#i will kick all the things in defense of the children | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foreverdolly · 7 months ago

Text

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

← previous chapter | next chapter →

If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization:

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died.

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this?

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion.

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room.

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters.

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.”

There it was. The truth.

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield.

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong.

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

It was a guard.

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this.

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls.

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground.

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat.

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned.

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you.

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you.

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in.

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged.

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you.

And so they did.

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades.

He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length.

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing.

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . .

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face.

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.”

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on.

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust.

He had to pay for what he did to you.

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault.

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt?

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway.

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start.

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead.

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all.

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely.

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore.

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head.

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved.

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out.

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you.

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you.

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood.

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide.

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin.

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell.

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck.

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again?

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences.

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone.

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation.

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you.

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.”

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was.

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night.

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.”

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved.

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?”

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides.

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub.

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs.

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again.

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep.

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would.

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now.

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now.

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this.

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.”

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd.

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-”

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated.

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would.

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump.

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in.

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin.

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off.

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off.

← previous chapter | next chapter →

ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

3K notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

Note

For your adoptive son au all I can think about is the media storm that’s about to destroy these two 😭

Like when the news comes out everyone’s gonna bash Danny, saying things like “always knew he was shady” or “figures, rich people are all bad” and then praising Dick for going undercover and revealing the monster

And then BAM the accusations are false! All the kids that were on his file of “trafficked” kids all came to testify in Danny’s defense!

Then because the media needs someone to hate all eyes turn to Dick. Because “these are serious accusations he’s practically ruined Danny’s career!”

Tbh when all the court stuff is done I totally imagine Danny severing any and all ties to Wayne company, not because he’s petty but because it genuinely hurts to be connected to a company that belongs to his exes family

Like this is gonna destroy Danny and Dick but the media is gonna make it so much worse for them

The batfam is gonna kick themselves for honestly not digging a little deeper and interviewing a few of the kids on file before straight up turning him in, they probably think they ruined Danny’s life with these accusations

Danny probably doesn’t care that much about the company at this point, he’s just sad that the man he thought he was having a genuine relationship with turned out to be a fake and probably never loved him at all 💔

Despite the pain, Dick keeps an eye on the news, waiting for the announcement of Crowne's arrest to be announced. He went back to bed after taking some photos of the journals. He laid next to the man one that was profiting off of children.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling a sick sort of numb. Unwillingly he thought back to all the times he had had the stray thought that Crowne wasn't evil.

That the bats had it wrong. How could a man as kind and dear as he does something so horrid? Dick had allowed himself to be relived with each failed month of searching for evdidnce.

He can admit it now. He had prayed that Crowne was innocent and had conducted his investigation not nearly as through as he should have.

He had.

Crowne even keeps a record of who and where the children were sold to. The man he fallen in love with was bookkeeping his crimes as easily as he did for his company.

The following day, Crowne- he had been Danny only a few hours ago.- had made him breakfast. The same way his mother used to make for Dick, admitting with a blush that he contacted Harley Cirius to ask for the recipe.

He made his heart swell and then break in the same bite. Dick played his role through the breakfast. His face felt like plastic, the smile he sent Crowne slimly, and he all but ran out of that house.

The house that, in another life, they would have likely raise a family in.

Don't think about it. Dick hissed at himself, tears filling his eyes as he drove away. Bruce had edited out the evidence and would break in while Crowne was working to capture the record books. They would meet in Commissioner Gordon's office, where Dick would turn in his lover. Not my lover. It was never real.

If he tells himself that, maybe he will believe it.

The commissioner had been grim faced as Dick broke down in his office, speaking through wrenched sobs and broken words of the journals he had found. He didn't even need to pretend to be a sobbing mess.

Dick doesn't think he's felt this terrible in a long time. It felt worse than when he and Bruce had their fights. At least then he could also feel anger. Now, he only feels pain, grief, betyal and shattered hope. Bruce- playing the part of a worried father- rubbed his back and anchored him through the moment.

The story they went with was that a few weeks ago, Dick started to suspect that Crowne was cheating on him. After learning about his work schedule, he noticed his boyfriend was always busy with non-work business.

He brought it up with Crowne, but the other man would often dance around the subject. After a while of this, Dick had been unable to help snoop around, where he stumbled across the journals.

At first, he assumed the books were for the many children-based charities that Crowne ran and didn't think they were too important. He continues to date Crowne after not finding any cheating evidence. But Dick could not help about those strange journals or Crowne's cagey behavior about his wearabouts.

Dick had searched the children's names, only to find them all matching missing children notices. He realized what Crowne was doing and had gone straight to Bruce, freaking out.

Bruce had taken them to Gordon since the man was such a close family friend, and they were worried what Crowne would do to Dick if he learned what Dick had discovered.

Gordon had assured them that they would remain anonymous until the trial,getting the warrants and taking the necessary steps to arrest Crowne. Feeling numb, Dick had been taken back to the Wayne Manor.

Bruce fretted around him, unsure what to do with his son, who had obviously fallen for a monster. Jason and Damian tried in their own way too help too, but Dick could not feel up to any of it.

He climbs into his room, muffling his sobs into his pillow, feeling sick and wrong to his stomach. He tossed and turneduntil Crowne's voice whispered I think I love you, Dick and he as if his world was ending.

A few seconds later, he's racing into the bathroom, hurling the breakfast Crowne had made him. It swirled around in the toilet as Dick gagged and gasped, mourning what he had lost for this mission.

The sweet kind man he fell in love with was dead to him.

"The worst part," Dick thinks he confessed to Bruce between tears and throwing up. His father had come racing when Jason reported the noises coming from Dick's bathroom. "Is that I was the one who killed him."

It's been three days.

He had texted Crowne lying about going on a trip and barely responded to the messages he received in return. He hadn't gone out on patrol in days and had barely ventured out of his room.

Sleep evaded because all he dreamed about was Crowne's sweet smiles, gentle hugs, and laughing eyes. His nightmares were filled with Crowne's smug smirk, surrounded by screaming children in cages. The worst nights were when Crowne would kiss him, pushing him against the cages as children cling to Dick's legs screaming and crying in haunting tones. why? why? why? Why do you love him? Look what he's done to us! Why!? Save us!

Dick woke with his own scream trapped in his throat and his arms reaching for a man who he shouldn't want anymore.

Now he, in the present, he sat before his tv watching the News. The lights were all off, the curtains drawn tightly closed. His family worried about him, but they all agree to watch the moment by himself, if only to spare his diginty.

Gordon had sent the message that the warrents were approve and proof had been dropped off by Batman after bringing it to the hero's attention.

They would be arresting Crowne.

Dick would watch it live. See with his own eyes, and his own ears what his lies had exposed.

"Breaking news," The anchor suddenly says, staring intently into the camera. Besides her, a small window shows the familiar front entrance of Crowne's company offices. Dick clenches his fist into the blankets he has wrapped around himself. "Danny Crowne, Owner, CEO and head developer for his family company, Crowne Co. has just been arrested on accusations of human trafficking. We go live to Crowne Co Admin bulding"

The window expands to the entire screen, and Dick feels his stomach turn into horrific mini-whirl pools as various camera crew scramble for a clear view. There is a crowd of unhappy citizens being held back by the police.

Someone had leaked what crimes Crowne had done. The news had spread fast enough that he was deeply hated by the people who had once cheered onhis name.

Crowne is led out in handcuffs by two scowling police officers. His suit is rumpled, and three large bruises are forming on his face- probably due to Officer Black, whose sister was sold to human traffickers when he was a kid-but it means nothing to his expression of devastation.

He looks to be in shock, staring down at his bound hands with dead seat eyes as if he was unsure of what he was seeing. The crowd starts screaming the moment they catch sight of him. Loud curses and swears are all aimed at the man who stumbles his way into the police car.

The doors of Crowne headquarters burst open by a screaming child. Timothy Drake is held back by officers as he desperately screams for his older brother. He starts fighting with all his tiny might as a woman from CPS drags him away.

The reporting journalist for the News outlet doesn't stop speaking as Crowne is led away, looking to be sobbing into his hands as the Police drive away. Drake is thrown into another car, banging on the windows and screaming so much his voice is raw.

The two would likely never see each other again.

Dick's vision blurs with more tears.

He wishes this would have made him angry. He's good with anger. He knows his rage. This grief is consumingly painful.

She outlines the accusations against Crowne, explaining that Gotham's finest had gotten a tip from an unknown source about the possible missing children. Dick slumps into his bed ice racing down his arms and legs, leaving each limb in pins and needles.

He can't stop picturing Crowne's form hunched over in tears, glowing in those red and blue lights.

"There is a gag order on the investigation, " the woman says, mic close to her face and looking grim. "We will keep the people updated with any new information released as we wait for Crowne's trail. Back to you Susan."

The screen flashes back to the old news member, who makes one single comment of disgust for Crowne before moving on to a string of cyber attackes by a unknown hacker.

Dick stops listening due to the rining that build up in his ears. It's done. Crowne was arrested. He will be go through his trail, be found guilty and locked up for the rest of his life.

Batman, Robin, and Sparrow would be hunting down the people involved in the ring, rescuing the missing children. The story was over. The villian defeated and the heros had won.

Yet, Dick felt that he could never live to see a happily ever after. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to feel happy.

______________________________________________________

Days blend into each other. Dick isn't sure how much time passes with him lying in his room, too exhausted to get upand go about his day. His family crowds around him, speaking in low, worried tones.

Jason tries to read to him. In bursts of awareness, he discusses the plot but most days, Dick can only find the energy to only stare at him.

Damian, still trying to find his footing in the manor, brings his cat- Alfred- to cuddle against Dick's chest. He doesn't speak much but the purring of his pe helps some sensations return.

Bruce spent most of his time petting Dick's hair and whispering apologies. For the fighting. For the war, he brought him into. For making him due something that had broken Dick's heart. Dick tells him between sobs that he forgives him and that he's sorry too.

Alfred just provids support, tea and stories of his own lost broken heart.

Dick can feel himself rot around in his room but can't bring himself to care. Not even when Bruce finally panics enough to invite the Teen Titians to speak to him. His friends arrive between waves of consciousness, forcing food down his throat and pushing him into the shower.

He isn't aware of how Crowne's trial is going. Walley doesn't think it is a good idea to keep up with it, blocking it from all his outlets. He's the only one he would be allowed to do that.

It leaves Dick in the dark, and suddenly the world looks so much colder. It is hard to remember the world is still spinning outside of the Manor.

Dick closes his eyes, sinking into his mattress, drifting away among the worried chattered of his friends. Thankfully, the nightmares have stopped. The memoriess too.

All that greets him is the blissful nothing of darkness.

____________________________________________________________

"You did this." A voice hisses, snapping Dick from his blank stare at the wall. Raven and Kori had just stepped out after magically him clean and had gone to go get him food.

How many days has it been since he left his room? Dick can't remember. It's been a while; his body feels weak. His friends' and family's eyes have grown increasingly frantic in worry.

He twists his head to find a small figure in his doorway. It's not any of his younger brothers but someone dressed in all black. The bottom half of their face is covered by a black cloth, leaving their burning blue eyes alight with hatred in plain sight.

A intruder.

Dick should be worried about that, shouldn't he? He can't find the energy to be.

"He trusted you. He loved you. And you did this to him," The figure spats, striding forward, hatred dripping from his words. "They're investigating my parents too. The police think they helped Danny and took me away from them. My life is ruined because of you."

He stands over his figure now, holding a needle. Dick wonders if he's going to kill him. He can't find it in himself to care. Is that not an alarming thought?

But he doesn't feel fear. In fact, Dick can't feel anything at all. He makes no sound as the needle breaks the skin of his neck, nor when the figure leans in to whisper. "It's only fair I ruin yours in turn, right?"

