#He’s young. It’s his job to turn on the ones who made him who fed him who taught him. It’s a rite-of-passage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dupliciti · 3 days

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origins.

Kirjo Riemu ( taken from another word for Sa.mpo "Kirjokansi", which kirjo on its own refers to a spectrum of colors/colorful & riemu which means joy or elation in finnish ) had a normal childhood for a brief while, an only child that was rather sociable, funny. The type that appreciated attention and would even make a fool of himself to have laughter directed his way. Though, keeping any friends was difficult, especially when any semblance of family was stripped from him early. Problematic orphan seeing as a source of happiness had been lost. He grew up looking out for himself, only counting on himself. If he wasn't dependable by his own terms, then he would've surely met an early demise or lived a rather boring and sad life. Faking a need for attention ( though there's some truth to be had there, ) stealing, running small scams from those that would likely believe a poor child, were his early ways to be able to treat himself to decent meals and new clothes or gadgets.

In his teens, he grew taller, was putting on some muscle and could hold his own in fisticuffs when it sometimes came down to a scuffle. He really didn't enjoy it, much better to be the audience of a brawl rather than risk getting your lights punched out. Kirjo prided himself on being quick on his feet, nimble. Some call it cowardly, but he was thinking of ways to catch his opponents off-guard when the chance arose. Someone match stronger than him would obviously win out, therefore he had to use what he could to his advantage. Getting into trouble with the wrong crowd would eventually draw eyes that thought him better on a metaphorical leash while utilizing the growing teen as near fodder. Proper training to turn quick steps into deadly ones, deft hands learning to wield knives, lithe fingers picking locks, pockets, and the like. Up through this period, he simply did jobs for a cut. Nothing too life threatening, though he was sure if caught it wouldn't have been too pretty. It's when a year or two passed by that he was tasked with things that did not settle too well.

Killing someone whether or not they deserve it is certainly a moral dilemma. But good or bad didn't matter, the pay was good. Kirjo had grown used to eating better, having time to himself, and at a certain point, his stealing only fed this avarice he started developing. Killing was somewhat of a distraction for the need to continuously feel notes between his fingers. That didn't really quite do it for his conscience, however. He still needed some sort of distraction there, a detachment from the negative feelings. And at first that's all it really was, pretending not to feel to the point that he was convinced he didn't. All his pretty crime previous to this helped perhaps. Oh, but he became rather serious, he didn't like who he was looking at in the mirror in his day to day. Forced smiles for himself, finding that exhilaration and thrill he gets from pilfering in his jobs that used to make him feel sick to his stomach. Wear a mask and become an actor just for yourself and you'll be sure to have a great time every time, guaranteed.

He lost his sense of self in the process, it becoming something more twisted and volatile. Taking a hit made him laugh, landing a hit made him laugh, crying and pleading for forgiveness only reserved to play up an act. Aeon came first, blessing the confused young lad to be an Emanator of the Elation. Here's some power, what type of power ? That's for Kirjo to discover. This did not grant him money nor riches. What had been certain is that he always felt watched, an audience always there, a need to hope that those eyes got a kick out of the act. At least it's something to work towards. And so, a hooded figure set out, finding out how far he could potentially go. Nothing ever came of it, not really. Even in one of his last jobs that he took up, requiring him to go after supposedly imbued special artifacts granted him nothing to draw on. Though, what did occur at that time was incessant yet infectious laughter. Odd pieces of armor that don't quite go with his preferred manner of dress.

Donning the name Sa.mpo Ko.ski came with his acceptance to the Tavern. The first name was engraved where he'd come across those relics he wore. He's not entirely sure of what it means, though it seems unique enough to cut him from any previous ties to crime if a Ma.sked Fo.ol decided to prey on that. The surname is simply a word he recalls from his upbringing. Nothing more but a small memory. He doesn't remember much.

The mask he receives feels like a mockery, since Aha supposedly has a hand in the whole process seeing as they value the revelry of the Tavern. His mask seems plain, something he doesn't want to have to use to cover up his looks which have helped him with odd jobs here and there. One upside is that it at least functions as a catalyst if the Laughter won't bother to explain the extent of his function as an Emanator or just what power resides within.

#i'll let myself have this for now until hoyo decides to give him something solid and undermine me for reading too deeply into things #it's the fact that he literally says colorful past that makes me believe they will give him something solid but.... mmmm #im leaving many details vague as well bc h.sr lore is kinda... lacking when it comes to aeons and worlds and i dont wanna get too attached #because like i said i would change whatever to fit canon bc im silly #( ◇ ᵖᵘʳˢᵘⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ┊ hc; )#( ◇ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵘᵈⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ┊ ooc; )#( ask to tag; )

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hottestvirgin · 1 month

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warnings. dilf!heeseung, sub!reader, smut, fluff, cute moments, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, slight degrading, dirty talk, creampie, very dirty, yuuuhh

becoming heeseung’s daughter’s official babysitter was the best decision you’ve made in a while. not only were you getting paid $65 an hour to watch a guy’s child and to live there, but you were babysitting a well behaved little girl.

this came with its perks, and that was seeing her attractive father everyday. you met heeseung through a friend who worked for his family’s company. when she heard word of him needing a babysitter for his two year old, she immediately called you. after a small interview and background check, you became his babysitter.

that was one year ago. so now you were watching over a little three year old everyday, keeping her fed and entertaining while heeseung worked overtime for the company he’s soon to obtain. being closer to him, he’s more vocal about his struggles with being a father with his career.

“i don’t, y’know, wanna be distant from her,” he pauses to meet your eyes, flashing a genuine smile while rubbing your shoulder, “that’s why i appreciate you so much.”

your heart thrums at his words. they always do. and you couldn’t help the overwhelming feelings for heeseung. this tension between you two have been blossoming for a few months now. he just finds it so endearing how sweet and caring you are to both him and his daughter. he even considered raising your pay.

“$100!?” you gasped, a little too loudly. you quickly glance over at his sleeping daughter, hoping you didn’t wake her. when she didn’t move an inch, you look back at heeseung.

“is it too low?” the man asked, “i can double it.” he was desperate. so desperate to show you his appreciation. so desperate to ensure that you would never, ever leave.

“my current pay is enough, sir. don’t worry.” you smiled at him and he swore you were the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever landed on.

he pursed his lips, “you’re always so formal. you can call me heeseung,” he chuckled, “loosen up a bit.”

the softness of his voice lightened your mood that day, causing his name to be able to slip past your plush lips with ease now.

“heeseung, you got her the wrong applesauce,” you told him with a small laugh, watching him drop the last grocery bag on the kitchen counter. “she likes strawberry instead of cinnamon, remember?”

your words sent a weird feeling in heeseung’s stomach. you remembered everything about his daughter and he couldn’t even remember her favorite applesauce flavor. seeing you take on the role he failed to take made him proud and embarrassed.

“shit. you’re right. i’ll go get it then.” he’s stopped by the firm grip on his wrist, turning on his heels and meeting your comforting gaze.

“don’t worry about it. she’ll eat it.” you told him. and later that night he overheard you telling his daughter that the cinnamon applesauce was a special gift from him and how he loved her very much. she had eaten every single bite.

the first time he saw you cry was probably the scariest moment in his life. what had happened? did his daughter do something to you? did she hurt your feelings? were you gonna leave him?

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” heeseung was quick to comfort you in parallel with how you’re always quick to comfort him. he rubbed your back and you sniffled, wiping the tears that streamed down your face.

“she called me mommy,” you told him, “i just.. don’t know how to react to that.”

oh.

when you told him that you didn’t know why you bursted out crying, he hesitated for a bit. he knew that this would happen because of how young she is. but he didn’t know it would make you ball out crying.

“if she thinks of you as a mommy then that means you’re doing a good job.” heeseung told you, his fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your hand. there was something about his aura that night that made you feel safe and warm.

and what really made your heart swell was when he told you that you would be the perfect mother. this feeling was different. it made you.. aroused. in a way. but it was wrong, right? you can’t feel this way towards him.

as the long spring days passed, the tension grew. starting from giving each other as much personal space as possible to being very affectionate and open with each other which seemed like overnight.

“i just put her to bed.” you announce, standing in heeseung’s doorway with your arms crossed. he looks up from his laptop, inviting you to sit on his bed. “i’m getting used to it. but it just feels so weird sometimes. i’ve never seen myself as a mother.”

heeseung’s facial expression softens when you speak, reaching to graze his fingers over your arm. “but you would. i’ve been watching you and you’re better at parenting than me.” he laughs his words off but your stomach churns in arousal when he admits that he does, in fact, watch you.

“you’re an amazing dad.” you reassure. “you think so?” heeseung tsks, closing his laptop to give you his attention. nodding, you continue, “you’re sweet, loving, funny, generous..” you pause when he interrupts with a sudden laugh.

“yeah? tell me more.” the man sits up against his headboard, loving the compliments.

“hardworking, dependable.. i could go on. you’re everything i’d want in a man.” you didn’t expect to fully admit your appreciation for the man but you didn’t expect to admit that. seeing his reaction to your words made your heart flutter.

heeseung didn’t know why but the tension between you two grew intensely. he stares into your eyes lovingly, in a daze. like he was getting high just from hearing your pretty voice.

“so you want me to be your man?” heeseung repeats, and your face quickly heats in embarrassment at what you just said. fuck. what if he finds you weird? would he fire you?

“i-i mean.. i’d like a man like you.”

“mm.. so you like me.” heeseung concludes, and you cover your face in embarrassment. “well, i like you too,” he tells you, “and you’re everything i’d want in a woman.”

there’s a hint of teasing in his words but you knew they were genuine when you found heeseung in between your legs, splitting you open on his cock right then and there. filling your cunt deliciously, it’s so good. and heeseung has never been this turned on in his life, rutting into you desperately.

you can feel him deep in your stomach. and his slender fingers graze over your abdomen, his desires sending more adrenaline through his veins. he pushes your thighs against your chest, folding you in half and thrusting stupidly into you. “i’ll fuck a baby in you, i promise.” he grunts, squeezing your thighs.

you’re all fuzzy and drunk on his cock, only being able to moan and whimper pathetically as he pulls his hips down harder and harder, each time pushing your body into the mattress which produces loud squeaks and would guarantee wake his daughter up. but he doesn’t stop.

“you’d be such a pretty mama, baby.” heeseung cooes, and it sends shivers down your spine. he’s serious because he’s fucking you into the mattress with all his strength, caging and trapping you between his arms.

“d..don’t stop.” you beg, breathless. he’s not planning on it, and it only thrives him to angle his hips to where his swollen tip abuses that soft spot inside of you. this sends you to another realm, your grunts turning into silent moans.

heeseung can see it now. how you’d be walking around his house with a swollen belly. how pretty you’d look with all the weight gain, swollen tits, so fragile and gorgeous. just for him. he could already see you with his baby in your arms. fuck. it turns him on so much. everything about you does.

“oh my god. s’ good.” you moan, gripping onto the back of your own thighs. “yeah? i’m right here, baby, feel that?” he grazes over your stomach again, pushing down to feel the print of his cock in your flesh, “gonna fill this pussy full of my babies.. gonna make you my wife so you’ll never leave me like she did.”

fuck. he was pushing you over the edge and your fingers were slipping. you were so close to losing your mind. clenching around him, he groans while putting more aggression to his thrusts to ensure that he’s balls deep inside you. fuckfuckfuck. he was so close, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. every drag of his cock sent a shiver down your spine.

he nuzzles his sweaty face into your neck, taking in your sweet, motherly scent. you were driving him fucking crazy. and he didn’t stop his thrusts for a minute. he wraps an arm around the back of your neck, pulling you into his chest while his other hand pushes your thigh further against your chest.

“ah fuuuk.. m’ gonna cum.” heeseung hips stutter, voice shivery as he whimpers and fills your womb full with his thick load, riding out his orgasm while you cum hard around him, creaming his shaft. he’s still rocking against you to make sure he fucks every drop of his cum as deep as he can in you. when he pulls out, fat globs of his cum seep out of your aching hole.

you have no regrets, no source of shame, nothing. this was the man you wanted to be the father of your first child. this was the man who’s baby you wanted to carry. so a few weeks later, you show him a positive pregnancy test.

#smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #hottestvirginanswers

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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year

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Iceberg Siren pt 1

**based on a prompt by @purple-goo-writes about Danny getting a job as a club singer for Penguin- I hope y'all like it!**

Oswald Cobblepot watched as his lounge’s newest acquisition crooned on stage, the crowd transfixed by the young man’s stunning voice. The Penguin was beginning to notice that the Iceberg’s profits went up by twenty percent every night this particular new hire was singing, and he had plans to promote the kid. Daniel Nightingale lived up to his name.

He’d stumbled into the young man in an alley, starving and beaten, and offered him a cleaning job. Daniel had taken him up on it, after his sharp blue eyes searched Oswald’s face like he could see his very soul. One of his bartenders had heard the young man singing while he worked a few weeks in, and soon enough, Daniel was the Iceberg’s crowning glory, even if he didn’t know it himself.

Oswald would make sure the young man knew how valuable he was to the Penguin and never left.

Danny gave a short bow to the crowd after his last song, and they all made noises of disappointment as he slipped off the stage through the door in the back. It had been several months since he’d started singing at the Iceberg, and he was thriving. Penguin had started paying him more for less work- Two nights a week he sang, enchanting the denizens of Gotham’s underworld.

It was probably cheating, that he was using some ghostly tricks picked up from Ember, but it’s not like the GIW existed in this universe to track him down.

“Siren! Boss wants you in the VIP lounge before you take off.”

Matt, his security detail, was waiting for him outside his dressing room.

“Sure! Walk me up?”

Danny winked at Matt, who just rolled his eyes.

“Happily married, Siren. Let’s go.”

With a laugh, Danny turned to head up the back steps to the VIP area, swinging his hips a little to make Matt sigh in exasperation.

He wasn’t truly interested in Matt- nor anyone else he’d met in the dimension, but as he began to be fed on a regular basis and filled out more, he found that people thought he was attractive, and he enjoyed the attention. It was far different from being reviled as a nerd or even as the local menace. The attention of people who wanted him felt easier to control even than the attention he received from the ghosts as their king.

The door to the VIP balcony swung open as he approached, and he was waved through. Plastering a sultry smile on his face, he slunk through the tables, winking at patrons as he made his way to his boss.

The Penguin was sitting in a comfortable chair on a raised dais, across the table from a man Danny hadn’t seen in the Iceberg before. The stranger was wearing a domino mask, and had a streak of white through otherwise black hair.

“Thank you for coming, Siren. Please, sit!”

An attendant melted out of the shadows with a third chair, placed beside the bossman. Danny smiled gratefully at the attendant and settled into the chair.

He wasn’t sure what Penguin wanted- sometimes he called Danny up just to show him off in his glittering dress that clung to his skin, and sometimes he called Danny up to read whether a person was trustworthy or not.

“Siren, Mr. Hood here was suggesting a possible business deal- why don’t you hear him out and tell me what you think?”

Ah, reading. Danny could do that.

“I don’t have time for nonsense, Cobblepot.”

The man’s growl raised goosebumps on Danny’s arms, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Damned if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

“Oh, but Mister Hood, I’d love to hear about your business proposal! What my employer does with his money affects us too, you know- if the business proposal falls through….” Danny batted his eyelashes at the man. “I’m sure you know what happens to the bottom line.”

Red Hood sighed, and then began to explain himself.

