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battymommastuff · 1 month

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The One I was Meant to Find

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You can swallow fire, you've practically flown through the hair....You've performed in front of millions from age eighteen. You felt like you could handle anything the world threw at you....

Until you entered the Upper district of Gotham City a week after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The part of the city full of the most lavish, and expensive stores. So many name brands that you only ever dreamed of wearing. Not even Haly himself could afford such luxuries, and he owned the circus. Bruce insisted that he bring you to this part of the city to shop for your new wardrobe. He planned on buying outfits, dresses, shoes, jewelry, perfumes, and anything else you could never need. You tried to convince him to just take you to a thrift shop or some random outlet, but he only looked at you as if you spat on his shoes.

So here you were, standing in front of a store that you had no business being in. Little did you know, you would be walking into these stores as if you were walking through your home in the future. All in due time...

Bruce enjoyed a cheap glass of champagne while you were given dress after dress to wear. Since your method of employment was no longer safe, he planned on hiring you as his assistant until you were safe to find your own career path. You stepped out in a dark blue dress that fit a little big on you, "Bruce, you really don't have to do this...I mean a thousand dollars for a dress? I'm sure we can find something similar for a cheaper price." You said while holding the price tag. He frowned, standing up from his seat. He walked over to you and inspected the price tag for himself.

He turned you around so you were facing the mirror, "I think it looks wonderful on you." Bruce said with a smile. He moved your hair to the side so he could zip up the rest of the dress and rested his hand on your hip. You both decided to put off the facade of being a couple while in public. Subtle touches like this were going to happen, but he didn't go too far with it, "I could buy this entire store if I wanted to." He whispered into your ear. A shiver went down your spine, and you bit your lip softly. You knew Bruce Wayne was rich, but just how rich was he? Obviously he was rich enough to keep up his lifestyle as Batman. You turned around, not realizing just how close the two of you were.

Have you ever had that feeling? That feeling that you were looking at someone you knew? As if you'd been with them a thousand life times. That's what you felt when you looked into his eyes. It was as if your souls found each other once again. You knew the theory of the multiverse from one of the clowns in the circus, he loved conspiracy. The thought of you and Bruce being together in different universes made you giggle a bit, "What's so funny?" He asked, his hand still resting on your waist.

"Nothing at all, Mr. Wayne." Bruce rolled his eyes then back away from you. You only called him that to be a tease. You two often found yourselves teasing one another. Which is why Alfred was very happy to have the both of you out of the house...so he can be free of the thick tension for a few hours. Now you were walking downstairs to the batcave, dressed in one of your new nightgowns. Tonight was one of those nights where you felt unsafe. Truly, you never felt safe. You knew there were eyes on you outside of Wayne Manor. The only place you felt safe was right by Bruce's side...or Batman's at this time of night.

"You should be asleep." Batman said as he typed away on the batcomputer. It made you think of the night he rescued you, "You have a busy day tomorrow, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't be happy with you being tardy." He joked then turned to look at you. He could tell instantly that you were scared. He understood the fear. After his parents were murdered, he would be up all night in fear of their murderer coming back to finish him off. Living life having to constantly look over your shoulder was no life to live. Without a word, he stood up while removing his cape. The surprisingly light material was draped over your shoulders to keep you warm. He wasn't going to make you leave. If you felt safe around him, then you could stay. Still in silence, you sat down on a stool next to a table lined with gadgets. You hadn't the faintest clue of what any of them were, but they looked very dangerous.

Was it strange? That you could picture your life like this? By his side, helping him on his quest for Justice. The Manor already felt like home. More so than the circus ever did. That feeling came back again. The one where you felt as if you've been through this before. As if every choice you've ever made led to this very moment. Led you to Bruce.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"No."

Your mouth formed an O shape and you awkwardly nodded. That might have been a question for Bruce Wayne not Batman. You learned quickly that the two were vastly different people. Bruce almost felt like the mask while Batman was truly who he was. Sometimes you saw a mix of the two...which you favored.

"Y/N. I'm not someone you can love. My life and what I do will only bring you more danger, you will never live the happy life you deserve to live. I can never make you happy, and can never give myself to you fully. I'm sorry."

Being rejected before the first move was ever made never felt good. You felt your heart shatter at the same time that your eyes began to water, "R-Right...I was dumb to ever think otherwise." You said while sliding down from the stool, "Goodnight...Batman." You whispered and swiftly left the batcave, passing Alfred who instantly noticed the tears falling from your eyes. He could only shake his head as he made his way down the stone steps.

"Lying to yourself and to her will only make it worse, Master Wayne." Alfred said as he set down a fresh cup of tea next to Batman. Nothing was ever openly spoken, but it was obvious that Bruce and Batman both had feelings for you. Everything about you just drove him insane. He never believed in soulmates until he met you. He never thought that there could be anyone in this world made for him. Yet there you were, and it terrified him. How could he ever keep you safe? Once his enemies knew of you, you were going to be the target. The Court was already going after you, but he had so many more that would love to watch him hurt. He knew if he let himself care for you, it would only end with him losing you.

And he couldn't lose you....

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel @chaoticevilbakugo @mellowdiy @luvly-writer @enretrogue @zanzie @backyardfolklore

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ladythornofrivia · 6 months

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Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part One)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader woke up in Westeros after getting drunk.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant but is secretly a softie, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, jealousy, stalking, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader).

a/n: it’s official! It’s here! I hope you enjoy my fanfic series of ‘Kingdom of Fire and Blood’.

Chapter One: The Dark Uproar

In a realm of dragons and knights,

There lays with conquer and fear, from scorching summer through bleak winters, through life of air and fire and ashes.

In a realm of nobility and law, in the halls of mountain and sea,

the green star has shed upon the dark, cloudless sky, wedged upon the shrouded waters of Westeros.

The green star has emerged.

“Seize her! Don’t let her get away!” the man pointed at you dashing away from the scenery.

It’s a dream. You were sure that it’s a dream. Dreams occurred in a blurry vision, not by transparency. Dreams are often—and easily—forgotten once awake after the newborn daylight arises.

In a midst of pursuit, you retraced back your steps. You went at your friend’s celebration, then eat and watched anime— you didn’t have much vigor to spare for removing your makeup due to sleepiness. The last thing you ever did was you resting on your warm bed without a change of clothing, now dry and shivering, laying down on a half-parched sand, half-asleep while unsure of what’s happening before your arrival. You were unconscious deeply in your sleep you weren’t aware of the commotion you have caused, awoken by the young knight, who found you in the brink of nightfall—who fled and carried you—travelled within distance for three days.

Under a huffed breath, legs and feet numbed as you carried yourself away to stray paths where band of guards weren’t able to trace you accurately. You’re much lighter and faster with sprinting; due to their armor, they couldn’t move they so desire. Even more so when some guards have horses with them. Or hounds barking with thirst for a good gnaw on your youthful flesh.

Until now, you’re steadfast with rush. Harsh wind blasted in your earholes at the stallion’s speed.

Your mind is raced with previous encounter, mind occupied with millions of panic inquiries.

~ before the chase ~

Previously, with your skin and bones beneath your tight crop top shirt and tennis skirt quivering at a spine-tingling weather, despite the lack of storming wind, you have no idea where to begin on what to say to the young knight but offering him a small yet timid smile to lessen the intensity of cumbersome fate that’s forcefully thrusted upon you, oblivious and frightened, shaking like a grumpy feline that despises water or anything that touches the feline.

Upon the yearnings of a weeping locked inside your heaving chest, of begging and wanting to go home was futile, estranged within a foreign land. As the vexed fate of anxiety clambered into your heart, the staggering breaths and rasps in your voice and your loud thoughts has been noticed by a young man in fancy armor, bestowing you with a relieved grin etched on his weary features. You’re certain that Halloween is over.

“You have awaken,” he said with a brightened grin, though you weren’t focused on the sound of his voice, but saw his lips shifted.

Noticing the young man’s eyes, you were positive that no one wouldn’t rescue a stranger such as yourself. Groaning, you leaned your back against over the bulkiness of a tumbled tree. Fire flickered and crackled like bones snapped to pieces.

“Can you hear me, my lady?” he asked, alarmed yet almost as quiet; he didn’t wish to see you alert under his aid.

“My lady,” you repeated, lifting your heavy-numbing head, confused as you were shaking with your eyes sealed with bursting pink stars flowing in your black vision, ears, head and heart pounded against you wakened state. Sighing, you resumed with, “How long have I been unconscious?”

“For three days,” he said, the soft outline of his lips curled upward, as if he was relieved to see you alive and well. Your eyes examined him, spotting the clean armor and a long sword carried in his sheath.

“What happened?”

“I saw you lying unconscious, so I have to come and save you, hoping that you’re alive.”

Everything was bizarre at this point.

“Save me?” you asked the boy, subconscious, coughing out the thick, salted water, clutching your chest tight, pounding for the leftover to drain.

“Yes, my lady,” the young man said with a kind smile, but his glassy eyes beamed against your frightful ones, covered in soot, despite being drenched. “I was sent by my father for a further alliance with another house, but as soon as I left the castle, I found lying you unconscious in the midst of the ocean. I have swam my way to rescue you.”

“Where did you find me exactly? I’m all wet,” you commented, lips curled in disgust your clothes are caked in black sand and puddle.

“I found you by the shores, and took you in quick before anyone could search on the grounds.”

Your head was pounding.

“Shores?”

“At Blackwater Bay,” he explained.

Blackwater Bay, you thought as your fingernails scraped onto your wet scalp. That name sounds familiar.

The back of your head was pounding. “Are we still at Blackwater Bay?”

“We travelled within three days while you were in your subconscious state. A fewer miles ahead and you’re already in the kingdom.”

Then the skies filled with an animalistic roar, screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

Your ears covered and shoulder blades flinched at the long, grating sound.

Your shoulders flinched as you said, “What the hell is that?”

The young man still grinned, remaining silenced from your projected inquiry.

“They’re still frightened of the sound,” is all he said. “Of the light.”

You eyed on him with perplexed expression resting on your features.

“What light?” you wondered. “What did you mean when you ‘they’re still frightened of the sound’?”

“Dragons,” the young man said, eyes twinkled. “You came down here with the light, and that’s what’s causing the uproar.”

You found his cryptic statement alarmingly bizarre due to his faint enthusiasm.

“We’re reaching close to our destination,” he said, but you still don’t comprehend.

Bewildered, before you could ask another, the clanging sounds of metal and flickering flames on a torch and countless heavy stomps dashed on its way to your direction.

“Allow me to escort you to safety. These guards are brutal than ravage beasts,” he said to you. “I can’t let a young maiden die in vain.”

Your breath held in shortly.

“Which way should I go? Is there a safe spot for me to hide?”

“Take the nearest path down on a pebbled road and hide. From there, you’ll see the narrow passage, one where no one uses. Traitors and spies lurking about the lower grounds.” and kept heading The young man pushed you, guided you and instructed you to conceal behind the large and sharp boulder, while your legs shaken, air colder than ice. However, another realization dawned upon your wake. You have nowhere to go. Not in this foreign land.