Dick slowly gives into the blissful darkness as more figures enter the room, surrounding his body and lifting it off the bed. The last thing he sees is the thrown picture frame, one of the intruders throwing onto the sheets.

It holds the smiling faces of Dick and Crowne on their last date.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the adoptive son #Part 6 #tw: depression #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: human trafficking #Dick is going through it #THe Heros can't figure out how to help him #Danny is in sitting in Jail #angst #Two more parts left #Can you guess who kidnapped Dick?

1K notes · View notes

happy74827 · 2 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Sailor

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: It’s rare that dreams can turn into reality, but it isn’t impossible.

WC: 5537 (trust the process friends 🙏)

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends + Lovers, Wade POV, Mentions of the Past {TW: Self-Deprecation, Wade having insecurities, Not Proof Read}

Where are all the fics of this man? I can barely find some for him and it’s making me go crazy. Like, your honor, I love him. Gimme more.

Anyway, I figured I would write a Wade fic that’s around the same premise as my Wolverine one (since SO MANY OF YOU ate it up), so if anyone actually finds this… you’re welcome 🫶✨

『••✎••』

He was always in love with you. Always.

Wade Wilson had never been the smartest tool in the shed, the prettiest girl in the room, or even the tallest guy. In fact, he was a little bit of the opposite. He had a face only a mother could love, he was always cracking jokes at the wrong time, and his voice was too loud and too obnoxious for his own good. And while all of these traits might be endearing when it came from a handsome man with a voice as smooth as silk, the same qualities were irritating at best when it came to Wade.

He knew that. He wasn't blind. He knew he was annoying and ugly and too loud. However, there was one thing he was certain of: Wade Wilson was in love with his best friend.

Wade Wilson was not in love with just any best friend. He was in love with the only person who had been there since the beginning, the only one who had stuck with him through everything he had been through.

He was in love with you.

And you were in love with him, or so he hoped. He couldn’t tell because you were the most gorgeous, sweet, caring, thoughtful, and wonderful person on this planet, and he was none of those things.

He could barely bring himself to think of the words that could be on the tip of your tongue whenever he was around. He didn't deserve you. He was damaged.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but hope—hope that you would return his feelings, hope that maybe you felt the same way, hope that you could be more than just best friends.

Every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart would pound in his chest. He was always so close to telling you, to confessing, but then he would stop himself. It was a constant back-and-forth.

One night, after a particularly long night of kicking names and taking asses, Wade decided to visit his gal pal, and by visit, he meant to break into your house and steal your food.

So, like Krampus, if Krampus had a thing for chimichangas instead of children, Wade climbed through your bedroom window as it had been left unlocked. You had told him a thousand times to use the front door, but Wade couldn’t do that. If he did that, he would feel too normal. And as much as Wade enjoyed breaking and entering, he would be damned if he made it boring for himself.

He only wished he could stick the landing.

In his defense, he had only fallen off the window ledge by an inch or two. However, the thud that his body made when he landed on the hardwood floor of your bedroom was louder than he had anticipated, and it sounded like an explosion.

A big one, too, like someone who had a little too much Taco Bell and took a nice walk through Barnes & Noble. Oh, yes, he knows exactly what you book nerds do when you’re approaching that infamous bathroom sign.

But, regardless of his loud entrance, he jumped back up to his feet and brushed the dust off his suit before making his way to the kitchen.

The smell of vanilla wafted through the air as Wade entered the kitchen and saw nothing but cleanliness and order. He opened the cupboards and frowned at the lack of food.

This was a problem.

A major problem.

There was nothing he could eat. No tacos. No chimichangas. No candy. Not even a damn Dorito.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wade had never been so offended. He was going to have to talk to you about this. You couldn’t have a guest over and not have snacks.

He decided to call you. Maybe you could talk some sense into yourself.

You answered after the second ring.

You didn't seem surprised at all to hear his voice on the other end of the line. Wade was used to your nonchalance when it came to him and his shenanigans. He loved it.

You always kept him on his toes, and the fact that you had become desensitized to his crazy was both amusing and infuriating.

And it really worked out to his benefit tonight.

Because when he started complaining about the lack of food in your apartment, instead of telling him to get his ass back to his place and stop breaking into yours, you told him to sit tight.

That you would be right over.

And that's how Wade found himself waiting for you on your couch, his leg bouncing with anticipation as he waited for you to get here.

His heart was pounding against his rib cage as his fingers drummed a nervous beat against his thighs. He so wanted to marry you the moment you walked through the door.

He would make sure that was the first thing out of his mouth.

And when you handed him his bag of Checkers, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Wanna get married?"

He fully meant it, too—the whole shi-bang.

Till death do us part.

Till the cows come home.

Till the last dance.

And every single second after.

You played it off as one of his usual antics. One of the jokes that Wade always cracked whenever he was hungry or when you surprised him.

Of course, why would you think he was being serious? His life was a full-blown comedy, a slapstick routine that would have even the biggest comedian crying with laughter.

Wade knew that. But, for once, he wished his life became less of a joke and more of a fairy tale.

A happily ever after. If they even exist.

It seemed life always had an extra curveball for him. A twist. Something unexpected. Something that made him feel even less human.

He could never catch a break even if the closest thing he could imagine to heaven was standing in front of him.

So, with a heavy sigh, Wade took the bag of Checkers and plopped himself onto the couch, hoping to enjoy the sweet taste of victory in the form of sugar and carbs.

And then you did something that made him fall in love with you even more.

You sat next to him.

Wade didn't even try to hide the wide grin that spread across his lips as he watched you sit beside him, a smile of your own on your pretty face.

You were beautiful. So, so beautiful.

Wade had always known that. He could tell the moment he first met you. He could also see the panic, the fear, and the terror in your eyes when you saw him.

And he was hot then, too—supermodel level.

Fun fact: the reason why you two met was that Wade might have gotten the names mixed up on his gold card and had ended up at a very fancy restaurant, and, well, his idea of the target was the one serving him.

You.

It was a bit awkward.

But, after you realized he wasn’t going to murder you and that he had no idea how much a glass of water cost or how his steak was literally the size of the entire restaurant, you started talking.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

It was love at first sight. In his mind, at least. He couldn’t imagine life without you.

Wade was in deep.

And the way you were looking at him right now, a glimmer of happiness in your eyes, a soft smile of contentment on your face, and your body turned towards him, well, it made him melt.

Wade had always been a sucker for romantic movies and romance novels, and the way you looked right now was straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie.

He wanted to kiss you.

No.

He needed to kiss you. To feel your lips against his. Your hands in his. The warmth of your body. Your heartbeat.Everything.

He needed it all.

Call him a horny bastard, but you looked absolutely beautiful sitting there, eating one of his favorite fries from the bag.

Wade had always loved the little things. He loved watching you eat. He loved seeing you play with your hair. He loved it when you babbled to yourself. And, right now, you were doing the cutest thing ever.

You were holding the bag out to him, a fry halfway to your mouth, your eyes wide, and a bright smile on your face. You looked so happy.

Wade was happy, too.

"Want some?"

Nuggets. He didn’t even know Checkers had nuggets.

He hadn’t seen these bad boys since high school. And even then, they were the cheap knockoff, frozen food nuggets.

These were the good shit.

"Oh, baby, I'd take you and all your chicken nuggets to prom," Wade said as he reached forward and plucked a chicken nugget out of the bag.

He popped it into his mouth and let out a satisfied hum.

You giggled and shook your head as you pulled the bag back towards yourself and set it on your lap.

"You're a dork, Wade."

"The dorkiest."

"That's true."

You took a sip from your soda and leaned back, letting out a content sigh as you did so.

"Thanks for coming over," Wade said as he grabbed his burger and began eating.

"Well, I do live here," you replied, your eyes darting toward the bag of nuggets. "I can't really go anywhere else."

Maybe you can’t, but he can go inside your—

"I was actually thinking we could spend the night together," you continued, oblivious to the naughty thoughts running through his mind. "We haven't done that in a while."

Wade nearly choked on his burger.

He swallowed quickly and let out a small cough before grabbing his soda and downing the entire thing. For once, the liquid soothed his parched throat.

"I mean, uh, yeah, sure, totally. It'll be just like the old days. You, me, Netflix, and chilling."

He couldn't help it, okay? Flirting was just one of the many things that Wade Wilson did naturally.

Just like his regular occurrence of having 207 bones in his body.

It wasn't his fault that his words came out suggestive. He fully meant it—every word.

Every single flirtatious word that tumbled out of his mouth. Every joke that came out as a compliment. Every compliment was more of a sexual innuendo than anything.

It was who he was.

It was the only way he knew how to talk to people. Especially the person with whom he was in love.

He couldn't just go up to you and tell you that you were the most amazing person he had ever met, or that your smile was so beautiful that it made his heart skip a beat, or that he loved the way you looked at him when you were happy, or the way your voice would turn into a squeal when you laughed, or the way you would blush when he flirted with you.

He couldn't say all those things because they were cheesy and cliche, and you would think he was lying.

So, he made jokes. He made innuendos. He made you blush and giggle and roll your eyes.

Because that was the best way to get through to you.

That was the only way.

Or, at least, that's what he had thought.

Now, the truth was a bit different. The truth was that Wade was scared. Scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Scared that he would ruin everything. Scared that you would leave.

So, he flirted. And joked. And tried to act like everything was normal. Like he was still in his younger, good-looking, more handsome days. Like if he made himself delusional enough to believe he was still attractive, he could convince himself that he would always have a chance.

Because he wasn't, he was old, ugly, and damaged. And no one, not even someone as beautiful and kind and wonderful as you, would want someone who had gone through the things he had.

Who had done the things he had.

You didn’t show any signs of disgust or resentment when he showed up on your doorstep for the first time after his incident or even the next time. Or the times after that.

But Wade couldn’t help but feel like it would eventually happen, and you would eventually get tired of him that you would realize how damaged he was. How broken he was.

That he wasn’t worthy.

"Remember that party?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. You had a fond smile on your face as you looked up at the ceiling. "When you snuck into my room and convinced me to sneak out and have fun with you?"

Yes, yes, he did. He remembered it far better than you. And he knew that, even though you hadn’t said it, he knew that this was a memory he treasured more because… ironically, it was the only time you had ever done something rebellious.

You had been so shy and timid and afraid to stand up for yourself. You had always been afraid of going against the grain, of doing what other people told you to do.

Wade had always wondered why. He had always wondered what was holding you back. So, when he was able to drag you out of your shell and make you experience a night, you would never forget, well, he was a happy man.

It was also the night he realized things that he had never been aware of before. Physically things.

There was a moment he remembered vividly. The two of you were about seconds away from getting a picture taken by some drunk dude with a Polaroid camera. Wade, being the good friend he was, had wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

In that moment, he happened to glance at you when the flash went off and, well, it was a picture perfect moment.

We’re talking slow-mo, people becoming blurred background characters, a spotlight shining down on you two, his heart pounding in his chest, and butterflies flying around in his stomach.

The only thing missing was a sappy love song playing in the background.

He had always assumed that the sudden fluttering feeling in his stomach and the way his heart was pounding was due to the fact that he hated his picture being taken.

Or that he had accidentally eaten the wrong thing at the buffet.

But, as he stared at you, he started noticing every single detail. How pretty your eyes became with the extra glint of the flash. How your smile was as bright as a baby’s bare ass. How you were so oblivious to everything else except for him.

How the world suddenly became a blur, and all he could focus on was you.

How the music faded away. How he forgot how to breathe. How his heart felt like it was about to explode.

It was at that moment Wade realized, for the first time, what love was.

Wade had never been the one for grand gestures. He didn't know how to express his emotions in ways other than jokes or sarcasm. So, when it came to romance, he always preferred to keep things simple.

Like now, break-ins and food were his version of a romantic dinner.

However, when it came to the actual feelings part, the emotional part, and the vulnerable part, Wade had a hard time with that.