Danny didn’t listen to the actual proposal more than he needed to make the appropriate noises. Instead he listened to the tone and cadence of the crime lord’s voice, the way his body moved as he spoke. Everything screamed sincerity, even the small, half-formed core pulsing in the man.

Wait. Hold up. Turn around, go back. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A core? Here? In someone so clearly still living?

He would have to investigate, but later. His employer was beginning to look to him for a verdict.

“Wow! That sure does sound interesting,” simpering, Danny stood and wrapped an arm around Penguin’s shoulders. “I think you should hear him out, boss- he seems pretty up-and-up to me!”

Penguin smiled sharply up at him and then waved him away.

Danny could feel the stranger’s eyes on him as he left, swaying back to where Matt was waiting at the door.

Look. Danny didn’t intend to get into this situation on his day off, but things just happened to him that didn’t happen to other people. Sam and Tucker would call it the “Fenton Luck”.

Danny didn’t think luck was involved at all.

If luck had been involved, the weird clown wouldn’t have attacked him with a crowbar. If luck had been involved, Danny wouldn’t have responded like he would with a ghost. If. Luck. Had. Been. Involved, the clown would not have flown back into a brick wall and then slumped like a marionette with it’s strings cut.

Stepping forward, Danny leaned down to check his victim’s pulse, but reeled back when he got a good look at the man’s face.

The Joker’s sightless eyes stared back up at him.

Ancients.

“Whatcha got there, sweet thing?”

Luck had nothing to do with anything in Danny’s life, ever. He was cursed somehow, that had to be it.

“A bagel?”

Harley Quinn hopped off the roof and came to investigate Danny’s dead body.

“Sure looks to me like an ex-boyfriend of mine, and not at all bagel shaped. You didn’t even leave a hole in him!”

“I’m…. Sorry?”

Harley grinned up at him, all teeth and a fierce light in her eyes.

“No need, sugar, you did a good thing. What I wonder is why the gas hasn’t triggered?”

Danny laughed nervously- he couldn’t help it, his fear response was laughter!

“Gas?”

“Mhmm! Had his body rigged, the bastard. Joker gas should have spread for six blocks or more when his vitals stopped.”

“Oh. I- you won’t tell the bats, will you?”

“My lips are sealed! I don’t owe Batsy anything!”

With a sigh, Danny shrugged.

“I’m a meta. Joker gas preys on fear, and so do I. The gas must have triggered, but I’m close enough that I filtered it pretty fast.”

Harley put her hands on her hips.

“Batsy doesn’t like metas much.”

“The Bat can suck it.”

She laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I like you, kid! Let me call my body disposal squad.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Poison Ivy and the Red Hood walked into the alley, looking around cautiously. Harley had talked Danny into braiding her hair, and was chatting amiably at Danny.

“-And that’s why Bill owes me a trip to Cabo. I don’t plan to collect, though, he’s just a henchman. Ives! Thanks for coming!”

Red Hood put his hands on his hips.

“I get why you called her, Harley, but why me?”

Harley tilted her head, pulling her hair out of Danny’s hands carelessly.

“You deserve to see him before he disappears, kid. The whole of Gotham deserves that, but we can’t risk it.”

“See who?”

She pointed at the body, and Red Hood went to inspect it. While he did so, Ivy walked up to Danny, peering down on him.

“I know you.”

“Hi, Dr. Isley.”

“I was right! You work for Oswald. Almost didn’t recognize you without your getup. I take it this was your doing?”

“Yes ma’am, although entirely on accident.”

She laughed, and Danny smiled too.

“One we’re all glad for. Thank you.”

There were stomping footsteps, and Red Hood was suddenly in front of them. Harley stood up from the box she’d been sitting on, shielding Danny with her body.

“You did this?”

Danny the angry pulsing of the Hood’s half-formed core. It felt similar to the way his own core had felt when he was forced away from Amity Park. He slid out from between Harley and Ivy and held out his hand.

Hood took it, whether on purpose or unconsciously.

“Hi. Danny Nightingale. I just avenged thousands by accident. Please don’t kill me.”

The pulsing turned from anger to relief, and the Red Hood laughed. It sounded odd through the modulator in the helmet, but Danny smiled along nonetheless.

#dp x batman #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #dead on main #jason todd #harley quinn #poison ivy #Arctic Siren AU

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 year

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Ooo can I please request Tangerine x fem!civilian/innocent reader where Tan and Lemon are sent on a job but said job ends up being against young mom Y/n and her baby girl. They do not go through with the job (I feel like they have their moral limits), and instead bring Y/n to their safe house and protect her, then going after her awful ex instead

Limits

Usually, their job was easy. But there was some times where they didn’t go through with it.

They did get in trouble for it, but they didn’t care. If it was against their morals, they wouldn’t do it. But they’ve never seen anything like this job.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

You sat on the couch, sighing and turning on the tv. Lemon and tangerine looked through the window, slightly confused on who you were. They decided to watch because they quite literally got no details about you, just a picture. They didn’t know if you were dangerous or not.

Then, just as your eyes started to close, cries erupted from inside your baby’s room. Your eyes snapped open, you seethed and hit your head on the back of the couch repeatedly in frustration. You got up, and went into the nursery and picked your baby up. You sat them down on the floor, they whined and cried as you quickly went ahead and made a bottle for her.

“Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” You muttered, and laid them on your lap as you fed them.

A text appeared on your phone. Your ex.

“Hey. Hope your doing good, just wanted to see how you guys were doing.” He texted.

You texted with one hand, and fed your baby with the other.

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Thanks for asking.” Was all you texted back, and turned off your phone.

Little did you know, that he was the one who sent the two men currently watching in the window.

“So.. we’re just killing a girl and her baby? An innocent girl and her innocent baby?” Lemon asked, sighing and rubbing his temple.

“I’m not killing any child. I already told them that so why the hell are they giving us these jobs?”

“Everyone else is busy apparently.” Lemon said, and peeked back in the window.

“I mean, what if the girls not innocent?” Tangerine asked.

“I guess so. We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.” Lemon said.

After a while, you had to leave the house. Tangerine followed you in a car while Lemon went through your house to see anything suspicious.

You put your baby in the car seat, they made noises the whole time.

Tangerine followed you to the store, he waited after a little bit then decided to go in. As you walked in, a homeless man was asking for money for some food. Your baby smiled at him as well and he laughed and talked with you for a bit.

You smiled at him, and gave him some.

Okay, someone who is a threat would not give homeless people money. Tangerine thought.

After you shopped a little and then you went back into the car, putting the stroller away and putting them in their car seat.

You drove back, and he texted Lemon quickly. “Get out, she’s on her way home.” As he got in his car and followed you.

You felt like something was off when you got home, you looked around and it seemed fine.

You shrugged it off, and your baby was tired so you put them to sleep.

You then sat on the couch, yawning and falling asleep.

“Okay, so I hacked into her phone because nothing seemed odd, and turns out she’s just a normal person. She’s a single mom, and her ex clearly wasn’t… good.” Lemon said when he saw tangerine, remembering the texts you had sent to your friend. “She’s a dentist. She seems like a normal person to me.”

Tangerine sighed and thought.

“Ok. So… who would want her killed? For fun? No. I’m not doin’ it.” Tangerine said, and sent a text to their handler, he would be pissed but this happened sometimes and he was used to it.

“Good, you wanna go now?” Lemon asked, and he nodded. They walked from the corner quietly, but Lemon dropped his phone in the bushes.

“Wh- how’d that even happen?!” Tangerine groaned as Lemon reached for it, making lots of noise in the process.

Your eyes opened and you heard an noise and talking next to the window. You furrowed your eyebrows and went out the house. Two men walked past your house on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” One said, trying to be friendly.

“Hi.. are you guys.. new here? I’ve never seen you before.” You asked them.

“Nah, just visiting some family.”

“Oh, ok, got it.” You nodded.

“What’s your name?” The one with the mustache asked.

“I’m (your name). You guys are..?”

“I’m… Aaron. That’s Brian.” He said, pausing when he saw you. You were very attractive, he thought.

(I’m going off their actors names)

“Hello.” Lemon said to you.

“Hi! I wouldn’t wanna keep you guys though, so I’ll let you go to your family.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine it’s fine, uh we’ll see you around.” Tangerine smiled at you and continued walking.

He would definitely be coming around again if it meant he could see you.

#bullet train #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train x reader #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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gaybitchfx · 1 year

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-❄️ Character(s): Dad Zhongli + Kid Xiao

-❄️ Type of reader: M!Reader

-❄️ Category: SFW + hybrid AU

-❄️ Warning(s): None

-❄️ Part 1

-❄️ Edited: ❌

“You’re such a cutie, look just like your father.” You cooed at Xiao as he ate, his big eyes looking up at you as you fed him. Xiao moved his wings a little, he hadn’t yet lost the feathers on his arms since he was only a few days old now. And because he was so young you often kept him close knowing he couldn’t maintain his body temperature.

“I can’t wait till he gets older.” Zhongli hummed as he gently rubbed the feathers that littered Xiao’s arms. A few months later and Xiao managed to learn how to walk and run around pretty quickly. However, flying was a big problem.

“Get down from there!” You shouted at your child seeing how he was going to jump from the top of the drawer to teach himself how to fly.

“Chi!” He chirped as you quickly scooped him up into your arms, your heart relaxing. “You can’t just jump from high places and think you’ll fly my sweet boy.” You sighed and moved his hair from his chubby face. His brows furrowed as he folded his wings across from one another, upset.

“I know I know, you want to learn how to fly like papa, but because your dad's child as well you won’t be able to because your wings won’t last long. Well, it depends.” You told him as you went to his room and got him a change of clothes, him having made a mess of his previous ones. None of his clothes had sleeves unless it was winter and spring.

Xiao let out small chirps as he flapped his wings, eager to want to learn how to fly at such a young age. Sighing you picked him back up. “Zhongli! I’ll be going out with Xiao for a bit could you watch the house while I’m gone?” You shouted, he was in an entirely different room.

“Yeah! Be safe!” He shouted back and so you left, unfolding your wings and flying to a reasonable level around the area till you were now at an area where there were barely any trees or anything in general. Placing your child down, you got to somewhat eye level with him. “So first my little one, you have to open your wings like this.” You demonstrated by extending yours as far as you could, him doing the same, his eyes twinkling see your wings up close.

“Try lightly flapping them, not too fast though.” Xiao began flapping his wings but not in the way you told him. “No no, like this.” You held his wings and moved them slowly before releasing them as he continued moving them at that pace. “Such a good boy!” You cooed and gave him many kisses on his cheeks, many chirps leaving his mouth. You told him to speed it up a little bit and a couple of times he’d end up levitating off the ground before going back onto his feet.

“You did such a good job! Papas so proud of you!” You picked Xiao up and hugged him, pressing his cheek against yours as he wrapped his wings around your neck to the best he could. Time went on and Xiao began getting bigger, yet seemed small at the same time. That wasn’t a problem though, he was still as healthy as ever.

“Daddddd! Papaaaaa!” Xiao called out as he quickly flew into his parent's bedroom like he was a hummingbird before landing on you and Zhongli’s bed, you being the first to wake up.

“It’s my birthday!” He exclaimed the seven year olds face beaming with joy as he fluttered his wings. The feathers on his arms, that made up his wings, hadn’t disappeared at all so he’d end up like your aunt. “Is that so? You’re a big boy now aren’t you Xiao? Isn’t that right Zhongli?” You yawned and smiled softly before looking over at Zhongli who was still sound asleep.

“Zhongli!” You shouted making the poor man jump out of his sleep, barely saving himself a heart attack. “Y…Yes, my love?” Zhongli quickly answered as he sat up.

“It’s Xiao’s birthday today. He’s going to be the big seven.” You smiled and began tickling Xiao as he giggled, tossing and turning as he tried to stop you from ticking him. “It was almost like yesterday he had hatched. They grow so fast.” Zhongli sighed as he looked at his family with a soft and gentle gaze. “Alright, Mr! Let’s get you ready! We’re going to Liyue for your birthday.” Xiao let out a yell of excitement as he flew back to his room, you and Zhongli not too far behind.

The entire day was nothing but fun, Xiao even got to play with kids his age. “You tired?” You asked Xiao as he rested his head on your shoulder his thumb slightly in his mouth as his eyes would close but quickly open again. “No..” He grumbled as he tried fighting his sleep. “Don’t worry Xiao, just get some sleep and we’ll play with you tomorrow how’s that?” Zhongli offered. Hearing the word 'play' made Xiao nod his head as he relaxed in your hold and fell fast asleep.

“He’s just like you y’know.” Zhongli laughed making you look at him with a raised brow. “What do you mean he’s just like me?” You huffed and fixed Xiao so he could be more comfortable. “So stubborn unless you’re being bargained with.” He said making you roll your eyes and begin to walk faster than you were previously doing.

“But it’s true dear!” Zhongli called out as he tried following you till you took off and flew your way home making Zhongli chuckle as he walked.

-❄️tags: @jkloserdazai @reallyromealone @lostsomewhereinthegarden

#zhongli genshin impact #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao x male reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #xiao x reader #fiction #anime #fluff #male reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x male reader

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

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Monsters

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us (show/game) 4.8K Words (3rd POV) Summary: Two broken people clash. “Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness.” Warning: Depictions of graphic violence Part I | Part II

Ellie had told him that the woman had been trying to be a singer before the world went to hell. He hadn’t asked, because he never asked, but had learned it the way most information came from the young girl. Rushed and mostly to fill the silence between them when she wasn’t being entertained. He didn’t care about before because that world was over so why did it matter- who they were before- but he could see it in his mind sometimes.

She would have been young, a lot younger than him by a decade at least, and soft skinned with bright eyes and an eagerness to share something beautiful. An artist type with her voice as the brush. He knew that type well. When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a musician too. Had learned to play the guitar, played a few gigs to keep himself occupied while Tommy went off to the army trying to be a hero. Met a girl that way though it all came screeching to a halt when she got knocked up and then quickly dipped when Sarah was young. There was no time for guitar and dreams while raising an infant as a single father. He had just been an average joe then. Not too smart, not too many goals, but good with his hands and at building things. The only job he was qualified for. He hadn’t had time for beauty or art when he’d been too busy trying to pay the bills, keep his brother out of trouble fresh from discharge, and his daughter fed and taken care of. Now neither of them had time for that. It was only about survival and this teenage girl tethering them together. The mission. The woman, who Ellie had taken to calling Red for some reason he wasn’t paying attention to, wasn’t soft skinned anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long time. She was all bared teeth, sharp edges, and brutality. A bobcat whose first instinct was to tear and shred rather than be gentle. That’s how he first saw Red.

They’d been clearing an old building for the night to possibly stay in and had stumbled upon a group who’d camped the area, knowing what a prime location it was. Scavengers, vultures picking off whoever came through and taking what they could. There’d been a good number of them and Joel was only one man with a highly valuable ward so he did the rational thing and ran. Ellie had stumbled badly, falling behind in the blink of an eye. He’d cursed at himself later and reamed himself a new one at the fact he didn’t keep her in front of him. It was an amateur mistake and he wasn’t an amateur. The scavenger that had been persistently tailing them had been there fast, machete raised, still pissed at the blow the girl had landed on him earlier. Quicker than he could raise his own arm and shoot the guy Red had come barreling from a side room, swinging a metal bat so hard into the guy's head it dented. All teeth, growling like a goddamn animal, bashing the bat over and over into his head until it was nothing but pulp. Breathing hard, her eyes met his and it was like looking into a mirror. Hollow and broken and rage. Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness. She’d helped Ellie and gotten them out, her choice made after seeing the asshole go after the girl. It took all night to get out of the city limits and far enough it was safe enough to rest. Then the damn kid got attached. She refused to go on without the woman after only one night, no matter how much Joel growled at her absolutely not. Red didn’t have anyone, was just surviving from one night to the next. The heavy implication that there had been a group, had been other people, once hung in the silence. And against his best wishes, Joel agreed if only to get the kid moving though he kept an eye on the woman diligently for at least a couple weeks.

