traveling with Grover is when you met Luke, Thalia and Annabeth.

" Hey Grover I'm going to find something to eat for myself. " You replied. " Ok just don't go far I'll finish setting up camp." Grover said. You did in fact wander to far when you stumbled upon a bush full of berries and you were about to eat some when you heard a voice tell you to wait. "Wait, don't eat those! those are holly berries they are poisonous!" A young female voice exclaimed. You looked around for the source of the voice. You spotted a young girl no older than 7 standing between some trees you could make out 2 more figures behind her one another female and the other male. You backed away your left hand reaching for a dagger in your pocket you swear wasn't there a moment ago while you're right hand still held the berries.

" Who are you why should I trust you?" You questioned. You got a closer look at them the seven year old girl had grey eyes , black hair and brown skin, the other gir who looked about a year younger than you so 12 had choppy short black hair , blue eyes and is white. She pushed the younger seven year old behind her. " Thalia I can protect myself!" The seven year old exclaimed. While the two girls were arguing you managed to sneak away not noticing the male following you.

" Grover!" You exclaimed finally making it back to the very stressed looking satyr. Grover rushed over to you. " Y/n there you are! You were gone for an hour I was worried I was calling your name but no reply and I didn't want to leave the fire unattended. Your not hurt are you?" Grover asked like a panicked father looking over you to make sure you didn't have any new injuries. " Hey Grover I'm ok. I'm ok." You replied. " Pan Y/n you had me so worried!" Grover exclaimed. "LUKE!" The older female voice Thalia called out causing You and Grover to look in the direction of Thalia's voice and there stood the male that had been with the 2 younger females.

Now learning his name is Luke. You started to reach for your dagger once again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. "

#x reader #yn #percy jackson and the olympians #gender neutral reader #yandere luke castellan #grover pjo #grover underwood #thalia grace #annabeth chase #luke castellan x reader

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chaotic-fandom-writer · 6 months ago

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Adam x Reader P.4 (Hazbin Hotel)

Sorry for the short part, life loves to get in the way. Promise the next one will be longer!

I also apologize for the delay on posting this, I had a bigger part almost completely written up, and a storm took out my wifi, and I lost all of my work. The part is so much shorter today because I wanted to hurry and quickly get something out for you guys this morning.

Part 5 will be out tonight so long as there's no more interruptions like that lol! And I promise it will be much longer, I have some good stuff planned!

Enjoy!

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Adam

Adam tried his hardest to stay away. Really, he did, because he knew he would be putting you in harm's way by breaking Sera's rules. But it was hard.

Once he realized who you were back on that rooftop, all you've done is consume his mind. He missed you. He never thought he'd see you again. Now, the universe plops you down right in front of him, just to take you away again?

He couldn't stand it.

So, every night, he'd wear something unrecognizable, and go to your street.

If he stood in just the right spot, he could get a glimpse of you in your living room through the blinds.

Every night, he went, and every night, he saw the same thing.

You, curled up on the couch, in the dark. And he could hear you.

Crying.

It made Adam's stomach turn to hear you in so much pain. He never thought he could care about anybody like this ever again, but here you are, making him feel all these stupid fucking things.

He wanted to run right up to your door, kick it open, tell you everything about who you are, and hold you tight.

He wanted to kiss you, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. He wanted to feel your skin underneath his fingertips.

Damn her. He thought. Damn her for making me feel like this, and not even knowing it.

Adam really believed he could handle this as long as he got to see you from a distance sometimes. She's just some girl, he would tell himself. What are you getting so worked up for?

Until one day, he started to notice someone talking to you. A neighbor, it appeared. He would come knocking on your door every day with gifts - dinner, flowers, sweets - you name it.

Adam sat watching you one night, like he always did, and his greatest fear came true - he watched as you invited this man inside.

Nothing happened, thankfully, but his blood boiled at the sight of some guy trying to win you over.

Finally, he had enough.

One day, he waited outside for the neighbor to appear. And he did.

"Hey. HEY!"

The man turns, startled, relaxing slightly when he sees it's Adam. "Oh, hello Adam! Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need to know why the fuck you keep visiting (Y/N)."