This was why, when you turned your attention towards him, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

"Why haven’t we ever dated?"

You blinked.

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, you responded, "You’re really affected by getting Checkers, aren't you?"

Wade could see the amusement in your eyes and he could hear the faint traces of humor in your tone, but, somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding the question.

He couldn’t tell if it was because you didn't want to answer him or if it was because you didn't know what to say.

And, for a brief moment, Wade hesitated to push you. He didn't want to make things uncomfortable. He didn't want to put you on the spot. He didn't want to scare you away.

But, then again, if there was anything Wade Wilson was good at, it was pushing people to their absolute limit.

So, he pushed.

"Skip the foreplay," he said, his voice firm and steady but not unkind. "Seriously, why have we never dated?"

Wade kept his eyes on yours, his expression serious, his body tense. He waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach churning.

You were silent for a long moment, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Because we're best friends," you answered finally, your tone matter-of-fact, almost as if you were stating a fact. "And, I… I just never thought about it.

Wade felt his heart sink. He knew that you weren’t lying. He could see it in the way your lips curled downwards, the way your eyebrows furrowed, and the way your shoulders slumped forward.

You were telling the truth.

It was a truth Wade didn’t want to hear.

He opened his mouth, prepared to apologize, to change the subject, to say something to make you laugh.

But, before he could utter a single word, you spoke again.

"Besides, it's not like you've ever been interested."

There was a hint of bitterness in your voice, a tinge of hurt in your tone.

It was a subtle reminder that Wade had a track record of being a player. A serial flirt who was never serious. A guy who flirted with every girl, who was constantly on the lookout for the next big thing.

He was the type of guy who would rather have fun than get attached. Or, at least, that's what everyone assumed.

At the tone of your voice, Wade immediately perked up, his eyes widening in surprise and his heart pounding.

The guttural laugh that escaped his lips caught you by surprise.

You flinched slightly and stared at him, your mouth agape, your eyes wide, and your expression bewildered.

"Sorry," Wade apologized quickly, his voice quiet and strained. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "But, goddamn, that’s… oh, man. You do not know how wrong you are."

"Oh, don’t even, Winston Wilson, this is not the time for your jokes," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Oh, middle names, huh? Are we there already? Because I have to say, I didn't think you were the type of girl who'd use a guy's full name to show her disappointment, but I have to admit, it's kind of hot."

Wade smirked at the annoyed look that crossed your face, but it soon faded as he realized that you didn't find the comment amusing.

Instead, you seemed to grow even more frustrated.

"Wade," you started, your voice soft and low, your tone filled with frustration and sadness, "I don’t want to get into it right now, okay? Can we please just eat our food and watch a movie or something?"

You turned away from him, focusing your attention on the bag of Checkers.

He couldn’t let you avoid this.

"Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk," he began, his voice soft and gentle, "I'm just… did you seriously never think I would want to be with you?"

You paused and turned to look at him, a confused expression on your face.

"Of course not; why would I?"

The genuine shock in your voice and the innocent look on your face nearly broke his heart.

He thought he was being the most obvious motherfucker on the planet, but apparently, you had been as blind as a bat.

"I've been flirting with you for years," he reminded you. "I've been complimenting you, and asking you to hang out, and giving you gifts, and—"

"That's just what you do, Wade," you interrupted, shaking your head. "That's what you do to all girls. You flirt with them. You ask them out. You do the whole charming and funny routine. I’m sure if you knew their addresses, you would break in too."

Okay, ouch.

You weren't exactly wrong, but still, that kind of stung.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he insisted, his voice growing louder, his tone firm.

"What are you talking about, then?"

"I'm talking about you, okay? You’re like the Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Or, if I'm being completely honest, you're like chimichangas and tacos, and not just because they're both delicious, but because, let's face it, I'm addicted to you."

Your expression remained neutral, your eyes still boring into his.

"You're my best friend," he continued, his voice growing softer, his tone gentler, "and, yeah, maybe I used to flirt with other girls a lot, but I don't care about them. I don't even really know them. And, besides, none of them would be able to look me in the eyes right now, the way you are."

"Don’t start with that," you mumbled, averting your gaze and looking down at the floor.

"Start with what?"

"Being self-deprecating."

"It's not self-deprecating," he said, his tone growing defensive. His whole confession was momentarily forgotten. "It's true. I am a walking nightmare, and not just because I look like Freddy Krueger and Leatherface had a baby, but also because I've killed more people than I've seen naked."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't seen you naked," you retorted, a playful smirk forming on your lips.

"Hey, don't tease me. I'm already emotionally vulnerable enough."

You snorted, but your grin was soft and warm.

"Okay, sorry," you said, your tone apologetic, your expression serious, "but, seriously, though, you’re not a nightmare. Not to me. I mean, sure, you look like a melted wax figurine, and your personality is like a mix between a hyperactive 10-year-old and a 70-year-old alcoholic, but, you know, I don't mind."

"Oh, you're too kind."

"My point is, it doesn't bother me, Wade," you assured him. "And it never will."

"Even if it does," he said, his voice quiet, his tone low, "it won't change the way I feel about you."

Your expression softened, the playfulness fading from your eyes. You looked about ready to let out some tears, but Wade had a feeling that they weren’t because you were sad.

"Did you really think that all this time?" you asked, the softness in your tone making his chest tighten. "You wanted to date me?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Yeah," he answered, his tone casual, "you’re hot, toots. Even hotter than me in my prime."

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile on your face. "I don’t know, Wade. The suit does you justice."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of telling me that my ass looks good in this thing?"

"Oh, Wade, I don't need to tell you that," you replied, smirking. "You know how amazing your ass is."

You’re right. Captain America had nothing on him.

He let out a deep breath, his eyes fixed on yours. He was silent for a long moment, just taking in your appearance.

You didn’t change much from that day at the party. Maybe your facial features matured a little, and maybe your body grew a little more, but besides that, you looked the same.

The only difference was the look you gave him. The softness of your eyes. The affection in your expression. The gentleness of your smile.

It was the same look he constantly gave you when he thought you weren’t looking.

It was the look of someone who cared deeply for you. Someone who cherished you. Who wanted to make you happy. Who wanted to be by your side forever.

Someone who loved you.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we kissed that night?"

He didn’t expect you to know exactly what he was talking about. Random question and all that. But, you surprised him once again.

"Why didn’t you?"

The question caught him off guard.

He was used to the playful banter, the light teasing, the random flirting. He wasn’t used to you being so forward. So blunt.

He was the blunt one. You were stealing his thunder.

"I was a cowardly bitch."

His honesty surprised both of you. He didn’t even plan on saying that. It was just the first thing that popped into his head.

It was true, though.

"Are you still a cowardly bitch?"

"I think so," he said slowly, "I think the main difference is, now I'm a cowardly bitch that knows what he wants."

He saw the way your cheeks reddened, the way you avoided his gaze, and the way you shifted your weight from side to side.

Wade Wilson may not be good at emotions, but he knew what those signs meant.

He was making you nervous.

He couldn’t help the small grin that spread across his face. He liked that. He liked that he made you nervous. That he made you blush. That he could make you flustered.

And, most of all, he liked that he was able to make you feel that way.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman was that shy and timid around him. Most of the girls he met were bold, confident, and loud… just like him.

He preferred your type, though. Sometimes, he even needs a break from his own obnoxiousness.

"So," he started, his tone casual, his posture relaxed, "you chill with the idea of ruining a perfectly good friendship and getting in a relationship with me? A crazy, scarred, murderous man who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut?"

He watched you take a deep breath, your eyes focused on his, a faint smile on your face.

"I'll consider it," you responded, your tone playful, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "but you have to answer one question first."

"Oh, a quiz? Can we have a prize for the winner?"

You chuckled.

"What's the question?"

You smiled.

"When you said that you've killed more people than you've seen naked, was that true?"

"Yes." He answered without hesitation. Something told him that lying was not an option here.

"And, when you said that the suit does me justice," he started, his tone casual, his eyes bright, and his smile mischievous, "was that your way of telling me that you want to see me naked?"

"You wish, Wilson."

"You're right. I do."

He didn't mean to sound so sincere, but, damn, the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Wade watched as you smiled and turned your attention toward the bag of Checkers momentarily, and, for a split second, Wade worried that he had taken things too far. That he had scared you away.

He shouldn't have been worried.

Because, when you moved the bag to the table and stood up, his eyes immediately focused on the way your lips were twisted into a smirk and the way your eyes were locked on his.

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t need to. He was already nodding along for whatever plan was formulating in that pretty little head of yours.

And, when you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close and leaning in close, it was like he was back at that party.

It was the same feeling.

The nervousness. The anticipation. The excitement. The anxiety. The giddiness. The rush.

Everything was the same, except this time, it was actually happening. And, he was sober.

As you pulled him in, he leaned forward and closed the distance between you, kissing you slowly, his eyes closed, his hands on your hips, and his lips pressed against yours. The mask that had been halfway covering his face was now tossed aside by him to indulge in the kiss fully.

It was better than he could have ever imagined.

You were better than he could have ever imagined.

But then, his insecurities kicked in, and the reality of the situation hit him. In his mind, he had imagined this moment with his younger, healthier self. The buffed-out arms, the clear skin, the perfect jawline. He still had that scruff of a beard in his mind, and the outlines of his eyebrows did not melt completely.

But, when he felt your lips against his, and the softness of your touch, the warmth of your body, the taste of your tongue, he was reminded that you didn’t picture him as he once was.

You were seeing him as he was now. Hairless, deformed, scarred, a hot mess, and a complete disaster. And you were still kissing him. You were still touching him. You were still here.

It was better than anything his imagination could conjure up.

Because, for once, reality was better than fantasy. For once, he realized that maybe his face wasn’t a face only a mother could love and that maybe his looks weren't a dealbreaker for a certain somebody.

You broke the kiss and pulled away, staring at him, your face inches away from his. He stared at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He was searching, trying to read you, trying to figure out what was going through your mind. See if you had those second thoughts. If you regret this.

All he found, though, was that pretty little smile of yours. The one that made his heart skip a beat. The one that made him smile back.

"Well," you started, your eyes sparkling with mischief, "if it's any consolation, Wade, I think our friendship was pretty fucked the minute I decided to give you my number."

He raised an eyebrow, a grin forming on his lips.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded, biting your lip and leaning in close. Your hand reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking the skin softly. He shuddered. "I should've known the minute I decided to become friends with a guy who would willingly call himself Deadpool that it was a done deal."

He smirked, his fingers dancing across the small of your back.

"I'll try not to feel too offended by that."

"Trust me, you shouldn't," you murmured, your hand sliding down from his face to his shoulder, resting there. "It's not a bad thing, really. I mean, it's pretty awesome to have a friend who can take a bullet for you."

He smiled.

"Damn right, baby girl."

Your hand slid down from his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm, until you were grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"But, Wade," you continued, squeezing his hand lightly, your eyes focused on his, a frown on your face, "you have to promise me something."

"Anything," he replied instantly.

You hesitated.

"Promise me," you started, your voice firm, your expression serious, "you’ll start to see yourself as I do."

Wade blinked, surprised.

That was not what he was expecting.

"You have a crush on my scars?"

He couldn't resist. He had to crack a joke. He was nervous. When wasn’t he cracking a joke?

He was also confused, but, hey, the joke was funnier.

"No," you replied, rolling your eyes, a faint smile on your face, "but I see past the scars."

"And, the crazy?"

"That too."

"And, the murderous tendencies?"

"Yes, Wade, everything," you answered, grinning, your eyes bright. "I see all of it, and it’s about damn time you do too."

"Yeah," he breathed out, "well, it's not as easy as you make it seem."

"Nothing is, Wilson."

You stared at him, the softness in your eyes, the gentleness in your smile, the affection in your voice.

He couldn't believe it.

But he couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face, the warmth that filled his chest, or the butterflies in his stomach.