They both didn’t like each other at first, but she looked after the girl and it helped having someone look over his shoulder after Tess… But she wasn't the smuggler who had been all broken edges and selfishness. Red didn’t give a shit about herself to a fault, so selfless at times it felt like it was a punishment or a goddamn death wish. Like she hated herself. She used her body like a weapon and made Ellie her sole priority as if she had nothing left tethering her to life until she saved the girl. He reasoned that it made his job easier, but if anything it made him more on edge watching her throw herself into every fight like a rabid animal with no care for her own safety. Joel reasoned that it was because seeing another person die would make Ellie harder to manage, but he wasn’t so sure. He wondered who she had lost to act that way and then he shoved that thought into the back of his mind because he didn’t care about her enough to wonder that. As the days went on, he could see the leftover marks from the world before and the person she used to be, small whispers of that bright eyed girl. A small tattooed “Love ya” in someone’s handwriting on her inner arm. Dainty flowers on her ankle. Stars on little strings under her collar bone. What you would expect a young woman to get if there weren’t an apocalypse. When she pissed him off, he called her Starshine mockingly, unable to see something so small and lighthearted without turning it bitter. She called him Tex after Ellie had spilled that’s where he was from. He hadn’t been able to hide the wince at the name so she kept at it like a bird pecking at an open wound. The memory of Tess's voice calling him that late at night had long since merged with her wide scared eyes as he left her to die. It flashed in his mind every time. It made him hate her more, but the anger kept him focused. Starshine. Tex. The pain was a revolving door. Red protected her bag religiously. It held everything that she owned, the only remnants of that life before. A small mixtape cassette of music, a couple of pictures, a pair of keys that were rusted and useless, a journal. He’d seen her damn near behead a guy who had attempted to rip it off her and she hadn’t stopped hacking away until she was soaked in blood and panting. It was the one time Ellie had been scared of her. Joel had been impressed. All teeth. She didn’t speak for days after that. That softness wasn’t completely gone though, just buried underneath thick callus-like skin. Sometimes he could catch it peeking through. When they’d happened upon a stream, she’d forced Ellie to wash her hair and he’d watched as Red helped her lean her hair back into the water and had even laughed when the girl swung it to splash her. She’d sat behind Ellie later on and combed through the long mess, complaining the kid was letting it get matted. Then she’d rolled her eyes when Ellie had complained in turn about Red’s aggressive brushing. She could handle people trying to kill her constantly but not getting her tangles brushed out. Joel had watched them out of the corner of his eye, warm coffee in his hands, and simply shook his head. The kid liked her and it kept Ellie from pestering him constantly, though he was finding he didn’t mind it as much. She would take turns asking them questions whether they be about the world or how things worked or their lives before. Sometimes she simply liked to read things out loud from her dumb joke book to whatever books she’d grab. It was the few times he saw Red crack a smile, her hand on Ellie’s bag to keep the girl moving forward and making sure she didn’t trip on anything while distracted. He was minding them both less and less. When they’d gone through a store, Red’s fingers had trailed over the tops of old records lovingly, wistfully. Joel had watched her linger for a second and the way her eyes had lightened, her lips pressed together as if she were remembering. When she caught him staring, her hand had snatched away and the light had sputtered out before she kept going. He’d resisted going over and seeing what records she had touched, finding the spots in the dust hers had made. One time after having found two whole bottles of booze and a safe enough spot to breathe, they’d both gotten drunk after Ellie had passed out. It’d been a hard day of travel and they had needed it. Joel hadn’t had alcohol in months and his tolerance had diminished, the liquor hitting him harder than it had in a while. She’d mentioned a younger sister and a guy named Harry and he didn’t have to wonder who she had lost anymore. The name burned in his belly along with the taste of the alcohol and he imagined someone handsome and young, maybe the owner of the “love ya” handwriting. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry to see how long that wound had been there. His own was twenty years old and still festering. Hell, there was a new one just a few months old. They’d switched to other topics. Music mostly, Texas, the Fireflies. Nothing too personal, but holding tiny glimpses of themselves. She’d fallen asleep first and his eyes had traced the tiny stars too many times to count, hand gripping the bottle of liquor to keep from reaching out. They both learned each other’s patterns. Months of traveling together, working together to keep Ellie safe, had given her the ability to read what he wanted without him even saying it. Survival did that. Flank left, check around the corner right, keep back with Ellie while he cleared the rooms. He trusted her to take care of the girl, but that selfless tendency sometimes reared its ugly head…except Joel didn’t know when things changed. When it stopped being a pain in the ass for him and instead drove high keeling panic through his body. The sun was getting low and they’d unintentionally come too close to what seemed like a fortified cabin. The owners had been out and stumbled upon them, a case of the wrong people at the wrong time, and Joel knew instantly what type of people these were. Not just preppers like Bill, but kill-first-zero-hesitation survivalists. Apparently simply knowing of the safe house’s location was a death sentence and they’d attacked before he could process. Joel had a guy in a chokehold, squeezing so tight he could hear the distinct crack of bones splintering. There’d been four, the first easy enough to take care of but while Red was finishing him, another was headed towards Ellie and had managed to hit her. The woman had thrown herself at him, literally, clinging onto his back and driving her knife over and over into his chest. But he wasn’t going down so easily and had grabbed onto her arm in turn, trapping her there. She didn’t see the fourth guy walking up with his gun trained. Didn’t see that she was seconds from being another name on the list of people who had died in Joel’s life. But he had. White hot panic shot through his chest and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even grabbed the pistol that had fallen to the ground. Joel lunged, gunshot ringing through his ear, and tackled the man. Blood warmed his skin as he punched over and over and over again. He hadn’t needed a bat to do the same damage she had done that first time, he was a weapon himself and even as bone fragments embedded in his hands, skin caved, and brain matter splattered all over the ground he destroyed whatever was left of the man underneath him. “Joel!” her fervent whisper shot through him and the sound of his name, not just Tex, finally got him to stop, breathing hard. In the dying sun, he could see her perfectly standing next to him. Like starshine. Still alive, the barest graze of a bullet on her shoulder. But she was okay and Ellie was okay and the man was dead. And she wasn't afraid of him, sitting atop the mutilated corpse that he had done with his own hands. “You okay?” she asked and he wanted to laugh because she was asking him? But he nodded gruffly and attempted to stand, only pausing when she offered him a hand equally covered in blood. She used to be a singer. He’d be a musician. Now they were matching monsters. For some reason, seeing her blood soaked hand in his irked him. She hadn’t been paying attention to herself and was only focused on getting the guy away from Ellie. It was careless and remembering seeing the gun raised at her irritated him even more. “You damn near almost got killed, Starshine,” Joel growled, his anger finding its usual target, “You’re lucky I managed to get to him in time and all you got was a graze instead of your brains splattered all over the damn floor.” “I was protecting Ellie,” Red bit out, hackles raised, “I’m sorry, I thought that was the point? Would you rather I make sure her ass stays alive or mine?” He grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, the pain shooting up from the torn skin helping keep him grounded. The answer should have been easy. Ellie, always. She was the cargo, the whole reason behind this journey. But the fact he couldn’t make himself reply, wasn’t satisfied with either option, made him turn his back and walk towards the house in silence. He didn’t like what that meant. They could see why the group had wanted to protect the small cabin. It was a goldmine and if they didn’t have a goal, a mission, Joel would have loved to keep fixing the place up and stay there for the rest of his life. They had their own generators, a high concrete fence, a water well, and even a small farm behind the house. They even had electricity and running hot water. It was a goddamn oasis in the middle of the forest, a more rustic smaller version of what Bill and Frank had. After clearing the whole place, it was decided they all would stay at least a day or two. It was safe enough and that would give them all time to rest, restock, and breathe before continuing on to Wyoming. It was a luxury and there was no sense not taking advantage of that.

Ellie had happily raced through the whole house, digging through the previous occupants' belongings as if she hadn’t just witnessed all four of them get massacred. She flipped through their books, went through the pantries, and even shouted happily to Red at the discovery of a radio and collection of tapes. She’d paused only to scrunch up her nose, looking at the two adults, “Actually, you both should take showers first. You both need it so I’ll go last.” Joel had looked down, blood and mud covering his arms and pants while Red’s torso and hands were crimson as well. Now that the adrenaline was seeping from his body, the sting of his knuckles were making themselves known. He nodded his head at the woman, brow furrowed, “You can take a shower in the Master. I’m gonna take stock of all their shit and use the hallway one.” For once, Red didn’t argue, only pressed her lips tightly together and nodded before heading down to where they’d discovered the large master bedroom. She was usually quick to argue about being told what to do, but Joel tried not to think too much about it and chalked it up to exhaustion. The hot water was a godsend for his bunch up muscles though it stung like hell on his wounds. Hands pressed against the shower wall, he let the water run over his skin and wash away all the blood away. The murky rust colored water swirled and disappeared down the drain and though his brain told him to be efficient, clean and get in and out, he allowed him a small bit of time to stand there and zone out. There’d been a fixed up jeep in a makeshift garage out back. They could tear every salvageable supply from the cabin, fill it up, and finally make it to Wyoming in record time instead of the weeks, months, it’d been taking walking there. A couple days to rest and they’d be on their way. But with a plan set, his mind inevitably went to the woman he’d just butchered a man to protect. It hadn’t been like that moment with Ellie, standing in front of the FEDRA soldier. That night his mind had disappeared, seeing the light of the gun and knowing there was a young girl behind him that was the same age Sarah had been made him flashback to that moment. He’d been there again, but different. More brutal, more capable. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. No, this was different. Pure instinct had taken over his body and he hadn’t thought at all. Ellie hadn’t been the one in danger, Red had, but the reaction had been visceral. He hadn’t wanted her name to end up on that list of people Joel couldn’t save. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name. No one to mourn her but him and the kid. Running a hand over his face, he finished washing up and turned the water off, not wanting to take all the heat before Ellie could get cleaned up. His muscles had loosened but that only let every ache and soreness seep in, his knuckles a mess of skin and small fragments of bone stabbed in. They were going to smart for a while and he needed to get the splinters out. Joel threw on a loose shirt and clean pair of jeans, water dripping from his damp hair even as he tried to comb it back. He’d seen a small suture kit in the master bedroom with some tweezers. Cursing himself for not grabbing it, he left the bathroom and barely missed being bulldozed over as Ellie ran in, “my turn!” He frowned as the door slammed shut loudly in her eagerness, shaking his head at the teenager and sighing. Red had to still be in the shower so that would give him enough time to grab the kit from the bedroom and try to clean up his hand. Most of the fragments were in his right hand, his dominant one, and it was gonna be a bitch to get out. The master bedroom was more like a stockpile than what it previously was. All the outer windows had been boarded up, the only entrance to the house being the front door. Racks of fabric, supplies, all sorts lined the walls. Nothing decorative, purely functional. Turning to the bathroom door to make sure it was still shut, Joel went over and found the shelf of First Aid supplies and rifled through until he came across the small kit. No alcohol, but there was some ointment and bandages so better than nothing. “Shoulda just used the gun,” Red’s voice was soft despite the words and he turned, finding her leaning against the open door frame in nothing but a towel. Steam poured from the entryway, light reflecting off the mist and surrounding her almost in a glow. She looked cleaner than he’d ever seen, skin shiny and hair sticking to her neck. The little tattooed stars winked at him even from across the room. He forgot how quiet she could be sometimes. “You rather I take three seconds to find my gun in the dark and let you get shot or deal with a busted hand?” Joel bit out gruffly, hand clenching reflexively though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or because he wanted to trace the long line of her bare neck. She didn’t reply, arms crossed over her torso before padding over and grabbing the kit from his hands. Her face was never relaxed, lips always pressed together in a slight purse and brows lowered. A line between her eyes was beginning to develop, the apocalypse wearing and tearing her down like the rest of them. He wondered if she had been a smiler when she was younger and shared her music but then clamped down on that thought. “Sit,” Red bit out though she accompanied it by shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His own brows furrowed into a hard line, back stiff, at the none too gentle movement though his mouth went dry for an entirely different reason as she kneeled in front of him. He could see the little stars up close, peering down at her as she shoved her way between his knees on the floor. She smelled of soap and something floral which had his brain confused because it didn’t fit her. Maybe the her before, but not the one soaked in blood that usually was at his side. She grabbed his hand in her’s without even asking him and pulled it forward to rest on his thigh, laying out the contents of the kit next to them before pulling the tweezers out. Joel could only watch and control his breathing, trying not to shudder at the feel of her warm skin against his jeans or the brush of her hair over his arms. It’d been a while…since Tess and he wasn’t going to deny that Red was attractive. Hell, any man probably would have a hard time keeping his thoughts pure with a pretty woman between his thighs. But her on her knees, fingers skimming over his knuckles, made him clench his teeth in an attempt to remain neutral.

