#how they must feel every time someone dies
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Family without light.
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Bruce and Y/N divorced after more than 15 years of marriage. The marriage was only for the sake of cooperation between the two companies, not for love. But after Y/N's father died and she took over the company, she decided to cancel the contract between them and divorce him. But... that's not what matters to Damian now... what matters to him is what happened after Y/N left the house. He thought that when she left, nothing would happen, he always ignored her or even fought with her or said harsh words in front of her and behind her. But... when did his wounds and injuries become so painful? After all, it's not the first time he got injured while fighting some villains. After all, he was trained by his mother Talia to be strong and feel as painless as possible. So he's surprised by the pain he feels from a mere scratch! His mother would be disappointed if she knew about this. But that's not the only change Damian has noticed. Y/N usually took him home from school and home to school and sometimes took him to the mall to buy food for his pets or to the Kent family's house. Now that she was gone, it was Alfred who drove him with Bruce and sometimes Jason. Tim barely had time for himself and Dick wasn't in Gotham. So when Jason was busy on a case and Alfred was busy, he would wait for one of them to come or he would walk home. As the days went by he was getting tired of it, the commute between home and school was too long... and he missed the places Y/N used to take him. She would take him after shopping to see the ocean or even to a fancy place to buy him nice clothes that fit his taste... she knew how to choose clothes... comfortable and cool at the same time. He missed when she would stop at the candy store or ice cream shop to buy his favorite flavor without telling Alfred. He missed when she would defend him in front of his father, she knew when he was lying or not. And when Bruce punishes him by stopping him from going on patrol, Y/N will bring the Robin costume that Bruce hid and then she will ask him to go in patrol, whether Bruce wants to or not. He missed her when she would stand waiting for him every day after school, start another fight in the car with her, and make it up to him with ice cream even though she didn't do anything wrong... He missed her... So he had a plan, a plan for her to come and take him from school to the market. A few weeks ago, Damian saw one of the students at his school calling their mother because they were sick. So Damian was going to call Y/N... and tell her he was sick and she would take him! Yeah, after all, it had been 3 months since the divorce, she must be missing him by now. Right?
"Yes Damian Wayne? What's wrong?" The headmistress said with a raised eyebrow upon seeing Damian hoping he wasn't here because of another fight.
Damian looked at her for a few moments nervous and a little excited. "I'm sick... I need to go home early today. Can I call someone to pick me up?" Damian said using his acting skills and speaking in a pale and sick voice. The principal was surprised and nodded "Of course you can, go ahead you can call your family." The principal gave him the phone and Damian took it after thanking her he went out and stood in the school corridor while writing down Y/N's number after writing down the number he was nervous and his finger hovered over the call button. after taking a deep breath he pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear... After waiting for an eternity (for Damian) a familiar voice answered. "Yes? Who's calling?" Damian forgot for a while why he was calling but he finally answered.
"I-It's me, Damian... I'm calling from school..." Damian said cursing himself for stuttering.
"Okay?... What do you want?"
"I... I'm sick... and Alfred is busy, I need you to pick me up from here." Damian answered lowering his voice, to show that he was sick. There was a long moment of silence… then Y/N answered, “Why should I?… I don’t have a connection to Bruce anymore, so you’re not my responsibility anymore.” Damian felt a lump in his throat… like he was choking, did she not miss him? Did she no longer love him? Or care about him? Was everything she did fake? No… it was real, he felt it! Damian answered in a voice close to tears while cursing himself internally for his weakness, “What?… But I… I… I’m sick…” Damian couldn’t hold back the tears that started to fall. “then call your mom… I’m busy, don’t call again.” Y/N hung up the phone before Damian could answer. Damian tried not to fall and cry, tried to wipe away his tears, tried to hide the trembling of his body, but he failed. After crying silently in the bathroom for a while, he washed his face and handed the phone back to the principal, looking down, trying to avoid her gaze. The day passed quietly, Alfred came late as always and got into the car silently as usual, but this time he was sadder. After several more months, Damian was about to forget about it and act like nothing happened. He was walking out of school and heading to his new seating area where he would sit while waiting for Alfred or Jason. But he noticed something… no, someone… It was Y/N! Damian's heart fluttered with joy and he wanted to run to her… She came for him!… That's what Damian thought as he prepared to run to her… But before his joy could be complete, he saw a twin from the same school he goes to. They hugging Y/N… Why? Damian looked at them in confusion… then he heard one of them say 'Auntie'… then Damian knew that Y/N didn't come for him… but for those two, Damian was hit with another wave of sadness, he was about to cry, he was close to crying but he didn't in front of people… so he silently walked to the spot where he sits to wait for someone to take him home while he watched Y/N from afar… she patted the two kids on the head… hugged them, opened the car door for them… Damian's breath was shaky, he was about to break down, why did she have to be nice to them, what about him? He also wanted her to look at him, smile at him, ask him how school was, and spoil him with sweets… he wanted someone to take care of him… he wanted her to take care of him like Talia didn't… he missed Y/N. He will do anything to back the days before she leave him... he promise to himself.
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#bruce wayne x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batman#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#bruce wayne#damian wayne#yandere#yandere batboys#yandere batfam#yandere bruce wayne#tim drake x reader#damian wayne x reader#batmom x bruce wayne#batmom x batfam#batman x reader#red robin#dc robin#robin#yandere damian wayne#damian al ghul#dick grayson x reader#yandere dick grayson#jason todd x reader#jason todd#tim drake#red hood#Nightwing#nightwing
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Back to bug you again! Randomly thought about "there was only one bed" and then immediately randomly thought "lol there was only one body" as in for some reason I was secretly starving for possession fics? Not a lost fic ask. Just a "got any for me?"
Read a great one, Tether by Gingercat a while back.
But it is a crime that "there was only one body" does not seem to be a tag.
Basically I mean I'm ISO fics with any unfortunate events that cause either Az or Crowley to have to possess the other's body. And most likely it devolves pretty quickly from there.
There is not a 'there was only one body' tag, but there IS a sharing a body tag. Here is a selection for you...
Possession by spunknbite (E)
“So my idea, and please don’t dismiss it offhand - ” Aziraphale settles back against the pillows, “I think you should possess me.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Crowley says flatly.
And I Would Hide My Face In You by amerande (E)
It had been six thousand years, more or less, since Aziraphale had last been without a corporation. He'd forgotten how different some things were. OR: The one where they share a body.
Bonded by Guanin (T)
Aziraphale had almost died, almost fucking died, and now he was sharing Crowley's body, his spirit surrounding Crowley, a loving, pulsing presence right in the very heart of him. He had never been this close to Aziraphale before, had never dreamed that it would be possible. He was sorely glad that he didn’t need to breathe, for he wouldn’t be able to manage it with Aziraphale’s presence making him feel drunk and mellow. It was a miracle that he could drive at all. Aziraphale had grafted himself onto Crowley’s soul, the border between them permeable and merging at the edges a little more with every second that passed by.
I've Got You Under My Skin by redundant_angel (E)
Crowley must possess Aziraphale in order to prove to Hell that he's worthy of keeping his demonic powers. Aziraphale agrees to help. ------ “Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.” “Oh, is that all?" said Crowley.
Meanwhile… by TheTalkingPeanut (M)
My alternative take of these scenes/the near-ending of the 6th episode (and that one from the 5th). I got a 'what if' in my head after I heard these lines: "I just need to find a receptive body. It's harder than you think. I just need to find a body...pity I can't inhabit yours." To which MY mind added his response: "Why not? Who said you can't? I'm right here, Aziraphale. Take me."