"I'll try."

For one of the rarest times in his life, Wade’s tone was completely sincere. Not a hint of humor or sarcasm. Just pure honesty.

And, judging by the way your face lit up and the way you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close, hugging him tightly, you appreciated his sincerity.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, your eyes closing.

"Good," you whispered. "That's all I ask."

His arms wrapped around you and held you close, his fingers running through your hair, his nose buried in your neck. He took in your scent, letting it fill his nostrils, his senses.

And, for once, everything was quiet. Everything was calm. Everything was perfect.

He didn't feel the need to crack a joke. To make a comment. To ruin the moment. He didn't want to. He just wanted to sit there and hold you, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

He was content.

And he was happy.

Happy that you were with him.

And, most of all, he was grateful that he broke into your apartment and made himself comfortable on your couch.

659 notes · View notes

qwimblenorrisstan · 24 days ago

Text

Trophy | 141 x Reader

Day 15: Fantasy AU w/ Task Force 141

Summary: When the MacTavish Clan raids a neighboring clan who grew a bit too bold, they don’t expect to find the feisty, beaten wife of the other clan’s chief.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Violence, blood, implied abuse, death, implied rape, kidnapping

A/N: well this was supposed to be fluff, but I hope you enjoy regardless, lmk what you think<3

Requests are open!

The MacTavish Clan had been preparing for a raid on a neighboring clan that kept pushing boundaries, with local women disappearing into the night with no explanation at all, weapons disappearing, and footsteps discovered that weren’t of the style of shoe anyone within the clan wore, and that was among the less suspicious things.

The most talented and local blacksmith, Simon, known for his welding mask in a skull shape, had been honing the weapons for it.

Johnny, the leader of the Clan, had been discussing plans with Price, the leader of their men, and Gaz, his advisor. The general idea was simple, keep it undercover as long as possible, or until signs of their missing women and supplies were found, then they would go loud, letting every other man flood in.

Plunder what they could from the Gravison Clan, take their resources, and lives, and maybe take a few women from them in retaliation.

A few hours later, things were progressing smoothly, Price having infiltrated their walls under the cover of darkness, most men settling down for the night already, when the warlord discovered just what he’d been expecting in a large boat just offshore: the women of the MacTavish Clan bound and gagged in the storage compartment in the bottom.

One flaming arrow was shot into the sky, and just like that, every man from the Clan was flooding the Gravison Clan’s walls and defenses, slaughtering everyone they found save for the women and children, hunting down their leader, going through every house and home, Johnny wanting the kill for himself.

When he finally found the man, cowering inside a large home, he slit his throat after distributing more than a few hits to his body, and more than a few barked insults and curses at him.

The man’s head was soon put on a pike to be displayed, a sign of warning.

But what he hadn’t expected to find was a feisty woman, the wife of the Gravison Clan’s leader, fighting more than even her husband had, yelling and hissing and cursing at Johnny as he grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder even as she kicked and clawed, nails drawing a bit of blood. It wasn’t often he took a prize from his battles, but you were intriguing, he’d never seen a woman with so much fight.

“Quit yer yappin’, woman.”

He grumbled as you pounded at his back, cursing him out so severely that the Devil himself would blush. The smell of smoke was thick in the air as huts and buildings were burned, leaving behind ashy remnants of what had been of the Clan.

Burnt bones crunched beneath his feet as he walked back to what had been of the gates, approaching his short, sturdy horse, hopping on in one smooth movement, one hand gathering both reigns as Price joined him on his own horse, following as Johnny took point back to the MacTavish Clan’s lands.

His warlord only raised a brow at the yelling woman thrown over his shoulder but didn’t question it, the ride silent back to their lands as your throat eventually grew too raw to keep screaming, body shivering from the cold and the exhaustion quickly seeping deep into your bones. Whether you had fallen asleep or passed out was lost on him, but he didn’t care either way, Price only spoke once he was sure your breathing had fallen into a deeper rhythm indicating unconsciousness.

“Didn’t take you as one to take a prize mare.”

Price commented, carefully eying his Chief, trying to read his mood based on the little tells. Johnny shrugged.

“Not a prize mare, just felt different about this one.”

And that was that. The conversation had ended, Price only giving a little grunt in return before they continued on the path home.

When they finally arrived, they had plenty of work to do.

When you woke, you first registered the pounding headache between your eyes, the loud sounds outside of work being done, people shouting, wood being sawed, and metal being hammered, only adding to your discomfort.

You tried to sit up, quietly groaning, leaning against the wall behind you.

It was a wonder you weren’t dead yet, honestly. But maybe that was part of their game, maybe they would just give you a glimmer of hope only to slaughter you like cattle, or turn you into a sex slave, or just an object to take their anger out on. It wouldn’t surprise you.

Your clothes had been changed. From the thin nightgown you’d worn the night earlier, now to a thin white smock, a strap dress sewn together at the sides hanging nearby.

Splotchy bruises were spread across your skin from the night earlier, though you couldn’t tell if they were from the other Chief, or your husband’s hands nights ago. They felt tender when you brushed a hand against them as if someone had rubbed against them.

You were in what seemed to be a separate section of a longhouse, a lit torch burning mildly as it hung from the mud and stone walls. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that still prevailed in the room, just as you heard a door creak, scrambling away as a man with honey-brown skin and short, tightly curled hair stepped in.

“Easy, I’m not here to hurt you.”

He said, offering a small smile that would’ve been reassuring in any other predicament. There was a platter in his hands, looking as if it was made of terracotta, a small roasted bird resting on it as he stepped further in, shutting the door behind him.

You watched warily as he set the plate down on one end of the bed you were in, moving to lean against a wall opposite the bed. He watched as you slowly picked the plate up, glancing at the food, before pulling the wing part off with cracked nails, taking a bite, and reluctantly deciding it was delicious.

“I’m Kyle, but everyone calls me Gaz. You are..?”

You looked him dead in the eye, chewing your bite of food, dead stare unnerving him slightly, before you swallowed, a flicker of pain in your eyes from how your throat ached until you finally responded.

“Y/N.”

You croaked out, and he nodded, but frowned slightly, giving you a glance over, before his gaze went back to your face.

“I'll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to be so docile, considering you just watched your husband die by our Chief’s hand—“

“Good.”

Your raspy voice interrupted, eyes boring into his as you took another bite of the meat, and you watched his brows furrow for a moment. You shifted in the bed slightly, moving to pull your knees to your chest, plate balancing on your knee as the smock was pulled up slightly, showcasing one of the nastier bruises on your thigh.

His eyes darted to the bruises, quickly piecing things together as he carefully spoke his next few words.

“Your husband wasn’t a good man, was he?”

You shook your head, and he gave a little thoughtful nod, getting up, opening the door, walking out, closing it while muttering to himself. You managed to hear only a quiet,

“Bloody hell,”

Tags:

@hawke1917

@flufftober

333 notes · View notes

leviathanleva · 7 months ago

Text

Father

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Request:

This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-

Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)

........................

[3.2k words]

[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]

[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]

........................

Freedom.

Freedom was sweet.

Freedom was bitter.

Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.

You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.

And trouble you found.

Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?

Then he appeared, your guardian angel.

A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.

You loved him since that day.

And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.

You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.

Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.

That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.

When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.

You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.

A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.

Something in him changed after that night.

It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.

Life was good.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.

Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.

“You okay?”

Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.

“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.

When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.

“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”

You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.

“That’s not it, Cooper.”

“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.

You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.

“Pregnant.”

It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.

You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.

“What in the hell…”

You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.

He was having none of it.

He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.

“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.

“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”

Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.

“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”

“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”

He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.

“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”

He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.

A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.

He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.

It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.

Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?

Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?

“Is not fucking possible, Sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.

Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.

“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”

His body moves despite his protests.

He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.

“What do you wanna do?”

It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”

You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.

But did you really want that?

It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.

No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.

“I think – ”

“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.

Maybe even a father.

You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.

“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”

He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.

You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.

The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.

“Four months.”

You’d only been out of cryo for three…

He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.

You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.

You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.

It wasn’t his child.

You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…

You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.

There was nothing though.

He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.

“That don’t change a damn thing.”

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fallout #x reader

552 notes · View notes

literaila · 8 months ago

Text

a walk

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you, satoru, and the children stumble upon a curse during your walk

warnings: a curse, info on reader's ct, satoru is annoying

last part | next part

year five.

your glare aimed at satoru is almost instinctive at this point.

and so is the wall you’ve put in front of the children, a glowing white only you (and satoru) can see.

your muscles tense automatically, and you make eye contact with the curse standing in front of you.

the mesh of flesh and bone curse, staring at you and your family like you're a meal, hot and ready for the taking.

"want some," it says, taking a step towards you, "want some?"

honestly, you're sick and tired of the weird things they all say. but before you can gesture at satoru--seriously, is he going to just stand there?--it's gone, in just an instant.

and great. now you're going to have to go look for it. you doubt it'd prove a challenge for you, or satoru, obviously, but still. you're supposed to be taking a walk. hanging out.

and it's just started raining, which is also probably satoru's fault.

your glare increases, and the two kids watch the two of you as you stare silently at each other.

you can feel it when tsumiki pushes at your barrier like she's testing something, and you almost smile.

but then you remember exactly why it’s there in the first place.

“satoru…” you say, in warning, in indignation, in ‘i’m going to kick your ass as soon as i deal with this.’

“what?!” he gasps, looking at you, and he’s already smiling guiltily. “i didn’t do anything. i don’t create curses.”

his hands are raised in defense and he's taken several steps away from you.

good, he should know his place.

“oh, right, what’s the one benefit of the six eyes?” you ask, dryly, still much too close to him. “sensing the curses,” you grind out, an evil look on your face.

you don't even care that he didn't immediately exorcise it. it's more that he's acting like an idiot, like a regular civilian with no ulterior motives--

satoru waves a hand, nonchalant. “so i missed one.”

“we both know that you knew it was there.”

“um, actually,” satoru looks towards the kids—still entrapped in your cage—with a grin. “we both don’t know that.”

“i’m seriously going to—“

“there’s a lot of things to sense,” he argues, crossing his arms. his voice is boisterous, completely irritating. "not like you would know. it takes a lot of work to—“

“okay, you can go," you snap, almost eye to eye with him (minus the blindfold that is doing nothing for him). his hair is also ridiculous, dripping from the rain. he looks like a drooping dandelion.

you should leave him outside until he freezes.

“what?”

“shoo,” you tell him, waving a hand. “take the kids and go home. i’ll deal with it.”

“how is that fair?”

“it’s fair because i’ll be beating up a curse instead of you.”

“please," satoru scoffs, shaking his head at you.

you roll your eyes. “and i can’t teleport, you idiot. take them, please. i don’t want tsumiki to get hurt.”

you both look at them, standing there watching you, and megumi is shaking his head. you sigh. if only you could limit the sound within your objects.

you already know what this is going to start up again--

“i don’t think megumi wants that,” satoru tells you, leaning in and smiling. his face is so close to yours that you can see the air he breathes.

“do you want me to hit you?”

satoru only looks at you, his face completely unbearable. he's obviously already won this argument, because you're terrible at denying megumi anything--which he knows--and you realize, suddenly, that he probably planned this.

seriously, he needs to be banned from existence.

“where’s the curse?” you ask him, voice low.

satoru’s grin widens, and he doesn’t even pretend to look around. “hiding about a block away.”

you release your technique, both of the kids immediately fall against nothing but air. tsumiki laughs at the rain that suddenly hits her, and megumi watches the two of you closely.

you don’t look at them though, your eyes are only on satoru.

there’s a tug at your side, a pull of your shirt. “can i stay?” megumi asks, his head brushing against your arm.

he must've learned that pleading look from satoru because it immediately dissolves your anger. you don't even think, about to give in, and then--

“what a wonderful idea,” satoru says. “some light practice.”

that calm disappears. on instinct, you answer. “no. go home with gojo and tsumiki. i’ve got it, bud.”

tsumiki is looking around. she understands what curses are—and to the shock of everyone, she can see them—but unlike the rest of you, she has no natural defense from them.

which means that satoru needs to hurry up and get her out of there. not to mention the fact that she doesn't like your job, and she doesn't really understand the way curses operate.

and also, she's a bit skittish.