“You don’t have to-” “Shut up, Miller,” Red muttered, holding the tweezers and working to dig out one of the larger splinters, “I’ve seen you use your left and you’re shit with it.” Joel huffed and tried to focus on the pain, his breathing, anything but her touch. He should have yanked his hand away and shrugged her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she was this close and he could watch her, memorize the freckles along her shoulders and the trail of water sliding down. She pulled out a few large fragments of bone and he watched in morbid curiosity at the small pile. They’d once belonged to the skull of another person. Joel had managed to smash his head in so hard they’d dug underneath his skin, silent retribution in the last moments of that man’s life. Now he was in his house, using his water and his things, taking his bed. “Luckily it doesn’t seem like you fractured your hand,” Red muttered, adding another small bone to the pile. One of her hands was holding the tweezers while the other wrapped around his fingers, his own hand almost gently wrapped around hers. He tried to shrug it off as her holding it to maneuver it around.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Joel grumbled and cleared his throat as her thumb trailed over the cuts on his knuckles. The small movement was surprisingly gentle, something he didn’t expect from her. “You saved me,” the words were whispered softly as if she didn’t want to speak them out loud into existence. But he’d heard them, had been acutely aware of the sound of her breathing and the way her lips formed the words even as she concentrated on pulling the splinters out. And her saying them, confirming what he had done, shot a different kind of pain through him. Because he had saved her and for all the excuses he tried to come up with, they were just that. Excuses. The real reason why wasn’t something he was willing to admit to. But it stirred that anger he relied on when confronted by something he didn’t like. Vulnerability. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d been watching yourself,” he growled low and tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she held on strong, “Should have stayed back and behind me like I told you to.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel ones under her brow and those long lashes, the look hard and sharp. “Right. It’s always listen to you or do what you say as if you’re the expert on surviving,” her voice was low and rough like a crackling flame, “Anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Tex?” The sight of her angry, on her knees in just a towel and wet hair clinging to her skin, framing those little tattooed stars had something stirring deep inside. His free hand dug into his thigh and he tried to ignore how soft her hands were even as they gripped his injured one, “My control issues have kept me alive this long. You knew what you were signing up for when you tagged along. I didn’t need a second little girl to watch over if that’s how you want to act, Starshine.” She chuckled humorlessly and leaned in towards him between his thighs, “No, you see at first I thought that was your type. That you liked being obeyed and I was almost sure that’s how you liked getting your rocks off. Some sweet damsel in distress who needs you and gets on their knees to please you however you want like good girls.” As if emphasizing her point, she sat up straight all prim and proper and he tried to ignore the trickle of water that slid down her cleavage and into the towel. Red wasn’t wrong entirely. The sight had his mouth watering and as her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, arousal flooded him. Then the hand still holding his injured one squeezed and he hissed, a strange combination of pleasure and pain hitting him, “But the more I see you, I don’t think you want some submissive sweet thing at all. I think you like someone arguing with you more, right Tex?” Joel glared at her, blood pounding through his veins. He was loath to admit to her being right, at confirming that she had read that part of him, especially as she sat there half naked and looking so smug. Maybe she was right. Hell, that had been what had drawn him to Tess. He didn’t like gentle, didn’t trust it anymore. Gentle got you killed and even if he did want her to listen and do what she was told, it’d been born out of wanting to keep a distance. But she wasn’t gentle and she didn’t listen. She was a wild animal, all teeth, and hell if that hadn’t made her attractive even while driving him wild. “Guess you got me all figured out, don’t ya Starshine?” he hissed, leaning towards her. Her fingers clenched onto him tighter and he got the urge to lick the star pattern along her collarbone, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t, eyes narrowing and drilling into her own, “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” Her pupils were wide and blown up, skin flushed and scars in even more stark relief. Each deep breath made her chest rise and fall and he knew even if she was trying to hide it, his words had affected her the same. Joel only leaned back and ripped his hand from hers, moving to stand up, “Now get dressed and go to sleep if you’re done bothering me.” He’d snatched the suture kit and tweezers from the bed, stepping around the woman and leaving her still on her knees as he went for the door. He felt the urge to look back at her, to see her reaction, but he only pressed forward and left, shutting the door behind him. If he didn’t look back, she would stay the same monster as him in his head, not the girl who smelled of flowers and gently pressed against his thighs. And he needed that reassurance even as the memory of her skin on his made his fists clench.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #raicodoll writes #i've been in a writers block lately and been busy so this helped me a bit #also I'm texan so I feel like I have a slight advantage writing Joel lol #I tried doing 2nd POV and it came out awful so sorry #have another oc lol #fic: monsters #oc: Red #feral reader #series: feral

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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For your health, of course

Aegon II x Baratheon Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff and smut, wg progression, CHONK!Aegon, hand feeding, belly kink, infertility/fertility issues, post!Dance au, they’re in love and everything is perfect okay, health issues, oral sex (m!receiving), hand jobs, mentioned fingering and cunnilingus

A/N: I almost put this on my other blog but fuck it I don’t consider this too The Other Kink to not post. Me love thick men thanks @lovelykhaleesiii for the plot ideas

Aegon came back to the throne skinny, sickly, and surly. He was irritated from the shattered bones and having to rule over an even more shattered kingdom he never wanted in the first place.

You were his new wife, married quickly after he had returned. Aegon liked having you around, requesting you stay by his side at all times. The Dowager seemed to be annoyed as she couldn’t get her son alone to debate how to navigate the still burning coals of war.

You tried to get to know him better, idly chatting away as he drank strongwine. Aegon hollowly stared at you one day and said, “I have nothing to talk about, I like listening to you.” So you had to start bringing books in for entertainment. But the feeling of something missing was in the back of your mind.

Staring at a painting of Aegon on his coronation day brought forth what.

The young king in that photo was robust, handsome, and definitely well fed. You couldn’t do anything about the scars…but maybe some flesh on his bones would help with aches and pains. The Targaryen rarely ate, preferring to drink or sip on soup.

So at your nightly private dinner you ordered the servants to bring heavier options, meats and sweets, bread and pudding. Aegon eyes widened and he grumbled, “I can’t possibly eat that.” You moved to the seat closest to him and prodded, “Why not? You look like a wandering septon.”

Violet eyes turned up at you. He stared at the feast and his mouth twisted slightly. Aegon bitterly remarked, “Because that’s what the Maester told me. Gods, I’m a buffoon. They just want me weak and drunk all the time!” He threw his hands up in anger, cursing himself.

You smiled sweetly, forking a piece of ham to his still frowning mouth, “Eat up then, this will make you stronger.” Aegon opened and took a generous bite, moaning around the flavor. You hummed, “Good. You’ll be feeling better in no time, my lord husband. Show them how wrong they were.”

It was off to the races by that exact moment. Aegon’s notorious appetite of his youth had returned, ten-fold. He requested large feasts for every meal, even beginning to invite some of the lords milling around the place to break up their plotting.

Aegon would often be exhausted after a particularly long day, forcing himself around on that cane in the Keep. He’d plop down in a comfortable chair and you’d hand feed him, cooing, “You’ve worked so hard today, just let me take care of you.”

He would sigh, “You’re too good to me.”

You’d happily do this every second if it got him to smile, that rare, beautiful smile. He’d relax and drink and eat, opening diligently for whatever he dictated you’d bring to his mouth. You didn’t know if you loved him yet, but this made you feel very…warm inside.

You were doing needlepoint next to Aegon, who watched the Blackwater wistfully. He munched on some honey cakes and grapes, having developed a habit for keeping his mouth occupied. You had a feeling the morsels kept him grounded from whatever hellish memories kept the king up at night.

The Dowager Queen entered the chambers, stiff and dressed in black. A new Kingsguard stood behind her, aloof as ever. She delicately perched on a seat, staring at you two. Aegon grumbled, “What is it mother? More spies under the keep? Cregan Stark is on the spires?”

Her pretty mouth thinned, looking so much like Aegon. Alicent wrung her hands together and said, “No, nothing of that sort. I wanted to say you look healthier. Maybe the Maester could check your, ahem, potency soon.” Aegon dramatically groaned around a lemon cake, “Always an ulterior motive, yes! In front of my darling wife.”

You stated, “I do not wish to injure him trying to copulate. I feel this is a private matter between the Maester and us, My Queen.”

She huffed, “Do please meet with them soon, we need an heir.”

Poor Jaehaera was scarcely considered, the child strange and gloomy. Aegon tried his best, the girl often climbing into your shared bed weeping, your husband trying to console her. She was shy of you, but had warmed up some when the princess saw you make Aegon laugh.

After Alicent had left Aegon shoved another lemon cake down his throat. He murmured between smacks, “I don’t trust the gods damned maesters. Not one.” You grabbed his scarred hand and promised, “I’ll be right there with you. I- I’d love to have a child of yours, if the gods allow for it.”

His violet eyes grew glossy and he rasped, “Fine. We go to them on the morn, my sweet.”

Aegon was flushed and very aggravated in the Grand Maester’s quarters. You knew he was self conscious about the scarring and the withered leg he refused to rid of. A blanket lay over his lap, him looking down sullenly. You sat in a corner of the room, hands folded in your lap.

He’d gained some weight, you’d noticed that now that you saw his pale and scarred flesh in the buff. Where ribs once poked through was a soft layer of padding, a small roll creasing his tummy. His arms were more built from the cane, but you could see a bit of softness. Aegon’s hips had flared out.

Heat settled on your cheeks. Your husband looked very good, soft and sweet. You couldn’t help but imagine how more flesh would sit on his delicate Targaryen bones. The jingling of chains alerted the pair of you, the old Maester shuffling in. You relocated to Aegon’s side, holding a hand. He looked up at you and murmured, “You may not want to see this.”

Hardening your gaze you stated, “You’re my husband, I will cherish every bit of you.”

Your heart fluttered watching the stress dial down across his body. Aegon pulled your palm to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss. Orwyle rasped, “So we need to check on fertility, hm?” Aegon snapped, “Why else would I be here? Obviously she’s not broken and burnt.”

The Maester chuckled softly, used to the King’s outbursts. He murmured, “Lay back, I need to check you.” Aegon reluctantly leaned back, closing his eyes tight as Orwyle pulled back the blanket. You stared at the withered leg, frowning in sadness. His other leg, although still healing, had thickened up slightly.

“I see you’ve been having a healthy appetite again,” he noted.

“Because my darling wife cares about me and my health. My aches have lessened.”

“Mhm. Yes.” Aegon gritted his jaw as his cock and sac was felt and checked. Orwyle noted, “You’re producing sperm, but no copulation. We must get your seed and artificially enter it in the Queen.” You spoke, “Can we do this act in private? Ah- the collection part?”

Orwyle waved a gnarled hand, “Yes, of course, I will have to inseminate you quickly after.”

Awkward visit over, Aegon was struggling on his cane, sitting down on a bench with a huff. You nuzzled into his soft hair, teasing, “Not too bad. I have heard the seed takes better when the woman has had her own release.” The king laughed deeply, “Oh, I’ll take care of you. Make Orwyle cover his ears for a bit.”

You pecked his sweet lips, humming. Your hand skated down to his belly, just slightly straining the fabric that once hung off his frame. With a purr you commented, “You are looking very healthy and handsome my lord.” He looked wide eyed at you, eager for some sort of praise, “You think so?”

“Yes, no longer on death’s doorstep, but we’ve got a long way Hm?”

He agreed heartily, belly rumbling as if on cue. More and more eating processed, Aegon seeming to grow more confident with the extra padding. You made sure your husband didn’t have to lift a finger, feeding and pampering him, washing and helping him dress.

Add the lack of mobility and Aegon’s tendency to travel by litter— the weight had piled on much faster than expected. Far exceeding what that original painting you’d scene. But instead of disgust, you grew aroused at his increasing weight and happier moods.

The first few sessions of ‘collection’ were definitely arousing. You’d grope and knead at fatty flesh, hand running tight strokes around his cock. One session he’d busted his doublet after eating a meal and squirming around your slick fist. You’d quivered and came watching his thick belly poke out between shredded fabric, riding Aegon’s scarred fingers.

One cane turned to two to support his heavier weight. You’d ever heard servants complaining about how heavy the King had gotten. He seemed to not pay any mind nor register any weight.

Laying in bed together one night, you idly stroked his swollen belly, bloated with mead and meats of all sorts. This was a far cry from the slim layer of fat lining his body. Aegon’s cheeks thickened, jaw softened, chest swollen. You marveled at his fat sides and rapidly growing stomach. And do not get you started on watching his one thigh grow wobbly and thick.

“Should I cut back on the food,?” he asked.

You raised your brows, replying, “Why do you say that my love?”

“Mother said I’ve gotten rotund, that it’s unseemly.”

You frowned and curled tighter into his soft side while humming, “You look good, happy, and so very arousing to me. A king doesn’t need to change for anyone.”

Aegon eyed you, chin settled into his pudge. He raised a brow and asked, “Arousing you say?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, squeezing that belly you worked so hard on. The blonde laughed, “Little harlot, you like feeding your king don’t you?”

You blushed, caught unaware by Aegon’s blunt statement.

“Well?”

You shifted against him a bit, growing hot under his heavy gaze. In a small voice you spoke, “Oh, you’ve outed me Aeg. I love it, so much. You look so good, properly fat like a king should be. Shouldn’t have to do a damn thing but order the realm.”

He smiled again, cheeks bunching up. Aegon kissed you passionately, hand greedily reaching to your breast, kneading expertly. You moaned into his mouth, shifting to lay half atop of his mass. You pressed onto his belly, making the poor thing wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said.

He shook his head and kept kissing you, tongue lapping you up. Your hand crept down his pale belly, passing now faded stripes to get at his cock. Aegon moaned lowly into your mouth at the contact of your hand. You murmured, “Can I taste you tonight my lord? Please?”

Aegon sighed, “Oh fuck, yes, gods.”

You yanked back the covers, exposing Aegon’s plumping cock, fighting hard to stay up against his generous lower belly. Aegon’s hand laid at the nape of your neck possessively, giving it a squeeze. He panted, “C’mon dear, yes, so good to me.”

You grabbed onto the base, lapping at his ruddy head, tonguing the slit eagerly. Aegon moaned and shifted, stuck under his still gurgling belly. Easing your lips you swallowed him down until he was at the back of your throat, bobbing while your hand got the rest. The other hand was massaging his balls.

Aegon moaned your name again, pudgy fingers scrabbling at your neck. He incoherently rambled nonsense, lazily attempting to buck his hips but quitting when you slapped a fleshy hip. You needn’t have your husband upset his fragile bones trying to fuck your throat.

Keeping up an easy pace you savored the moment, soaking up every moan whimper or cry. You pulled back up to pay special attention to his sensitive cockhead, Aegon’s belly rolling as he squirmed. He cried, “Close- fucking seven hells- angel!”

You flicked your tongue across the slit harder, Aegon losing composure and tearing at your locks of hair. You moaned in ecstasy, greedily swallowing down his spend until your husband was whining and pulling you off.

Wiping the back of your mouth you hummed, “Splendid.”

Aegon, catching his breath, panted, “Get over here so I can get my own. Now.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Aegon leant back in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the Blackwater, fingers digging into a bowl of candied sweets. His frame certainly filled out the chair now, heavy sides lipping over the arm rests. You were vibrating with excitement, holding back a smile.

The king stopped his munching to stare at you. He asked, “What’s got you all giddy?” With an excited squeak you moved to lay between his legs, head padded on his stronger one. Aegon’s thick fingers found their way into your hair, scritching idly. He asked again, temper almost on the edge, “Have a jest my lady? C’mon, out with it now.”

Looking up with a beam you chirped, “I’ve missed my moon blood two times now. Orwyle says I am with child!” Aegon’s face was a flurry of emotions— confusion, realization, happiness, then tears. He rasped, “Truly? You are pregnant?” Tears streamed from his pretty eyes, wide with glee.

“Yes, yes!,” you cried.

Aegon grasped at you, pulling you up and closer, an awkward angle but you liked being near to his soft flesh. He kissed you passionately, rambling breathlessly, “Gods be good, I- I can’t believe it.” You nuzzled his nose, warbling, “It’s a miracle. Oh Aegon, I am overjoyed!”

He pulled back, scarred hands holding your face, “We must plan a grand feast, a tourney, something! You’re eating for two now.”

You teased back tearily, “You’ll be eating for three then, yes?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, laughing softly. Maybe the Targaryen’s could rise above the shambles of the realm. This was a new start, a new seed.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #chubby!aegon ii #baratheon!reader #post dance au #slight wg kink

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mirrorsmoonlight · 4 months

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☆ ~ i know they’re losing

pairing: platonic!mizzen x mentor!reader summary: for the last assignment of the year you and the other top 23 students of the academy were assigned a tribute to turn into a spectacle for the watchers; you just wished you didn’t get the young boy with such soulful eyes. warnings: canon death, second person, scenes used from the movies (besides some changes I made) based on the song ‘i bet on loosing dogs’ by mitski

my baby, my baby

you’re my baby, say it to me

the first time you looked into those soulful eyes were when they were filled with tears, the emotional distress not hidden from watching eyes of the capital who only smirked and chuckled at the illuminating picture.

“district 4 male tribute, goes to (name) (last name),” you could vaguely hear the giggles coming off your classmates at your misfortune but you payed no mind, only looking at the bottom of the screen where it held his name; Mizzen.

baby, my baby

tell your baby that i’m your baby

you decided that the best way to gain his trust would be by proving yourself. so here you were, on the platform waiting for the district 4 tributes to be escorted out of their section of the train with a couple bottles of water and an assortment of wrapped goods.

when they did, the first that stepped out was festus’s tribute—radiating a threatening aura that almost made you back off—before mizzen popped his head out which made your confidence spike, knowing you would take your chances with coral if that meant keeping him fed.