A bit snug by fenrislorsrai (T)
“I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours. Angel, demon...probably explode…” --- And there was only one bed body. They can't be made to fight if they're both in the same body. It's the surest way to cancel each other out and make sure they won't have to face each other at Armageddon if they can't stop the end. They may not explode, but there's definitely other consequences. Not least of which is getting to know the parts of each other they hid from each other or were too afraid to admit to. What can they learn from each other's experiences? What ARE bodies? After all this time, they're finding their ideas of such were perhaps too limited by what they'd been told. What is Self and what part of it is defined by other's perception of you? and what if that Other is now with you? Can you still deny you are worthy of love when you must direct some of it back at yourself to love another who’s currently part of you. Which is all very serious but also they bicker a lot, flirt with someone in same body (awkward), have Opinions about how to take their tea, make a demonic pact, and confuse Gabriel with math.
And the one you mentioned...
Tether by Ginger_Cat (E)
Aziraphale, Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Host, is just minding his own business. Really. It's not like he's trying to get summoned to Earth during highly important archangelic duties. And Crowley's not trying to summon him, he swears, but somehow it still keeps happening... Now, if they could only figure out why?
- Mod D
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i think a lot about iwatex lore and story stuff outside its context of Video Game
like, it’s coded into the Video Game that kom always dies and there’s nothing you can do to save him. but in-universe? i don’t think fate or predestiny is a big thing here, bc it’s a time loop and sol’s whole life is different every time, so i often think about an In Universe fluke timeline, where something different happens and kom survives. anemone gets to grow up with her older brother and she doesn’t become a soldier and sol gets to see what it looks like for her to have a happy life.
and then it never happens again. sol can’t figure out what let kombucha survive in that loop, and they can’t ever recreate it, and he never survives again. that was the only loop where anemone was actually genuinely happy, and the guilt of its eats at sol in semi lucid moments of loop-awareness.
#and like. thinking about sol as their own character in this story instead of the player proxy#how they must feel every time someone dies#what their mentality must be like going into a life we the players might call a soldier route#i have so many thoughts#iwatex#i was a teenage exocolonist#iwate#iwatec#iwatex kom#iwatex anemone#truly one billion different ways to tag this. whatever
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i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry
#he looked so sweet…..he looks SO much like my dad#i found the last picture of him that my granddad took a month or so before he died it’s so sad#trying to decide if i should tell my mum that i know about him or if i should just keep it to myself#idk if somethings wrong with me maybe it’s because i was already grieving before i found out#but it’s really getting 2 me i can’t concentrate on my uni shit i just keep thinking about it#i think i rlly need to talk about it with someone but i have no idea who or how or what i’d say. but it’s weird because it’s a secret yk#like i’m not even supposed to know he existed#idk. i have a gender clinic appointment next week and i’m going to ask if they can recommend any therapists#me being very very brave and trying therapy again after being forced into it my whole life and ending up a bit traumatised#idk. i feel bad that i’m alive and i’m wasting my life when my uncle got killed when he was just a kid#it makes me feel like i should be more grateful and do more with myself.#and i am going to try but i’d rather he was here instead. same with my granddad#every time i experience something beautiful or good i wish my granddad could experience it because he deserved it more than me#and the best i can do is experience it for him and be grateful. but i would chance places instantly if i could#him and his kid deserve to be here they were so special. i know i don’t know his kid but i’ve heard they were similar#so i know he must have been special too#i found a fb comment today from a family friend i’ve never met and she was saying that she only met my granddad once#but she called him gentle and it made me cry. because he was very scottish and sweary and traditional and masculine#so everyone just assumed he was tough and scary but if you knew him he was really quiet and kind#and i’m glad someone who only met him once could see that#i’m going to be half asleep for the rest of my life i think. i’ve been dreaming since my granddad died and i don’t feel like i ever woke up#nothing has felt real since i was nine years old. everything just stopped and never started again#i’ve just been waiting. i’m waiting for him to change his mind and come back. idk. i don’t know what to do with myself#and i continuously feel fucking insane and stupid for being this way. it’s like fresh grief all the fucking time#but it was fifteen years ago. why does it still feel this way#i can’t even tell people because they won’t understand why i’m still so bothered by it#he was my parent for nine years. i lived with him he was my sole caretaker#i was nonverbal and him and my brother were the only people on the planet who knew what my voice sounded like#he’d think it was silly if i failed my exam because i was crying about him instead#he’d tell me to whisht and stick in. so i will
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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜
ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game
╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)
contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman
➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!
₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!
gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied.
most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.
at least that’s what you believe most of the time.
you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.
you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past.
he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?
these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).
they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark.
what did your husband do for a living, exactly?
his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel.
as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all.
“what if he’s having an affair?”
you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”
today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep.
“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”
“oh my god, could you imagine?”
“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—
“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”
“but he treats me so well—”
“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.
“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.
“right… thanks guys…”
that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.
you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”
“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake.
“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”
“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours.
it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.
“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.
he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.
you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.
he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”
“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”
“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”
“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”
“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”
you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.
it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back.
at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction.
then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later.
you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine.
as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease.
your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.
his birthday?
an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.
your birthday?
wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.
the date of your wedding?
you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.
and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?
whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.
there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station.
“ji-cheol?”
he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”
“what do you do for a living, exactly?”
a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“
“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”
“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”
“so he was right?”
he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road.
“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.
he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.
“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”
you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough.
“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.
#📜. her works#the salesman#the salesman x reader#gong yoo#gong yoo x reader#squid game#squid game x reader
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anything for you, darling
If only you knew the atrocities he would commit, all in the name of his devotion to you.
tags: sylus x reader, hurt/comfort
You’re lying on your side, head nestled on his lap. Above you, you faintly hear him humming—a low, gravelly tune, his steady hand gently carding through your hair. The melody is slightly discordant, but the rich timbre of his voice makes you close your eyes, leaning subconsciously into his touch.
The party downstairs is in full swing, but you don’t feel like joining in on the fun. Odd, considering how much you’d looked forward to this event—a celebration of his recent acquisition of a coveted arms manufacturing company.
But when you went to the vanity he’d built for you for a final once-over, your excitement faltered. The dress, while breathtaking and clearly crafted with care and intention, doesn’t accentuate the places you’d hoped it would. It must be your body, you think. It just doesn’t do the dress justice.
And so, you retreated to hide away in his room.
It wasn’t long before he found you, though.
He didn’t ask why you were there. Without a word, he made his way to the bed, propped himself against the headboard, and pulled you to him.
Which brings you to this moment, lying on his lap, lulled by his crooked yet endearing lullaby as his fingers thread through your hair.
“The dress is lovely,” you murmur. “Thank you for having it made for me.”
“It looks especially lovely on you—everything does,” he replies, sincere, pulling a small, rueful smile from you.
“You don’t have to compliment me all the time, Sy,” you say, chuckling.
The hand in your hair stills. “I mean every word of praise I throw your way.”
You pat his knee gently. “I know. I just don’t want it to feel like a chore for you, is all.”
A firm but tender grip on your jaw draws your gaze up to meet his. His garnet eyes burn with intensity, pinning you in place.
“Did someone say something tonight?” he asks, tone low. The subtle threat in his inquiry sends a chill down your spine.
“No!” you stammer, a hand darting out to press against his chest. “No one said anything. I’m just…my mind’s just all over the place.”
His eyes narrow, and a thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth. “If anyone dares to say anything to you, you tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” you squeak, face now thoroughly warm.
He relaxes, releasing you before resuming his ministrations in your hair.
You take a few moments to calm your racing pulse. “You should stop being so scary,” you mutter, poking at the buttons of his tailored suit.
“I’m afraid being scary comes with this line of work.”
“It sounded like you’d kill the hypothetical person who said something mean to me.”
“Sweetie, I’d burn the world for you.”
Your retort dies in your throat.