Thoughts conjured and slice your numb mind open. Death is near me; I’ll be killed if I don’t have something with me.

“Where am I heading to?”

“Somewhere far where they can’t reach you or trace your steps. You’re heading to a place where the crown’s might is still strong.”

You paused in your tracks. Wait, that can’t be right.

The rumbled noise made it’s passage close to your location, causing for your heart and his sprung with immense fear.

Both of you reached in time as he hoisted your body up on the saddle. Before whipping the reins on the horse, the young man gave you the dagger with a symbol on his shining armor. The same sigil the knight has on his armor—or so it appears. “You’ll be in safer hands if you carry something with you.”

“If we meet again, I’ll return this blade back to you.”

His eyes gazed into yours with a sad smile.

“Still, I don’t even know your name.”

He grasped your hand shortly. He smiled. “Ser Remon Blackwood.”

The pounded hooves reached a louder noise, getting near to your direction.

“Thank you, Ser Blackwood,” you said.

Remon Blackwood had his hand reached out to yours. “You share kindness like no other. Not like the people in the realm with conquering dragons. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady,” he said, giving you a one last smile.

“Dragons?” you questioned in shock.

He gave a hard slap on the horse’s front leg, as he watched his given horse galloped with you giving one last look onto the despairing knight with a somber smile.

Your eyes darted forward, leaving your ears perceiving the traced sounds of sword clashed and rang, forest filled with raged shouts.

Afar, a young knight plea for mercy, then a long-produced sounds of swords slipped through cracked armor and bones, blood shed and slimed over the forest ground.

Then nothing; only the solid ripples of the heavy hooves and a rushed wind from a great stallion’s speed deafened onto your ears.

The good knight is dead.

And the nightfall became colder.

~ present ~

The horse nearly reached to a wide-ranged road when five of the men continued to pursuit you, eyes preyed on you at the back of your head, drilling and contain in unyielding desire of violence.

“Kill the bitch!” one man shouted.

Looking over to your shoulder, on your left, you saw the man on the right drew out a bow, and sent the arrow down at your back. But you managed to duck in time. With an irritated huff, the man sent another blow with the second arrow. You ducked your head once more, gazing back, then forth, then back again.

Heart pounding in your chest; the distance between them began to shrink.

“For fuck’s sake,” the first man bellowed, wrinkles on his forehead protruded, veins on his neck were visible. “Sent the arrow flying down on that bitch’s neck, you good for nothing prick!”

The second man’s face went pale. “I’m trying, sire.”

“Try harder, you useless fucktwad!”

Clutched fingers against the writhed reins grew tired, the steadiness in your breath increased tenfold in suffocation, heart rate escalated twice as strong—feeling hot and cold all at once. Cold sweat plastered to your clutched hands as you whipped the reins harder, indicating a sign for the stallion advance farther. The pace began to slow; you whipped the reins, but no to avail.

“Please, hurry,” you begged, head leaning against the horse’s ear, holding onto your dear life as death still awaits for you.

The man reload with the third arrow. His aim targeted to your face. For a second, he went still with his aim, but immediately shot at the back of the horse’s leg. The back of the horse’s limbs tripped and flipped in mid-air, sent you flying forward with a loud clash on the forest ground that nearly shattered your back and ribcage. Ears rang and eyes shut with gritted teeth droned a sharp hiss from your lips as the men dismounted down and marched their towered over you crumpled form.

Immediately, you gathered your shattered form and fled with your hidden in plain sight. The limp on your leg made a painfully deliberate pace as you attempt to go farther while the men with cloaks and big swords, following you, wearing a yellow and crooked teeth on their lips, sniggering at your flee. And by the time you reached at the centered road, nearly to the exit, your path has been blocked by two more men, who you unaware of the extra company. One man grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you down. Drawing the dagger out, your hand brought down on his foot, then his knee, then his thigh—never minding the hysterical noise. Loosening the grip on your head, while on your knees, with a support of your foot, you spun around and stabbed a knee from another man.

You couldn’t scream or cry for help anymore. After all, you’re drowsy from ocean water, still wet and lost, in an unwonted void of labyrinth.

“What shall we do of this little cunt?” the man with a thin beard said.

“We’re going to make a use of her, bore into her with my seed and carry the filthy bastard inside her,” the second man with a short, uneven bowl cut suggested confidently. “After that, I’ll eat her flesh.”

“Stupid cunt can’t even fend for herself,” the third man, who was shorter than you said, cackling. “Let’s all take turns then. Whoever makes her scream the hardest, will get to keep her as a toy.”

One man undo his armor on the half-bottom, the clanging armor bumped in haste rhythm, as all the men who towered over your sicken stature, shed their trousers out.

Before one could pull the long cock out, with a knife in your hand, given by the young knight, you sliced his cock apart, left him wailing like an infant, blood splattered like waterfall. The men hovered you with their grubby hands, but you dodged—rolled back and took a hard swing at the man on your left, chopped his hand off. With the knife on your hand, it felt more like a short sword.

Another man has struck.

The bulky man in the middle plunged a full swing on your belly. Yelping, your arms encompassed over your flesh as the man plunged another blow with his hardened boot. His eyes gaze over the blade and punted it over to the side, then stomped over your belly and breasts in repeated motion until he grows tired. Once his foot has grown fatigue, he grabbed your thighs and spread them apart.

“No…” you said, pleading and crying. “Please don’t!”

The man dragged your panties and your tennis skirt down in barbarous motion. “Stay still and be a good wench,” he said, muddy fingers traced over your skin. You bit his fingers, drawing hot blood.

Enraged, his hands strangled you. With quick thinking, you knee slammed against his balls and kicked his face, crawling away before retrieving the dagger back, the man stomped over your left wrist, your mouth opened, but no sound came except the twinge of pain searing in your bones.

“You should’ve listen and stay still like a dog,” the man sneering, pulling your hair back again. The blurriness in your eyes worsened.

With your bones and limbs have been shattered, the hope in you began to fade. No hopes of a savior or luck stayed in hand with your despair.

His boot lunched another blow struck against your face, only to be bled through your nose, your body is broken and immovable, you couldn’t find yourself speaking, or cry for aid. Nothing good ever comes.

Except you’re alive. In fact, you were letting your guard down—pretending to be dead, abiding for the enemy to make a hasty error. The squint on your right eye left a little gap, seeing the man, kneeling down on you as he took off his trousers merrily. But as he splayed his cock out in the cold air, you managed the seize the dagger, tackled him and slashed his throat, while alive, the dagger impaled him through one of his eyes, then nose, then cheek—spare vigor imploded under a last sheer of your quick anger. The man’s face and mouth flowed with warm blood, choking and plopped down back on the surface with a thunderous thud.

From there, you stood once more and limped your way through the exit from the forest’s road in so little steps.