“excuse me,” your voice was soft and your touch even softer as you tried to get the attention of the peacekeepers escorting them, at first not even gathering their attention but the two tributes instead which caused them to stop in their place.

the men clad in grey looked towards what gathered their attention, making them stop in annoyance, your crimson academy uniform alerting them of a possible reason you’d be here.

glad you had gotten the recognition you needed you hastily stumbled out the words before they were transported into the other car waiting just a few feet away, “i brought something for my tribute, i would like for them to have it before they’re taken away.”

despite their obvious reluctance they knew you came from a family that held a high place in society, which meant if they didn’t oblige they could possibly loose their job (if you decided to be petty), so they hesitantly gave you a nod which caused a smile of appreciation to bloom on your face.

quickly, you pulled out two wrapped sandwiches—grilled cheese and turkey—and a bottle of water before making your way infront of mizzen who coral was ultimately guarding, “i didn’t know what you liked, but i know this is better than starving.”

and when mizzen didn’t immediately grasp your offerings, you shot a look to coral trying your best to show you didn’t mean any harm, hoping to persuade her so she could lower her guard on him. there was a prolonged pause before she stepped away, mizzen eagerly grabbing the food before looking up at you.

you smiled at him one last time before leaning close to his ear to whisper to him, “i’ll come find you again soon to bring you more food. i’ll see you later, alright?”

and as the peacekeepers led them into the cattle car you could almost make out the childish smile he shot your way in thanks.

i bet on losing dogs

i know they’re losing and i pay for my place

by the ring

his form was jittery as you entered the arena, his eyes consuming every inch of the place where his body would take it’s last breaths if he didn’t emerge as the victor. the swirling thoughts in his brain making him oblivious to the fact that he had desperately grasped onto your hand.

at first, shock coursed through your body but seeing the far-away look in his eyes you let him grasp onto you for comfort, gently leading him around the arena as you scoped out for places he could hide or when he needed it to have the advantage.

only minutes after, your attention was averted to the shakiness under your legs just before a burst of dust tumbled down. immediately taking action, you tugged on the hand you were holding so you could lead him to safety, completely disregarding yours…disregarding that a piece of debris was coming right for you.

the impact was rough, causing your hands to break apart as the rubble casted it’s weight over your legs. but when he looked back with fear in his eyes all you did was call out to him to run.

and when your eyes were slipping shut, the last thing you saw was mizzen desperately fighting the peacekeepers hold as he called out for them to help you.

where i’ll be looking in their eyes when their down

i’ll be there on their side

all you could do was watch from the screen as the holographic snakes broke out of their confinements and slithered across the dirtied arena floor. mizzen’s pace slowing for just a second as exhaustion finally caught up to him, unknowingly giving the snakes an open opportunity for another kill. tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as wave after wave consumed his body.

the venom was quick to kill most of his nerves, enough that instead of seeing coral looking back at him he saw you. a desperate plea leaving his lips in his final moments, “(name!!)”

i’m losing by their side

“and there goes merciless mizzen!” lucky flickerman excitedly announced, “have a good summer (last name)!”

you hastily got up from your chair, head up high until you were fully out of everyone’s view. only to quickly cover your mouth to quell the beginning of your anguished sobs, as you stood alone outside—those soulful eyes now dark and void of life.

#🎣. starfish saturdays #🕊️🐍. tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #tbosas imagine #mizzen tbosas #mizzen #platonic x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow #coral tbosas #lucy gray baird

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momotonescreaming · 10 months

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I went digging through my fics, and found this. Absolutely no idea when I wrote this, or if I shared it already, but I can't stop thinking about it. Enjoy.

It’s the 1800’s, and Steve is the first born and only son of Richard Harrington, heir to the Harrington fortune. Expectations have been placed upon him since he was born, and it only got worse as he got older. He was too kind, liked flowers, and playing in the mud, and learning about horses and carriages and trains, and sitting with his mother while she put on make up and had her ladies maid do her hair. Then came the lessons from the private tutor (since the Harrington’s were too good for the local school) and Steve wasn’t as book smart as his father wanted him to be.

His father was mean and his mother was scared and so Steve spent a lot of time out in the fields as a young boy, wandering the land his father owned, picking up sticks and pretending to be a sheriff or an adventurer riding a fast horse into the sunset.

So he played until it got dark and Steve still didn’t go back home. Dad would yell and Mom would give him That Look and he didn’t want to change into his fancy dinner clothes. So Steve stays out late and wanders.

There are things living in the woods.

Things with teeth that hunt and kill and make people disappear. But no one tells poor little Steve this. He gets attacked by a wolf that isn’t quite a wolf, and screams so so loud.

Nobody hears him.

One of his father’s farmhands find him in the woods in the early morning. His clothes are ripped and he’s dirty and covered in blood but he doesn’t have any wounds, save for one single wolf bite. The man rushes him back to the Harrington Manor House, and someone calls the doctor. Steve is bathed, and fed, and checked over and the doctor tells his parents that he’s lucky it wasn’t worse. He gets better and goes back to his lessons.

Next month he gets a fever. Steve is sweaty and delirious, and hungry and itchy and restless and nothing quite helps. He blacks out one night and when he wakes up he’s curled up on the hardwood floor and all his furniture has been ripped apart. The servants whisper the word “werewolf” in the halls.

His parents fire half the servants, pay them off to keep their mouth shut, and hire someone who can help. A friendly woman named Mrs Henderson, whose dead ex-husband was a werewolf like Steve. She teaches him what she can while Richard Harrington hires men to build a stone basement underneath a small cottage at the very back of the Harrington Land. Where no one can see.

So Steve grows up, he falls in love, he finds out his sweetheart Nancy doesn’t love him, he befriends Dustin Henderson, and then Robin Buckley - a dorky local girl who plays the trumpet and works at a store in town. And once a month, he takes himself down to the basement of the cottage, and turns into a werewolf. Mrs Henderson could only help so much, not being a Werewolf herself. His control is better than it was, but he still doesn’t trust himself. So chained in the basement it is.

Then there’s Eddie Munson, the poor son of an outlaw living with his uncle in a tiny house in the town of Hawkins. Grew up learning how to break the law with his father, how to live off the land, how to shoot and hunt and survive. He hated it, little Eddie wanted to learn to play the guitar and read and tell stories. But Pa didn’t give him much of a choice. Until Ma died and Pa spiralled and ended up getting caught and shipped off to prison. So he went to live with his uncle Wayne. And he made friends, and told stories, and started writing.

And then he watched a girl die and got blamed for her murder. So he’s on the run, and he knows how to survive but not when he doesn’t have any supplies. And not in a town where everyone knows his name and his face. So he runs. And he hides. First in his friend Rick's, who’s away in jail or on a job or something. Eddie's not sure and he really doesn't care right now. But he gets close to getting caught again. So he runs again until he finds a barn, semi abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

He’s close to the Harrington’s land, this he knows. But everyone knows they travel for business all the time, so it’s fine.

Except it’s not.

He’s tired and hungry and scared and it’s dark. There’s a light in the distance - lantern. He ducks down, waiting. Except it’s not the Sheriff, or Jason Carver (who took it upon himself to become a bounty hunter, to avenge the death of his sweetheart). It’s Steve Harrington. The semi-estranged, semi-reclusive Harrington heir, who looks grim and angry as he storms across the field. And he doesn’t see Eddie, doesn’t look at the barn, doesn’t even have a horse.

Steve goes into the cottage and Eddie doesn’t know whether to stay put until he leaves in the morning or make a run for it. Eddie is still paralysed with fear and indecision when he notices the full moon in the sky.

He hears a guttural scream, the snap of bone, a howling; and Eddie remembers the stories his Uncle Wayne would tell him of the things that live in the woods.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #pre steddie #werewolf au #western au #momo.txt #honestly this fucks #past me knew whats up #no idea on how this goes though lmao #past me did not make notes #my writing

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writingfool001 · 2 months

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What Really Matters

Author's Note: I decided to keep this one and delete the old one later. I like this one better.

Request:

Due to the culture of looking down on half-bloods in the wizarding world, I can picture Newt!MC sympathizing with Sebek about his internalized racism as they had seen multiple Slytherins act the way he does in order to hide the fact that they're either a half-blood or a muggle born. It'll be touching if while Newt!MC is explaining their world to Sebek they touch upon the blood status subject and bring up example of half-bloods being just as exceptional as any regular magician.

Pairing: Newt!MC x Sebek (Platonic or romantic)Warning: Newt!MC is based off of Newt Scamander, mostly dialogue, short.

You've met many people on your travels, different races, ethnicities, and so on. Compared to your fellow wizards, you would treat everyone you met with decency unless you saw a valid reason not to. Ever since you arrived at NRC, there were few who didn't let anyone doubt their magical abilities due to their background. Yet there was a certain first year, in your flying class, who often called you human and would talk about humans or about Malleus being superior. Overtime, you learned more about his lineage and how he himself was half human himself which made you thought perhaps that is what fed into his usual behavior.

“Sebek, I didn’t know your dad was a dentist?” You started out as we were studying.

“Why would that be important as of right now?” he told, looking up from his homework.

“You always ask me questions; wouldn’t it be fair if I could not do the same to you?”

He glared a bit as his eyebrow twitched a bit before speaking.

“...yes, he is.”

“Such a fascinating job, he must be quite special.”

“He’s just a magic-less human dentist.”

"So, what? His magical ability does not change the fact that he is special. I presume your mother holds him in a high regard."

"She does, though I do not entirely understand why." He grumbled as he wrote out his notes.

"She likely saw him for who he was rather than the lack of magic." You suggested, only for him to scoff at it.

"That does not take away from the fact that he does not have magic."

"That does not make him any less important besides, do you care about having magic that much?"

"Yes, or else I would be weak, it would've been easier if my father wasn't magicless."

It was a little surprising to hear Sebek be somewhat open with you considering how he's usually yelling at you and such throughout the day, but it was nice. It also showed some of his insecurities about himself.

"There have been many extraordinarily talented people I have met. Many of them being half-blooded magicians that have been more exceptional than the sum purebloods magicians." You start "I do not judge on one's magical capability or who they're related to which you should learn to do as well. Each to their own."

“You won’t see me differently for my blood?” He asked as you shook head before he let out a hearty loud laugh. “I don’t believe you.”

“I remember my first friend outside of school was a young man who was very passionate about baking and didn’t have any magical talent. I still hold him dear in my heart as he's passionate about baking. I envied how easy it was for him to talk to others while I struggled with it. He's one of the most extraordinary people I met.” You smiled gently as you recalled your dear friend.

“He didn’t have any magic?”

“He had some, but he was considered magicless by most and he was fine with that. It didn’t matter if he had any magical talents or not, it mattered that he was passionate, something I admire.”

You both sat there for a while before you packed your books and notes up then got up. Before leaving, you turn to him.

“Don’t let your lineage or magic be how you define yourself. It’s the passion that is what makes someone like you the way you are. You’re Sebek to me. Just remember that.”

You turned on your way and left. The next couple of days, you noticed a small pep in Sebek’s step and how extra loud he was during flying practice. It's good to see some things don't change.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x reader #newt!mc #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt

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toms-cherry-trees · 7 months

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Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Prologue

Summary: How can one recover from having their life swept out from under theit feet? When a promising future becomes lost, shattered by a past that should have remained long forgotten? Is care and love enough to undo the damage, or will it just be a sweet balm to give a brief respite of the pain before the unavoidable end?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Vague description of war injuries

Author's note: This fic is loosely based on Me Before You, keyword loosely. I don't have many information on what voluntary nurses did after the war nor how did they treat those with long term injuries, but I am working as best as I can with what I know so do not expect this to be entirely historically accurate. There also may be some ableism akin to the period but it will be kept minimal

This is also my first time writing Tommy with an OC! Say hello to Charlotte Florence Tindall everyone! She is an OC I've had for 3 years based in Lady Sybill Crawley from Downton Abbey

Next part 》

The gates to Arrow House stood tall and imponent amidst a thick grove in the depths of Warwickshire. The estate’s name had been forged in sturdy steel and perched high above the iron and brick archways, kept in pristine condition despite the long exposure to the elements, with the family’s proud surname hanging just below in equal condition. Charlotte could easily imagine an unfortunate servant sent there on the daily with a ladder and some polisher, his only duty being to keep the family’s name spotless, literally.

The journey towards the manor was brief and silent, the bumps in the road barely noticeable in the luxurious car that had picked her up from the train station, with leather seats and a smoothly purring engine. She knew little about the brands and commodities money could afford, but the vehicle, driven by a smartly dressed man in a crisp suit, surely cost more than all the money she had ever owned or would ever own in her life as a former VAD nurse.

The Great War had taken many opportunities, but in its wake, it had unexpectedly given some. Hordes of girls and women turned to their nearest recruitment offices or hospitals to receive express courses in nursing and home care, to serve their country side by side with the men, restoring to health those who had been wounded in combat and caring for those who had given it all until they had no more left. Field hospitals, Red Cross stations, local hospitals, and convalescence homes; all packed to the gunnels with soldiers who had been wounded, scarred, maimed, and traumatised beyond repair.

But the war had come to an end. The volunteers, the ones who had risen to the task, scattered and went back to their lives. And so did Charlotte. Only to realise the long battle had just begun. The men would not recover only because the conflict had concluded. Many remained who would need lifetime care and attention that not many families were trained or willing to provide. The nurses returned, offering their skills in little advertisements printed in newspapers or glued to shop windows.

She had it easy, in a way. Early in 1919, a man she cared for harnessed her in to be his private nurse, but that lasted until he came forward with less honourable propositions. Then came an elderly colonel, whom she watched over up until his last breath. And most recently, a strapping young sergeant, whose fiance, who didn’t take kindly to having a young woman dress and wash him, nearly chased Charlotte off.

She quickly grew disenchanted with the job, having found mostly trouble and no small amount of tears in it. Perhaps she was not made for this as she originally thought. Maybe she would do better as a cashier or cook; she could seek a post as a secretary or a board girl in the telephone company. She had learned enough to defend herself as a seamstress. Anything to keep her clothed and fed while sparing her the suffering.

But one day, a letter arrived at her door. A letter sent by the treasurer of Shelby Company Limited. The infamous Polly Gray. A shiver ran down her spine when she read the name in elegant calligraphy over expensive paper, and a part of her feared the envelope would burst in her hands like a hand grenade.

Who in Birmingham didn’t know about the Shelbys? In the slums and the rookeries, people didn’t pray to God; they prayed to the Peaky Blinders. They owned the factories, the distilleries, the pubs, and the institutions. They owned the police. They owned the very streets the people walked every day, their houses, their money, and their lives if they so wished.

And now, it seemed they wished to own Charlotte.

Mrs. Gray convened her for an interview at their estate since they requested her services as a nurse to care for a war veteran. The letter provided little more information other that they offered generous pay, accommodations, and a day off of her choosing. A preset date and time had been included, next to a train ticket to get her to the station closest to them.

Charlotte could not tell exactly what drove her to actually assist. Perhaps she wished to know how and why they found her. Maybe the lure of a salary twice the average had lured her in. Or the morbid curiosity of meeting this soldier; as far as she knew, the Shelby brothers didn’t need anything from anyone.