His eyes are closed again, and he’s resumed his humming. You want to call him out on his joke, but deep down, you know he means it.
“Sylus?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
You feel a gentle pat on your forehead.
“Anytime, kitten.”
other works
#every night i pray that the isekai mechanism exists#and that i get isekaid into lads#and be with sylus#im being so fr#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x mc#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#love and deepspace#ori.writes#sylus angst#sylus hurt/comfort#sylus comfort
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Love, the death of duty
duty part two
married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.
You can find the requests here and here
word count: 3,838
CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!
Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader
Masterlist | Part one
dividers by @zaldritzosrose
Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.
He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.
But one thing he did not expect was you.
He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.
Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.
He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.
“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.
“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.
“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.
You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.
“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.
“Near eight moons now.”
“And it is your third?”
You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.
“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.
He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.
He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“
“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.
“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.
“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.
“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.
You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.
And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.
They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.
You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.
Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.
You had known that every day of your marriage.
Even more so the day she had died.
He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.
Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.
And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.
And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.
And in the five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.
Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.
Desired it.
Even if it was not with your husband.
There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.
Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.
You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.
Jon.
Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.
Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.
In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.
And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.
He made time for you where Robb neglected you.
He cared for you where Robb scorned you.
And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.
He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.
Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.
He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.
Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.
“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.
“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.
“why shouldn’t i?”
“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”
“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“
“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”
“I didn’t mean too”
“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”
She nodded in understanding.
You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.
As most of your time was spent with her.
“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.
“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”
“good” she smiled.
And yet that had changed.
The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.
“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.
“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.
Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.
You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.
Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.
A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.
Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.
If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.
“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.
“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.
“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.
You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”
“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.
“yes”
With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.
You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.
With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.
no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.
Now the word love did.
Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.
Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.
Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.
But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.
Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.
You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.
Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.
A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.
But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.
“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.
“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.
“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.
He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.
You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.
But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.
Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.
A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.
“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.
His face chasing yours as you moved away.
“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.
“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.
He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.
You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.
It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.
A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.
“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.
you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.
He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.
You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.
You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.
And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.
With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.
Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.
His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.
“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.
You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.
“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.
Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.
“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.
Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.
He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.
You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.
“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.
You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.
His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.
“can i?” he breathed against your lips.
“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.
He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.
After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.
He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.
Your peak fast approaching.
“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.
“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.
“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.
“Inside!” you moaned.
He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.
And a part of you hoped it took root.
Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.
You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.
Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.
Love.
The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.
Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.
He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.
To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.
He would be the first to admit that part was true.
But he was a good king, that had to account for something?
But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.
He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.
That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.
A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.
Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.
But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.
And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.
“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.
He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.
It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.
He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.
And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.
taglist
@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3
to be added to taglist
#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones smut#jon snow#jon snow x reader#house stark#robb stark x y/n#robb stark x reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark#sansa stark#catelyn stark#jon snow x you#jon snow x Frey!reader#Robb Stark x Frey!reader#kit harington#richard madden#sacha writes ✍️
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geyser
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.
a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song
wc: 6.5k
warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs
also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on
Percy thought that his head might explode.
He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.
At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.
All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.
Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.
“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.
“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”
“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”
Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”
“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”
“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.
“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”
“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”
Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”
Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.
But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.
The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.
His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.
There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.
Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”
That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.
“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”
“Does she go here?” Percy asked.
“She did.”
He frowned. “Where is she, then?”
“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.
“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”
Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.
Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.
“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”
Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”
“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”
Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.
“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”
An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”
Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.
He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.
Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.
…Gods.
Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.
-
“Luke—”
“No!”
“Luke, please!”
“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”
“She won’t know!”
“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”
Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.
“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.
“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”
“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”
“If you say a single word—”
“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”
“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”
“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”
“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.
“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”
“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”
“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”
“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”
To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”
“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”
Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”
And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.
Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.
Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…
Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.
But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.
Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.
You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”
Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.
“Never better.”
-
“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.
Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.
“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.
Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”
He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”
He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”
Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.
He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.
“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”
Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”
He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?
“I’m curious,” he decided.
Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…
Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.
“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.
“And how it killed the cat?”
He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”
“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”
Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”
“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Who’s her parent?”
Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.
“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”
Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.
He had a sister?
“I have a sister?”
“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”
A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.
He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.
Gods.
“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”
Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”
One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.
“How did you meet her?”
“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”
Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.
“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.
Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”
Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”
“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”
Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.
“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”
The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.
Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”
Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”
-
Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.
He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.
“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”
“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.
Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”
“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. ��I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”
“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”
Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.
“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”
Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”
“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”
Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”
Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.
“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”
“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”
Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”
Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”
Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”
Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.
“A happier part, then,” he suggested.
“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”
In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.
A letter.
“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”
Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.
So he took the letter when Luke offered it.
To the one and only Luke Castellan,
My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.
I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.
Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.
But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.
Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.
I can’t wait to see you again.
Your hurricane.
It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.
Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.
“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”
Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.
“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”
“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”
Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”
I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.
“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”
Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”
He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.
Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.
“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”
Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.
“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”
He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”
“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”
Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.
“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”
-
After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.
Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.
Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”
“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”
“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”
They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.
“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”
“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”
“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”
Annabeth went silent.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”
“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”
“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”
Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”
“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”
That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.
“How did you meet her?” he asked.
Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”
-
For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.
It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.
The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.
She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.
But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?
Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—
Where was Thalia?
Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.
Thalia—
“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”
“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.
Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.
“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”
Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?
You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.
“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”
“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”
“Annabeth!”
Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.
“Luke, you’re hurt—”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”
“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”
Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.
When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.
“Luke?” you whispered.
Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—
“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”
“My friends—”
“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”
Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”
So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.
She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.
The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.
-
You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.
You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.
Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.
You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.
A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.
“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.
Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.
“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.
You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”
Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”
You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”
He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.
“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”
“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”
“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.
“You know what I mean.”
Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.
“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”
“The usual,” you mumbled.
“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.
You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”
“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”
“Bullseye.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”
“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”
“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”
Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you murmured.
You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.
That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.
“Can you stay?” you asked softly.
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“Just like old times,” you whispered.
“Just like old times,” he agreed.
Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.
There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.
How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?
Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.
“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
And by the gods, you believed him.
#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#daughter of poseidon#child of poseidon#sadie writes
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New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!
Caine's character description:
For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze. That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.
Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.
Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.
Though, he still likes to drink.
Fun facts about Caine:
He is a massive drunkard.
He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.
Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.
He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.
He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.
In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.
His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.
He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.
Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.
Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.
He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.
He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.
He doesn't like to talk about his past.
When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.
He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.
You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.
Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.
And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.
He's rarely seen without his cane.
He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.
Quotes:
"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."
"I think we can arrange that."
"This is not part of the plan!"
"No fighting! Take it outside."
"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."
"Hmm... quite intriguing."
"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."
"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"
"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."
"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."
"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"
"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"
"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"
"Oy vey..."
"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."
"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."
"Must we really resort to this method?"
"Oh, I just fixed that!"
"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"
"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."
"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"
"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."
"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."
"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."
#tadc#tadc au#harlequin au#tadc harlequin au#the amazing digital circus#caine#tadc caine#art#character description#Puppet!Caine#Puppetmaster!Caine
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:3c hiii, if it's not a bother, could you write more headcanon's for the cod men as parents? I think I might have died from cuteness overload while reading that one.
ahh ofc!! i've been wanting to write more so this is perfect, thank you <333
𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Them As Parents #3
ʚĭɞ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto
Price
He adjusted to being a father a lot easier than he thought he would, somehow his kids are a lot easier to keep in line than the tf141
He's constantly announcing every little thing or accomplishment the kid has done, and he forces everyone to listen and they kinda have to because what else are they going to do? Say no? Wouldn't even think or dare to do that
He's just so happy to carry his chunky babies around, and loves it especially when you're feeding them, he smiles endearingly and you're like "what're you smiling for?" "I love seeing my babies growing"
Omg and imagine your babies having that same heartwarming smile he has, awwwww-
Ghost
He knew taking care of kids would be... something
But he sees how hard you work, how late you stay up trying to get the whiny baby to sleep, but he just won't stop fussing and moving and you don't want to wake Simon because he's supposed to be resting from just having come back
But he hears your tired sighs and pleading to the baby to please sleep, so he comes up behind you and gently takes the baby while telling you to go rest, that you need it
And hearing his low, smoky voice gives you such relief you almost cry because you've been sleep deprived
Soap
He taught the boys to show respect and love to you all the time, it's almost overwhelming!