Only remains are the trees billowed and rustled and swayed through a gentle, cool breeze, and with you exhaling with a cautious breath you held in your chest and limbs worn out and limped as your vision drown into darkness.

~~~

Ser Criston Cole accompanied the band of men through the forest, as for they ought to repose for a short while. Sundowns became long, and the dragons in the heavens unyielded through an unforgiving climate.

The dragons don’t bear the coldness of wintry-like air. In the old days of Valyria, centuries before the time of Viserys’s reign, none of the great dragons and its people survived the Doom of Valyria, and within the errored times, from moving Essos to Westeros, dragons hatched into a total of eighteen—mighty and proud and carnivorous and bloodthirsty, though tamed through the influence of their rightful owners—heirlooms and foundation of companionship and trust between those who have the blood of a Valyria and connections through history. For instance, Vhagar is the second largest dragon compare to the other dragon riders owned. Dragons are obedient when those who dialect in Valyrian tongue, if not some. Some takes a special gift to have certain trust with a dragon, and dragon shares it’s mutual respect to the owner.

But it can’t say the same to the recent owners. The Blackwater Bay boomed nearby the Dragonstone. And during the nightly hours, the dragons were deeply asleep, though fully awakened by the quiet whiplash of what it appears to be none other than the small green light yet brightly shot downward from the vast of great, empty sky. Two nights ago, Prince Daemon tried to appease his dragon, Caraxes, the red scaly beast, but it’s clear enough to sent the prince with hesitation. Prince Daemon reached Caraxes with his hand for reassurance but Caraxes nearly snapped Prince Daemon’s hand in half. Criston Cole has neither seen Prince Daemon or Caraxes in the verge of calamity. Prince Daemon, a rogue prince who tends be as brute yet reckless and composed has been caught off guard.

The dragons have startled the men—knights and royals alike completely—peasants, too. The green starry light has fallen into the thundering waves, almost as if it was the end of Westeros. The booming wave from Blackwater Bay still lingers the aftermath effect. None slept through the night. They were returning to King’s Landing from meeting the lord from the north nearby the Blackwater Bay. But Prince Daemon, as always, fled away without considering so much of a wait for the others.

Under the gentle moonlight floating from the clouds, Ser Criston and his men galloped through the forest with their horses, hooves stomped over the twigs and dead leaves and the steeped grounds. By the time they reached into the monumental of pointed, red structures and gold and white in the city, Criston Cole couldn’t wait to repose and serve the Greens, mainly Queen Alicent, King Viserys’s second wife.

The stallion neighed loudly as it thrown its front hooves up in the air. Criston Cole’s heart leapt, somewhat appeasing his steed as the men behind him halted without a warning, causing others to nearly fall.

“What in the Seven Hells…” the man beside Criston Cole, took upon the glance at the fallen men in the midst of their exit.

Criston took the man’s torch and investigated the scenery. The fallen men all have bled from their knees to their open crotches. Hardness of their cock had flung out from a sharp blade. Criston winced at the sudden imagery flashed through his head.

“What could’ve done this…” a scrawny man said, perturbed.

“It must’ve been the work of a demon,” another man commented.

Criston moved onward, his legs carried him far and examined the view before him long before he reached to a figure, laying down. Rushing to her side, he noticed that her attire was far strangely and strikingly unique and bright compare what other women in the court wore. Turning her over, Criston settled his palm over her visage, pushing the long locks aside.

“My lady,” he muttered, still calm. While carrying the torch, he removed his glove with his teeth and touched her face. It was warm. Then he traced his hand below on the center of her chest.

Her heart in fact, still beating. He heaved with relief and called out to his men.

“This girl is alive! We must take her back to King’s Landing!” He passed the torch to the man beside him, who was following Criston without Criston noticed, and ripped his cloak off and wrapped the cloak around you and carried your unconscious body back to the men. Instructing the man to carry you while mounted on his horse and retrieved you back, placing you at the front.

“What of the Targaryens?” the man asked, somewhat scared.

Criston gave a sharp glare.

His fellow comrades, knowing Criston’s reputation, has not said a word, and followed Criston back to the realm where dragons reign.

Taglist: @liannafae

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mywitchcultblr · 2 years

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I'm done with your purity

I'm fucking done with all of you westerners fucks who take your freedom for granted. AO3 was banned in china because pissy fans reporting RPF TO THE GOVERNMENT UNDER FALSE REPORT OF PEDO OR WHATEVER thus making life a living hell for Chinese writers and fans. ALSO LET ME TELL YOU that fanfic and AO3 is a safe space for many oppressed LGBT people outside of the west

I can't fucking say that I'm trans and bi without having people beating the shit out of me, but I can fuckin' write that I'm gay as fuck in fanfic or writing gay shit about my fave with fanfic

Imagine some people defending state wide censorship over fanfic, because they don't like icky fanfic, that's a sign that either you are brainwashed or fucking privileged and taking your freedom for granted. You know why Asian and other non western USA-European are more chill with fanfic and fandom?

Why we are less prone to make some stupid callout over fanworks?

Because most of us doesn't have the same information and expression privilege like the west, we take any freedom that we can have

That's in 2017... There's probably more than one million websites being censored rn. I cannot even buy pride pin here because NO ONE outside of internet selling it! The censorship always begin from "banning information to protect children and moral from nsfw" down to censoring Spongebob Squarepants

You don't like something? Just don't fucking read it, it wouldn't stop the author to write and when they do stop writing usually after they are harassed so bad to the point of mental break down or suicide. What the actual fuck...

Defending and supporting state wide censorship because you want to feel superior on the internet is beyond stupid and it showing your privilege... Also yah fuck you who defend china aggressive state wide censorship because adult x adult RPF icky or whatever, I like reading Tom Hiddleston x Reader, because I'm lonely and it's fun. Don't lie that you never thinking of marrying your favorite celebrities or dreaming about dating Gerard Way.

What the fuck you gonna do about it? Crucify my ass? So long you are not shoving it to the person's face, who give a fuck? It's not a justifiable ground to cheer for government mandated national wide censorship. A lot of westerners are so privileged and terminally online to the point their mind revolve around online discourse 24/7 I'm not saying discourse has no damn merits but you get what I said...

Some people particularly white westerners are so privileged they have the chance to goes back 180° and agreeing with conservative mindset they claim to hate so much... Also your kink critical bullshit and your bullshit crusading over dark stories? Yeah. Heavily influenced by TERF and conservatism. Newsflash...

I'm not a person who agree with all ship or stories, i don't claim any moral high ground. I was so scared of getting cancelled due to the hostile neo puritan fandom culture, but seeing people defending China great firewall and aggressive censorship finally broke something inside of me and I cannot stay quiet

I don't give a fuck about your fanfic discourse, If i don't like something i just wouldn't fucking engage with it and wouldn't read...

I'm done, I'm tired. Fucking tagging this shit as anti vs pro because i need to get the message out there and LET THE CHAOS begin

( When you want to escape your country censorship to the internet but then you see the supposed liberated westerners people wanting censorship because they want to feel moral. Yes there are even westerners who don't want to see anything even remotely 'problematic' example: they will attack Zutara or fuckin' Reylo shipper whatever. See? You are terminally online and so privileged... Congratulations... Here's your fucking medal and gold star)

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ellaa-writes · 4 months

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Do you mind making a fanfic where König slowly falls in love with the reader that's the team medic. And can it be smut towards the end that's more vanilla than rough?

Hiii! Thank you for the request. Also sent back in November. I always get carried away with these. CW; alcohol consumption but over all its very tame and a little fluffy :)

Working for Kortac wasn't always easy but it sure was awarding. Being the team medic/doctor had its perks. You mostly worked on base, or different outposts. You rarely experienced field work, but you weren't completely useless. The rest of the team wouldn't allow it, specially the Colonel.

You train with them, eat with them, shower with them, cause you are one of them.

As well as going out after a successful mission, when everyone is preparing for there leave. A nice hooray before a break.

You've been with Kortac for little over a year now, you made friendships with almost everyone. The Lifesaver they call you, out of respect and also taking the piss. Getting a nickname meant you were really family.

You don't talk about your personal life, no one does and no one asks questions. But it's not like you want to talk about your failures and joining the military was you lose ditch effort to pursue your dreams. Working in the hospital wasn't ideal anymore, the mundane day after day was draining you. And your tremors destroyed your opportunity to your goal as a board certified surgeon.

Wearing your civvy clothes, nothing special. Your favorite pair of jeans, a simple top and chunky boots. It's a tad chilly so you threw a warm leather jacket over it to tie it all in. Taking a cab with Roze to the local bar. Chatting about plans and wants. Roze using her leave to go climb a mountain. Telling her you wish you had her ambition and discipline. And her telling you that she could teach you some time.

The cab stopped in front of the bar, a fairly busy night. A small group of people were gathered around chatting and smoking cigarettes. Some of them you recognize as your teammates, and the Colonel. He made you dizzy, every time your eyes find him every cell in your body buzzes. Like flies to a street lamp.

Like a million butterflies in your tummy, beating against the inside tying to break out. You waving back to the ones that waved to you, making your way into the bustling bar. Leading the way to the bar, Roze close behind.

"We should find a both, I'm not being stuck at a fucking table." Roze gritted into your ear, remembering the last time you two went out with the boys. "Go find one I'll order our drinks. The usual?" you offered. She gave you a big smile and squeeze to your upper arm. "You are a doll, do you know that?" she yelled as she made her way through the crowd.

You finally flagged down the busy bartender, ordering Roze her vodka soda and your old fashion. Looking out into the crowd trying to find the others. Spotting them at a big booth in the back, a big screen rght above playing some sort of football game.

With a loud clink the bartender dropped the drinks in front, snatching the change out of your hand before turning away to help another. Carefully making your way through the crowd to the others, watching has Roze and Hutch lively convo. Setting the drink down before sliding it over to Roze who mouthed a silent thank you to you.

You slid into the other end of the both the faced out towards the bar, right up to a very tired looking Oni who looked unintereseted in whatever Horangi was saying. "What's up cool cat." he cooed to you, his big arm snaking around to give you a tight hug. "Getting drunk." you cheered raising your drink, the two cheering in agreement as they clinked their glass against eachother.

"Room for one more?" his thick deep accent purred for behind you. Colonel König sliding in beside you, taking up the rest of the both. Causing you to shift over to Oni to your right. "You smell like shit." Horangi exclaimed, raising his glass towards König. Causing the giant to bark with laughter, raising his pint towards the Korean. Causing some to slosh to the side and drip in front of you.

Indistinctively making you jump back to not get any of the stinky lager to get on you. "Sorry about the doll." his rumbling voice reached your ears. Making you blush and say "It's all good sir." taking a big gulp of your drink. Shrinking back as the others talked, stopping once in a while to include you.

König's leg brushing up against yours every now and than. If you were any the wiser you'd think he was doing it on purpose. Downing the last of your drink you plopped it on the solid table with a clank. König eyeing the empty glass while he finished his own. Kindly taking it with him as he went to get another fill.

Roze gave you an odd look from across the table, you just shrugged it off. She's been trying to convince you that the Austrian has been pinning for you. You brush it off as him being kind, but he's never that kind. Small things like bringing you things he found that reminded you of him. Small like trinkets and tchotchkes, either hand delivering them himself or leaving at your door.

Always being the first on the team, even before the muscle. Having first pick over any new recruits, a small luxury. Like you said, he's just kind. And very straight forward and to the point. A confident and cocky man, that knows what he wants and always gets it. And it's definitely not you.