When she arrived at the manor, a stern-faced woman took her coat and bag. She barely had time to admire her surroundings before the maid led her towards a drawing room. Dark wood in panels and furniture, crimson wallpaper, two walls entirely lined with bookshelves filled with books of all sorts, some in pristine condition and others worn and falling apart.

Amidst all, in a settee of black velvet, sat Polly Gray. Pearls hugged her neck, hung from her ears, and adorned the front of her silver frock. Bracelets and rings decorated her fingers. Masses of papers covered the tea table before her, which she methodically separated into neat piles. By her side were a glass of whiskey and a cigarette with crimson stains, the ashtray filled to the brim. The face powder could not conceal entirely the dark circles underneath her eyes, and some fine streaks of grey contrasted against her golden chocolate curls. A woman not quite old in age but worn out tremendously by troubles and tribulations Charlotte didn’t know.

She cleared her throat, since she appeared so immersed in her paperwork she didn’t notice her.

“Mrs Gray”

“Sit” The harshness of the command contrasted with the undeniable softness of her voice, edged with barely contained nervousness, as if she stood ready to collapse. Hurriedly, she collected the scattered papers and dropped them in a pile at her side, just in time for the stern maid to place before them a tea tray, all polished silverware and hand-painted porcelain. Mrs. Gray and her spent several minutes in fraught silence, stirring a cup of fragrant tea with two sugars, while Mrs. Gray added the last of her whiskey glass into her cup. Charlotte waited for her to speak first, but the woman seemed to be in no rush, which only added to her own anxiousness.

“Mrs. Gray. You called me here. You sent me a train ticket and a driver to pick me up. Why?”

She stirred her beverage methodically, making five perfect clockwise rounds with the spoon and gently tapping it on the rim twice. Staring into the steaming liquid while she pondered her words.

“You are a nurse, aren’t you? You have field experience, and have also have cared for disabled soldiers." Not an interrogation, merely a statement. She didn’t question her about how she knew that. If she so desired, she could track down her school teacher and ask her how well she did in maths when she was nine. But that still didn’t provide her with answers.

“I am. I have worked with several patients, and if you wish, I can provide referen-”

She cut Charlotte off with a wave of her hand. “I already have your references. I spoke with your previous employers myself.”

A cold shiver spread down her legs. What could she possibly require from her that she take such an effort to map out her past? If she had that information, it meant they had checked her background and that of her family and close friends. And she assumed she had passed whatever unspoken test they carried on her; otherwise, they wouldn’t have brought her straight into their den.

But again, why?

Mrs. Gray put down the teacup and finally looked at the other woman’s face for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes were large, deep in colour, and full of wisdom and caution.

“Do you have any experience with men with reduced mobility? That is, men who are wheelchair-bound?”

That treaded closer to her area of expertise. For a brief moment, she feared she would be taken to a dimly lit basement where she’d be asked to save the life of a grievously wounded man with a gun pressed to her temple. Or maybe she just read far too many crime novels.

“I do. I worked with many men who had lost their ability to walk, either by spinal injury or loss of limb."Before the following pause prolonged for too long, Charlotte pressed the matter further. “Is that why you called me? You have a veteran who can’t walk."She spoke the words carefully, since she had learned through trial and error that not all people reacted well when she spoke too harshly about the state of the patient, so she tiptoed around the subject with carefully chosen words.

Suddenly she stood, setting the cup aside with such carelessness that the tea splattered everywhere, staining the lace covering the side table.

“Come with me." She headed towards the hallway, not even looking to see if Charlotte followed. She barely had time to steal one more sip before rushing behind her, straining her legs to keep up with her pace. She led her through a back door and out of the house, towards a stone and gravel backyard, smelling of horses and petrol. Other than a few hounds and a lone gardener trimming some bushes, no one else was around. No one listening but Lottie.

“My three nephews enlisted around the same time in 1914. And I will forever be grateful that the three of them made it home alive." She walked with her hands behind her back like a man. With that ramrod straight posture and her puffed chest, she could put a general to shame. It certainly worked to intimidate her, and she walked a step behind her, feeling unworthy of keeping up her pace.

“John and Arthur came back okay. Or as okay as men could after the things they saw and did” John and Arthur. Both names rang a bell, but she hadn’t seen them personally. They acted as henchmen more than businessmen, terrorising the factories and the foremen in their factories. Legend has it that a foreman in a Sparkbrook steelworks bought a house with bribes for tossing bodies in the furnace.

“But Tommy” She continued, bringing her attention back to the present. “He was a tunneller. There was a collapse near the end of everything. I don’t know the entire story, but the tunnel caved in on them. Out of fifteen boys, only five were dug out."She fell silent for a moment and made the sign of the cross. Pain wrung Charlotte’s heart, but she didn’t allow it to settle. She had quickly learned to push pain into the back of her mind during the war. If she allowed herself to feel it, she’d collapse like wet clay.

“They brought him back on a stretcher. I never thought a person could be more blue than white and have more broken bones than whole ones. He spent the rest of the war in a hospital room and remained there for a good part of the next year. Every doctor expected him to just die in his sleep, but he refused to give up. He made a full recovery and came home as if nothing happened.”

The tone of her words and Lottie’s very presence there indicated that not all had gone well.

“He took over his duties in the business and married a girl he fancied. They even had a son. No indicator that something could be wrong". Her pace had slowed, allowing her to catch up, now walking by her side, not wanting to miss a word. She had left the backyard behind and now moved into bare grass; from the entrance, she hadn’t quite grasped how far the estate stretched. It could easily and comfortably house two manors equal in size with their own stables and gardens.

“He suddenly started complaining of pain in his legs. Stiffness, soreness, especially in the mornings” She recognised the symptoms immediately but chose to remain silent while she spoke. “Soon he had trouble walking; sometimes his knees gave out and he just fell. He resisted the cane as much as he could, but in time he could not remain upright without it for long.

“We sought a doctor in London. He said a disc in his back had cracked in the accident. The fracture had been stable, but as time passed, it worsened and began to collapse and compress his spine."She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t understand any of the technical words, but the doctor said the injury would progress. The spine would be compressed more and more until he lost all use of his legs.

Even though Charlotte didn’t see her expression, she noticed in her words the sorrow she felt for her nephew. And she didn’t blame her. To have him delivered home in pieces, seeing him go through a miraculous recovery only for this to happen. His life robbed from him, one sliver at a time, seeing his own body fail him day by day.

Mrs. Gray exhaled slowly, as if regaining her composure. “Ever since he got the diagnosis, he changed. He became irritable and wrathful. He refused to be seen with the cane; whenever he met people in the office, he leant into something or sat down. Then he refused to be seen altogether and handled business locked in his office." She pulled out a cigar case from her dress pocket and offered her one, which Lottie kindly refused.

“When he no longer could manage stairs easily, he started working from home. He seldom saw people; only his brothers and I could visit him” The smoke left her mouth with each word, since she consumed the cigarette so desperately she barely had time to breathe out. She thought that she didn’t need all that information to do her job, but she didn’t interrupt her. She sounded like she needed someone to listen to her at least once.

She finished the first cigarette and quickly lit a second with the leftover stub. Her crimson coated lips parted, as if she wanted to say something else but chose not to at the last second. Instead her features contorted in a snarl briefly, lips pursed like she tasted something bitter, and then shook her head and regained her composure.

“He bought this manor to be away from everyone. He wanted to live alone, with only the staff to help him, but I couldn’t leave him alone in that state, even if he refused to be helped. He may be an arse, but he is still my nephew” Lottie snickered at her last statement, disguising the inappropriate sound as a cough.

“I realise I could not handle it alone. There is just so much to be done, and many things he would never let me do for him” Another lit cigarette, consumed as frantically as the first two. “I tried to hire him a personal maid but she had the talent of a doornail”

“That’s why you sought me?” It made sense now. A common maid couldn’t handle his injuries and his needs like she could.

A bitter laugh fell from her lips “I sought a nurse, yes. And another one. And another one” She didn’t pay heed to her concerned expression “He never got along with any of them. Despised them, I dare say. Tommy cannot stomach being stared at or treated with pity” She made a mental note of that for her future work, that is, if she survived the day “Not all the pay raises and benefits in the world convinced them to stay long. I offered to pay the last one’s bank loans if she reconsidered her resignation, but that only held her in for another three weeks”

Charlotte’s resolution to take the job faltered by the minute. Why would she want to care for a man who seemed hellbent in making his caretakers miserable? Sure, his situation was nothing short of horrible, but did that really give him the right to spread his venom to those who tried to do good by him? And most importantly, did she really want to put herself through that? The pay was the best she had ever been offered, but would the money be worth it?

Suddenly Mrs. Gray gripped the younger woman’s hand, so tightly her fingers ached. She should have shaken her off, but the desperation in her eyes deterred her from it. She looked like a woman standing on the edge of the abyss, hanging only from her grasp.

“I personally collected your reference letters. All of your previous employers spoke of your patience and your affection. Of how your softness and cheerfulness helped them. I think you are what Tommy needs. I think you are the one who can help my nephew” Her grip tightened and an involuntary mewl of pain came from her throat. She released Lottie’s hand, and instead placed a pleading touch on her bicep.

“Please give it a try. At least for a month. I know he won’t live to be an old man. And whatever life he has left, whether it is 4 years or 4 decades, I want him to find peace. Happiness, even. I want him to have a reason to wake up in the morning” She could tell she wished to say more, but had cut off her words.

With all she laid out before her, Charlotte barely resisted the temptation to grab her purse and run for her life. But something in her words, in the story she narrated for her, it pulled at her heartstrings. She had a thing for lost causes and broken things. In the worst scenario, she would walk out depressed but with enough money to start anew.

She only had one request

“Can I meet your nephew before I make my decision?”

Mrs Gray dropped her arm and pressed her lips into a thin line, eyebrows knit together in a scowl. She wanted to say no, that much she could tell. Maybe she thought she shouldn’t see Thomas until she had her signed up so she couldn’t back out. But Charlotte wouldn’t agree on anything until she spoke to him

“Of course”

Back into the house, she took her to the second floor. Lottie quickly noticed the house had been retrofitted in ways most couldn’t afford to offer Thomas a semblance of comfort. Large paintings hung in the stairway, most of them displaying a man with blue eyes and a dominant posture, always standing with his hands behind his back.

A set of double doors stood ajar towards the back of the floor. The room behind stretched almost all the length of the house, and Lottie noticed in the wall the dents where walls had been taken down to create such a large space. The furniture stood well spaced between each other to allow wide passages, enough to comfortably fit a wheelchair. Sunlight filled the alcove, coming from the many windows with the drapes drawn back. A set of glass doors led to a magnificent veranda that overlooked the estate.

Just outside, close to the balustrade, sat a black-haired man, his back turned to them. The wheelchair he sat upon was far more complex and luxurious than the ones she had in the ward. He wore a robe and slippers, as if he had just risen from bed despite being well into the afternoon.

Mrs. Gray walked out first, while she waited just under the lintel. She stood next to the man, one hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy, there is someone I want you to meet”

“No” His voice cut through the air, deep and curt. It sounded manly, and would have been pleasing to hear in other situation

“Tommy, please give her a chance, I promise-” He cut her pleading short with a smack of his fist on the wooden armrest.

“I said no! I don’t want her here. Put her in a cab and send her away” Mrs. Gray seemed to be at her wits’ end. She crouched next to him, like when one speaks to a child. She couldn’t make out the words she hissed at him through clenched teeth, but whatever she said, he didn’t like. With surprising skill he turned the wheelchair around and nearly ran Charlotte over, having barely managed to stop the chair with a heel on the floor.

The paintings did little justice to the blueness in his eyes. A vibrant blue not often seen, but filled with ice the moment they laid on her. The smart haircut had been replaced by an overgrown mane, jet black strands curling behind the ears and waving around the top. A five o clock shadow obscured the clenched jaw down to the neck. But even unkempt like that she felt the aura of haughtiness and pride bordering on arrogance emanating from him. He held her gaze for endless seconds, and not once she shied away from his cold eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you can do for me, save it for someone else. And now, get out of my home”

He wheeled past her, moving towards the main double doors. He couldn’t really go anywhere, but she figured he planned to hide somewhere until she left.

Lottie stood there, a bit dumbfounded, while Mrs. Gray returned to her side, despair plastered in her features, mixed with barely contained anger

“He is like that sometimes, but I promise you, some days are better. I will talk to him and get him to behave, and if you-”

“I can start tomorrow” She cut her off. Her jaw hung open, eyes widened as she struggled to wrap her mind around her words. Words that shocked Charlotte as much as Mrs. Gray, for she hadn’t actually allowed them out of her mouth. They just left in a blurt. But she meant them, even if she couldn’t quite tell herself why. It went beyond the money; she wanted this job. As if something invisible pushed her to stay there; as if there she’d truly find a purpose. It made no sense, but hunches and feelings rarely did

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gray. I think I can help your nephew.”

#marsie writes #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x fem oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby one shot #charlotte tindall #female oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #don't hold my hand (i'll break your heart)

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morgana-artt · 3 months

Text

P X GN!READER

Note: I may be willing to do a part 2 if people want. Sorry I haven't written anything lately, life's been a bit (a lot) unmotivated.

_________________________________________

It was your job. You were meant to do this. The puppet was your target.

Who were you exactly? Someone who was paid in great money to scout out a black haired puppet, wearing a blue coat, a metal arm, and a green lantern. You weren't given much detail, but you couldn't not take the money. You had a young sibling that was hidden within Krat to keep safe. You were planning on getting out and going somewhere safer with them and needed the money for travel and food.

You weren't proud of some things that you did but you didn't exactly have a lavish life with your sibling, what with being born in the slums and having to work odd jobs in order to make sure your sibling was fed. The job you were given now was big in money and you knew you couldn't lose this.

Making your way through the broken up city, you passed a few puppets that looked to be destroyed recently. You could smell oil and burnt metal and walked towards a faint sound of fighting, you turned the corner to see a person fighting against one of the larger puppets. Your gaze turned to their waist, 'green lantern...', your gaze turned to the persons outfit, 'blue coat...', your gaze then reached to their metal arm. You waited to see the persons face wanting to confirm your suspicion.

It was him.

The one you were after.

You waited for him to get rid of the threat he was fighting and once he defeated it you decided to show yourself. "So you're the puppet I'm after?" Your voice echoed through the street, the puppet turned to you quickly and positioned his sword towards you making you chuckle. "Cute." You pulled out your own sword, "I'm supposed to take you out and drag you back...why? I have no clue and it's going to be a pain in the arse but money is money." You sighed before positioning yourself into a defense position and so did the puppet.

It was quiet as the two of your stared at each other before you made the first move, you were quick on your feet as was the puppet, you slashed your sword across as the puppet parried your move. The two of you fought, almost danced in a way as there was slashes and blocks being passed back and forth. "I'll admit...you're good" You panted, this puppet knew what he was doing and you admitted to yourself that you underestimated him. The two of you fought into the night, you weren't aware but you were inching closer to a puppet that was hidden in the corner of the street. As you were about to attack the black haired puppet, you heard the ticking behind you and turned to see a baton heading towards you. You went to block it but were pulled away to not only see that you were pulled away from the danger but to see the black haired puppet defend you as he slashed the other puppet down. He faced you and tilted his head as if asking if you were alright making you raise an eyebrow, "well...aren't you kind. Doesn't change anything though-" the puppet walked closer to you making you aim your sword at him, but he seemed to stop as a blue butterfly appeared and landed on his shoulder, he looked at it before nodding. He looked up at you before walking back and taking off into the night, you just stared at his figure that disappeared around the corner. '...crap. I can't let him go-" You huffed as you saw how dark it was getting, you couldn't leave your sibling for long and decided to head back.