“but you don’t know where it went,” megumi argues, his voice almost whiny, soft, and pitched. your brow furrows.

finally, you lose satoru’s gaze and look down at him. “i can see, megumi. i know how to look for curses.”

“hide and seek with a curse?” satoru chuckles, patting your head. you don't get the chance to slap his hand away before he takes a step back.

you glare at him again, matching his obvious satisfaction.

“my dogs can find it,” megumi says. “i want to help.”

“no, megumi. we don’t even know how strong it is or what it can—“

“grade three,” satoru answers, automatically. “it can camouflage, but it shouldn’t be an issue with your traps and the demon dogs.”

you turn towards him, eye twitching.

satoru nods, knowingly. “oh, yeah, my eyes are good now. i think i just needed to adjust to the rain.”

“satoru, i swear—“

“i better take tsumiki home,” he looks towards her. “ready, kid?”

tsumiki barely has the chance to nod before they're both gone.

you can hear satoru’s distant “good luck!”

every single nerve in your body is automatically on edge, ready to attack him--even though he's literally gone.

and you would stomp your foot on the ground and throw a tantrum like a literal child except…

your child is standing right there and there’s a curse roaming around. you don't want megumi here in the first place, and you definitely don't want him lingering around while the curse reeks havoc on who knows what.

you swallow—preparing a million different punishments for satoru in your head—then look at megumi, immediately softening.

“i can call satoru to come and get you,” you tell him, gently, trying not to plead. “really. you don’t need to worry about this.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “why can’t i practice?”

“because… you’re only eleven, kid. you don’t need to practice. when you’re ready for high school—“

“i want to help.”

you sigh, nodding. of course he does. really, he was raised by two complete masochists with superpowers. he's watched you and satoru fight over responsibility for four years, learning about burdens from the champions of keeping them.

what more can you expect?

you would sit there and argue for a little longer. try to convince him that jujutsu isn’t a fun hobby to take part in, not something to mess around with—but, again, there’s a grade-three curse somewhere out there. and it’s raining.

you're already a bit cold, and you want to get home as soon as possible so satoru doesn't get too comfortable.

“okay,” you tell him, giving him a small smile. he looks silly with his hair dripping down his face, eyes widening in success. “go ahead.”

megumi nods, flexing his hands. then he looks back up at you, taking a step back. and then he does it again.

he repeats this process several times, preparing for something... you guess.

it's a bad enough reminder that you have no clue what satoru's telling him when they go off on their own, acting like the reckless little boys that they are.

and you’re just about to tell him not to be nervous when he folds his hands together and whispers “demon dogs.”

you could try to act unimpressed, but it’s pointless.

really, the shadows responding instantly are amazing. in a single second, there are two puppies there, appearing from nothing more than thin air.

and you know a lot about summoning, but you've never managed to bring anything to life. walls are entirely boring, you decide, looking at megumi's pets.

isn't there a saying about your children succeeding you?

“go on,” megumi tells both of the puppies, fortunately missing your astonished look, patting the black one’s head. “find it.”

the two dogs respond with succinct barks, and then they’re gone, tails wagging as they listen to megumi's command.

you wonder if you're going to have to give them both a bath later. you already know satoru will be complaining about the smell of wet dog.

you turn to megumi with a smile, tilting your head. “now we follow them?”

“yeah,” he takes a step forward. “this way.”

you follow after megumi, trying to remind yourself that satoru has taught him about this--that he'll be fine, even if the curse does show up, because you're there. but it's difficult. your entire body is on high alert.

you haven't felt this tense around a curse since you were fifteen.

megumi, as if sensing this, speaks up suddenly. “do you think i’m weak?”

you look towards him with wide eyes. “what?”

megumi continues to walk forward, seeming to listen to soundless signals from his shikigami. he doesn't look back at you.

“is that why you don’t want me to practice my technique? because you think i’ll get hurt?”

your face falls, guilt seeping through your body immediately. stupid satoru and his impulsive decisions. this is his fault too.

“oh, megumi, no. of course not.”

“then why?" he asks, turning to look at you, his face is stern, comprehensive. "gojo thinks i’m ready.”

you sigh, looking around a corner. this district is completely empty. if you weren't so distracted by satoru and his stupid smiles, you would've noticed the vibe around here earlier. you should've sensed the curse before it could come face to face with you, at least.

you swallow, shaking your head. “it’s got nothing to do with you, megs.”

he looks at you skeptically.

“really," you blow a breath out. "i think… your shikigami are very impressive. it’s just that you’re still a kid,” you shrug. “i don’t think you should get involved in jujutsu before you have to.”

“but i want to.”

you'd like to tell him about all of the things that you want. all of the things you know you can't have, because they don't make sense. because they're not meant for you.

but then, you know, that this is meant for him. that he was born with a purpose, jujutsu or not.

and clearly, he's powerful. at eleven he's got shikigami that listen to his every command. shikigami that would die to protect him.

and two parents who would do the exact same.

still, he's your little boy. he's still so young, still so vulnerable. and, yes, you know that you can't keep him away from your curse-filled world forever. you know that megumi should be making these decisions for himself.

but is it so wrong to want him to stay small and yours? to want to freeze time to keep both of your children protected from everything possible?

“i know—i know. it’s…” you give him a small smile, bizarrely proud of him all of the sudden. his tenacity, his strength. his willingness to ask you this in the first place. “it’s about me, really." you look away from him, sniffing in the rain.

megumi is lingering at your side now, walking right next to you. you wonder if he's cold. you should've grabbed an extra jacket or an umbrella.

"when i was your age," you continue, eventually. "i didn’t want to be a sorcerer, and, obviously, i didn’t have a choice. so i guess i just… don’t want to push you into it.”

“you’re not,” megumi says, automatically, frowning. “why not?”

“hmm?”

“why didn’t you want to use jujutsu?”

you smirk at him a little, a bittersweet feeling filling you, shaking your head. “my technique isn’t as cool as yours, you know.”

“it’s cool,” he argues, but then he looks away.

because you both know that he doesn't really understand how your technique works--not his fault, of course, but yours. you've been hesitant to tell him about it. it's not as easy to show as satoru's, and not as useful.

still, maybe if...

you hold your hand out towards him. “try it,” you tell him, gesturing down.

megumi furrows his brows but does as you say, reaching his hand toward yours.

and when his hand is pushed back, kept away from your skin, he frowns. he tries it again, stopping in his tracks. you both pause there, standing in the rain. it doesn’t work, so he does it again.

and then you release the barrier, grabbing his hand with a grin. it must startle him because he jumps. “see?”

megumi purses his lips, looking up at you. “like gojo?”

“sort of. it’s more stationary, and it can’t stop any cursed techniques. your dogs could probably get through it if i was tired enough.”

megumi looks down at your intertwined hands, still frowning. you squeeze his tiny hand in yours, feeling your system relax.

he hasn't let go yet, so neither do you.

“when i was a kid, i couldn’t control it. someone would try to grab my hand,” you say, swinging his, “and they couldn’t. i thought something was wrong with me.”

“oh.”

you take a step into him, dragging him along as you resume walking. “that’s why i didn’t want to be a sorcerer. i thought it was… bad.”

megumi looks up at you, eyes contemplative. “that’s why you left home?”

a bit of a euphemism, but you shrug. megumi doesn’t need to know the gory details of being tossed out on the street with nothing but a jacket and some shoes.

“yup.”

he looks away, nodding.

you're less worried about the curse now. he's close enough that you'll keep him safe, and you're assuming that his dogs haven't seen any sign of it yet.

“i'm always gonna be worried about you going on missions,” you tell him, a bit softer now. completely serious. “but not because i think you’re powerless, or anything of the sort.”

“really?”

you laugh, shaking your head at him.

you really do adore him. it's a shocking feeling, a strange love you wouldn't trade for anything.

your children might be your greatest gift.

“if you ask me, megumi, and don’t tell him i said this, but i think you’ll rival satoru for strength someday.”

he looks up at you, his lip twitching.

“you might even beat him,” you add.

he’s about to say something when he stops, looking forward again. one of his dogs trails up to him, panting softly.

megumi looks down, silently communicating with the puppy, and then he gestures his head to the left. “this way,” megumi says, looking around. and this time, you just let him lead.

you'll keep him safe, you know, and he probably doesn't need your help anyway.

"so, how'd it go?" satoru asks, as soon as the two of you walk through the door.

you know he's been waiting there the whole time, probably trying to resist the urge to text and make sure that you were both doing okay.

he's overbearing and completely stupid.

and his smile is very telling, just a bit hesitant.

"mom says that i'm better than you," megumi says as he walks past him, making sure to shake his hair out onto satoru's pants.

the man's jaw drops, looking at you.

"what?" you say to him, shrugging. "i wasn't gonna lie to him."

next part | series masterlist

674 notes · View notes

iloveavatar · 2 years ago

Text

a mothers instinct

neteyam x fem! reader

this is when the reader and neteyam are kids! also this is just something short (hopefully people are ok with that)

neteyam was always a wonderful kid.

the type of kid to always be happy about anything and everything.

neytiri never had an issue with her eldest. he has always laughing at something she did or something jake said that he found absolutely hilarious.

neytiri soon realized that neteyam was curious about the forest animals.

how they grew, what they looked like, how they responded to na’vi, etc.

he asked her if they could look for a specific type of thing in the forest. except neytiri had an issue… seeing as the one thing he wanted to go find was in fact not an animal.

he wanted to find another na’vi.

neytiri tried explaining to him that the na’vi children weren’t just hiding in the forest.

but neteyam insisted they go look.

he wanted to find another na’vi.

one by the name of y/n.

neytiri was quite confused as to who y/n was. however she still followed her eldest child deep into the forest where he was leading her.

they soon stopped at a small tree.

the tree was slightly glowing, the leaves were different shades of green and blue. the height of the plant was just tall enough where the top reached neytiris waist.

neteyams little tail was flickering back and forth in anticipation. his eyes darting around with hope of seeing his new friend.

“neteyam why have we stopped? there’s nothing here honey?” neytiri questioned with a confused look on her face.

“this is where y/n told me to meet her! she’s super pretty, just wait mom!” he excitedly said, slightly bouncing with joy.

neytiri decided to try and listen for any footsteps approaching. she heard a small stick break near the two of them.

her ears twitched at the sound.

she slowly got into a defensive position to protect her son.

however she couldn’t protect her son, seeing as neteyam was running away from her arms towards the sound.

“neteyam!” she whispered-yelled

“mama! mama! it’s y/n i see her!” he yelled with a smile on his little face.

neytiri followed her son to where she spotted another young na’vi.

however the young little girl was sniffling.

“y/n? are you ok? why are you sad?” neteyam worriedly asked. he ran around her to get a good look at her face properly.

“…neteyam? i thought you didn’t come?” she asked with tears in her big round eyes.

“what? of course i would come! why wouldn’t i?” he asked

“you weren’t at the tree… and i-i thought you forgot about me so i went to leave. b-but then i tripped and now my foot hurts.” she explains showing him how her ankle was swollen.

neytiri stepped around to face to pair.

y/n gasped.

“y-you’re neytiri! you fought against the scary sky people!” y/n said astonished. her jaw was dropped.

neytiri chuckled at the girls expression. she soon stopped laughing once she saw the damage her little foot had taken. her ankle was quite swollen.

neytiri had her mother instincts kick in and squatted down to get a proper look at the ankle.

“mom? what should we do about her foot? is she gonna be ok?” neteyam questioned nervously, seeing as he was anxious about his friends injury.