It wasn't long until the Colonel returned with his drink and yours, setting down a colorful fruity drink in front of you. Causing a laugh from the others, but you just blinked at it. "I think this is yours." as you shifted it across the table to Hutch. Who gladly took the free drink cause booze is booze baby. "Aw Koni pal, you shouldn't have." he nearly had it to his lips before König thick hand grabbing Hutch's wrist, giving it a light squeeze before saying "It's not yours." in his husky accent. Bringing it back to you, holding it out. "Do you not like?" he asked curiously.

You weren't sure what was happening, was this some joke that you just didn't understand. "No." you said flatly, eyeing Roze for some help but she just eagerly gulped down her own ignoring you. "Can you excuse me." as you brushed passed the giant now looking at the drink in confusion.

Going to the bar you ordered two shots of the strongest liquor they had. Taking them down like a champ you asked for another old fashion. Feeling a warm hard body brush up next to you, seeing the Colonel standing beside you with that stupid drink still in his hand.

"I'm sorry Katze, I thought you would like." he started to explain. The bartender interrupting to give you your whiskey, taking a quick sip before König moved the drink so it was next to you. "It reminds me of you, that's all." he finished. You snorted into your glass and nearly choked on the smooth amber. Huffing out a coughing laugh.

"I'm sorry sir, but how does that remind you of me?" you giggled, finally feeling the alcohol settle into your worn bones.

"It's colorful like you." he said confidently and also confused at how you dont see it. "I'm colorful?" you asked, taking the drink from his hand. Your fingers lightly brushing against his, bringing the liquid to your nose before downing the whole thing in one try. And setting it back into his hand that remained in place.

König eyes widened at your bold display, a fire burning into them as he watched you lips grip the rim of the curved glass. The way your necked bobbed as you swallowed the sweet liquid. The fire burning a path straight to his pants. Feeling himself grow to life and strain against the front zipper.

"It's nice to see you like this sir." you blurted out and immediately regretting it. Ok, last drink and your leaving, you scolded yourself. "What do you mean?" his curosity peeked. You waved his answer away, getting embarssed by your loose lips. "Dont get shy on me now." he pushed. Moving hs big body into yours more, pining you to the bar stool.

"It's just, your so human." you whispered. A little nervous to his reacton, but instead he leaned his head back and barked out a laugh. Causing people around to jump at the sudden loud sound. A few moving away from the big man.

"That was a good one Katze." he leaned further down to your face. "I like seeing you like this." his hand slowly running from your wrist to your neck, holding it in place. "Like what sir?" you mummured, eyeing his lips as they moved closer to your own. "Flustered." he breathed into your mouth, closing the gap and kissing you deeply. His hand moving to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your lungs seizing to produce air as you felt his soft lips move against yours.

He pulled away slowly, moving his hand to your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your lungs screamed, finally sucking in a deep breath. You could feel the heat rise to your face, you must look like a tomato right now.

"So damn cute." he continued, looking away from you to your abandoned drink at the bar. "Are you done?" he questioned. You were buzzing, almost right out of your skin. So light headed all you could do his shake your head yes. König took that as his sign to make a move, so he lead you out of the bar into the cold night.

"This way doll." as he pulled you to the direction of the quiet street, you could spot the bmw shining under the moon light. "I'll drive us back." he reached the passenger door, holding it open for you as you climbed in. Closing it softly as he jogged to the drivers side, climbing in and the car roared to life.

The drive back to the base passed in a flash, König nearly dragging you through the building towards his own room. His high status warrants his own private quarters. A small living and dining area, followed by his bedroom and attached bathroom. He unlocked the door with haste and pulled you in. Spinning you around so you were pushed against the back of the door.

His strong body on yours, you heard the click of the lock slide into place. König lips once again on yours, nipping and sucking. Making a trail down your neck, pulling the zipper of your jacket down and off your arms. Tossing it towards his table, his hands finding your ass and hauling you up. You legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, tugging him into your core more. Earning a low moan, vibrating from his chest.

He yanked at the collar of your shirt, a clean tear running down the front exposing your breast to his mouth. Pulling a yelp from you as he nipped at the sensitive skin. He turned you both around and towards his room, kicking the door open and dropping you on the bed.

"Sir-" you tried to let out but König's lips swallowed your words. "Shhh, baby. Let me make you feel good. Ja." he whispered into your mouth, making you melt into the bed. All you could do was shake your head has you fully leaned back, closing your eyes.

König made good with your clothes, leaving you only in your panties. You watched has he removed his shirt and shoved his jean and brief's to the floor, kicking them away as he climbed back on and slotted himself between your thighs.

Pining your spread knees to your stomach, rubbing his face against your clothed core. His big nose carding its self along your slit, building pressure against your clit. Pulling moans from you, throwing your head back.

König took his time, running his face up and down your thighs. Kissing from your ankle to your inner thigh, over your soaking core, and down the other leg. Licking path across your skin and blowing on the wetness, goosebumps spreading across your body.

Pulling your hard buds into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and sucking. His teeth grazing on the sensitive nipple and lightly nipping. Relishing in the noises hes drawing from you. Humming in approval, slowly pulling down your panties and letting them get lost on the bed.

His fingers find your center, the thick heavy digits ghosting up and down. Gathering the wetness that pushed through, pressing his wide thumb right against your clit. Making you buck into his hand more, König's mouth still on your tits.

He worked his thick middle finger into you, slowly opening you for him. Working knuckle by knuckle, whispering praises into your ear. Pushing another finger into you, making you whimper at the stretch.

"Ko, please." you pleaded with him, feeling his low chuckle. His hot mouth against your ear, cooing "Patience love." as his fingers pump in and out of you. Feeling your slick slide down your ass and onto the sheets.

Whining at the loss of his fingers, but feeling the head of his dick running up and down. Collecting your wetness and spreading it over him before the tip catches you needy hole. Snapping his hips fowards ripped a cry from your throat. Your legs clamping around him and tightening.

"Shh, shhh. Quiet now pretty girl. I'm sorry, I'll be more carefully." and he kept true to his word. His cock slowly stretching you open, your warm folds inviting him in. Squeezing and pulsing around him, König cherished every moment.

Sensually thrusting in and out, lazily rolling his hips. Making sure he pulls orgasm after orgasm from your body.

Not stopping until your begging and pleading with him. Incoherently going on about it being too much, too sensitive.

König could lose himself in you, deeper and deeper. Holding back to not scare you. Wanting to make it all about his sweet little medic. The moment he laid eyes on you he was hooked. Those sweet eyes and kind smile, how quick and smart you were. Such a soft thing, you shouldn't be in this line of field.

Finally letting himself go, he buried himself deeper. Releasing pressed right up against your cervix, shoveling as much as he could to your core. Letting out one last guttural moan as he collapsed onto you, only rolling over when you started banging against his back. Taking you with you, you settled on his chest.

König laid out completely satisfied, head back and eyes closed. He could feel you staring at him.

"Sleep" he commanded. Hearing your giggle as you continued to stare.

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crepes-suzette-373 · 5 months

Text

[Part 1]

The Totto Land plot in the "defective quadruplets AU" (explanation here). I had wanted to make it as drawings/comics, but it got very long, so this becomes a fanfic instead. Assume that everything before this point, and anything that I gloss over, happens exactly as it is in the original series.

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

Sanji blinked slowly at the high ceiling of the lab. His whole body hurt and his face stung to point of numbness. He barely registered the medics approaching, their shoes crunching on the debris scattered all over the broken floor tiles, and when the stern voice of his older sister rang out, it sounded like it was coming from worlds away through the throbbing in his head.

He let Reiju pull him up and lead him away. He never expected anything other than suffering and torment upon returning to this place called Germa, but there were moments, when he closed his eyes, that he thought he saw flashes of hope at the back of his mind.

Blink.

A child Niji was holding a dead rat in one hand and offering him a living rat with his other.

Blink.

Never mind the dead one, Niji would never touch living rats.

Blink.

Yonji was asking him if he ever tried making medicine instead of cooking. Wasn’t the only difference between them their tastes? Food is good, medicine is gross, but you have to mix stuff together to make them both.

Blink.

That’s can’t be. All Yonji ever wanted to do was beat up Sanji and call him weak.

Blink.

He was able to keep up with Ichiji in a swordsmanship bout. Ichiji still won at the end, but Sanji wasn’t immediately pummeled to the ground the moment the instructor said “begin”, and Ichiji even said he did okay.

Blink.

That had to be a dream. Ichiji had always been impossibly strong, and Sanji never stood a chance against him.

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

Reiju led him to her room, and applied a face mask that hurt like hell but fixed his appearance. Only temporarily, she’d said, and he barely listened to her half-heartedly scolding him for returning.

“Reiju,” he interrupted, “Tell me, were there ever times—you know, back then—when they weren’t so…so terrible?”

There was silence, and it was a moment before Reiju replied, simply, “Yes.”

Sanji sighed. “So it was real. I almost thought I’d dreamed that up,” he said flatly. He didn’t know what he was expecting to feel from the answer, but he still felt as hollow as before.

“They’re still like that, even now,” Reiju spoke again, “If it’s any consolation.”

It wasn’t. He was still trapped in a marriage he didn’t want, with the lives of everyone in Baratie and his very future as a cook dangling over certain doom by barely a thread. He thought of Zeff, the man whom he owed his life to. Sanji would rather endure a million beatings than allow the man, who was his father in all but blood, to die.

As if life hasn’t given him enough burden to carry, Luffy came bounding at the Germa’s cat carriage, grinning and cheerfully chattering away like usual. How Sanji wished it could be like all their previous adventures, where they could throw themselves at the enemy and fight to the very last spans of their lives. This time it was different, and no amount of desperate fighting could get them through it.

So Sanji hardened his emotions, to whatever extent it was capable of, and landed a kick on his captain. He echoed the horrid drivel that was drummed into his ears all day long, even as every word tasted like poison on his tongue, and rained flaming blows on Luffy, desperately willing the stubborn rubber man to leave. Every hit was like a blow to his own soul, and he was certain his heart shattered at the utter disgust Nami-san directed at him through her tear-filled eyes.

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

Multi coloured unwanted guests barged in on Sanji while he was preparing food for Pudding.

He said nothing and kept working, all the while anticipating the usual slew of mockery for his unroyal-like behaviour. None came, however, and the only sound came from utensils clattering and food sizzling and bubbling on the stove.

The silence made his chest tighten, and every few moments his eyes darted towards his three intruders, watching for any dangerous movements. There was still nothing. The trio had seated themselves at the small dining table in that kitchen, and were just sitting there doing nothing.

His hands began to tremble, unwittingly. He had to steady his right hand with his left to lift the pot of pasta from the burner. He drained the pasta and, as he stirred it into the sauce, he glanced back at the table. A shiver ran through his body when he saw that there was only two, now. Where did—

“I want that,” came a low voice from his other side.

“Gah!” Sanji screamed and nearly dropped his spatula.

Niji had made his way over unnoticed, and was pointing at the burger patties still cooking in the other pan. “I want two,” he spoke again.

Sanji stared. Niji stared back.

Completely bewildered, Sanji could only say, “It’s not done yet.”

“Then I want that,” Niji said, pointing at a plate of sandwiches to the side.

Still very confused, Sanji waved a “go ahead” gesture, and went back to finishing the pasta. Somehow that weird little interaction stopped his tremors and, even if he couldn’t say he was no longer tense, he was able to proceed without hiccups.

Moments later, the sandwiches were still untouched and Niji doesn’t seem to have even moved a muscle when Sanji returned from getting a plate of buns and lettuce for the burgers. Shaking his head, Sanji turned off the stove and lifted the pan of patties.