Your thoughts were full of the puppet, 'a shame really...he was kind of good looking', you shook your head "really (Y/N)? God I need sleep..." You mumbled before walking into the dark streets and back to your family member.

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p imagines #lies of p x you

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leejenowrld · 4 months

Note

are there any scenes that you wrote but ended up taking out?

yeah! loads

more scenes of jeno and his friend group, i wanted to include so so much more and explore what this “fuckboy” player side of him actually is because it’s obvious i didn’t delve too much into it, but the fic would’ve been a series then and i didn’t want to make a series, it would be too long

more scenes of jenos thinking! like i wanted there to be an entire section where he fights against his own feelings and tries to push them away, i wanted him to be in denial and then i wanted to create angst by making him give yn mixed signals

like i wanted him to fuck a lot of girls, distance himself from yn, go partying, get drunk and high a lot, basically just be a major dick but it was just too much to put in a single one shot. if i made it a series though i would’ve definitely done that! because in the one shot it wasn’t really jeno who caused any problems, it was yn, if it was a series, i’d rile up the angst to a major level and make them both trouble makers :D

because jeno has never fallen in love, i wanted to add some spice and angst but oh well i am happy with the jeno i wrote

i had more spicy smut scenes lmfao

i had a kinda fwb storyline! this is different to the other storyline i just described of jeno being a dick, in this one jeno pines for her and he falls first and he falls harder

my original draft for yn was for her to be the hot shy girl, if ygm? like the mysterious girl who everyone low-key finds really hot but they just don’t approach her because she’s not friendly, she keeps to herself

and in this original draft she also doesn’t want a relationship! she wanted to focus solely on her studies and her part time job, so it’s actually her who suggested the fwb. but tbh, i decided against fwb because it would be too many tropes for one fic, too overwhelming, and fwb has been done amazingly in the nct fic world so 🫶

and jeno was so obbessed with her that he said yes, he just wanted her, even if it wasn’t all of her

well they wouldn’t specify it as fwb, it would legit be “i love fucking you but i don’t want a relationship”

and it would turn into a relationship by jeno getting so high and drunk because he’s just… fed up, he wants more but instead he ends up telling her he loves her and she says it back :( and bam they’re a couple

but the yn in my story that i went with was more sweet. the stereotypical good girl, my original characterisation of yn was a good girl with a twist, a darker side

i also wanted to do fwb turned into fake dating… can you tell i have a wildness for teen movies and their tropes

but i’m glad i just calmed down on the tropes. i mean hey, they’re also there for my future fics!

i wrote a scene at the end of johnny and ten as a rich young handsome married couple lmao they’re a thing in my universe

there’s perhaps a scene of jeno and yn angry sex

and also a scene of them fucking and jeno falling in love with her and she falls in love with him… in the moment

wanted yn to be a virgin and it was really hard for me to go against that lol

i either wanted yns first time with him to be soft like it’s her first time ever and he talks her softly through it, is so soft, so reassuring and ugh just so gentle

or i wanted her to take the lead for her first time ;) she was so ready for it

if you want me to release any of these scenes as one shots then do let me know

#fic mfal #fic mfal yn #fic mfal jeno #leejenowrld asks

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witchthewriter · 1 year

Photo

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: swears, kidnapping, a lotta violence

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

Jax left without another word, from either of you.

It felt like your heart had unlocked from your chest and fell through your body, down

down

down it went.

Falling through the floor, through the earth and into eternity.

Stupid. You felt so stupid, and … foolish.

When he left, the door banged shut. But you barely registered it. Only that the dogs were now whining at the front door, confused and hungry. However, your mind was elsewhere. A myriad of questions fighting for your attention. But one stood out amongst the rest:

What just happened? Had he felt the same?

A slave to your thoughts, it was lucky that there was a seat behind you because your knees gave out. Sitting there in silence, you still felt the warmth of his hand on your cheek. The hot breath that tingled your face. A mix of beer and cigarettes. You had been so close that you were able to smell the leather of his kutte. The faded freckles over the bridge of his nose, see the stubble on his face.

Time ticked by but you weren’t a woman of inaction. Sitting there wasn’t going to help anything. It wasn’t going to solve, nor heal.

Getting up, you fed your two dogs and grabbed your keys, Jax be damned.

- ✦ -

The closest bar wasn’t that much of a drag, but you knew there were better ones in Charming (only slightly). Yet you couldn’t be bothered to drive too far, you wanted somewhere close by. Somewhere you could possibly walk home from …

The door had the words ‘Bar’ written across it in big white paint, and you pushed it open. The stench of liquor filled your nostrils and as soon as the door swung shut behind you, you were enveloped in darkness. There was barely any light. Not even a window to the outside. It felt like another planet.

Sitting down at the counter, you heard the music turn up a little. Whoever was choosing the playlist had a love for 80s rock, specifically Metallica.

You’d heard Enter Sandman about three times in the hour you had been there. With three glasses of rye and ginger down, the grimy bar started to seem a whole lot more appealing. The alcohol was starting to do its job; the trickle of warmth and giddiness was entering your system.

Good, you thought. One of your legs now dangling from the chair.

“Another?” asked the old bartender. With his short grey beard and matching hair, he seemed like somebodies grandfather. With each drink he had given you water and slid over the peanuts for you to munch on.

What were you doing here? The thought entered your mind as you swung around and scanned the bar. The dimmed lights made it seem like night, and whenever someone entered or left, the sun stunned you.

Still lost in your thoughts, you didn’t feel the presence beside you. The young handsome man leant his arms on the bench, still standing and peered at you. He wore all black, even down to his boots; they were worn in but cleaned as best as they could be.

“Hey,” his voice was loud enough just to be heard over the sound of Enter Sandman – being played for the fourth time.

Balking, you swivelled in your chair to face him, instantly feeling roused.

“Hi,” you leaned against the bar and signalled for another drink. Five minutes later, the drink appeared next to your hand – with a fresh bottle of water. Looking into your eyes, the old man didn’t say anything but you heard him loud and clear. Be careful.

“You uh, here by yourself?” One of the man’s eyebrow raised as he turned his body completely, to face you. There were multiple rings on his fingers as he interlaced them.

Confidence on the up, you slowly moved your head to one side and let a slow smile form on your face.

“Sure am,” you felt like a black widow. A spider waiting for her meal. Or a siren, waiting on the shoreline for a sailor.

Now you knew why you were here. You had to forget who had broken your heart and why he had done so.

The man smiled back, understanding flashing in his eyes. You picked up your drink and downed it in one.

All the man did was cock his head toward the door and you nodded.

A prickle formed on the back of your neck, but you ignored it, put it down as a chill from the air conditioning. You knew what you wanted, there was no harm in this…right? It was fine. Utterly and completely fine.

- ✦ -

There hadn’t been any Sons stationed to look after you; there hadn’t been an order since you weren’t working. The Sons had been visiting anyway, so there was no need for one.

However, Happy had been on his way back from a run and saw the bar flash by. He’d recognised your car and instantly put his blinder on to enter the parking lot.

Pulling up beside your car, he unclipped his helmet and let it hang on the bike.

Happy considered going inside, until he heard the screaming.

- ✦ -

Even before Jax got the call, he knew something was wrong. Maybe it was his decision to leave to leave you, but whatever the reason, unease had followed him home.

His mobile rang just as he tucked Abel into bed. The little boy had fallen asleep on his father’s shoulder, a kid’s movie playing on the tv. Thomas was on one side of Jax. Their little heads resting against their father’s bare arms.

Gemma sat on the chair to Jax’s left, the television lights reflecting on her black heels. Usually, Wendy was there morning to night, day after day. She had stepped into the role of mother with ease. Well… from the outside it seemed so. Inside she was in pain. Not just because she was running on limited sleep, but because now she knew what Tara had experienced.

The bond her biological son had with her would no longer grow. And it was her turn to raise another woman’s child. The irony of it had felt like a stab to the heart.

“Wait, wait, she’s what?” Jax couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Happy’s voice on the other end was rushed, worried.

Concern spread throughout Jax like an electric shock. He felt sick. This was the exact reason why he had refused you. Even though he wanted you so badly; wanted to choose you.

But he knew something like this would happen. God, you hadn’t even goddamned kissed and they had taken you.

- ✦ -

“What are you doing?” Your heart was thumping, hammering, pounding. What had seemed like a gentleman turned out to be a guy from another club. Four members had pulled you into the van.

You had fought; kicked, punched, bit, elbowed. A few times you had nearly gotten away. But it was a good thing they had four guys, because you could’ve taken on three.

“Why are you doing this!” You questioned again, their faces uncovered, and kuttes’ on.

“Money,” one guy said, and another told him to shut up.

“I don’t have any money-“ you countered, doing your best to slowly undo your binds. They had tied your hands and feet but left you without a blindfold or a gag.

“Not your money,” the same guy repeated. This time he got a whack from the same guy who told him to shut up.

Idiots. Both you and the men were idiots, you thought cruelly. Silently beating yourself up for being in this situation. Although, unbeknownst to you, this was going to happen no matter where you were.

A target was on your back as soon as you were seen at the clubhouse.

A man neither you nor the club knew, had been gathering intel on the Sons of Anarchy. And Jax was his main target.

His sons weren’t easy to get to, since they were protected 24/7. Gemma and Wendy were by their sides when they weren’t in school. Prospects trailing them, most of the time too.

The Sons were always packing heat, so it was too unpredictable to target them.

So, that left you. A single woman, with no family or close friends, who had grown close to Jax during these rough times. A perfect target. Especially since you were on your own a lot.

And it was just too perfect; you driving yourself to this bar on the side of the highway. No regulars, only random members of public who wouldn’t remember you nor the man you left with.

“No one I know has money. Please, just let me go-“ You said through gritted teeth, fear and irritation clawing their way through you.

“Mmmm, but Jax Teller does.”

- ✦ -

“And you saw her get in the van?” Jax was already slipping on his boots, grabbing his holster, and walking out the front door. His mind wasn’t clear nor was it foggy. It was somewhere else, high above him, making decisions even before he had a chance to think.

“Jax? What’s going on?” Gemma called from the doorway; her arms folded tightly against her chest.

“Just look after the boys and lock everything. Don’t open the door to anyone you don’t know.“ If Jax hadn’t sounded so worried, she would have said “okay dad,” but she saw true fear in her son.

There was a rumble of a bike and Jax sped away. He was headed to the clubhouse knowing the rest of the guys would be there. Happy would have called them after Jax. He’d need them for this. And they’d want to know what was going on.

You were connected to them now, all of them. You may not wear a kutte, but you’ve done things that have risked yourself. All for the club. And that truly meant something to these men.

- ✦ -

“I’ve got nothing to do with Jax,” you almost spat the words. An anger that you couldn’t understand starting to grow.

“We’ve got information that says otherwise, sweetheart.”

The man that had led you from the bar piped up, and you scowled.

“Fuck you,” the words were a snarl. And you so badly wanted to scrape your nails down his smirking face.

“You certainly wanted to,” he replied, giving you a sly wink. Full of disgust, you kicked the seat in front of you as hard as you could.

“Do that again and I’ll take a finger,” the driver said calmly. He hadn’t said anything this entire time. His eyes never leaving the road.

“Then take a fucking finger,” you replied darkly, doing your best to kick and punch with your bound limbs. With your fingers free, you lunged at the man closest to you, opening your arms to catch his head between the open space and squeezed his neck with your still bound hands.

You dug your fingers into the man’s eyes, knowing you weren’t going down without a goddamn fucking fight.

“FUCK!” One guy yelled, scrambling to rescue your own hostage.

“HOW IS SHE DOING THAT?” Another spluttered, stunned at first then moved. But the van came to a sudden halt and everyone lurched forward.

The man you were suffocating as well as blinding, accidentally hit your chin with his head due to the momentum. Luckily chins have stronger bones then the top of one’s head, and the guy screeched louder.

“Out! Now!” The driver bellowed. He unclipped his seat belt, walked around the car and slid open the van.

Everyone was quiet. Obviously confused, but no more than you. Was he letting you go? Hope filled your chest until he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you from the van.

“It’s happening. Now.” Was all he said before pulling out a phone and dialling.

- ✦ -

Jax had pulled into the garage’s lot, jogging across the concrete, he felt the desperation almost leaking from him. Without even grasping the door handle, the door swung open to reveal the Sons inside.

“Any word?” Chibs said, letting Jax walk in before closing the door.

“No,” Jax replied, out of breath. He couldn’t sit down. But his legs felt like jelly. Tig’s leg was bouncing, his eyes squeezed shut.

Plan. They needed a plan. All Happy had saw was you being dragged into a black van and it driving off. Before he got on his bike, he tried to look for the number plates but there weren’t any. That’s when he called Jax.

Jax wiped his forehead and then placed his phone on the counter.

His phone rang instantly.

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cyncerity · 2 months

Note

I am becoming a utter bitch for Jackmanifold so I was curious if he is in your Epic au and if so tell me about him

Hi hi hi!! I know this ask was sent like a year ago but uh in case you’re still curious, he’s basically Tommy’s nanny! Phil got tired of Tommy running off so he’s been hiring people to try and keep an eye on him (keyword: try)

Anyway Jack is my comfort streamer so I always want to include him in stuff, so I wanted to write a short little thing to show his dynamic with Tommy and Niki. This “short little thing” turned into a full story and character designs because I have no self control! Hope you enjoy!!

(btw anyone who can pick out the song quote in here and tell me what it’s from gets a cookie)

“Hold on, get back here!” Jack yelled running after the young prince, who stopped his sprint down a hallway to turn and look back at Jack with a disapproving stare. Jack stopped and took a few deep breaths from exhaustion before continuing through pants. “I promised his majesty that I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, and I intend to keep that promise. The last thing I want is the fuckin king mad at me…again.” Tommy simply rolled his eyes, hands on his hips as he took a few steps towards the older leafmen. “Ooo King Philza this, King Philza that,” Tommy said in a mocking tone. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here Jack, if Phil hasn’t fired you yet he’s not gonna. The last guy got kicked after losing me like 4 times and you’re already way past that. The only reason you still have a job is cause you’ve got connections in high places.” “Is not!” “Is too!”

“God you’re so immature,” Jack said, having finally fully caught his breath. “Maybe if you could actually be responsible and not fuckin disappear every day then the king wouldn’t need to assign you a-“ “Babysitter. You’re a babysitter.” Tommy cut him off, only angering Jack further. “You’re such a fucking child! Why can’t we have one normal conversation about you disappearing under my watch, it’s like you want me to get exiled or something!” “Oh my dad’s not gonna exile you,” Tommy responds nonchalantly, “Niki likes you too much for that.” “There are only so many times you can lose the crown prince before his dad will get fed up. Niki isn’t more powerful than the fucking king, Tommy.” “No, but she’s one of his best soldiers, which means her and her happiness is important to him, and for some unexplainable reason you’re part of that happiness. Phil isn’t gonna risk losing his General cause he dismissed her best friend like he dismissed the rest of the fucks he hired to watch me.”