Once a neighbor encountered this scene where Johnny had just gotten back from picking up the kids from school and he ran out the car yelling "Whoever gets to mom first gets to kiss and hug her!"
All three of them practically bolted inside the house and tackled you
And even if they play roughly, getting muddy and dirty they make sure to rinse off with the hose and wait before entering to dry off, they wouldn't want to ruin the effort you do to keep the house spotless, and guests who come over are always surprised at how you manage to keep the place so clean when there's two- well technically three boys with Johnny who hasn't lost his playfulness
Gaz
Can't help but imagine how Kyle would be like with his teen daughter
He loves her to death and would do anything for her, he's interested in whatever she's into and loves going along with her to go out and stuff
Especially if she's a little more on the loner side and doesn't have many friends :(, he'll throw in all his free time to make sure she gets out and has fun
And he's especially protective when someone is interested in dating her, he doesn't take kindly to them especially if he senses some underlying intentions
Closes up, clams up and his kindness and hospitality is gone, only the stone cold faced sergeant
Roach
He's never been a father before, what's he even supposed to do? The most he's taken care of is a hamster and the bug collection that's on display
Probably doesn't really hit him until you really start to show, like he's excited but constantly jumpy at any sign of pain you show, you wince? Should he get the car started? Feel a kick? The baby must be coming, right?
You've had to calm him down, tell him you appreciate his enthusiasm but that he needs to be the one to calm down, probably getting more sentimental than you are right now
Omg and the moment he saw you give birth and hold the baby he was shaking and crying, he couldn't believe he witnessed that, he's staring down at his baby girl and he's thanking you by pressing kisses to your forehead
She's definitely a daddy's girl, always sticking close to him and developing an interest for his same hobbies
Alejandro
I can see this man turning into mother the minute the child is born, like you've already given birth to his kids you've done enough now let him take over
He can cook pretty well actually and loves sneaking up out of bed to prepare the kids breakfast and surprise you by the time you wake up with breakfast in bed
Also, he has to stop his habit of swearing around the kids, most of the time it's in Spanish but your kids will still pick up on it and try using it sentences when it's certainly not appropriate
He's also telling the kids stories of when he was their age that are blown out of proportion, very common for him to exaggerate and add details just to make them gasp and believe it, thinks it's funny because they're so gullible and you're just standing there listening to his nonsense shaking your head
Rudy
He practically melted when you told him you wanted to try for a baby
He's over the moon daydreaming about it, having a mini you and him
The type to be wanting to set up for the nursery as soon as he finds out you're expecting, also he just loves doing things around the house like the malewife he is that you almost suggested he carry to term instead
He'd love a daughter and would be the one singing lullabies, cradling her little body gently in his arms as he practically twirls around the room
Just watching that angelic little face that smiles when she wakes up and sees his loving face, he's the happiest man there could ever be
Practically living life through rose-colored glasses taking care of his princesita
Phillip Graves
He was made to father children
Those great genes of him make beautiful, cute babies that get fawned over everywhere you go
Showing off his offspring like if they were his greatest life achievement
He's so proud to have you too, he's bragging how you managed to give him kids and how well you do caring for them and him <3
He loves loves buying them toys of which you constantly scold him for, they've got so many!
Also, refuses to pay for a nanny or babysitter, even for dates you to go off on he'd rather a close family friend if it's ABSOLUTELY necessary, but he's trained and educated his kids so well you two could go to a fancy dinner and they would keep still
Makarov
He's probably always thinking about having more and more kids
Like he can't ever get tired of them, once his first child was nearing teen years and his second and third were already well past their toddler stage he just wouldn't stop bringing the conversation up
Until it's past midnight and kid one will come in saying they don't feel well and ask for medicine, then kid two comes crying because they've just had a nightmare and kid three threw up and kid four made a mess and won't go to sleep-
He's constantly buying them toys when you tell him they had more fun playing with a box and bubble wrap than the expensive playset he bought them, still he doesn't mind letting his money fly when it comes to you or his kids, for that he has no limit
Just shrugs and hands the kid money when they ask for it (wouldn't that be useful?)
Keegan
He wanted one kid only and that's because according to him "kids are too much work", but he pisses you off probably more than the kid
He also gives terrible life advice, telling the kid how to get away with stuff when he thinks you're not listening but suddenly you come around the corner giving him a glare and reminding him if he keeps this up he'll be the one dealing with it because it's his fault
You're surprised your kid doesn't come back seriously injured when they're out with Keegan, not that he's reckless but he tends to show the kid to do things that they aren't exactly ready for... like those huge, sharp pliers you saw barely being held by small, tender hands, you were clutching your chest the entire time scared while Keegan told you he'd be fine, only doing some yard work
König
König as a father is such a common thought in my head, like he becomes 10x more daddy material
Just seeing him come home tired but still clean up and throw on some sweatpants to play with his toddlers who have a ton of energy
And also carry the baby who's less than a year old while sitting on the living room couch watching the others play has you going feral
Just seeing him like that makes you want to birth more babies for him, you're literally begging him to put more babies in you while he softly goes "no"
It's not that he doesn't want more but he sees how hard you work taking care of them and he doesn't want to stress you out :(
Horangi
Poor Horangi finds himself in the absolute weirdest predicaments, one of the girls lost her favorite stuffed toy, last she remembers she had been playing with it outside in the rain
Now he has to spend over an hour outside looking for it in the dark with a flashlight in hand as he searches for the damn thing because otherwise she won't go to sleep, you're inside holding her while she sobs about her plushie
After who knows how long he finds the old thing, it's covered in mud, the fur matted and not to say... foul smelling, definitely needs a good wash, so there he is inside scrubbing it and using a hair dryer because the drying machine would take too long
Until finally, he can hand it over and watch her turn in bed happily snuggling with the stuffed animal
God is it hard to be a parents but it's rewarding and so worth every moment
Nikto
This man gets drunk off the thought of having children with you despite he's always put off whenever you brought the possibility up
Still, he likes to think about it, the chubby hands reaching out for him, a soft voice calling for him, oh and how you'd look... all caring and nurturing towards the little thing
Yeah screw it he wants one or two or-
He just wants it to be his turn, his one chance at a haven
Oh and he's turned into the softest most gentlest creature that there could ever be, he'll silently observe as you feed her, just admiring this beautiful scenery like a painting
One night, Nikto insists on putting the baby to sleep, you let him while you go get ready for bed and when you come back to check on him he's singing in soft tones while placing the already sleeping baby in the crib, you lean on the doorframe careful not to make noise and just enjoy the moment
#captain john price#price x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#gary roach sanderson#roach x reader#alejandro vargas#alejandro x reader#rudy x reader#rodolfo parra#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves#vladimir makarov#makarov x reader#keegan p russ#keegan x reader#konig x reader#konig cod#kim horangi hong jin#horangi x reader#andre nikto#nikto x reader#cod headcanons#cod fanfic
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Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto
TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.
1. Marcille Gender Discomfort
Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.
If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"
But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.
After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!
2. Haircut
This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.
It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.
The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.
This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.
3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince
Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.
There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)
A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.
This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)
Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.
Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?
4. Conclusion
Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.
Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.
In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!