Niji looked over, then. “Is that done? I still want two,” he said. He glanced slightly at the buns and toppings on the other plate, and then added, “I don’t want the bread and green stuff. Or any gross sauce.”

“Yes, yes, now go away, you’re bothering me,” Sanji replied without thinking. His insides were already recoiling the moment the words left his mouth, and he waited for the angry expletives to come. He was surprised when Niji instead immediately returned to the table without another word and sat back down.

There was no time to dwell on it, though. He made a quick check of the roasting meat (still a little more to go), flipped the grilled fish, and then began arranging the burgers. The best one went into the bentou box. He put the lopsided ones on a plate and the remaining patties on another. After a moment’s consideration, he ladled a portion of curry in a saucier, and placed it on the plate of meat patties alongside condiments in little soufflé cups. He brought three sets of knives and forks alongside the plates to the table.

”Whatever happened to ‘royals shouldn’t cook’?” Sanji mumbled quietly to himself as he laid down the plates.

He was heading back towards the stove, when from behind him he heard Ichiji’s voice, “You already did the cooking. The food can’t be unmade.”

Sanji hadn’t been expecting a reply, and he instinctively directed his attention to the table again. Yonji was stuffing his face with the burgers and Niji quietly eating his meat patties—Sanji couldn’t help raising an eyebrow when he saw Niji had poured on the curry. Ichiji wasn’t eating, and he just sat there looking at Sanji with his arms crossed.

Why? Why why what why what…?

A dozen formless questions spun in Sanji’s head as he and Ichiji held eye contact. Then it became too much, and Sanji almost ran back to his cooking as though in escape.

In many ways it was. Cooking was his solace, and going through the motions helped his nerves settle back down, even with the gleaming gold around his wrists serving as a reminder that one of his last few comforts could be taken away from him any time.

In the middle of placing sandwiches in the bentou box, a thought made him pause: Niji hadn’t touched those for some reason. He glanced at the table, and saw that Niji had finished his portion and was just sitting idly again. Sanji looked down at the sandwich plate, then at the empty plate on the table, and it suddenly dawned on him that Niji didn’t take the sandwiches earlier because he had been waiting to be served like the stupid spoiled prince that he was.

Sanji could only huff. “I give up, this is crazy.”

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

It wasn’t until the bentou box was packed and ready that Sanji realized that what he had been making was the typical menu for the crew aboard the Sunny. Between the unwelcome presence of certain individuals—who all still haven’t left yet—and his jumbled emotions, he hadn’t been thinking as clearly as he should be while cooking. In fact, come to think of it, he probably hadn’t even been thinking at all, and was only moving out of pure instincts.

Even though he didn’t prepare the meat in a Luffy-sized portion, it was still way too much for someone like Pudding. As he was mulling over the food, Ichiji’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“By the way, Sanji, we don’t actually have hostages in the East Blue.”

“What?!”

He whirled around so fiercely he knocked over the bottle of wine. It fell back on the counter with a thud, and normally Sanji would’ve worried about it falling to the floor, but he paid it no mind.

“What do you mean there’s no hostage?” Sanji asked, his voice rising in a mix of hope, fear, and rage. “If this is a trick—”

“Our ships are all here; we don’t have anyone assigned to target that restaurant of yours,” Ichiji said, his voice flat and toneless as usual. “Big Mum’s crew gave us the picture and information and let us handle the rest. I do not believe they sent any ambush parties over themselves.”

“If you’re worried, do you want to give them a call?” Yonji asked, holding out a dendenmushi that had materialized from who knows where. His tone was light, and the corners of his mouth was turned in a slight smile as he spoke.

Sanji exploded.

“You’re telling me, now, that you’ve been making empty…you’ve been threatening me…and it was all nothing?!” The words came in a mad rush and he was stumbling and slurring over them in frothing rage. “You think this is funny, don’t you? Playing with people’s lives? Why are you even telling me this?”

He wanted to scream, to hit them, and he also wanted to cry. He thought of the cruel words and punches and the burning pain of electricity searing his body. Luffy’s expression burning determination, even with his bruised and battered body, and the haunting expression on Nami-san’s face. Everything he went through, everything he did…what was the point of it all?

“People die when they die,” Ichiji stated matter of factly, “All we needed was for the wedding to proceed as planned. You’re getting married tomorrow, so I don’t see any difficulties in telling you this.” He tilted his head a little, and then said, “I’m sure you’ve heard that your crew mates have been caught, yes? We might be able to negotiate to bring Cat Burglar Nami with us after the wedding. I’m sure having a familiar face around would make you feel more comfortable.”

“If you touch Nami-san I will rip you to shreds,” Sanji snarled. “I can’t believe this. You also threatened to kill all the hostages if I fought you. What was that about?”

“That’s your punishment. You kicked me for the sake of that kitchen girl.” It was Niji who responded this time. “As royalty, you can’t attack your big brother for the sake of that kind of lowly servant. If you want a match, I’ll take you anytime.”

“I stopped associating myself with this miserable lot ages ago.”

“But you are our brother,” says Yonji, who was idly poking at the dendenmushi on his hand, “What else would you be?”

Sanji gaped at Yonji like he was speaking gibberish. Then he cast his eyes towards the other two. There were none of the twisted smirks he’d seen on their faces the other day. All he saw were vague looks that seemed like on the border of forming expressions, but didn’t quite fully get there.

“What—what is wrong with you? With all of you? Why are you acting like this?” Sanji choked out. Their calm, matter of fact manner somehow deflated his rage. He almost would rather they berate and hit him again, because he could kick and fight and vent out all his feelings. This, though, only made him feel like he was losing his mind.

Three faces glanced at each other around the table, and then almost in unison they said, “This is just how we’ve always been.”

At those words, Sanji recalled in his memories the echoes of his own tiny voice asking the same question, “Why are you like this?”

“This is just how we are,” three equally tiny voices gave the same answer.

There was a vision at the back of his mind, then, of a view framed by the metal of an iron mask, and three pairs of little eyes peering at him through bars of steel. The same three pairs that were directed at him, in the present, except on the faces of grown men.

Wait… eyes?

Sanji blinked. He didn’t know how it never registered until then that Ichiji and Niji weren’t wearing their dark glasses and goggles. He also hadn’t noticed before that their hair were different, too. Ichiji’s wasn’t sticking up like a chicken’s comb, but loose and relaxed, and he thought it looked a little like Reiju’s hair. Niji’s hair was also not in that…whatever that weird style he usually wore, which Sanji had mentally dubbed “the banana”, but draping down his face like waterfalls. Yonji’s hair doesn’t have that little tail at the back of his head that looked like a duck’s butt.

What could this possibly mean—? No, that’s not important. He could puzzle over this later. He had to find Pudding immediately.

This whole time, with the looming threat on Baratie, there was nothing he could do besides let himself be dragged around and placate Big Mum enough to plead her for mercy. Now that he knew Baratie was safe, he could save Nami-san and Luffy. Pudding had helped them get in; surely she could also help them get back out.

With the explosive bracelets still on, Sanji himself still had no chance of leaving. Besides, after what he’d done he didn’t deserve to return to the Sunny. The least he could do to atone for it was to get all the Mugiwara crew out of there safely.

This was no time for flowers and wine, but Sanji still grabbed the food before rushing out. He had prepared that bentou to make up for the dinner Pudding had missed, after all. She could always have it later. The portions… no time to worry about that too.

He sprinted through the chateau, all the while somehow trying to keep the food from being jostled too much. However, when he made it to Pudding’s room, the stupid talking door would not let him in, saying that Pudding was busy.

Busy? Busy with what? With who?

For a moment, Sanji felt a little fear creep into his heart and considered returning later. If one or more of Big Mum’s other children was inside… No, he had every right to be there, as the bridegroom. He could always say he wanted to discuss the wedding, or… other private matters. His mind wandered a little at the thought, but he shook himself out of it. More important matters are at hand.

Pudding’s room had a window overlooking the balcony. He could take a quick look inside to see what’s going on inside before deciding what to do next. As he got closer, he heard laughter. His heart lightened a little. It doesn’t seem like she was busy with something too serious. Maybe he could get her to let him in through the window—

It was then that Sanji discovered that the girl he thought to be his single source of hope in this whole ordeal was, in truth, poison coated in deceivingly sweet layers of custard.

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

He visited Reiju in the infirmary, after making sure to immobilize the guard outside. He told her, with his head held in his hands, about what he’d overheard Pudding say. In turn she revealed to him his bracelets were fake, and told him to flee immediately.

“It’s truly a pity for our brothers, but at this point, death would be more merciful than this sad excuse of a life they’ve been living,” Reiju said.

“What do you mean?” Sanji asked.

“Remember what you asked me before, if they ever act unusual sometimes?”

“Yes,” he replied, immediately straightening up. That had slipped his mind in the confusion. “Actually, I just saw them act weird again. They… they told me Baratie is not in danger.” As he talked more and more words rushed out, “… Ichiji’s not wearing his sunglasses. Niji too. And he wanted food. And they didn’t call it rat fodder…”

Reiju smiled sadly, listening to him ramble.

“I don’t know if you remember,” she interrupted, her voice soft, “Every once in a while you managed to keep up just a bit better…”

“I do!” Sanji almost shouted, “I think… I thought… I thought they weren’t terrible to me if I can do well, and I tried so hard, and…”

The memories that he thought he’d forgotten floated back to the surface. Now that he spoke it out loud, he did vaguely recall that those three were ‘different’ on the days that he thought he didn’t fall so far behind. He remembered the flash of memory from the day before, of successfully putting up a proper fight in swordsmanship class. He was beginning to remember other moments too, like occasionally tying with Niji or Yonji during track running.

“…but it wasn’t ever good enough in the end,” he said, looking at Reiju. “And that wasn’t even why they’re like that, was it?”

His older sister then told him the story of their mother, how she fought Vinsmoke Judge over his insane plans, and how she took a drug concoction that destroyed her body in desperate attempt to save her children.

“The drug she took took effect on all of you, but only you were born as a regular human being,” Reiju said. “Those three… On those days that they changed, it’s not that you did better, it’s because they’re the ones who lost their abilities.”

“Lost their abilities?" he echoed. "What do you mean? How?”

“I don’t know. Their enhancements would just regularly come and go without warning. In the end, they weren’t the perfect war machines that father wanted, but they weren’t regular humans either. Those brief moments were probably the closest thing to ‘normal’ they could ever be.” Reiju sighed. “As I said, Sanji, death would be more merciful to them. Living this kind of halfway existence is not really living. Escape and let Germa be destroyed. It’s the only thing we deserve.”

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

Sanji left the infirmary with his mind in a fog. When Yonji showed him the manufactured Germa soldiers, he had been sick to the core, but never in his imaginations did he expect Judge to be so… so insane as to do that to his own wife and unborn children. Had it not been for mother’s sacrifice, Sanji himself might have been…no, even with what mother did, if anything had gone differently, it might have been Ichiji or Niji or Yonji in his place. Sanji would have been on the side doing the tormenting, then, and he’d never have been any the wiser.

What a horrible thought.

The blond slumped to the floor. Those three… He had always thought of them inhuman monsters, and knowing that he’d been mostly right didn’t give him any satisfaction. They didn’t become like that willingly, did they? Something had been ripped out of them before they were even fully conscious, and they could only live on with whatever mangled mess of their hearts that were left.

“This is just how we are”, they had said. That really had been the truth, after all. In all these time he’d been half convinced that he had dreamed up those moments were they were decent, or if they’d been pulling a trick him, but no—it was truly their nature, and he didn’t know if it was possible for them to be any different.

Ever since he was hauled away from Zou, he despised the constant reminder he faced that he still had blood ties to the Vinsmoke family. It made him feel like he was smothered in thick sludge, weighed down and dirty at the same time. That interaction earlier, though, in the kitchen... It had been truly bizarre, but he had to admit—it wasn’t all bad.