That made Jack pause. He knows Phil; they’ve had plenty of talks personally (well, personally with Schlatt in the room too, as if Jack would ever pull something with the ruler of the whole goddamn forest). In all the talks he’s had with Phil, he’d never guess that anyone’s personal happiness was important to him. The kingdom’s happiness? Sure, of course, that was his fucking job, after all. But, personally? Jack just always assumed that Phil was kind of a cold guy. To hear that he valued Niki’s happiness personally, even for his own gain, was…an odd thought. “Phil cares about Niki?” Jack asked, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Tommy seemed just as confused, before shrugging it off. “Yeah, ‘course he does. She and Schlatt are, yknow, his friends.” That genuinely shocked Jack. “There’s something in that guy to befriend??” He questioned, though as soon as the words came out of his mouth he regretted it. Tommy’s face wore absolute shock, and Jack quickly slapped a hand over his mouth as they both stared at each other in silence.

“I- I’m so-“ Jack’s poor attempt at an apology was cut off by roaring laughter from Tommy, the teen bent over to his knees wheezing as Jack stood terrified. He’d almost forgot that he was in the presence of the second most powerful person in the forest, magically and politically. That the boy in front of him was just as capable of exiling him to The Bogs as King Philza was. And, just as a bonus, Tommy never let Jack doubt the fact that he didn’t fucking like him. And now he’s just gone and insulted the king and gave his son a free pass to get rid of him for good. Oh fuck.

But, to his shock, when Tommy righted himself his face was absolutely beaming. He wiped a tear from his eye as he slapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Ok, I take it back, maybe I can see why Niki likes you, just a little bit though.” “S-so you’re not…gonna tell Phil..?” Jack asked, his fear only slightly relieved. When Tommy’s face morphed from humored to smug, though, that fear was immediately back. “Well, I think that can be arranged…for a price.” “Price?” “Yeah, let’s put it like this; you let me go right now and don’t make me tell you where i’m fuckin going, and I don’t report you for lèse-majesté.” Tommy stuck out a hand, and Jack shook it before he could even fully fathom what he was agreeing to. “Deal, a hundred times deal, your dad would fucking kill me.” Tommy just laughed. “Good man. Well, i’ll see you later then, Jack! Good luck with Schlatt when he comes to ask where I am!!” Tommy chuckled as he began to walk away.

“Wait, your majesty!” Jack shouted, and Tommy turned, seemingly slightly annoyed that Jack was still trying to talk to him when he so clearly wanted to fuck off to wherever he went to when he disappeared for hours. Jack knew he had to be careful with this; he’d just made Tommy like him a little bit, he couldn’t lose that yet. “Just…when you get back, can we talk about this? A bit? I don’t care where you go, for fucks sake you can do magic, I know you can protect yourself, but can we like…work out when you leave or don’t? So your dad doesn’t absolutely fucking hate me? He may be a bitch but he’s still my boss.” Jack hoped that insulting Phil again (as horrified as it made him feel) would open Tommy’s mind to the idea since it had seemingly worked before, and given that Tommy seemed less annoyed, it apparently worked. “You mean…you’d cover for me? Without even knowing where I’m headed off to? You would lie to the king for me?” “I mean, sure, man, why the hell not. Right now I don’t know where you are and I get in trouble, I’d much rather not know where you are and not get in trouble. Plus, who’s gonna turn me in for lying, you? You’d be turning yourself in.”

Tommy stood in shock, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and that scared Jack. Shit, had he overstepped a boundary somewhere? Was Tommy angry that he would advocate a scheme against his dad? Did he just fuck himself over?? But Tommy, ever so full of surprises, just smiled at Jack. “We’ll see, let me think about it. I’ll let you know when I get back.” He said, and held a fist in front of him. Jack smiled unsurely and fistbumed him, making Tommy chuckle as he turned and continued down the hallway.

Oh Prime, what has he got himself into?

~~~

“So, Jack, where is my son?” King Philza said, sat at his desk in his chambers, and Jack could barely utter a word. Schlatt stood behind Phil on his right, face as stone cold and intimidating as ever. Niki, bless her heart for arguing to be in the room with him for this, stood behind Phil on his left, eyes pleading with Jack for him to think of something. But, truly, in the dozen or so times he’s had to do this because Tommy fucking sucked, he’s never had an excuse. He’d always just apologized and Phil had disappointedly sent him home for the night with the command that he’d better be able to do his job tomorrow. That he’d better know where Tommy was the next night. It never happened, he never did, and this “i’m not mad i’m just disappointed” routine with the fucking king had become a nightly routine. Jack was getting kind of sick of it.

“Jack?” Philza repeated, and Jack sighed. “Your majesty, I-“ The door was kicked in suddenly, scaring the shit out of Jack and no one else in the room (fuck the royals and the guards and their unnatural lack of fight or flight), the prince in question proudly standing in the doorway, panting and exhausted but excited looking. “Holy shit!” he shouted. “You were right Jack! This was a tough book to find!” Tommy chuckled only mildly unbelievably before chucking a book at Jack, who quickly caught on. “Ah, yes! I was just about to tell his highness your father that you were down in the library grabbing a book on…uh, gardening…yeah! Yeah, we…we gardened today.” Jack lied through his teeth. “Yeah, we were looking into where the best place for crops would be so the bugfolk have a good harvest this spring! Y’know, doin some charity work, spreading peace and kindness and all the shit you preach, yeah?” Tommy continued, waltzing up to the king’s desk and leaning on it. Jack had to keep himself from gasping, reminding himself that Tommy was the prince and therefore wouldn’t be harshly punished for showing such disrespect in a royal’s presence. He himself was a royal, after all, though that didn’t make his lax behavior any less unexpected in an area that Jack had come to know as strict and horrifyingly stressful.

“So you were…out gardening.” Philza repeated, seemingly not buying a word, and Jack felt his heart stop. Tommy, however, was unfazed. “Yeah!” Tommy exclaimed, ignoring his father’s skepticism in favor of pulling a map out of the book in Jack’s hand. The map was a hand-drawn top view of the forest, with doodles, circles, arrows, and written notes scribbled all around it. He proudly came around to Phil’s side and excitedly began rambling about every little thing on the map. If Jack didn’t know that Tommy was his son, he’d assume that Phil was on the verge of exiling him based on his face alone. He seemed…more than annoyed, he seemed straight up miserable sitting and listening to Tommy talk. Yeesh, maybe this was why he had to hire someone to be around him. It seemed like an overreaction to listening to his kids talk about plants, he looked like he wanted to die right then and there.

“-so I think the best place for the sugar cane would be this spot where there aren’t any trees so it gets super hot, and it’s close to the lake but not too close so the soil doesn’t get waterlogged, which means the dirt will be ideal fo-“ “Stop!!” Philza shouted, slamming his hands on his desk and startling everyone in the room, even his guards. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed, fully missing the reaction of everyone in the room. Schlatt’s eyes were wide and Niki looked panic. Tommy looked…scared. Well, scared for all of .2 seconds before his expression shifted to something smug. Phil looked up at him with pity and Tommy’s reaction quickly changed into innocent confusion, slipping a mask back on to continue his act.

“Just…just stop. Listen, Tommy, I’m glad you think you’re helping. I am. But we can’t involve ourselves in the bugfolk’s problems. Their crops provide absolutely nothing to us, it’s a waste to fix what they need to be fixing amongst themselves.” Jack saw Tommy’s mask crack a bit. “But they’re like us, dad, they’re our people! This winter has been rough for them and they need all the help they can ge-“ “No, Tommy.” Phil interrupted, eyes turning hard, any and all pity gone. “They may be our people, but they’re not like us. They will never be like us. They’re in our land, and we allow them to be, with all of the benefits that come from living here. That’s all we owe them, nothing more, nothing less. End of conversation.” Tommy’s facial expression was blank, though if looks could kill, Jack was sure that Tommy would have needed a coronation by the next morning. He was pissed at Phil. A bubbling, festering anger that was sure to explode and cause permanent damage at some point in the near future.

However, it wouldn’t today.

Tommy, ever the actor, breathed out deeply to compose himself before rolling up his map. “‘Course, dad. Whatever is best for our p-…for the forest. You know best.” “You’ll learn, Tommy.” Philza said, reaching out to hold Tommy’s fists that curled around his map. “You’ll be a great king someday. A wise man once said: ‘the line between naivety and hopefulness is almost invisible.’ You just haven’t found the line yet, and I don’t expect you too at your age. In time you’ll learn just as I did exactly what needs to be done to keep the people you care about safe.” Tommy just stood, pointedly not answering. Philza sighed. “You are dismissed, Tommy. And Jack, good work today, keep this up. You are dismissed as well.” Tommy, deadpan as ever, walked back towards the entrance as Jack bowed in response. Well, tried to. Tommy yanked him by the shoulder and dragged him out of the room midway down, almost making him drop the gardening book.

As soon as they were far enough away from the chamber, Tommy dropped jacks arm and started screaming with clenched teeth, yanking on the petals on his head and kicking the nearest wall to him. Jack figured it was best to just…let him have his moment. “UUGGHHH, just, who does he think he is?! ‘oH Tommy they’re not liKe uS, they’re our people but they’re woRsE cause they’re not LeAveS’ it’s fucking ridiculous!! He barely knows anything about them, who is he to just decide that we just shouldn’t help with their crops?!” Tommy yelled, kicking another wall. “I- i don’t know, man.” Jack whispered, unsure if any of what Tommy said was rhetorical. Tommy looked over at him and just sighed.

“Sorry, it just drives me up a fucking wall. He thinks he’s the prime example of a fucking king and meanwhile he hates like half his citizens, and 3/4 of the forest as a whole, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Jack stood for a minute, eyes wide. What did he say? 3/4 would imply that he was upset that Phil hated…the enemy? “Well…he, uh, at the very least protects us from the boggins, but yeah…all that stuff about bugfolk, that wasn’t, uh, that wasn’t cool, man.” Now it was Tommy’s turn to be shocked, before he quickly tried and this time failed to put a mask back on. “Oh, yeah, ha! Whoops, sorry, I, uh, yeah, no fuck the boggins. Totally, yeah they suck. They’re, ha, yeah they’re horrifying, i’d hate to ever have to face one of them, thank god Phil keeps ‘em out!” Tommy rambled awkwardly, which led to a far more awkward moment of silence between Jack and Tommy after he finished.

“Look, man,” Jack finally broke the silence, “I appreciate you helping me out of that. I think Phil was really done with me that time.” “Well, I figured it was a good enough idea. Would benefit both of us, anyway. You wouldn’t get in trouble, my dad gets to think i’m doin’ shit, it’s foolproof.” “So, it’s official?” Jack said, offering a fist. Tommy laughed and fist bumped him back, a genuine smile on his face. “It’s official. We’ll work out the details tomorrow, though, I’m tired as shit. See ya, man.” Tommy said as he turned away, waving with one hand and holding a map in the other…

He was still holding a gardening book.

“Wait, Tom!” He didn’t know when he decided that it was ok to call the crown prince by a nickname, but given that Tommy didn’t correct him when he turned in response, he supposed the nickname was accepted. “You forgot your book.” He said, holding it out to a very relieved looking Tommy. “Shit, right, thank you! Can’t believe I almost forgot this.” He said, unrolling his map and placing it back in his book. “I gotta say, man, that’s a lot of effort to put into a map for a bit.” Jack said. “Where did you even get this gardening book? I’ve never seen it in the library.” “Oh, it’s not from the library, it was a gift from a friend. And the map wasn’t for the bit.” Tommy said gleefully, ignoring Jack’s shock for probably the fiftieth time that evening. “I wasn’t lying this time, that’s genuinely what I was out doing all day. I didn’t have time to think of a fake out story. But don’t expect me to tell you everything from now on, that’s just a thank you for helping me out. Night Jack!” Tommy said, waving and running down the hall towards his room, leaving Jack in confused shock. Jack huffed and shook his head as he started in the opposite direction towards the castle’s exit.

“Jack, wait up!” he heard a familiar voice call as his best friend caught up with him. “Hey Niki, don’t you have important General shit to do?” “C’mon, you’ve been a personal hand to the royal family for almost a month now, i’d say it’s important to make sure you’re escorted home safely.” She snickered, and Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, as if the king would care if I got home safe.” “Well, he might start to if you make a habit of keeping track of the prince! It’s been a while since he’s even told us how his day was.” “Has it also been a while since his highness had a freak out like that or is that a regular thing?” Jack whispered. A pause, before Niki sighed and whispered back. “He’s stressed. I…I haven’t seen him get like that in a long while. Phil is my friend, I know him, I know how he is, and that isn’t him.”

Ok, so getting the confirmation that Phil and Niki’s relationship wasn’t strictly professional and was an actual friendship was unexpected, but that wasn’t the topic right now. “Was it Tommy? Does he really hate the idea of gardening that much? Does he just…not like being with Tommy? Is that why he needs me?” “No, not that, definitely not that.” Niki responded urgently. “He loves Tommy, I know he doesn’t show it well, but he does. I…I think it was more the topic. Not the gardening, more the idea of who it was for.” “The bugfolk? Why?” “Beats me, but Phil doesn’t ever really like to talk about them. If we’re trying to be more specific, though, something happened recently. More territory shit, some leafmen got hurt, we’ve been dealing with it so it doesn’t turn into an uprising. It’s been getting handled, but I think it was just bad timing, we haven’t told Tommy about that incident because it’s contained, so he wouldn’t have known that talking about helping the bugfolk would set Phil off.” “Prime, man, that’s…that’s rough. Not like it’s Tommy’s fault, though, felt kinda wrong for King Philza to snap at him of all people. Plus, some of that other shit he was saying was…how do I put this…..distasteful.”

Niki looked…uncomfortable, to say the least. “I know, and I agree with you,” she sighed, “but he’s my king. He’s my friend. He has his reasons to be like this and frankly? Our kingdom is thriving, so what’s the harm?” The harm is that he might hurt bugfolk like he’s hurt others, Jack thought. The harm is that he could exile an entire species out of the forest to a place of rot and death and savage beastly occupants and the worst part is that it wouldn’t even be the first time he did that. The harm is that he’s destroying his relationship with his kid and making said kid standoffish to anyone who attempts to befriend them. And oh, didn’t that just make so much sense? Maybe it wasn’t that Tommy was just brash and rude, could it…could it be self defense? Was he pushing people away on purpose? Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually seen Tommy talk to…anyone. Prime, did this kid have friends? He doubted it, if his general approach is the same one he used with Jack. He would have given up with the prince a long time ago if it weren’t for Niki and the fact that a royal job pays well.

“Jack?” Niki said, snapping him out of this thoughts. “Sorry, sorry Niki, I’m just…I’m just tired.” “I can only imagine,” Niki laughed, elbowing Jack in the arm, “you’ve got to be exhausted if you were out gardening with Tommy all day.” And oh, Jack hadn’t thought of this part: he’d have to continually lie to his best friend for this plan to work. Fuck his life. “Yeah, yeah, ha..takes a lot outta ya.” He laughed uncomfortably, though Niki didn’t seem to notice. “Well, you’re almost home and I’ve got to get reports in from the soldiers in my unit. I’ll talk to you later Jack! Good night!” She gave him a quick side hug before turning back towards the castle, leaving Jack alone in his thoughts.

Ok, so new notes for the day: the prince is…tolerant of him. Dare he say kind of likes him. He’s kind of still reeling from the realization that Tommy may just be acting out due to daddy issues and loneliness. The king likely knows they’re full of shit and just doesn’t care, Niki trusts him and he’s going to have to break that trust and lie to her because the prince is a secretive prick, and, oh yeah, the king might be a fucking bigot. Great.

Fuck.

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