#og post#marcille donato#falin x marcille#farcille#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi meta#dungeon meshi manga spoilers#dunmeshi
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Between letters.
When reader has been acting weird lately, Reid thinks she's going to break up with him but she's actually terrified because she has to give him some life-changing news.
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: angst/fluff
warnings: Reid is hopeless, reader is a little mean because she doesn't know how to deal with the stress of her secret. Both must work on their communication. English is not my first language (if i forget something let me know, this is my first time doing this)
word count: 2.6K
a/n: Hello! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read what i wrote with so much love. I have written books, stories, poems but never a fanfic and i must admit that i enjoyed this a lot. Well, without further ado i hope you enjoy this and let me know if you liked it.
It is said that we should wait for good things. But it is so difficult to wait for them when we find ourselves in such a deep abyss, where we believe that the only thing we need is that warm ray of joy to get us out of the pond, to save us from dying in agony.
Spencer needed that warm ray of joy after Maeve's death. He desperately needed to feel alive again, but he had to wait what seemed like an eternity for you to come into his life.
Yet every devastating event like that leaves wounds that bleed into scars, some take perhaps too long and as the blood pours out, it destroys hope.
That's what happened to Reid. Because the day Maeve died, his hopes of having a wife and children, of having a family, died with her…
You came along a couple of years later. You admit that winning Spencer over was something that took time, it was slow but it was worth every second.
You were also thankful that he wasn't like the other jerks you dated before, who thought you would die for them just because you were the one who made the first move.
And that was the difference between you and Spencer. You never let that get you down, you kept trying until you found the one. Who knew it would be someone with three PhDs? Your trusted tarot reader, duh. But you didn't believe it, the guy seemed too perfect to be real.
But there he was, spinning around in his swivel chair when you first walked into the BAU bullpen.
"Who is he?" you asked with a curiosity you hadn't experienced in years.
"Oh, that's Spencer. One of our resident geniuses." The sweet Penelope Garcia cleared up your doubts.
Spencer.
The name tasted so sweet on your lips, it sounded so right. That was the day you decided he would be for you.
Of course you needed some extra help. You were trying to win over someone who hadn't dated in a long time and was also a bit reserved. Luckily for you, Morgan's advice scared him off so you followed JJ's, although it also helped that he was definitely mhm curious? about you.
Well no, he actually thought you were a little crazy for staring at him so intently from a distance. And he thought you were weird, but he was too so it just made both fit together like puzzle pieces.
The relationship seemed to be going great, both loved each other and he couldn't imagine his life without you. But if Spencer Reid had learned something in his life, it was that happiness lasts much less time than pain.
You were acting a little weird around him lately, you were irritable and he definitely knew you were hiding something.
"I think she's going to break up with me." One day he decided to confess his feelings to Morgan, when they were alone in the conference room.
Morgan frowned and dropped the current case file onto the table. “You’re kidding, right?” But with no response, Morgan knew otherwise. "Reid. She loves you so much it makes me a little sick.”
Reid remained with his worried expression. "She's slow to respond to my texts, she avoids me, and there's definitely something she's not telling me.” He counted your recent actions on his fingers before crossing his arms.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're profiling her."
Reid frowned. "What? Of course not." Yeah, that means of course yes.
Morgan shrugged. "Just talk to her or ask the girls, they should know something." This time he gave some good advice, not like the ones he used to give you.
Reid did as Morgan told him, but absolutely no one knew what was going on with you. Although everyone agreed that you were definitely hiding something.
You took a sip of coffee. "I watched that movie last night. People said it was really funny but I found it boring, although I admit the plot twist made me cry.” Yes, lately many things made you cry and it wasn't because of your moon in Pisces.
Anderson nodded. "Exactly! I couldn't even finish watching. I fell asleep."
“Anderson, would you excuse us for a minute?" Reid's appearance was a surprise, his insistence on talking to you wasn't.
"Of course, see you later." Then once Anderson left, Reid stood in front of you.
"What's wrong?" He got straight to the point, not like the previous times.
"Me? Nothing's wrong, I'm perfectly fine." But the drumming of your fingers on your coffee glass gave you away.
"Oh, of course." He crossed his arms, oh no, it seems his infinite patience turned out to be finite.
You immediately took a defensive stance. "Yes. I was perfectly fine before you came to interrupt my conversation with Anderson."
"About movies?" He didn't say it, but you knew he thought it was a nonsense, at least now that he was definitely irritated.
“Yes!" Your outburst earned you a few glances from the other agents. But both were too wrapped up in the tense conversation to deal with them.
"Sure, you have time to talk to other people about movies, but you don't even say a damn good morning to me.” You had to be careful what you said, you were in unfamiliar territory now, as Reid didn't usually swear.
"You're overreacting." Yeah... That probably wasn't the most brilliant thing you've ever said, but you were trying not to give away your secret, at least not yet.
“Overacting?” He was offended by your words. “You talk to everyone in the building except me. You used to spend as much time with me as possible, did I do something wrong?” A hint of fear and insecurity crept into his annoyed tone.
You shook your head. “Of course not.”
He put his hand on your shoulder. “Then tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was firm, but not harsh. Although it was obvious that he wasn't making a request of you.
"Spencer, I already told you that nothing is wrong with me." You emphasized the nothing.
He exhaled in frustration, he was 90% sure that this would work. "Fine! Then don't tell me anything." His patience had run out and he wasn't going to beg you anymore. It had been a week like this and he couldn't take it anymore, so he let go of your shoulder and walked away without even looking at you or giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
Everything was dark, you reached for the light switch and then the spotlight illuminated your apartment. It was a less warm space without Spencer there.
You sighed before throwing your bag on the couch and closed the door.
You stood there for a couple of minutes staring at the lonely space. Well since you became Spencer Reid's girlfriend there weren't many lonely nights, mornings or afternoons.
You would definitely prefer him to be here right now, rambling or mumbling a foreign language movie to you. But for now you had to keep your secret, and that meant keeping Reid away.
The growl of your stomach snapped you out of your mind, so you headed straight for the fridge. But the smell of something made you nauseous, so you immediately ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet.
Yes. You had to hurry to sweeten this horrible memory with a concerned Spencer who would hold your hair and rub your back while you threw up.
After dinner and take a warm shower, you were tired enough to do anything else, so you settled into bed to sleep. But your brain had other plans…
"You look... not very awake." Tara commented as soon as you dropped your coat on the back of your chair.
"I only slept three damn hours," you nearly growled before throwing yourself into the chair and running your hands over your face. You needed a liter of coffee.
Tara stopped typing on her computer and looked at you. "Is this something to do with your strange behavior the last week?" When she got no response, she said your name seriously.
You pulled your hands away from your face. “I…” you began to fiddle with the rings on your fingers, the burden of unspoken words beginning to weigh on your shoulders. "God, why does everyone suddenly care about my fucking life?" You opted for annoyance as the perfect disguise for your vulnerability.
"Hey. None of us want to bother you, but we care about your life because we are your friends and we love you." Tara used a serious tone, like a scolding, but there was genuine affection behind her words. "Besides, Reid is suffering because of your attitude."
A pang of guilt hit your chest. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You whispered.
“I know.” She walked over to your desk. “But you’re hurting him, even if you don’t mean to.”
You swallowed before looking up. "It's just that there's something..." You took a deep breath, this was harder than you thought. "Things are changing, things are definitely going to change if I say this, it's going to be real and I don't know how to feel about it. I need someone to tell me what to do, because I feel so lost."
Tara placed one of her hands over yours. "Well, if I'm going to help you, I need you to tell me what's wrong." Her voice was warm.
"I want Spencer to know first." But your half-hearted answer was enough for her to know.
"In that case you should tell him, because none of his PhDs include mind reading." She made a little joke that actually made you smile.