Ichiji revealed the truth about the Baratie and they offered to let him call the restaurant. His heart lurched. Were they… trying to make him feel better? Niji and Yonji called him brother, too, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. There was no mocking, no berating—it just was.

Sanji didn’t dare hope—tried to force himself not to think—because he knew it would only hurt all the more, but he couldn’t stop that little voice inside that told him maybe they were trying to be his family, in the only way they knew how. Perhaps the faintest glimpse of what might have been, if life was much kinder to all of them.

He pulled at his hair. Maybe Reiju did have a point, that death would be mercy compared to this kind of warped state of living. Besides, even if he wanted to do anything about Big Mum’s plot, there was nothing he could do.

A lumpy looking individual came waddling by just then and snatched a piece of meat from his food basket. In a flash he remembered Luffy declaring he would starve to death if Sanji doesn’t return to feed him.

That stubborn rubber man always meant every word he said.

Sanji kicked away the greedy lump, took back the meat, and fled the scene.

Making sure all of the crew made it out of there safely was what he’d initially set out to do after all. First, he needed to find Luffy. Then, feed Luffy. After that, the Mugiwara captain could probably manage on his own. Sanji would deal with whatever were to follow as they came.

[to be continued]

*VS*VS*VS*VS*

It's my first attempt at writing something that is a little longer. I hope you enjoy.

#one piece #my writing #botched vs au #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke #vinsmoke siblings #ichiji #niji #yonji #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke yonji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #germa 66

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

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I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing, Steve Harrington

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, fluff

Word count: 3494

Tw: As a fellow introvert it pains me to tell you you are now going to prom. Sorry. There’s an f-bomb in here. Light cursing?? Idk have you even watched Stranger Things?

Summary: Steve was convinced he was only able to fall in love once, and that one love was Nancy Wheeler. And when all of that fell apart, he met you. He couldn’t explain how or why, but you were simply it for him. Never before had he been anxious to ask a girl out, so why were you so different? And how come Dustin knows more about flirting than he does?

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping. While you're far away and dreaming.”

Steve has only been in love once - Nancy Wheeler. He had told himself this over and over again. He knew what it felt like, he knew what it was like. He knew what the difference was between liking and loving. And the only one he had truly loved was Nancy Wheeler. So, when she started dating Jonathan, his heart crumbled into a million little pieces. For once, he finally understood the girls at his high school who would spend their break wallowing away in bathrooms.

After that, he wouldn’t dare even look at others in a specific way. He was convinced he could only love one person his entire life. He’d never find something real after that. It was a terrifying melodramatic thought in his head that simply refused to leave.

He was at his lowest when he met you.

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

How you had never caught his eyes, he couldn’t quite believe. For years, you had been in the same English class. Hell, you used to sit directly next to him for a handful of months. He was so blindly and foolishly in love with Nancy, he refused to see anything else for him out there. And where he had once blamed it on loyalty and fidelity, he could now only consider himself as stupid.

You were forced to work on a project together in your senior year, Steve’s final year of torment. He was too late to pair with familiar faces, and was left with the person behind him - you. A lucky coincidence.

It wasn’t anything special at first. You were simply a classmate. But when he failed to show up on agreed study times, or refused to form a normal conversation with you, you showed up at his doorstep. You barely even know him, yet you took the effort to seek him out - initially in pure anger, as this was supposed to be your grade as well, and he was screwing it up, but you afterwards considered this action to have been out of genuine caring. It wouldn’t take an expert to recognize that he had not been true to his prior years persona.

Reluctantly, he had allowed you in, trying to procrastinate as much as he could. You spent the evening properly introducing yourself. You talked about family, work, school, interests, and friends that would later appear to be somewhat mutual (Steve didn’t necessarily consider Jonathan his friend, but he at least knew him on certain terms.) Where you first appeared to be the stuck-up good grades student, he found that you were actually quite interesting to talk with. Even if your interests weren’t always related, he found himself relaxing around you.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

It took two weeks for him to shift slightly around you. He’d grown more comfortable, and had actually tried to put in some effort in your project. After the study dates, he’d treat you to a drink at a nearby snackbar on his way to your home. During classes - if they were shared -, he started seeking you out more. Sometimes, though rare, he’d sit at your table at lunch, ranting about a teacher or a test he just had.

It took two more weeks before he started changing again. To him, it came out of nothing. You had been at his place, discussing what you would be doing the final three weeks of your project, your voice passionate as you explained your plan, your hands following along with your speech enthusiastically. Then, it all clicked for him. There was no special thing you did that made it happen: no faces too nearby, no flirty laugh, no hesitant hug, no brief kiss on his cheek - it was simply you speaking about something you were excited about. And his heart skipped a beat at it. The feeling you’d get just before you go down a rollercoaster, or when your chair almost falls backwards - but then in a good way.

The last time he felt that was when Nancy winked at him from across the room. And that was last year. He knew the feeling, and it did not take him longer than a second to figure out what it was. He didn’t dare to say it, though. He might say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing and something about that made him so scared. He’d never felt anxious to walk up to someone and simply confess how he felt. It came easy to him.

Not after that one stupid rant you did.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wouldn’t speak of it to anyone. He hadn’t even told himself out loud yet. He told himself that if he’d speak it, it might disappear, or bring him bad luck. He cursed himself afterwards and scolded his mind for suddenly picking up superstition.

He’d try so badly to behave somewhat normal around you, and not as if his heart was beating way too quickly whenever you spoke his name or nudged his shoulder with your pen. In his eyes, he was doing a great job at it. He didn’t stutter once, nor did he forget his words. He didn’t sweat, didn’t act on emotion. He was completely nailing this.

He never noticed his staring. You had.

“Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating. And I'm wondering what you're dreaming. Wondering if it's me you're seeing.”

You had noticed it only a day after Steve’s realisation. Sure, he had shown interest in you, but they never included prolonged eye contact, nor the feeling of being watched over during classes. It was uncomfortable when it first started, but when he failed to do anything about the staring in a negative sense, you figured his mind had just been too preoccupied with other things and let it slide.

But every time you’d walk the halls, you swear Steve kept his eyes on you even after you had greeted him at the lockers. During breaks, he would constantly be throwing you looks, and you had to pretend to look at something else to not be creepy as well. He started walking you to your car, helping you carry school books, and saving you lunch.

You might not have been the smartest, but you weren’t oblivious. He didn’t do this for his other friends - which he had known way longer than he had known you. He wouldn’t even walk his ‘children’ friends outside school. And you might have understood him if he had done so. But he didn’t. Not with anyone except you.

But maybe you were thinking too much of it.

“Then I kiss your eyes And thank God we're together. And I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever. Forever and ever.”

“Steve,” Dustin urged. “Earth to Steve.” The boy in question only grunted in annoyance, reluctantly tearing his eyes from you and your friend group. “Dude, this is almost becoming creepy.” Dustin continued. “Just talk to her. You’re friends, right?” “Yes, Dustin,” Steve groaned. “We’re friends.” An aloud confirmation. To himself and to Dustin. You were just friends, sure.

“Friends don’t really stare at each other the entire time.” Rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head at the boy, giving him a pointed look. “I’m not looking at her the entire time.” “Maybe not, but when you’re not looking, she is.” That made his head spin around too fast, his eyes briefly meeting yours before they cast back to your friends.

“That’s totally normal,” Dustin emphasised. “Me and Mike make love-sick eyes at each other the entire time.” “Will you shut it?” Steve hissed, his face warm as he tried to look at the wall behind you. “I would, but all of this staring is making me sick.” “No one asked you to look.” “It’s impossible not to.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“She’s totally into you, you know that right?” Dustin prodded. “Shut up.” “No, I’m serious, man. She’s my babysitter and she talks about you all the time.” He exaggerated, a notion Steve was quick to catch onto, giving the younger boy an accusing look. “Okay, so, maybe I am the one who brings you up, but she is the one who starts laughing and talking all about how funny you are.” He defended, holding his hands up as he shrugged. And with those words, Steve was left speechless for just a short second.

“If you ask her out to prom, I can guarantee you, she’ll say yes.” Dustin hinted. “You’ll have the perfect ambiance - lights, music, clothes, and amazing company.” “Dude, you’re twelve.” Steve deadpanned, yet curiously thinking Dustin’s offer over. “I’m thirteen.” “Big difference.”

“If this is what growing up is like, I don’t want any part of it.” “No,” Steve finally agreed. “Trust me; you don’t.”

“Dude, you’re the king of Hawkins High,” Dustin tried to convince. “If you can’t ask a girl out, what are my chances?” Steve formed his lips in a thin line upon the words, shrugging aimlessly. Dustin’s hands found Steve’s biceps, clutching them tightly, taking him by surprise. “Give me hope, Steve.”

“Geez, man,” Steve muttered confused. “It’s not the end of the world.” “You’re right: it isn’t.” Dustin agreed, a sudden smile on his face. “So, talk to her.” Then, he turned the older boy around, forcing his eyes to suddenly fall on yours. Again, his face heated up at the contact, his eyes back on the wall behind you before yours could fall to the floor in a flustered mess.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wanted to back away, let the weird thirteen-year-old he met last year down and swallow his pride to the depth of his stomach, but one of your friends had already noticed him, sparing him a wave before taking off with the rest of the group, leaving only you there. If he couldn’t even ask you when you were alone, what dignity did he have left?

And thus, with courage he did not know he had to muster up, he walked towards you, his heart wildly beating, screaming at him to turn around and hide while he still could. Stupid. That never happened before. It was scary - he hated it. Weak for a talk.

“You didn’t mention a little brother,” You began, trying to start a conversation as your eyes fell on Dustin, who had - not so casually - started paying a lot of attention to his shoes. Chuckling awkwardly, Steve shook his head. “No, he’s not my brother.” “Cousin?” “Weird kid that started following me around last year.” A quiet ‘ah’ of understanding escaped you as you nodded hesitantly. “Must have been quite the conversation you were having.” “You really don't want to know.” You laughed at this.

Stupid. Stupid heart skipping that stupid beat at your stupid smile.

“I don't wanna miss one smile. And I don't wanna miss one kiss. And I just wanna be with you Right here with you, just like this.”

Then, the silence came. You hadn’t shared those yet. You always had a lot to say, and if not, he would. But this was an uncomfortable silence. Granted, he had known you for five weeks, but he did not like this one bit. He felt as if he had gotten to know you better in five weeks than he had his other friends in four years. He didn’t even know if Tommy had a brother or a sister - or maybe it was both. He knew your entire family, though.

Dustin was right. That wasn’t normal for friends. Or at least - not for his versions of friends. He was interested in them, but not as much as he was in you. And that wasn’t just because you were generally pleasing to look at. It was important to him, though.

“Um, pretty,” Steve mumbled, not even realising what he had said. An unconscious notion of himself as he tried to fill the silence. It even startled him, his heart sinking slightly as he tried to cover it up. “Prom.”

Yes, there was no going back now.

“And I just wanna hold you close. I feel your heart so close to mine. And just stay here in this moment For all the rest of time.”