“she will be once we get her to your grandmother.” she said with a small smile on her face.

neytiri then picked up y/n and placed her on her back.

“let’s go get your foot fixed up so you two can play yeah?” she asked as she started to walk home.

neteyam led the way all the way back to his grandmothers tent.

the entire walk back to the village(?) neteyam and y/n ranted about all of the things they want to do. they talked about how they were going to swim, find different plants, eventually ride ikrans, all the way to what they wanted to become when they were older.

neytiri listened to the two of them with a smile on her face.

she was glad neteyam found a friend.

especially one who was as adventurous as him.

neytiri over the years witnessed how neteyam and y/n became closer than ever to one another.

neytiri realized the longing looks the two would send each other. the worry that they had whenever the other would go somewhere. the smiles they would send each other.

she noticed it all.

she even noticed the love in their eyes as they grew older and wiser.

her mother instincts were always right.

and a mother always knows best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

enjoy guys! i’m so sorry i’m always slow with posting.

please send requests!!

~S!

#avatar #the way of water #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam #neytiri #neteyam fluff #iloveavatar

3K notes · View notes

stillpanicking · 10 months ago

Text

The True Heir

Okay, if you watch to catch up to this AU, (Which I am writing a story for), look at this link and look back at it's many reblogs. LINK.

The main jest, Jack Fenton is the supposed dead son of Ra al Ghul. He, with the help of his love, Maddie, faked his death and ran away from the LOA. The two went to university and continued on with their lives studying the Occult and raising their kids. Away from the LOA of course.

Jack always made his clothing with extra weight to ensure his steps are always heard, and dub him, a bumbling fool to many. He does get a kick out of it whenever his kids groan in annoyance or look at him fondly, being proud that he's their dad.

He and Maddie have taught their children self-defense and how to take care of themselves. In the possible event that their past will come back to haunt them. When they found out that Danny became Phantom, his fighting style (@hdgnj, heheheh) was a dead gave away. They didn't say anything. They wanted their kids to come clean with them.

Jack started to create weapons and items he hopes will help his kids and their friends in their adventures. The Booo-merang was created with the intention of always finding Danny if... something were to happen.

Move forward a bit...

The family and team Phantom are in Gotham for a Ghost Convention. Talia see's Danny and has a flashback to her supposedly dead brother... Talia found out that her brother is alive.

The true heir of the League of Assassins.

That's where things get interesting for one Damian Wayne. If Jack is the true heir.... what does that make him? Who will take over if Jack is well... indisposed? Does he even have heirs?

Here comes one Jasmine Fenton... Oh, a seemingly normal looking human right? Right? No.... no, no, no....

If there is someone that all ghosts fears, the Ghost King's sister and the one that promised to always look after him. The Flaming Knight, the protector of one, Ghost King Danny Phantom.

Even if one manages to get past Jazz, they have the Ghost King to deal with...

Jazz Fenton is the true heir. Just don't mention this to Dan or Danni, the two are extremely protective of her.

-----------

If you wish to talk more about this au, I have a discord link pinned on my profile. Go check it out!

I am still accepting One-Shot requests if anyone is interested! 81 follower??? In such a short amount of time! I am so happy and grateful for all of you!

#danny phantom #dcxdp #dp crossover #dpxdc #jack fenton #dc x dp #crossover #you're alive brother #au #jazz fenton #the true heir

774 notes · View notes

libraryraccoon · 9 months ago

Note

I was wondering how a Dazai!Reader from BSD (preferably 15 year old Dazai) would interact with the HH crew

Btw, I love your stuff sm, have a lovely day if you see this!

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Info : I haven't watched BSD for a long time, so it's probably wrong/inaccurate, sorry. Reader have 15 years old.

Message fom Raccoon : What ? Dad!Lucifer ? Dad!Alastor ? Okay, take that Dad!Husk !

TW : Suicide (mentionned); SH (mentionned)

General Headcanon

Finally.

After all this years of trying, after all this attempts, you were finally dead !

And what do we do when we have achieved such a feat ? We drink until the morning !

As you drank, you recounted your feat of finally dying to the bartender, some sort of cat-bird demon.

He gave you a judgmental look when you told him you were 15 and died of suicide.

But you were used to it, people often judge you while you were alive and was trying every second to die.

After a few hours, you were drunk and followed the bartender back to his place, a small apartment in a quiet corner of Hell.

You shouldn't follow someone to their home, you know that, but for your defense, you were drunk and he was a cat. And you have a weakness for cats.

Two things making it impossible to refuse his invitation.

And, if anything ever went wrong, you always had your gun with you, which had appeared at the same time as you in Hell.

The bartender's name was Husk and he kind of adopted you ? You weren't even sure if one sinner could adopt another sinner.

Life was calm with Husk, and you somehow helped him with his work.

By that I mean you were stopping the powers of other demons with your power, so you used it to kick out all the assholes who attacked him from the bar.

You and Husk had this dynamic of "Father who will kill for his child & Child who will sacrifice themselves for their father."

And then, one day you had to move to the Hazbin Hotel because Husk find a work there.

Alastor was surprised to see that Husk now had a kid–he didn't think it was possible for an alcoholic like him to have a child.

And he learned that Husk had cut down on his drinking, so he could be a better father.

*very kindly and not at all suspiciously notes this fact in the back of his mind.*

The hotel was quite shocked to know that you were a child from a fucking mafia and that you had died of suicide at 15 years old. If Husk hadn't informed them about that, they never would have suspected it.

Your humor worries them more than anything else.

Charlie is worry every time you make jokes about suicide while your dad rolls his eyes at it.

Husk was used to your jokes after a few months of living together.

The hotel wasn't.

Charlie is like your older sister, optimistic and a little naive at times.

She always tries to make you see the bright side of things and to make you forget this idea of double death.

Spoiler : it doesn't work.

Lucifer sees you like one of his children.

He spoils you like he spoiled Charlie when she was just a child.

Husk often makes side eyes at him, accusing him of trying to steal his child.

And that was true.

Lucifer, Charlie, Husk and Angel Dust are the ones who are the most concerned about your mental health.

Alastor wanted to make you sign a contract "I become powerful and Alastor releases my father from his contract in exchange of stopping trying to kill myself."

You didn't sign it.

Alastor tried to use you to spy on Vox and the Vees because he was bored and wanted some entertainment.

It worked.

Alastor do radio shows with you sometimes, you two are called "The RadioDuo".

His audience LOVES you.

You gained Alastor some listeners btw.

You help Niffty with her work at the Hotel.

Even if Charlie said you didn't have to do it, you do it anyway.

Vaggie take all your guns because you apparently “didn’t need” them.

You managed to recover them with a little manipulation.

Angel Dust could see himself in you.

You reminded him of his little human self, Anthony, broken by the world and wanting to end it. A family running the Mafia and forcing him to join it.

You're a bit like him, but compared to him, who fought to survive, had a reason to survive, you had nothing, no reason to fight, and you gave up.

When Angel Dust isn't working, he usually stays with you and Husk.

He doesn't want to abandon you, leave you alone in such a rotten world. He wants you to be protected and to be the child you never could be.

He will never let anyone touch you, never.

Husk and Angel Dust are usually the ones who bandage you after SH, Angel Dust doesn't say anything as he does it, because he understands. Husk doesn't speak as well, but you can see that by doing so he's blaming himself, making you instantly regret it.

Don't try to kill yourself in front of them, please. They're already worried enough, don't add more.

Hotel Hazbin was, in a way, your family.

And you would kill everyone in this room before killing yourself before anything happened to them.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust #alastor #niffty #vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #Dazai!reader #I tried #I didn't had enough space for Sir Pentious :(#I saw some ppl saying angel dust was in a mafia #so here we are #dad!husk #dad husk #Raccoon is writing

410 notes · View notes

hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 4 months ago

Text

Heartless

Thank you to @rainy-writes for giving me the prompt for this snippet!

Hero found Villain just where the frightened security guard said they would be- in the children’s section of the museum. The odd thing was, as Hero had noticed while passing through the rest of the building, nothing valuable had been taken. Now wasn’t the time to think on it though, because Villain had something concealed in a bag, and Hero knew full well it wasn’t bought from the gift shop.

“Villain,” Hero hissed, “seriously? Robbing the children’s section of all places!? Have you no heart at all!?”

Villain smirked.

“None whatsoever,” they said, shrugging, “now are you going to make this easy on yourself, or do we have to do things the hard way?”

A beam of ice shooting right past their ear gave Villain their answer.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Hero glared.

“Eh,” Villain sighed, attaching the bag to their belt, “worth a shot.”

Villain lunged. Hero took on a defensive position. They tried to keep Villain and themselves from damaging any of the exhibits during the fight. They only hoped the authorities would arrive soon.

Right hook. Jab. Ice beam. Energy blast. Kick. Punch. The same old song and dance they performed almost every day. One good hit and an icy stomp had Villain skidding across a now-frozen floor, the contents of their bag emptying in the process. Hero stooped down to pick the mystery item up.

“Looks like you won’t be stealing-” Hero held in a gasp.

They held up an exact copy of their favorite childhood toy. A plush rabbit, with soft, white fur and a smile on its face. Hero had gotten it during their childhood, and the toys had stopped being made years ago.

“Why did you take this?” Hero demanded.

Villain stood up, slipped on the ice, fell, then cautiously stood again.

“I saw the blast from here, Hero,” Villain said, “I know your apartment got destroyed, and I know your old friend got disintegrated in the process. I just thought… I don’t know, you seemed really upset about it last we talked.”

Hero’s eyes filled with tears. They shook their head.

“Villain, it’s sweet, but, I can’t in good conscience let you give this to me. It isn’t yours to give.”

Hero sniffled and put the bunny back in its display case. They waved goodbye to it sadly. They turned, and Villain was gone.

…

Hero stretched and opened their front door. Someone had left a package on their doorstep, which was a nice change from the scolding they had gotten from the police for letting Villain get away. They opened the box and froze. Their old friend stared back up at them, with its white fur and soft smile. Hero picked it up and saw a note tied around its neck. They took it off to read it.

To: [Hero’s Name] From: [Museum Name]

An anonymous benefactor has given us a generous donation with the request that we send this beloved exhibit to you. May you enjoy it as much as our patrons have!

Hero sobbed, hugging the bunny tight. They went inside while Villain watched from a distance. They were still heartless, of course, but maybe they were growing just a tiny soft spot for a bunny-loving Hero.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

#hero x villain #fluff #not whump #no whump this time guys aren't you surprised!?#writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #heroes and villains #hero x villain community

186 notes · View notes

the-loststone · 9 months ago

Text

HotD Team Green Defense

The amount of people who fail to grasp Team Green's perspective is honestly staggering to me. So many people are Team Black, maybe out of some (misplaced) belief that they are being feminists and advocating for female power, or something like that, and choose to ignore the very legitimate worries and motivations of Team Green. Admittedly, the show has gone out of it's way to villainize Team Green as much as possible, while victimizing Team Black, and deviating from the source material for this narrative. (I would tell them to be suspicious when showrunners do that because they did the same thing to Daenerys in GoT and everyone was surprised when she turned around and burned a city down in a rushed ending because the show never properly developed her arc.) Nevertheless, despite their efforts to make Team Green the less appealing side, if I had to compare motivations, Team Black is the more villainous.