The man scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Well.. we live next door to each other, and every day, all I can hear is her crying.

I don't think anyone should live like that, even if they were a sinner! And I figure, hey, she can't be bad if she redeemed herself, right? And she isn't she's actually a very sweet, beautiful-"

Adam cuts the man off with a punch to the wall, cracking the brick and making the man jump.

"Listen up fuckbag, I'm only gonna say this once.

That's my fucking wife you're hitting on, and if you go near her again, I'll make you regret it.

Stay the fuck away from her. She's mine."

Adam leaves the man in a pile of nerves and sweat, flying away from the scene.

I can't believe I just did that. I feel like a fucking simp.

You

Days had gone by since you'd seen him, or anyone else for that matter. You thought maybe you had made a new friend, your neighbor, but even he stopped coming to see you, too. You started trying to leave your room as little as possible. Every now and then, you'd notice Sera lingering at the end of the hall, but as soon as she saw you, she'd leave.

Truthfully, you could care less. You missed home. You missed your friends.

Tired of sitting around being Heaven's newest exibit to marvel at, you decided enough was enough.

I'm leaving this fucking place. No matter what I have to do. It's time to come up with a plan.

Packing one, small bag, you set it next to your door in case you needed a quick exit. Best to travel light.

The only problem was finding a portal back into Hell. You obviously couldn't just go ask someone to take you back. You considered doing something to get into trouble, but without knowing exactly how the angels would react, it would be too much of a risk.

You decided to break into Sera's office. It seems like a crazy, risky thing to do, but you figured if there's any kind of physical item that can help you, it had to be there, right?

You waited for the cover of night before sneaking to the office. The building was quiet at night, still, and silent.

You approached her door, straining your eyes for any possible sounds. After hearing nothing, you knock softly on the door.

No response.

You push the door slightly, and it creaks open. Peeking inside, you find an empty room. You enter, quietly shutting the door behind you.

You take your time searching the room, shuffling through papers and looking through cabinets.

Then finally, you see it.

Underneath Sera's desk is a gold-lined trap door. You reach for the handle and find it open. Inside is a small hiding space, occupied by some files, a wooden box, and a smaller box.

You reach for the big box, but when your fingers touch it, it suddenly sparks, shooting volts of pain through your arm.

You gasp, yanking your hand away. The box glues with strange carvings.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the smaller box. This one doesn't hurt you, so you open it.

Inside, you find a glowing gem. The purplish-blue hues of light reflect off your irises, your eyes glowing at the sight.

You reach for it, and it allows you to do so.

Something about it speaks to you, telling you that it's purpose is what you're looking for. Unsure why, you feel certain that this is what you're looking for. You close everything up and quickly retreat back to your home.

Putting the gem in a safe, hidden spot, you quickly realize you have no idea how to activate it, and mentally curse your own luck.

Maybe I can convince someone to show me, or even trick them. You thought to yourself.

Either way, I'm getting out of here.

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests!

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

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infiniteglitterfall · 2 months ago

Text

I like most of this guy's videos. He's funny. He does good crowd work. He's Jewish and Italian. These are all good things.

I don't know what I thought was going to happen in this one. I definitely didn't expect him to create a metaphor in which Jews are furries.

I'm tired. I'm tired of the misinformation and the disinformation. So I took his furry metaphor and ran with it.

youtube

Israel's not an ethnostate. It's only about 73% furries.

You don't have to be a furry to get Israeli citizenship. It's just a little easier. Because the costume keeps you warm when those desert temperatures plummet at night.

The point where it crosses the line into antisemitism is when people start calling all furries "baby killers."

Although honestly, it seems like people will believe literally anything of actual furries. I mean, I kinda get it. I used to have a coworker whose fursona was a dolphin. I don't even think dolphins have fur. Why do I know what his fursona was? Well, mainly because he got called out for having dolphin relations in the dolphin chat when he was supposed to be doing human work.

That's not a furry problem, that's a My Old Coworker problem. But I didn't know anything about furries. I was as ignorant and biased as the rest of us.