“Prom.” You nodded at him as he repeated his words. “Next month.” You reminded him, thinking he didn’t know the date. “Right, yes,” Steve agreed, grateful you hadn’t taken up his slip. “Do you plan on going?” You thought of it for a while. In truth, you had meant to be going with a friend, but she cancelled last week, claiming she’d rather take another friend who would be in town that week. You understood her - you might have done the same. But you weren’t going to show up to prom alone. Besides, staying home wouldn’t be the worst idea. Cinemas would likely be very empty that night. You might spend your evening there.

“I don’t think so.” You finally settled on. “Not?” “I was gonna go with a friend, but she cancelled.” “That’s lame, I’m sorry.” Steve tried to offer in sympathy, but you shook him off. “No, I don’t blame her. One of her long-distance friends will be in town, and she’d rather take her.” “Still,” Steve continued. “That must have sucked.” You lightly shook your head at him, a tiny grin on your face. “Yes, but it’s okay. I don’t hate her for it.”

Another silence. This time due to both of you thinking over your words. Stupid. He never had to do that before.

“Why?” You prodded playfully. “Planning to ask me yourself, Harrington?”

Yet again, his heart skipped a beat. Stupid.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. Don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“Only out of pity.” He covered up quickly, his eyes not deviating from yours once. “I’m the worst pity party.” You joked, to which he faintly found himself sparing a laugh. “I’d be happy to join it.” “Yeah, you would.” You replied sarcastically, nodding your head in humour.

A third beat of silence. Now, the pounding in his heart was begging for some action. One more silence and he might spontaneously combust. “What if I was?” He mustered out, his eyes falling back on the wall behind you. Looking behind you to see what he was looking at, you frowned lightly, forcing your eyes back to his face. “What if you were what?” “Planning to ask you to prom?” A deep falling of his heart. Stupid.

“I’d ask why you didn’t ask future prom queen Heather.” You replied after a handful of seconds, not sure how to respond to him. You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t copying his exact movements. “Because she’s fake.” He stated easily, causing you to gasp lightly, looking around to check if others were around. “Steve,” You scolded. “I’m serious,” He disclosed honestly. “She always pretends to feel bad for others, but she’s as much of a bully as she is narcissistic.”

You could join him and rant about this girl, but in truth, you barely even knew her. Part of it made you feel guilty. Thankfully, Steve caught on quickly: “Besides, I already rejected her.”

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do. I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

Mouth slacked open, you looked at him in surprise. Again, you didn’t really know the girl, but you knew her enough to be aware of her reputation. Or, more importantly, her looks. “You rejected Heather?” You asked confused, a feather light feeling entering your stomach. “Yeah, well, I’m not really one for dances, but I could make an exception.” Steve defended, trying to play it off cool. His exterior was doing a great job at it. Inside, whatsoever, it was pure rampage. His brain was scavenging for the right words or actions. He truly didn’t want to screw this up, but he had never felt this anxious around a person. If this would not be the moment, he didn’t know if it would ever come again.

Luckily, you did not notice the turmoil, and responded to his words before he could make a fool out of himself. “You’d make an exception for your study buddy?” You tested, still unsure whether he was joking or not. If he was, it was a cruel one. “You need those grades, don’t you?” “No.” He denied quickly, almost instantly. “I’d make an exception for a good friend. And all I need is just a little bit of your time.” “For what?” You asked, raising your eyebrows slightly.

Holding you, you idiot. Keeping you close, not tearing my eyes from you if I can help it. Maybe a little kiss here and there, light touches on your waist, repressing those stupid beats of my heart.

Instead, what came out was: “Dancing, duh.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“I don’t have an outfit.” You avoided, slightly taken aback by his cool behaviour. Sure, you had learned his humour, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to show just a little emotion and a positive response to your slightly high hopes. Then, he said something that truly took you aback.

“Wear this. You look beautiful in this too.” It was out before he could even stop it. He hadn’t even realised his brain had been forming these words. They just stumbled out. And when you went slack at them, he wanted nothing more than to dig his head into the nearest wall. “I’m-“ He tried to salvage, desperately stumbling over his words.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was exactly what he had been avoiding all this time and now his speech was failing him.

“I’m sorry, that was-“ No words managed to follow up that trail of thought, leaving you there, still wide-eyed. “Fuck.” He silently mumbled to himself, before just running with what he had slipped out. “You look perfect just like this.”

“Thank you.” You nearly whispered, your heart surely in your throat now. This was precisely what you wanted to hear, so why did you not know how to respond to it.

“Yeah, no problem.” Steve sighed helplessly.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“So, prom? With me?” He swallowed his dignity, saying his words as he had always meant them. No de-tours now. And at that, your courage began to build up again. “As friends?” You tested. “Maybe,” Steve answered. “Or, maybe, as a date.” A sigh of relief swept through you, the action not going unnoticed by Steve. He did not mention it however.

“It’ll be a hell of a first date.” You muttered, your happiness doing its best containing itself. “It doesn’t have to be.” Steve dismissed. Your hopes fell to the floor at that, afraid you had gotten ahead of yourself. Hadn’t he said it aloud? Hadn’t he proposed it had been a date?

“I heard the cinema is playing Gremlins tonight.” He interrupted your train of thought, a slight smile on his face. You copied it nearly immediately, more relief flooding your senses. And then, a sudden burst of confidence: “You know the purpose of the cinema is watching movies, right? Not me.” Hissing and nodding at your hint, his shoulders fell slightly. “Am I that creepy?” “At first, yes,” You admit honestly. “But it’s cute.”

Cute. Stupid.

“What time?” Having remembered the exact time for this perfect scenario, Steve perked up slightly. “Eight.” “Pick me up at seven-thirty,” You proposed. “You know where I live.” Then, you turned around, ready to head to your next classes. You spared him a light wave, before moving towards the halls. His eyes followed you until you were out of sight.

That stupid smile. Those stupid eyes. Your stupid voice. Your stupid humour.

You were going to be the death of him.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

#november writings 2023 #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #joe keery

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privwrites · 5 months

Text

Geto's Golden Girl

Suguru Geto x female Reader x Gojo being Gojo

summary: You're Suguru Getos best and favourite student. He sends you on a new mission, and technically there's nothing that could go wrong. That is until you meet a former friend of your Sensei, who is all to eagier to get to know everything about you and your connection to Geto...

wordcount: around 4300

authors notes:

• not many spoilers really, but you should know what happens to Geto at the end of the jjk movie

• fanfiction takes place in an AU in which Geto will NEVER die (I'm still traumatised). Let's just say Gojo didn't have the heart to actually kill Geto at the end of jjk 0. Instead he left him severely wounded and walked away. That was your chance to save Geto and bring him home.

• English isn't my first language, so I might mix up some JJK terms.

tw: age gap (it's not a fanfic of mine if it doesn't have an age gap haha sorry), student x sensei/mentor/kinda father figure dynamic, violence, fight scenes, emotional rollercoaster, mentions of death, mentions of manipulation and kidnapping, humour, angst, fluff

Beta read by no one, I need female anime friends <3

backstory: You're one of Geto Sugurus scholars. Years ago he had rescued you from the humans of your village. You were able to see things they didn't, so they tried to exorcise you. You would've been dead if it hadn't been for Geto. Back then you were eight years old. Ever since then you lived with the sorcerer. He became your personal mentor, since he saw great potential in you and your cursed energy. The other two girls he rescued, Mimiko and Nanako Hasaba, were a few years younger than you. You viewed them as your sisters, but they never got as much attention and training from Geto like you did.

You were on your way home when you felt the first raindrop on your cheek. Looking up, the sky was gray, framed by orange-brown leaves on the trees lining the pavement. Autumn had finally arrived in Japan, and you felt relieved to bid farewell to this summer's heatwave. More raindrops fell, splashing on your dark blue jacket. Sighing, you opened your umbrella—this morning, the sky had been sunny and blue. Luckily, you always came prepared. The first humans hastened towards the stores, seeking shelter from the rain, hands raised over their heads. The sound of rain grew louder, amplified by the cars navigating the wet streets. You never particularly hated humans, but you didn't find them very interesting either. They simply coexisted with your world of Jujutsus and cursed energy. You didn't even resent the people in the village where you grew up. Hatred was a weighty emotion, and you enjoyed living an anger-free life. Eventually, your mentor Geto had accepted your relaxed attitude towards humans. Although you were probably the only one in his community that he allowed to have such a different opinion compared to his. You had always liked to talk back and had Geto questioning his will to actually teach and raise you a million times. But your were the strongest sorcerer your age, which was a big bonus point for you.

It was still raining when you reached home. The huge traditionally japanese mansion had space for your bedroom, Mimiko and Nanakos room and Geto's private chambers. Besides that there were many taijutsu practice rooms and guest rooms. Walking through the inner courtyard connecting various rooms via a small garden, the clacking sound of the Shishi Odoshi echoed across the space. Placing your umbrella on the wooden engawa, you removed your shoes and slid open the door to your room. Inside it was warm and cozy. The sound of the rain became quieter. You changed from your outdoor attire into comfortable indoor clothes and settled onto your futon. it didn't ake you long to feel tired. Sleep always came easily to you; you had a substantial need for it. The relaxing pitter-patter of the rain accompanied you into your dreams.

It didn't take Suguru Geto long to notice your return home. There was nothing in his house that the great sorcerer didn't know about, and the sight of the dark blue umbrella on your engawa was all too familiar. "Always prepared," he thought to himself. Geto was aware that you were likely asleep, as it was often the case on your days off. Despite it being only afternoon, your cursed technique of controlling all four elements of nature could be draining, requiring ample rest. Today it seemed like you just did a simple stroll through town, but even then, your cursed energy was always present. So the sorcerer waited another two hours before he sent Mimiko to wake you.

He had plans for you. He always had.

***

Geto could hear your footsteps long before you entered what could be described as his living room. You closed the sliding door behind you. Outside, it was still raining. Geto's gaze fixated on you instantly. The light blue Japanese kimono wrapped your figure elegantly, and your shiny hair framed your delicate face. "You called for me, Sensei?" you asked in your typically soft voice. "Yes, my dear. Sit down, please." You settled onto the tatami mat, your movements fluent and elegant. "So much like me," he thought, observing you. "I have a mission for you, y/n. There's an abandoned mall outside of Tokyo. From what my informant said, there's a cursed spirit that is powerful enough to be of great value for us." As he spoke, he turned on the andon lamp on the flat table between you two. It was already getting dark outside. You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess – you want me to bring it to you?" The sorcerer in front of you had an amused smile on his lips, his dark eyes holding a certain allure. You were different from the rest of his followers - while they would agree unquestioningly, you always dared to contradict or doubt him. And Geto allowed it- every time. "Precisely," he continued. "I can't get it myself; I'll be occupied. And I only trust you to get this done. I know you won't disappoint me." He was right. You wouldn't. If you followed his orders, you did it to his satisfaction - every time.

"I need more details, Sensei. When should I go? Where exactly is it? Should I bring Mimiko and Nanako? They could use another training session." Geto grinned at your numerous questions. You had a love for details and disliked not knowing everything about a mission. Geto ran his large hand through his raven-dark hair, a few strands falling onto his forehead. "You will go alone. Tomorrow afternoon. One of my drivers will bring you there. Capture it in the evening and come back during the night. We can't risk being seen." The golden light of the lantern flickered in your eyes. "We?" you mocked, "You won't even be there!" Geto sighed. "You couldn't let that slide, could you, y/n?" - "No chance," you answered, now grinning too. "Alright, I will take care of your cursed spirit for you. May it help you with whatever devilish plan you're coming up with next," you said, rising to leave. Geto observed you in silence until you were almost out the door. "When did I tell you that you are dismissed already, y/n?" he asked sharply. "Oh," you retorted, wearing a hypocritically thoughtful expression, "never." You grinned and left, leaving behind your sweet scent that lingered in the air—Geto took a deep breath. Blackcurrant lychee, the same perfume he had bought you years ago.