"Yeah, I know. He'll probably solve everything out like he always does." Then you looked straight at his empty desk, at the nameplate: Spencer Reid. "But I want to give him a surprise, something that will make him happy. I can't just walk up and say hey…” Then you forced yourself to close your mouth when you realized you were going to say more than necessary, although in reality Tara already had her suspicions.
"Okay, I'll help you." She sounded very determined and you really appreciated her help and that she wouldn't question you as much as the others.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You spun around in your chair and then had an epiphany, but not like the Taylor Swift song. "Crossword!" Your excitement got you the looks of several agents in the bullpen, luckily one of them was Tara.
"With a secret message?"
"Yes. It's literally the best way." You said excitedly.
But in your mind everything was easier than it really was.
You ruffled your hair as you forced yourself to think more, giving you a splitting headache. "When did I think this would be a good idea? Doing a crossword puzzle for the average person is easy, but not for a genius with an IQ of 187." You dropped your head onto your desk.
"You need help."
"But who's as smart as Spencer?" You muttered defeated, still with your head hidden between your arms and the wood of the desk.
Someone ruffled your hair. “Mhm. Tesla? Einstein?”
You immediately raised your head, only to see the famous Derek Morgan. “They’re dead.” You snorted.
Morgan raised his hands in peace. "Hey, what's the bad mood, baby girl? I just answered your question." He let out one of his signature laughs.
You rolled your eyes. You wished you could turn off some damn switch that was responsible for making you so easily angry. God, WHY? You were starting to get desperate.
"Blake!" Another epiphany, you were really on top of it. You didn't even explain it to Tara, you just ran to the parking lot to get your phone which you had forgotten in the car.
Alex Blake was happy to help you put together a crossword puzzle for Spencer. Although she warned you that he once solved one in about five minutes.
Yeah, well, you were going to take the risk.
Once the crossword puzzle with the secret message was ready, you set out to find Reid.
As you were leaving Garcia's office he was getting out of the elevator, but he didn't even notice you. He continued on his way and god, why did he look so attractive?
"Spencer." You caught up to him as he walked up the stairs.
"Not now, I'm busy." He replied with a seriousness not typical of him.
"With what?" You frowned.
"I said I'm busy." I didn't even look at you as he continued walking to the conference room.
You called out to him, but he ignored you. “We need to talk.” You said seriously, raising your voice.
He stopped in his tracks immediately, freezing halfway. He had never experienced anything like this before, but he knew well what we need to talk meant.
He turned to look at you, with an expression that betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. "I said I'm busy, we'll talk later." That didn't convince you. “I have to do a geographic profile and you have to work on victimology like Hotch asked you to.”
The end was near? You were beginning to doubt and he was very sure, only that he would delay it as much as he could.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You were about to give up, but you really needed him to know. So you resorted to plan B.
"Derek Morgan, my favorite person in the world." You appeared in front of him, with a big smile.
Morgan let out a light laugh. "Yeah sure, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"
"I think Spencer is upset with me."
"He definitely is." He said it without hesitation and it definitely didn't help the state of your aching heart.
"Okay..." You handed him the crossword puzzle. "Could you please give him this for me?"
He picked up the crossword puzzle. "If you think he's going to forgive you for avoiding him for a week just by giving him a crossword puzzle that he'll finish in two seconds, you might be right."
"Just give it to her, okay?"
"Of course. But in exchange for Penelope being the godmother.”
You immediately frowned, but you reacted a little late because Morgan had already left to deliver your order.
From your desk you watched everything. From how Morgan entered the conference room to give Spencer the crossword puzzle to how the bastard answered it in five minutes. When it took you like three hours to do.
But the best part was when he realized the secret message and ran out of the conference room.
But when he saw you, his quickened steps took on a much, much slower pace.
"Tell me what's true." His low tone sounded like a plea.
A slight smile appeared on your face. "Yeah. That's why I've been acting weird, you know I can't keep secre-"
Your words were cut off when his lips met yours. In a kiss so sweet and soft that it was enough to dispel every single one of your doubts.
A few seconds later, he pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more.
He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "You didn't have to do a crossword puzzle to tell me you were pregnant."
"I wanted to surprise you." You whispered.
A smile that could light up this whole town formed on his lips. "I love you so much." He then kissed you warmly again.
🏷️ @floraisunwell
And so it was that the foundations that had crumbled with Maeve's death slowly re-emerged. They began to build themselves again with your arrival and now with this news, their foundations were stronger than ever, because at last he was going to have the family he had dreamed of for a tortuous time.
#criminal minds#cm#bau#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#agent reid#fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid one shot#one shot#spencer x reader#reader insert#spencer reid x reader#x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer x y/n#spencer x you#larfetfanfic#fluff#angst#angst fluff#flangst#hurt/comfort
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🐝 * ― 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.
Troy Saga ❛ do what i say and you'll see them again. ❜ ❛ what do you live for? what do you try for? ❜ ❛ say no more, i know tat i'm ready. ❜ ❛ the blood on your hands is something you won't lose. ❜ ❛ is the price i pay endless pain? ❜ ❛ something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke. ❜ ❛ we should try to find a way no one ends up dead. ❜ ❛ why should we take when we could give? ❜ ❛ i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart. ❜ ❛ have you forgotten the lessons i taught you? ❜
The Cyclops Saga ❛ it's almost too perfect, too god to be true. ❜ ❛ what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep? ❜ ❛ your life now is in my hand. ❜ ❛ remember them, we're the ones who carry on. ❜ ❛ what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use? ❜ ❛ i am your darkest moment. ❜ ❛ i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test. ❜ ❛ that's just like you, why should i be surprised? ❜ ❛ unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain. ❜ ❛ i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done. ❜
The Ocean Saga ❛ at this rate, we won't make it out alive. ❜ ❛ please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do. ❜ ❛ yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out? ❜ ❛ you rely on wit, and people die on it. ❜ ❛ you're like the brother i could never do without. ❜ ❛ and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out? ❜ ❛ keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust. ❜ ❛ 'cause the end always justifies the means. ❜ ❛ do you know who i am? ❜ ❛ you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great. ❜
The Circe Saga ❛ whatever you need to say can wait some more. ❜ ❛ there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save. ❜ ❛ wouldn't you like a taste of the power? ❜ ❛ don't thank me friend, you very well may die. ❜ ❛ did you do something to them? ❜ ❛ if you make one wrong move, then you're done for. ❜ ❛ you and i are now evenly matched. ❜ ❛ you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust. ❜ ❛ who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make? ❜ ❛ this is the price we pay to love. ❜
The Underworld Saga ❛ all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes. ❜ ❛ i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died. ❜ ❛ when does a man become a monster? ❜ ❛ now you tell us our effort's are for nothing? ❜ ❛ how has everything been turned against us? ❜ ❛ do i need to change? ❜ ❛ i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed. ❜ ❛ what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along? ❜ ❛ what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves? ❜ ❛ if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger? ❜
The Thunder Saga ❛ you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life. ❜ ❛ i've got a secret i can no longer keep. ❜ ❛ you know that we are the same. ❜ ❛ we must do what it takes to survive. ❜ ❛ tell me you did not know that would happen. ❜ ❛ if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame. ❜ ❛ how are we supposed to trust you now? ❜ ❛ how much longer must i suffer now? ❜ ❛ someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say. ❜ ❛ please don't make me do this. ❜
The Wisdom Saga ❛ you've made your worst mistake here. ❜ ❛ this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good. ❜ ❛ you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more. ❜ ❛ did you know you talk in your sleep? ❜ ❛ i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here. ❜ ❛ you don't know what i've gone through. ❜ ❛ i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart. ❜ ❛ life would be so much worse if you had died. ❜ ❛ you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame? ❜ ❛ no one beats me, no one wins my game. ❜
#rp meme#rp memes#rp prompts#roleplay meme#lyric sentence starters#sentence starters#musical sentence starters#rph#type: meme
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A DC X DP IDEA #37
Progenitor
Imagine dis…
I saw a TikTok about this and some A03 fics inspired me as well.