And part of that bias with literal furries, just like with metaphorical ones, is that a lot of people are willing to believe pretty much ANYTHING of THOSE weirdos.

I mean, first a group that was founded to destroy Israel, because it thinks furries morally corrupt all societies (possibly through all the yiffing?), invades and mutilates, tortures, and burns its way across an area larger than the Gaza Strip. In one day.

And for months, while more and more horrifying details about this keep coming out, I'm simultaneously hearing all my furless friends insist that Hamas didn't kill any civilians, it didn't rape anybody, it was really just doing a really good protest. We should all be so fierce!

Since Hamas is #goals, Israel can't actually be trying to wipe out Hamas. That's not believable. It's obviously just telling civilians to get out of the way so that it can get them all in one place and flatten their humanitarian zones. (Eventually. Be patient.)

It's not that this isn't a genocide! It's just one of the slow ones!

Anyway, genocides aren't defined by NUMBERS anymore. Now, they're just defined by intent. And Israel obviously intends to wipe out all of Gaza and take the land.

That's why it destroyed all the Israeli settlements in Gaza in 2005, and made every Israeli leave the Strip. The first step in any genocide is to lull them into a false sense of security for, like, eighteen years.

I didn't hear any of the smooth-shorn talking about the pogroms in Russia last year. But now everybody wants to explain why this stuff in Amsterdam isn't a pogrom. Just like October 7.

I guess people hate Israel so much that they figure, if some Israel soccer fans act like total assholes, the best idea is to get on Whatsapp and Telegram and organize a furry hunt.

I mean, they're not wrong! As long as they're Israeli, you can post a video of yourself calling it a furry hunt. You can post a video of yourself running one of them over with your car. You can post a video of yourself body-slamming one to the ground, and all your friends curb-stomping them, or kicking their unconscious bodies. You can call them furries to their face while you beat them. You can attack bystanders who try to "help a furry."

(This goes double if they try to defend themselves. A furry defending themself is automatically seen as an attacker. It's those big costumes. They make you loom.)

You can wait till they've all gone home, protest your government having a debate about whether that was anti-furry behavior, and set an empty tram on fire while yelling "cancer furries." (A Dutch slur I wish I didn't know that basically means "fucking furries," only more so.)

You can destroy a local "street library" of Hebrew books. Then you can drive an hour home to Apeldoorn, and cover your city with stickers demanding it become "furry-free."

And nobody will believe you have an anti-furry bone in your body. Because you were so clearly getting your deeply justified revenge on the horrible soccer fans that you'd heard about.

Who, let's face it, are probably all baby-killers anyway, since a couple of years in the military is mandatory over there. So it's basically a victimless crime. With any luck, the war will wipe out antisemitism entirely. I can't think of a single antisemitic incident over the past year.

Even when some kids were drawing swastikas on the board at a local elementary school and yelling "Kill Jews" at their walk-out, a close friend who is Very Concerned About Antisemitism assured me that wasn't it. She says that "people exaggerate and lie about antisemitic incidents," and that it's all a widespread smear campaign against pro-Palestinians.

We just have to make sure people keep taking anything that WOULD be antisemitism, and aiming it at Israelis. Or Jews who think it's okay for Israel to exist. Or Jews, but in the context of hating Israel, which is probably what they actually meant, since everyone knows that Israel is a 100% Jewish ethnostate!

It's not going to be easy -- well, it's probably going to be easy. As long as they don't mistake any of us for those Bad Jews. But I believe in us. We can make this happen. We can finally live the dream. Next Year, Definitely Not In Jerusalem!