So many people dismiss the fact that for Rhaenyra to secure her throne, she would have to kill her siblings. They write it off as paranoia of Alicent, or ambitions of her and Otto, that they are making excuses for Aegon to be made king instead of Rhaenyra. But that's just not true. These are very real likelihoods. Even if Aegon did not seek the throne, or he and his brothers decided to gracefully allow the succession to pass to Rhaenyra, it would never be peaceful. Just look at Rhaenys and how Corlys is still bitter and Viserys has been worried that they may come after him since she has a right to the throne. That's one of the main benefits in having Rhaenyra marry Ser Laenor was to join their claims. Or look at how worried everyone was of Daemon, and how he may seize power after Viserys. The only thing keeping him alive was his brother's love for him, the fact that their house was dwindling, and no one was fighting on his behalf over Viserys. So if there is every another claimant, it would be a great worry that the side in power may be kicked off by another claimant. And Aegon and his brothers are men, and just by virtue of having dicks, they have a better claim to the throne. All laws, precedent, and cultures in Westeros have male heirs before female heirs. The king's word does not change that. And note that the King only made Rhaenyra his heir over his brother. So technically, the King said "all my children first, including my daughter, then my brother." (Something already controversial because if it was accepted before, Rhaenys would be Queen and he would be nothing). But he never again made a statement for the lords after his sons births. He never reinforced Rhaenyra's succession as his heir outside the privacy of their own quarters. Alicent even said, let the lords come and decide, and make vows, and he and Rhaenyra reject it because they worried the Lords would choose Aegon.

Rhaenyra knows, to inherit without rebellions every few years from lords who are unhappy with her and want to supplant her with her brothers, she would have to kill her brothers and make sure there are no people who can contest her right to inherit.

And this is just Rhaenyra's succession. Now add in the fact that she's claiming illegitimate children as her heirs. Very obvious illegitimate children. Even if Rhaenyra managed to successfully inherit with no push back from anyone, and no one wanted to supplant her with her brothers so she didn't have to kill them then... well guess what, she'll have to kill them to secure her son's ascension to the throne. (And if she won't then Daemon certainly would). And then, even if she does kill all the Greens, then there's the issue of her legitimate children vs. her illegitimate children. Even if the kids grew up to love each other, someone may say, well the first three shouldn't inherit, let's put the legitimate ones on the throne. And then you have a completely different succession crisis.

Viserys' actions may seem to the viewers as promoting girl power and feminism, but that's not what's happening. He's being an abusive, neglectful shit. He's deliberately putting the rest of his children's lives in jeopardy, and even the Strong grandchildren he claims to love, because by keeping them in the succession despite their obvious illegitimacy invites people to contest that. And that's not to say he couldn't have taken steps to remedy this. He could have changed the rules so that succession passes to the eldest child, regardless of gender. But he didn't. He could have acknowledged that his grandchildren were illegitimate and forgiven it and legitimized them as Targaryens, but he didn't (conveniently usurping Valeryons - and people may argue that Baela/ Rhaena can still rule being married to Jace/Luke, but that's not the same as being able to rule in your own right, otherwise, why not take the offer for Rhaenyra to marry Aegon).

But since he didn't do any of these things, the only way to stop the Dance would have been for him to make Aegon his successor. Something that everyone would have been relieved by because it would have prevented war. But he didn't. And so, Alicent has to fight to keep her kids alive. The Greens have to push their claim to survive. Whereas, had Rhaenyra graciously backed off her claim, saying that yes, she had 3 brothers, and while they were younger, the laws and precedent are in their corner to inherit, then she would have lived. People wouldn't have fought for her claim if she hadn't pushed it. Nor would they fight for an illegitimate heir.

But some may say... Well Rhaenyra has more supporters. She does. She has the Velaryons and countless other houses backing her. So do the Greens. (the Greens have the wealthiest houses). But once it becomes a fight to throne, it's less about who has the right, and more about who can offer you the most. Notice the Starks and the Baratheons agree to fight because they'll get a wedding out of it (and the Starks because they'll have somewhere to send people during their current famine). The Vale because of the blood ties. The Lannisters because of past insults. Once it's decided to be a fight, it's never about who actually has a right to the throne, it becomes about who can give you the most so you can help them win it.

And this is what it really comes down to. Rhaenyra had a choice. She can back off, and her family can survive. Her brothers can live. Her sons will live. Or she can inherit, and her brothers can die. And she is perfectly willing for her brothers to die. And some may say that that's a very jaded view to take on Rhaenyra and she would never kill her family if she could help it... but it would be out of her hands. It would be necessary to protect her son's right to inherit and to keep away possible rebellions.

And you know, fine, that's okay. She wants to fight for the throne, more power to her. She can go after the throne and kill her brothers. But I don't think it's right that people say that she's the aggrieved party. She's not. She's the aggressor.

And that is why I'm team Green. Because Alicent is right. Just by living and breathing, Aegon and his brothers are threats to Rhaenyra. And this would have happened no matter who Viserys married. Sure people can be upset that Alicent married her bffs dad (something that only happens in the show because in the books, Alicent is 10 years older than Rhaenyra and they weren't close), but that doesn't mean her children should die because Rhaenyra is the preferred child. That doesn't mean the realm should be thrown into war because Alicent 'seduced' a widow. (And I say that with heavy sarcasm because Viserys is a grown ass man.)

And then there's the argument of who's the better house because of blood purity. It's a ridiculous argument and I'm honestly annoyed by people who are Targaryen purists and believe in the whole, dragon supremacy. Hightower is badass house. A lot of people don't realize that they've been around since The Wall and Winterfell were built (Bran the Builder built Hightower, commissioned by the Lord / King of Hightower). They've been around since before Targaryen's rode dragons. So spare me the ridiculous arguments of who's got the most Targaryen blood. If anything, Team Green is more Westerosi, you know, the country they are trying to rule.

In the end, the show will do what it does best, and disappoint you. Either they'll continue pushing this narrative of girl-boss queen and fail to show the complexity of the political situation that result from Rhaenyra's decisions. Or they might stick to the book and have a complex issue actually displayed and show both Aegon and Rhaenyra's descent into madness.

There are more issues one could delve into. Like the fact that Rhaenyra married Daemon. That either Corlys Velaryon has so much unhinged ambition that he's ignored deaths in his house to side with those who have literally murdered his family (cough cough Vaemond and Laenor) (and the whole Laenor excuse in the show makes no sense because no way in hell are Rhaenyra and Daemon risking that he's ever found and that their kids are declared bastards; it is much cleaner for them to do it like they did in the books and kill him) or there will be serious repercussions from the deaths of Velaryons and continued discussion of the succession of Driftmark/High Tide.

But that's the main summary of my thoughts. 👍

If you made it to the end of my rant. Thank you.

322 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Lucky Break Chapter 6

Yandere Straw Hats x Fem!Reader

3.6 words

Beginning / Previous / Next (to be written)

Sorry that this is a little late and kinda short. On the bright side, the next chapter will be posted a few days early, so there will be less of a wait for the next one.

Unsurprisingly, convincing a bunch of kids that you aren’t actually a band of cannibalistic pirates is not an easy task to accomplish. Especially not when Luffy and Zoro are only adding to it. It only stopped when the old man running the inn interrupted the yelling and terrified screaming to say that no one was eaten.

With that established, the children were shockingly calm now, all things considered. Now that your names were cleared, all of you were lingering outside of the inn.

“Do all pirates make jokes like that?” Ninjin was gawking at Zoro. After realizing that the swordsmen had just been messing with him, his terror had morphed into awe. Now he was seeing Zoro as some hardcore pirate to aspire to be. At least he wasn’t horrendously traumatized.

Zoro rolled his shoulders and shrugged, “The cool ones do.”

The response made you roll your eyes, but it’s not like you were about to waste your precious air trying to scold him. That would truly be a useless cause. He would probably just ignore you entirely.

Luffy tapped one of the kids, Piiman, on the shoulder, “Hey, do you know where that longnose guy went?”

“Usopp?” The green haired boy hummed in thought, “He’s probably visiting Miss Kaya right now.”

“Miss Kaya?” Nami raised an inquiring brow.

“She lives in that huge house on the hill,” Tamanegi pointed at that mansion that Zoro and Nami had asked Usopp about before. Ah, that made sense now. The reason he had gotten so defensive all of a sudden was because he knew the people living there.

Nami didn’t appear to be done with her questions and pressed on, “What’s he doing over there?”

All three of the kids spoke in unison and with great enthusiasm, “Lying!”

“That’s awful!” Nami scolded the children as if she didn’t steal someone’s wallet mere minutes ago.

Ninjin was quick to leap to Usopp’s defense, “Nuh-uh! He goes over there to tell Kaya stories to make her feel better!”

“Feel better? Is she sick?”

Piiman grins proudly, “Yeah, but she’s also been really sad since her parents passed away after getting sick. Usopp tells her all kinds of fun stories to make her smile and laugh!”

Oh my god. If that wasn’t the most wholesome shit you’ve ever heard. Luffy agreed with the sentiment openly, “Oh, so he’s a really good person?” That was putting it mildly. Luffy stepped closer and crouched down next to Piiman, “Can you take us to him? I wanna talk to him again.”

All three of the children agreed and led the way towards the mansion. Your group trailed behind the trio at a leisurely pace, minus Luffy who was bouncing around and checking out every little thing he saw with significant enthusiasm.

The village was, admittedly, quite quaint. You felt charmed by your surroundings. From the looks of it, this was the village’s mainstreet. Various stores spotted either side of the path you were traversing down. A bakery, some carpentry shop, a toy store, and-

You gasp and grab onto Zoro’s arm, “Look! A doctor's office!” Without wasting a second, you run over, dragging Zoro behind you despite his protests. You come to a stop in front of the door and reach forward to open it, only to notice the sign on the door. Out, come back later.

“Shit!” Just your luck that the doctor would be out when you just so happened to be passing by! You kicked the dirt under your feet in frustration. “Do you think the doctor will be back soon?”

“How should I know?” Zoro tugged his arm free and shot you a questioning look, “And why are you dragging me with you?”

Is this guy dense? “Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you have a stab wound?!”

“I already told you, I slept it off.” The way Zoro rolled his eyes and spoke made it sound like you were the irrational one here. Before you could yell at him that, no, you cannot just sleep off a stab wound, he pulled up his shirt. The wound was where you remembered it being, but something was off. He was stabbed yesterday, but the wound looked like it was a week old, at the least. “See? It’s fine. Quit fussing about it.”

You’re no doctor, but you know that this can’t be right. You stare at him in shock and horror, “What are you?”

Zoro quirked a brow, “A swordsman?”

“More like an X-Men.”

Your words visibly threw him off. He frowned and his eyes narrowed. “A what?”

“A… It’s like…” Not for the first time, you found yourself confused about the meaning of words out of your own mouth. Where did that term come from? You strained yourself to track down what that word meant. “Superpowers? It’s someone with superpowers… I think?”

“So it’s someone with a devil fruit?” You guess that’s about right. Maybe you just got mixed up? You nod at Zoro’s statement. Zoro sighs and fixes his shirt, “Then just say that.”

“Yeah… guess I just got confused.” You scratch the back of your head. Calling your current state of mind confused was the understatement of the century. The mysteries of your mind shall go on to confound you another day.

“Hey! Are you guys coming or not?” Nami had stopped and turned to face you and Zoro with her hands on her hips.

“Come on, maybe the doctor will be back in before we leave this island.” One of Zoro’s hands rested on his swords, while the other was on your upper back and firmly encouraging you to keep walking. Having no reason to object, you go along with it.

The walk to the mansion continues, but you pay very little mind to it now. It was hard to focus on your surroundings when your mind was zeroed in on your failing memory. All of the fragments you were getting were effectively useless, at least as far as you could tell. Well, you suppose there was that inkling of a memory you got back at the restaurant, but you stomped that one out for feeling too uncomfortable. Admittedly, that was probably a stupid move. What were you going to do? Block out your whole life if it turns out it wasn’t great or something worth remembering?

Dwelling on this was far from pleasant, however necessary it may be. You sigh and look around, wanting to scope out where you are now. The town was long gone, and you could see a tall fence not far from where you were, separating the estate behind it from the rest of the community. A ways away from where you guys were was the gate that allowed entrance. Two guards were posted outside of it, and you doubted that they would let your group in.