It is about the eldest daughter being parentified by her parents towards her younger siblings.
Many fics portray Danny as much closer to Jazz as she is the one who raised him since their parents are so focused on their ghostly research, and even during crucial days like holidays are filled with arguments.
There are very few where I saw Jazz feeling motherly love towards Danny, doing things only a mother would dare to do for the sake of her child.
…
Danny was originally born as Danyal Al Ghul, the lesser twin of him and his older brother, Damian Al Ghul. Danyal has the softness that no Al Ghul should have, the innocence that seems to bloom within his heart that seemed impossible to grow under the harsh desert sand and discipline within their grandfather’s rule. He tried to open up to his twin, after all, they came together, so there must be something to be linked between the two brothers.
Yet it was naive thinking of him, it had met him a deep scar on his right cheek for such an act.
He also tried to reach out to his mother, surely the woman with whom he shared a connection both blood and flesh, and the woman who had carried him and his brother within her womb instead of the artificial womb that grandfather insisted for their development for future advantage.
He received nothing but a slap and an hour under intense torture that no toddler should ever experience.
He also tried to reach out to their guard, the guard with hazed eyes. Damian had immediately lost interest in their supposed guard but he stayed. He observed the guard found little things that he quite enjoyed with the guard, the nameless guard would hold the book as if reading but now actual movement reading, so he would occasionally sit on his lap and let him read a book and read it out loud, sometimes he would see him nod along or a slight twitch of his fingers or face.
He got attached to his guard, and despite being catatonic he still had the moves of a deadly fighter so Danyal began copying him, learning from him, every time he got as much as a scrape his guard would kneel and stare at the wound as if he could stare the injury away. It made Danyal smile as he knew that his guard was trying to make it better but knew nothing of how.
Under those glazed eyes Danyal heard him speak for the first and last time. It was another day for Danyal and his guard yet when he entered his chamber he was gone, leaving Danyal to care for his heart that had been broken for another time.
Slowly but surely he made a wall around his heart, he loved so much, he loved so much yet no one stayed for him. No one gave their love and devotion back to him. So he put up walls, so that his fragile heart that had been torn into pieces by those he gave his heart to, would never further break.
It was a normal day really, a small time group of assassins that had been absorbed by the League a long time ago held loyalty to their former leader who had been executed by Ra. In an act of revenge, the remaining assassins poisoned the two heirs of the Demon head and immediately killed themselves.
As Danyal lays down on the cold floor of their private chambers with Damian already unconscious he begins to wish, from the books he manages to read with his guard he learns of a legend, wish upon a star tell no one and your wish will come true, he began to wish for his next life for someone to love him with all his heart.
…
He was reborn, the moment he blinked his eyes he noticed that had regressed into a mere baby. He was born into a family of scientists, if he can call them that, ever spent most of their time tinkering away and discussing their l; latest project. It did not bother Danyal Daniel much as he had experienced firsthand how to be compared and be ignored in favor of your much in favor of brother.
But this time it was different, instead of being left behind by the older sibling she stayed. Jasmine or Jazz as she preferred, stayed and looked after him, which confused him for a bit, being the more favored sibling both by their parents and the desolate town around them, she could left him to fend for himself, but still, she stayed.
She read so many books that reached passed her height, about parenting and how to take care of a baby. It was all new to him that he didn’t know what to do with all of the attention and love that seem to radiant from his sister to him.
He saw some of his age group civilians see how they look at their guardians and parents and how said guardians/ parents would act towards them and made a realization that he finally found the one, the one where he could lower his walls and give his entire heart to, mother? Or father? Titles that whispered inside his head. Whenever he needed help she was there, whenever he was in distress she was there to comfort her. Each time she was there, both mother and father she had filled both roles despite having the opportunity to go away and be great using her intellect and own means she stayed just for him.
He physically fumbled and tripped at what to do with the amount of love that he could ever wish to have, not only that 2 more joined in loving and caring for him. Samantha Ingrid "Sam" Manson and Tucker Foley are friends who are with him through thick and thin, even at the moment of his death they were there.
To get back to them forever loving him, he defended the town where his precious people lived.
Ellie was a surprise he sometimes wished to have a younger sibling to care for, it may started rough but both are going somewhere. Then there is his older self from the future, he saw himself if he managed to lose the most important people in his life. Dan knew both in and out the things he kept secret and every thought he made, both made a slow and shaking bond but when something clicked within them, it was there to acknowledge.
It had been perfect, Daniel Danny’s life had been, a family that loved him it was all he ever wished for. If only Maddie and Jack never did discover who he was, being cut open and witnessing how your very insides move and twitch made even the hardened soldiers faint. Jazz’s scream echoed the deep lab that coated his blood at every nook and cranny.
The moment he woke up he felt nothing but dread, he was back….
Deep within the walls of the League, a lone boy let out a silent scream to the skies.
…
Danyal woke up three days after Damian woke up, He could not get into his head, he still retained the memories of when he was Danny, some scars that only Danny ever had yet it all felt like a dream, a haze and illusion that his mind had made. From that day on he began moving through the motion, without putting any life or force in each swing, being the good little soldier that all wanted. Slowly the light in his eyes was lost and if you were to observe him from afar you’d see an asset, not a boy walking through the motions of the day.
Ra was pleased, the tool that he had seen but a dull knife was slowly sharpening itself, while both Damian and Talia remained indifferent.
…
The twins were 10 when they were sent off to their father in Gotham.
Richard “Dick” Grayson immediately took a liking to Damian as he not only saw Jason in him but also a child that needed guidance, which was cemented when they all thought that Bruce had died, it was right then that moment when Dick ensured to be the guidance that Damian needed, all while leaving Danyal.
Jason tried to be closer to the demon brat but whenever he tried to initiate some of his old habits back when he was in the League and back when his mind was still hazy he was met with a sword in his face he thought that he was shy and kept on trying to connect with said baby brother, all while leaving Danyal.
Tim is reserved and becomes guarded when Dmain threatens him and cuts off his line, he also sets up expectations towards the silent twin who seems to be a wallflower most of the time but that doesn’t deter him, so when Tim and Damian begins working on a relationship, they just didn’t see the other twin that had been left behind again.
Bruce has many regrets in his life and when his biological kids appeared he swore to be there for them, it was when he was lost in the time stream that he promised himself to be more involved in all of his kid's lives, from Dick’s job as a cop in Bludhaven to Damian’s artwork at school. He made sure that he had the time for all of them, never repeating his mistakes, yet he also left Danyal behind.
…
Constantine is sweating, as much as he rather summon another bloody demon to deal with the problem at hand, he knows that even the strongest demons he could call forth could not defeat a denizen of the Realms. He already explained to the rest of the JL that only a denizen that is either equal or greater power can defeat whomever it is making the citizens of Metropolis depressed and being murdered left and right. As he drew the summoning circle to summon the strongest that could catch this call, he just hoped it was something he or the JL could pay.
As he activated the circle, large blue flames began to surround the entire JL base that are both cold and hot. He closed his eyes shit at the sheer intensity of this being’s raw power to the point every JL member from both Dark and Maine is pushed 5 feet back at the intense power when he opened his eyes to look at what kind of being he just summoned he immediately paled to the color of paper.