#jewish humor #jumblr #antisemitism #amsterdam attack #amsterdam pogrom #what do you think do i have a tight five here #wall of words #dear furries i am very sorry i mentioned the yiff word #Youtube

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spinjitsuburst · 11 months ago

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ramble about ur favs i wanna hear abt ur thoughts -zaptrap

HAN’S INFODUMPING ABOUT JAY... START!!!!

so like sgdkdhdkdhd I say Jay and Lloyd are my “favorites” but honestly it’s so hard to pick favorites out of this skittles squad like I love EVERY character for a variety of different reasons. I was going to also infodump about Lloyd but then I started talking about Prime Empire and then this post got. Long. So. it's just Jay I may infodump about Lloyd another day especially since I'm very Conduit Brained Rn but yea yea!

this is long so i'm putting most of it under the cut so y'all don't kill me for making a huge long post

I considered putting Zane and Sora on here as well since I’d also consider them my “favs” but like this is already gonna be. A lot of. Infodumping (also i typed THIS part before I even started and decided not to yell about Lloyd because this already got long enough). Maybe I’ll make a separate post for those two hmm hmm much to consider but for now MY (technically) FAVORITE NINJAGO CHARACTER: JAY WALKER

THE SPARKPLUG WHO INVADED MY BRAIN LIKE A PARASITE

so hey his name is a pun this makes me laugh ridiculously hard every time I remember he is named. After a misdemeanor HSKSHDKFH

Jay is such an interesting case of a character for me because I started out the show not liking him. Which is. Stares at my entire account I think my feelings have changed somewhat

Jay starts out as an asshole I don’t think anyone can disagree with me there (although honestly they’re all assholes in early ninjago they bullied a ten year old and left him dangling several feet off the ground) but over the course of the show you can see him start developing into a much more interesting character. He goes from being so insecure he's faking everything about himself to someone who knows who he is and is so genuine about it

now yea we could argue about whether his character was too uwu-ified post-season 10 but this is the FUN HAN POST SO WE'RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT the point is you can SEE the growth that Jay has gone through and I am going to show you that growth through what I call

✨ The Skybound to Prime Empire Effect ✨

I AM SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THE IDEA THAT PRIME EMPIRE WAS WRITTEN TO BE A DIRECT PARALLEL OF SKYBOUND AND WAS CENTERED ON SHOWING HOW THE NINJA ESPECIALLY JAY HAVE GROWN THROUGHOUT THE SEASON

when season 12 rolls around we are at the point in Jay's development where he is CONFIDENT in who he is. He's a fun-loving jokester with the power of lightning and the drive to help people whenever he can. He uses jokes and humor to help alleviate tension and get people through whatever's happening. And when on his own what does he do?

BECOME AN ENTERTAINER BABEY

i like to think jay's club in prime empire was a safe haven for anyone stuck in the game who figured out hey. we Can't Leave and felt freaked about it. Also Jay would generally try and spread the word that hey something ISN'T RIGHT HERE which would lead people to want to stay with him

(totally plugging my friend's fic but this kind of thing is explored in would you like to enter prime empire by @finn-m-corvex y'all should check it out cool cool)

also the prime empire shorts which i watched all of in the midst of typing this video cuz i love them go watch them please please please jay was publically fighting the red visors which I imagine may have raised some red flags for some players

THIS SOMEHOW TURNED INTO PRIME EMPIRE INFODUMPING LMAO ANYWAYS Jay's confident! He becomes an entertainer because it's who he knows he is! And it's something that will get people hyped and having fun, which is very in-character for Jay to do! He uses those kinds of things to mask the Bad Things going on and get people remembering what's good

I've talked about this sort of thing before but that's Jay's whole philosophy as early as season 9! Which is a DIRECT contrast to how he views it in season 6, as Nadakhan puts it scarily accurately

"You make jokes to mask the fact that you're afraid"

(i was gonna grab a screenshot for that like i did with the hunted scene but netflix has bloCKED THE ABILITY TO TAKE SCREENSHOTS THE WAY I USED TO and i don't have them already and i'm too lazy to grab them from elsewhere so alas trust me he says it)

making jokes to hide your fear and using humor to remind yourself of what's good and coping with the bad are two VERY different outlooks on it

so I think this outlook is what drives him to make this glamrock persona in the first place - this is a bad situation, one he's in with other civilians, and what better way to keep him and themself safe until the others get there than throwing a big performance at a safe place!

also it's just so gender okay I want to look like Superstar Rockin' Jay so badly

it's also interesting to see his outlook on his parents change over time! In season six he finds out Ed and Edna aren't his birth parents and feels upset about it, not understanding why his birth parents would've abandoned him. In season twelve, that outlook changing is EXACTLY why Jay's able to get through to Unagami

"I was abandoned by my parents, too!... I never understood why, and I never had the chance to even ask. But I always hoped there was a good reason. What if there's a reason?"