Tamanegi ran up to the bars of the fence and pointed through them at a tree right next to the home, “See, he’s talking to Kaya over there!”

You step closer to the fence and look where he’s pointing. Sure enough, you can see Usopp sitting on a branch next to a window. There’s a pale, blonde woman in the windowsill, who you’re assuming is Kaya. It’s all well and good that you’ve tracked down Usopp, but it looks like you’re going to have to wait for him to leave before you can talk to him. Sneaking into the estate would be out of the question, obviously.

Then you look over and see that Luffy has stretched his arms to reach the top of the fence and was taking some steps back. His rubbery arms were taught with tension. You gawk at him, not liking the look of this one bit, “What are you doing?”

Rather than anyone trying to answer this question, Luffy keeps stretching his arms while everyone else grabs onto him. Your voice raises, “What are all of you doing?” Nami grabs your arm, forcing you into whatever weird-ass plan was in the works here. You squirm and look around frantically, “What are we doing? What’s the plan here?”

The next thing you knew, Luffy jumped up and used his arms to send all of you sailing over the fence and through the air. Naturally, you’re screaming at the top of your lungs. But the children are too, so at least you aren’t alone in your terror. Instead of landing not far beyond the fence, you guys were maintaining a high speed that was bringing you closer and closer to the home. Mercifully, instead of crashing through the walls like a wrecking ball, you landed mere feet from the structure. People were colliding with the ground all around you. Nami had let go of you at some point, and you fell onto Luffy and then bounced off of him. His body had done a little bit to soften the blow, but it still knocked the wind out of you. You groaned in pain and curled into a ball while trying to catch your breath and make your head stop spinning.

Tamanegi crouched down next to you and poked your shoulder, “Are you okay?” Aside from some grass stains on his clothes, he looked completely fine. Ah, the resilience of youth. Blinking the spots out of your eyes, you force yourself up onto your feet while nodding wordlessly. By the time your ears stop ringing, you can make out Usopp’s voice desperately trying to explain your group’s abrupt arrival.

Kaya was leaning out of her window and staring at all of you with apprehension and confusion. Even with only part of her upper body visible, you could plainly see how frail her build was. The poor thing looked deathly pale, it was honestly more than a little concerning.

“Oh, these guys?! They’re just… my newest crew members!” The high-pitched, nervous laugh Usopp let out did little to help make his case.

“No, we’re not.” Luffy killed that lie instantly and with zero hesitation. He stood up and brushed himself up, seemingly unbothered from you essentially body slamming him. “I wanted to ask you for a favor, actually!”

“A favor? What is it?” Kaya, for whatever reason, was actually entertaining the idea of helping out someone who just slingshotted himself and his cohorts onto her property. What a shockingly understanding person. Luffy started to ask about getting a ship, but was interrupted by someone shouting.

“Who are you people? You aren’t supposed to be here!”

You look over your shoulder and see a tall, slender man in a dark suit rapidly approaching. Judging by his appearance, you feel like you can assume he is a butler or something of the like. The second he yelled, all three of the kids shrieked and hid themselves in your obnoxious looking coat. At least it’s getting some use outside of helping you blend in with clown pirates.

The man adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand while sneering at all of you, making absolutely no attempt to hide his contempt for your presences. Which, admittedly, is fair given that you guys are actively trespassing. He glared at the large tree by the window before calling out, “Usopp, I know you’re there.”

Usopp slinked out from behind the tree, looking like he would have his tail between his legs if he possessed one. The man stared at him coldly, “Of course someone with as troublesome a reputation as you would be involved.”

Kaya attempted to ease the situation, “Klahadore, please! He doesn’t mean any harm!” That was one hell of a name. It sounded almost comically pretentious.

Luffy was entirely undeterred by the butler’s demeanor. “We just wanted to ask that girl something.”

“You will do no such thing. All of you need to leave immediately.” His eyes narrowed at Usopp, “Especially you. Someone with a father like yours has no business being around Miss Kaya.”

“Excuse me?” Usopp was taken aback by that jagged statement.

“You’re the son of a filthy pirate. It’s distasteful for you to even be in the vicinity of the lady of the house.”

Just like that, any understanding you had for this man being irritated with your group curled up and died. He isn’t a man doing his job, he’s just some classist prick that thinks he’s better than everyone else here.

“Klahadore, stop! That’s enough!” Even Kaya sounded appalled by his behavior.

Her words did nothing to stop Klahadore, who appeared to be taking great delight in this, “You two are from entirely different worlds. I can only assume that you interact with the lady with the intent of gaining something. Money, perhaps?” The accusation stunned everyone into silence, which he took as his cue to continue, “If I’m being quite honest, I pity you. It is truly unfortunate how you’ve been forced to live since your father abandoned his family and home for nothing more than the pursuit of treasure. You must hate him for it, surely.”

Usopp stormed towards Klahadore while Kaya was yelling at her rude-ass butler to stop and apologize for his words. Usopp came to a halt right in front of him, “Don’t you dare talk about my father like that! He’s a good man!”

Klahadore smirked, “Is that what you tell yourself? Another one of your lies, presumably. Though, I suppose that a lot of people would resort to such measures if stuck with a father like that. Well, assuming that he is actually your father.”

In an instant, Usopp’s fist connected with Klahadore’s jaw and sent him back several feet. Your mouth was gaping after hearing all of that. What a dick! Get his ass, Usopp! The kids using your coat for cover all popped their heads out and looked as shocked as you were.

Usopp took several steps forward, shouting at the butler, “Shut up! I am proud of who my family is! I’m proud that my father is a pirate and chasing his dreams! I might lie and tell stories, but I’ve never exaggerated a single thing about how I feel about my blood!”

Klahadore gritted his teeth and got back up, “Just like I thought, you’re a savage that resorts to violence at the drop of a hat. I suppose you must be the son of that pirate, you’re certainly acting as such, and that’s all the proof that I need to assume that you’ve been cozying up to the lady of the house in an attempt to get her fortune.”

“Why you,” Usopp lunged forward and grabbed him by his suit and pulled back his arm like he’s about to deliver another blow.

“Stop, Usopp!” Kaya pleaded desperately with him, “Please, there’s no need for violence. Klahadore isn’t a bad person, he’s just…trying to do what he thinks is best for me.”

You shoot her a questioning look that you’re fairly certain she doesn’t even see. You’re not sure what insulting Usopp’s entire family tree has to do with “doing what’s best for her”. In your humble opinion, Usopp had every right to deck that stuck up prick one more time. Instead, he relented and backed away from him. A shame, really.

“You need to leave this place and never set foot here again.” Klahadore dusted off his clothes and was trying his damndest to look dignified despite just getting his shit rocked by a teenager.

Usopp walked past him, speaking lowly, “Fine. You don’t need to tell me twice.” He stomped away without another word, his shoulder hunched and fists clenched.

In a flurry, the trio taking refuge in your coat sprung out and ran up to Klaha-dick to defend their captain’s honor. Ninjin opened strong by calling him a stupid butler insisting that Usopp would never do any of that. Then all three of them dissolved into chanting ‘stupid head’ at him, so you’re pretty sure he’ll never emotionally recover from this.

Their brave verbal assault crumbled the second that Klahadore looked down at them. In the blink of an eye, they turned tail and returned to the sanctity of your coat. The butler’s gaze scanned over all of you with palpable disdain. He readjusted his glasses and waved an arm dismissively, “All of you need to leave, too.”

You had no problem with that. The less time spent here, the better. You carefully herded the kids hiding in your coat as you walked, which was not an easy thing to do with six more feet right under you, but you’ll manage.

After leaving the estate, you all congregated by a quiet field next to an unpopulated path. The boys have dispersed, mercifully, so you are now perched up on a fence. Luffy ran off a few minutes ago after one of the kids had told him where Usopp may have gone.

The crisp, clean air felt refreshing as you inhaled it deeply. You exhaled and tilted your head back to look up at the sky. In the back of your mind, you wonder if another weapon and mysterious note will fall out of it like in Orange Town. The note… Your hand dips into your coat pocket and digs out the folded up piece of paper. You unfold it and decide to read it again.

“Lucky”

What an interesting event

Losing your memories was not my intent

To aid in your journey

Please take this urumi

“A”

You had hoped that reading it a second time would jog your memory, but it didn’t. You still have no idea who “A” is supposed to be. Were you two supposed to be close? Was this person a mere acquaintance? A weapons dealer with very unique methods? You can’t say.

Suddenly, the paper is plucked out of your hands. Your head snaps up and you see Nami standing next to you. Her brows furrow and she flips the paper over before shooting you a confused look, “Why are you staring at a blank piece of paper?”

What? You stammer as you try to speak, “B… Blank?”

“Yeah? Why are you staring so intently at a blank piece of paper?” Nami was alternating between staring a hole into you and glancing at the paper. Her eyes were looking right where the words were, yet she was seeing nothing? How is that possible?

All you can do is stare for a moment. Then, you laugh nervously and scratch the back of your head, “Oh, right! I was… I wanted to write something down on that, but then I remembered that I don’t have a pen on me!” That sounded dumb as hell.

Nami’s expression reflected that sentiment, “Really?”

“Yeah! You know me, I’m so forgetful!” You force out another unnatural laugh while snatching the paper out of her hand to stuff it back into your pocket. Hazarding another glance at Nami, you saw her looking at you with an extremely doubtful expression. Her stare was hard and it felt like she was seeing right into your soul. Fortunately, she sighed and looked away.

“Alright, whatever you say.”

Something tells you that she’s going to bring this up again later, and you can only hope that you’ll have come up with a better excuse by then. Your mind was running in circles trying to rationalize how insane your most recent revelation was. Apparently, you have a magical piece of paper with words on it that only you can see. Sure! Why not?! This might as well happen with all the other weird shit going on right now! How your situation was able to progressively get weirder and weirder was beyond you, and at this point, you’re afraid of what else is going to happen next.

“Guys! A really weird man is backwards-walking this way!” Tamanegi comes sprinting over the hill spouting off that incredibly ominous warning.

You and your big mouth inside your head. Are you cursed? Are you experiencing the effects of a curse put on you? Hesitantly, you crane your neck to see what he’s talking about. Sure enough, you see a man wearing a blue blazer and a hat moonwalking right at you.

“Michael Jackson?”

The man stops mid moonwalk with one hand grasping his hat. He looks at you like you’re insane- which you may be, but that’s beside the point. The heart shaped sunglasses and weird cylinder-thing on his chin only make his whole vibe even stranger. His glasses slide down a little as he makes eye contact with you, “Michael Jackson? That isn’t even close to my name. I don’t know who that is, but he should only be so lucky as to be compared to me.” His neck snapped around to then regard the children, “And which one of you brats called me weird?! I’m not weird!”

“I’m going to have to side with him, you do seem pretty weird.” Nami was now focused on him, and you hoped this encounter would make her forget about the paper incident.

The totally-not-weird man did what looked like a dance move and glared at Nami, “I’m not! I’m a perfectly normal traveling hypnotist!”

“A hypnotist? That’s so cool! Can you show us something?” Piiman was staring at him hopefully, very much intrigued by the man’s profession. You just rolled your eyes. He was probably a con artist.

“What? You really expect me to show off my abilities to any snot-nosed brat who asks?” The weirdo stoops down to stare menacingly at Piiman. Then, he stands up straight and pulls something out of his pocket, “Very well, watch this ring closely. I’m going to swing this back and forth, and on the count of one, two, Jango, you’ll feel sleepy.” Well, he certainly changes his mind easily.

You quietly snorted but watched the display nonetheless. This guy was absolutely full of shit. Your eyes follow the silver ring that looks suspiciously like a blade as he starts to count.

“One. Two. Jango!”

And then you promptly passed out.

#lucky break #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece #monkey d luffy #luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #cat burglar nami #usopp #captain kuro #kaya one piece #reader insert #x reader #yandere one piece #yandere #platonic yandere

168 notes · View notes