There she is, in all her glory, blue flames that flow down to her back, standing 8 feet tall carrying a javelin, she wears a stunning navy blue gown that combines elegance with a militaristic edge. The sculpted shoulders, embellished with gold-embroidered epaulets, gave her a commanding presence, while the fitted bodice embraced her figure with effortless grace. A satin belt with a gold buckle tightened her waist, and the A-line skirt fell just past the knee. Subtle gold accents traced the seams, giving the clothing a regal appearance. The garment, worn with tailored slacks underneath, gave her freedom of movement evoking the authority of an empress.
He just summoned the bloody Mother of the Infinite Realms, the mother of the prince of the Infinite Realms that defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark. He immediately prostates himself alongside the rest of the JL Dark realizing whom John Constantine just summoned.
…
The rest of the JL that remained standing looked in awe and caution at the being that Constantine managed to summon, as well as the rest of the JL Dark’s behavior towards the being. All sweaty and bowing in reverence. In the most polite tone they ever heard from the con artist he asked for their assistance in containing a rouge denizen and their payment for such an endeavor.
The being looked at each of them slowly, feeling their very instincts to bow at least at the being when they felt their eyes on them and ultimately paused on Batman. She pointed her weapon at the Bat cladded hero and asked him for him as payment, not anything that Constantine was thinking but hearing his skill as a great detective their payment was for Batman to look for her treasure that she had lost and at moment she had felt the moment they stepped into this universe. Batman agreed after they had smoothed over the details of said contract. The empress, Nightigale, summoned her knight and told him to deal with their denizen and toss them back into Walker’s prison.
Looking blankly at Batman, he had no choice but to let Empress Nightingale follow him back to the cave for her to foresee the investigation of her treasure and to ensure he fulfilled his end of the deal.
…
The moment Bruce stepped inside the cave he noticed Empress Nightgale had also stopped dead in her tracks and looked intently at his youngest, Danyal, who had been training at one of the cave’s training mats. What’s more interesting is that Danyal also stopped and stared at the visitor that Bruce brought along. Just as he was about the introduce the two, he saw Danyal the ever-quiet child sprung into life and tackled the empress, while Nightgale herself had her long arms wrapped around Danyal.
Bruce saw Danyal’s eyes spring into life, tears welled up in his eyes and a pure smile stretched across his youngest face. Suddenly Bruce felt Bane had punched him again, he had never seen his youngest so happy, so full of life ever since he met him. He always thought that his youngest was independent, so quiet that he had left him with his devices, somewhere within Bruce’s mind whispered that he was too late once again.
…
News about Danyal’s sudden change of attitude had reached all of the members, even in the deep corner of space.
Dick, Jason, and Tim are now seething with rage and disappointed at themselves for the wasted time they wasted in being Danyal’s life. Who has now an older sibling that despite his menacing appearance adored and teased Dnayal in a way that erupted laughs and giggles from the boy?
Dick forgetting that they were twins, Dick kept reassuring himself that he was too busy but with each memory that he visited Danyal is always right behind them looking at them with lifeless eyes, as if he had just made a different choice back then.
Jason for forgetting his ward that had adopted when he was in the League, probably the only thing that kept him sane as the green clouded in his mind when he was dunked in the pit was the fact his little chick was within the walls and the thought that he might hurt him halted his massacre.
Tim who had now noticed the small notes scattered on his desk that were not the handwriting of anyone he knew yet the initial DW, always assumed that it was Damian who was quietly helping him in cases but the revelation that it had been Danyal made him want to turn back time. He had noticed early on that Danyal wanted to be closer to him, but pushed the boy away for expecting to be like Damian.
Damian is seething with jealousy as he notices that Danyal begins spending most of his time outside with the demon that stole his brother. He kept bringing up to his father that the being that Constantine summoned was a demon already mind-controlled Danyal. But even though he cannot stop and drink in the joyful face that Danyal has whenever he is with Nightgale, he keeps remembering the time Danyal acted this way towards him.
Talia is also seething beneath her mask of indifference how dare this thing claim to be her son’s parent? It is not she who had given birth nor she is the one who ensured they both survive, but the fact that thing gifted Danyal the head of the Joker and her father’s head after revealing to her son her own father’s plan that even she is not privy on made her want to revive her father herself and be the one to end his pathetic life, how dare his father plan that horrendous ritual behind her back.
…
PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
PPS: An inspiration bug bit me and would not let me rest until I finish this.
PPS: Got too long for my liking again.
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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!
premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)
word count. 1.5k
note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.
You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.
You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?
You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.
But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!
With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.
Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.
“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.
“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”
When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”
That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.
Still.
“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”
...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”
He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.
“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”
“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.
Silence ensues.
“Do you like showers, sir?”
You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.
“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.
You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”
Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”
Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”
“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”
Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”
“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”
“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”
“Really, now?”
“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”
You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”
“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.
You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.
“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”
“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”
“In court, I only state facts.”
You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.
“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.
“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.
“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.
“You should still keep it.”
He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”
You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”
Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”
And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.
The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.
That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”
You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”
Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”
“Hey!”
(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—
But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)
#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader#genshin impact scenarios#neuvillette#neuvillette fluff#neuvillette x you#genshin impact x you
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Let’s talk more about accents in the Riordanverse!
• Percy with rounded New York vowels and that quick run-together way of saying his sentences. Percy with an accent you can’t quite place until he orders some coffee or water.
• Annabeth with a Virginia drawl and long vowels that don’t quite go away, even after years on Long Island Sound. Annabeth, who will randomly spit out phrases like “nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, whose cup always fills with sweet tea in the mess hall/
• Carter with a fairly standard American accent until he pronounces a word so bizarrely it’s clear he must have learned it halfway across the globe. Carter, who gets slightly antsy in the same place for too long and goes to language classes at night just for an excuse to practice.
• Sadie with a London accent that’s begun to fade after years in Brooklyn House, who accidentally says “cheers” when people hold the door for her. Sadie, who skips over her t’s and who drops consonants and, like Carter, isn’t exactly sure where her home is.
• Magnus and Alex with strong Boston accents and nasally a’s that Hearth is glad he can’t hear. Magnus, whose accent gets stronger in battle, who intentionally leans into it when he’s on the West Coast. Alex, who makes people guess where she’s from and tells them something different every time, who argues with Magnus over whose accent is stronger.
• Jason Grace with languid California vowels, who drops the end of every word when he’s relaxed and over-enunciates when he’s in charge. Jason, whose accent is only present when he’s comfortable.
• Leo Valdez with a Texan accent to boot and quick clipping consonants, whose accent sounds nearly the same as Annabeth’s to the untrained ear, but insists that they’re completely different every time someone brings it up.
• Hazel Levesque with a thick New Orleans accent, whose vocabulary is peppered with French and old-fashioned phrases and the occasional Southern saying. Hazel, who sticks to Deep South manners (and passive-aggression, when necessary), who orders in French when she goes to a bakery and watched old black-and-white movies when she feels homesick.
• Frank, who sounds American except for when he says “sorry”, who speaks a bit of Canadian French (which Hazel hates, because she can’t understand it), and gets teased every time he says “about”.
• Piper with a slight valley-girl sound that she’s worked hard to get rid of, but tends to slip into when she’s tired or angry. Piper, whose voice becomes sweet and soothing in charmspeak, who understands every fluctuation and intonation and how to use them to her advantage.
• Nico di Angelo with a seemingly standard American accent, until you pick up on the odd transatlantic pronunciation or Italian rolled “r”. Nico with an arsenal of phrases so jumbled and eclectic that people do a double take when he talks.
Just. Yeah. Riordanverse accents.
#percy jackson#pjo#rick riordan#heroes of olympus#riordanverse#Annabeth chase#Carter Kane#Sadie Kane#Magnus chase#Alex fierro#jason grace#leo Valdez#hazel levesque#Frank zhang#piper mclean#nico di angelo
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