(again curse you netflix i wanted SCREENSHOTS whatever whatever)

It's this scene that gets Unagami to calm down long enough for Milton Dyer to get there, and presumably is what stops him from just. Flattening him and Jay like a pancake.

to piggyback off of this i absolutely adore how Unagami and Jay consider each other adopted brothers in that one book I still haven't read and I hope he's in Dragons Rising at some point Unagami is my favorite "villain" (no longer a villain) in the whole show he deserves more screentime

like this is where i found out about this and it's plagued my mind ever since. i need to read. this book just for them

SO YEA OKAY Prime Empire is "Who is Jay as a Person Post-Skybound" to me also it opens up so many fascinating things about Jay. I rest my case

so backpedaling a little bit. JAY CARES SO MUCH ABOUT HIS PARENTS GUYS IT'S SO SOFT AND I'M sobs

like yea the first episode with Ed and Edna in it has Jay avoiding them like the plague but this gets explained very easily when you remember he was bullied for his home life before he became a ninja. It makes a lot more sense why he wouldn't want them around his new friends, assuming they'd react the same way. Also how was he supposed to know literally all the rest of the groups parents were either dead, presumed dead, or had a toxic relationship with their kid lmao

(Cole calling his mom kills me. Cole's mom is dead. I know they probably just didn't think that far ahead when writing the dialogue but it's so funny mans pretended to call his dead mom to get on Jay for not appreciating his parents iconic behavior)

anyways literally every episode Ed and Edna are central to (except like the one in skybound) Jay stops at nothing to protect his parents and it means the absolute world to me he's so much like them!! They raised an inventive little nerd and he will stop at nothing to make sure they're safe and it's. It's SO IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY

ALSO this is an excuse to clip my favorite piece of dialogue possibly in the entire show. Except Netflix won't let me now. So you just get the text dialogue

Jay's just fallen from the sky with a messed up eye and is incredibly distraught that all his friends are captured. And his dad just. The woRLD IS FALLING APART AND HE'S EATIN' SOUP-

Ed i love you

anyways

anways anyways this just turned into me rambling about prime empire and then Ed and Edna and a lot of disjointed other stuff but thank you for this opportunity i was going to also ramble about lloyd but i put this post in a word count and

yea i think that's enough for a tumblr post anyways! If anyone wants any like. More logically thought out and direct thoughts about characters feel free to send me asks this was fun thank u @zaptrap for this opportunity to scream about jay

#help this was. my brain is so not intact today so if this makes absolutely 0 sense i understand #i did end up watching some prime empire stuff during my ramblings and guys. the ending of that season still makes me cry #this is fully prime empire propaganda btw i need to like. talk about the season more because despite what my skybound posting would lead #y'all to believe THIS IS THE ACTUAL SEASON THAT LIVES IN MY HEAD AT ALL TIMES MOST OF MY MUTUALS ARE JUST MORE SKYBOUND BRAINED #AND IT RUBS OFF ON ME EASILY #but no prime empire is the fucking best #if i talk about jay long enough it WILL just turn into prime empire #also after I wrapped up this post i continued thinking more jay thoughts but this post is already long enough #like how jay is actually SO incredibly self-sacrificing and how he cares so much about helping people #also wow i didn't even mention his powers in that whole ramble. rare for me.#one day i wanna do!! a powers masterpost. like how i view all the ninja's elemental powers #but thats another day's project i am. So Eepy #anyways hope y'all appreciated this #also thank u serp for sending this ask which allowed me to Scream into the Void about jay walker #category 11 han moment fr #ninjago #lego ninjago #jay #jay walker #unagami #edna #ed #i have no idea if ANY of this is coherent btw #prime empire #skybound #hunted #quest for the lost powers #ask #spinjitsu screams

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