***

The mall to which Geto had sent you had been abandoned for quite a while. As you approached it, the deserted structure loomed ominously in the night, its once vibrant exterior now a faded, dreary facade against the relentless rain. The stench of dampness lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy scent of decay. The stars and the moon were shrouded in clouds, and it was raining again. Closed to the public, the mall occasionally attracted adventurous teenagers, some of whom mysteriously vanished. "Stupid mission", you grumbled to yourself, yearning for the comfort of your bed and a good book. You swore to yourself to complain to Geto once you were back. Fucking idiot for not getting his cursed spirits by himself. But since you had decided to stay out of his other mad plans as much as possible, tasks like this one were becoming more regular for you. Finding the entrance, cordoned off with barrier tape, didn't take long. Stepping inside, a familiar tingle coursed through your stomach— the cursed spirit wasn't far. All you had to do was to follow your gut feeling. Meanwhile, you carefully looked around the mall. Smaller raindrops were dripping into bigger puddles on the ground, and many store entrances were barricaded. The eeriest thing was the flickering of some of the store neon lights. Why did they still have power? Your steps echoed on the wet floor. Maybe it was the cursed energy in the mall that made some of the lights flicker. Sneaking your way into the building, you could feel the energy of the curse grew stronger. Carefully you took out your sealing box. Capturing a curse with it was pretty easy for you. Also because Geto made your practice it a million times when you were younger. He used to have this annoying little spirit that always jumped around laughing and was incredibly hard to catch. Thinking about it made you grin-but this was neither the right place nor the right time for that. Besides, you were still a little annoyed with Geto for sending you here.

Suddenly, a strange, eerie mumbling echoed through the mall. That had to be the cursed spirit! "Of cou-course I can check the ware-warehouse for the item, which is obviously already sold out." You chuckled. Sometimes, the spirits last words were quite comical. Following the echoing sounds, you traced the spirit to a secluded corner of the mall. It was a grotesque manifestation, its malformed figure adorned with bones protruding from its mouth. Its skin bore a sickly hue of purple-turquoise, marred by blisters. Despite its repulsive appearance, you sensed its huge strength, yet nothing beyond your capabilities. The cursed spirit let out a squeak upon sighting you. "Better get this done quickly", you thought to yourself. Your power of controling the elements (fire, water, earth, air) made it easy for you to capture the curse inside the sealingbox after a short fight. Once the curse was sealed, you left the corner of the mall as quickly as possible, mainly to escape the stench of the curse still lingering in the air.

You got back to the main hall and were about to take out your cell phone to text Geto's driver-when something suddenly made you pause. The main hall of the shopping mall stretched around the corner about 30 meters in front of you. You hadn't been in this area before. And suddenly you could feel something - cursed energy? But the curse was sealed in the box in your hand, wasn't it!? The energy grew stronger. Very strong. You immediately got into a fighting stance. Whatever was so strong wouldn't let you escape anyways. Footsteps—long, deliberate—echoed in the flickering neon-lit corridor. Your heart raced with apprehension. What the hell was going on!? A figure emerged from around the corner, and you froze. A man, tall and adorned in dark, sophisticated attire, stood a few meters in front of you. He was wearing simple sunglasses, but despite that, you could see how handsome he was. His blue eyes seemed to shine through his sunglasses, and white hair framed his face. Recognition dawned on you. You had heard much about him but never encountered him in person. "Fuck," you muttered, stepping back a few paces in defense. What was HE doing here!?

"'Fuck?' the man asked, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully as if contemplating what you just said. You observed him anxiously. Suddenly, his expression brightened. "Fuck? Yeah, that probably is what most women first think when they look at me!" You opened your mouth and closed it again, unable to bring out any answer. Geto had told you alot about his old friend, including that he was quite full of himself, but it seemed that you only just now understood what he really meant. It took you a few moments to compose yourself. "That's not—what I meant!", you finally defended yourself, holding the sealing box behind you defensively, anticipating any attacks from him. "Meant what? Fuck? I'm sorry love, but that's not why I'm here." He casually slipped his hands into his pockets, grinning carefreely. And you? You couldn't believe it. You had never encountered a more unserious man, that was certain! And he was Geto's best friend? The contrast couldn't be more stark between the two. "You know, I'm actually here to get to know someone. I'm looking for a girl, around (your/age) years old, (your/haircolor) hair, and with a quite good curse technique", he explained. It was obvious that he was searching for you for some reason. However, the sorcerer seemed to enjoy to tease you. But you weren't having it. "Seems like you found her then", you answered grim. "Excelent! You know, I do really hate searching!" He looked genuinely happy about it, "I heard a lot about you, my dear." You swallowed. You couldn't trust him at all. Of course he was stronger than you and whatever reason brought him here, couldn't mean anything good for you.

"What would Satoru Gojo want from me?", you asked sharply, watching his every move. "Oh, you know my name already, perfect!" The urge to wipe that stupid smile off his face grew stronger inside you. "Anyways, Miss (your/lastname), here's my brilliant plan: you're gonna give me the cursed-spirit that you captured so well. And then I will kidnap you too. Agree?" He made his plan sound like it was the best thing in the world. "What- no!", you spat out, "why would I do that?!" Gojo Satoru scratched his neck again. "Because the other option would be for you to fight me. In that case, you would obviously loose. And I personally just hate fighting a pretty woman!" His dumb comments started to trigger you, prompting you to shoot a small fire ball into his direction. You'd never surrender without a fight! "Oops!", Gojo squeaked in surprise, taking a step aside. The fireball left a hole in the old storefront of a former restaurant behind him, igniting it. He watched it burn and sighed. 'That store used to have really good Kikufuku, you know?" - „I do not care!", you shouted. Gojo was incredibly irritating. „Well", he continued, „I should've known Getos golden girl won't submit to me that easily." You raised an eyebrow. "Geto's golden girl?" - "Exactly", he said, "you are his best and favourite student after all, right? That's why I'm here, y/n." You wanted to say something sassy back, but you couldn't even deny the 'best and favourite' part. Instead a new fireball started to form in your hand. You shot it towards him- faster this time, but the tall man easily dodged it. It seemed as though Gojo was enjoying your attacks.

If only you would have enough time to flee with the captured spirit! Instead Gojo continued his unbothered talking. "You were also the one to save Geto after I defeated him, right? He must mean quite alot to you. And honestly- I can't even blame you! He is incredibly smart and hot!" - "I don't need your opinion!", you shouted, sending a wave of air in his direction. Any other opponent would have been smashed against the wall, but not Gojo. He stumbled back a few steps. "Wow! You really are talented! I understand what Geto sees in you! I'm glad he didn't lose his taste after all!" - "That's none of your business either!" Did this guy ever shut up!? "Actually, it is. Geto is my best friend as much as he is my enemy. And therefore his plans concern me. And so do his students that he manipulated into staying with him." A contemptuous sound escaped you. "I enjoy my life and freedom with Geto, and so do the others!" Gojo nodded. „I knew you'd say that. In that case, show me what you got, dear! For you, I'll take off my sunglasses. Strong fighters deserve to face me without them." He put his glasses away and his blue eyes seemed to stare into your soul. There was no escaping him. You couldn't defeat him. But you never surrendered either. And strangely enough, something within you sparked a sudden surge of fighting spirit. This was your mission for Geto! You always promised and delivered for your sensei, and you wouldn't stop just because blue-eyes decided to show up! „Fine, I'd rather die than hand over the curse or even myself!" You utilized your power over air to elevate yourself off the ground, hovering a few meters above it. In your hand, a flame grew, intensifying with each passing second. Fire was your strongest skill—essential for this battle. "This could've been much easier", Gojo sighed. Before you could answer, you were struck by a punch, hurling you through the air. How was he so fast? Luckily, your air-skills saved you. You threw the fireball back, and within seconds you and Gojo were engrossed in a fight. In the meantime, he kept shouting comments at you about your cursed techniques. "Aim a little further to the right!", "Yeah, you got me there!" , That was better!" - You couldn't answer his comments. He grew stronger with each passing moment, and soon, you found yourself crashing into walls and barraged with waves of cursed energy. You stood no chance.

So, you did the last thing you could do: you secretly did a special cursed technique, anchoring the sealing box itself firmly into the ground. Geto had taught you this particular technique. It was designed in a way that only a person of your choosing could effortlessly retrieve the box from the ground- Geto in your case. It was an impossibility for anyone else since the technique was intrinsically linked to the Sorcerer's life—yours. Then all your strength left you in exhaustion. Gojo immediately pulled you toward him, your back pressed against his, his arm against your throat. "I haven't encountered such an intriguing opponent in a while", his breath brushed against your neck, "Unfortunately, you don't stand a chance against me. I will now take you and the imprisoned curse with me. But mark my words—you will grow incredibly strong one day." - "You're... not... my sensei!' you managed to utter, straining to speak with whatever breath remained in your lungs.

"That's right, but I am!" an all too familiar soft but serious voice interjected, "and now, Gojo, my old friend, could you please release my y/n? She hates being restrained like that." - „Geto!", you shouted. In the neon light, a few meters in front of you, stood your sensei. He was clad in a dark kimono, his eyes glaring sharply at Gojo behind you. The light reflected his beautiful face. „Geto, finally! It's delighting to see you!", Gojo exclaimed enthusiastically, "I knew you'd show up eventually. You can't leave your dear y/n alone after your sources have told you that I'm here too, I understand that!" - "Release her, Gojo, now!" Your sensei's expression was more determined than ever. An intense tension crackled between the two powerful men, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere. "Gladly, Geto," Gojo replied, "but I just realized you'll have to release the cursed anchor of the sealing box in the ground. Apart from y/n, only you can open it. Nice technique you taught her, by the way." For a plit second, Geto glanced at you with pride. The anchor technique was incredibly challenging to master. "The alternative is for me to kill your student, Geto," Gojo's voice turned dangerously serious. "Geto, you need that curse! Take it and leave!" you shouted. Getos gaze met yours, and his facial expression softened immediately. "Leave you?" he asked, then turned to Gojo, "I'd sooner give up everything I've achieved in my life than to leave y/n. If you want the curse that badly, Gojo, I'll hand it over!" You stared at Geto in disbelief. You knew how much your sensei had sacrificed to reach his current position—it meant everything to him! "Geto—" you managed to say, "no...!" He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. "It's alright, y/n. I've made my decision."

Suddenly, Gojo's grip around your neck eased, and you broke free, almost tumbling to the ground before Geto swiftly caught and supported you. Clinging to the fabric of his soft kimono, you caught the familiar scent of cedarwood. "Shh, it's alright", Geto reassured, his hand gently stroking your hair. A chuckle from Gojo drew your gaze upward. "So, there's still good in you, old friend", Gojo spoke surprsingly soft. "I'm sorry I had to put you both in this situation, but I needed to make sure Geto hadn't lost his old self. I needed to know if he still cared for those around him." Your eyes widened in realization. What the hell? „You didn't come here of your own accord, isn't that right, Gojo?", Geto asked him, "the council of Jujutsu sorcerers sent you." You looked questioningly at Geto, whose gaze was fixed on Gojo. Geto continued: "Someone told the council that I would look for the curse in the old mall. So they sent you to defeat me for good." Gojo nodded. „You have a sharp mind as always, Geto. I was instructed to end your life here, in this very mall." Realization struck you: "So the council thought Geto would show up, and instead you met me! But how did you know about me anyways? You couldn't know Geto wasn't here!", you exclaimed. "You're not entirely wrong, y/n," Gojo replied. "The council had no clue that Geto sent you. But given that Geto is my best friend, I'm usually well-informed about his actions. Thus, I assumed that for a mission like this, his top student—namely you—would likely handle it. Even though Geto couldn't have known I was waiting here for you instead."

You nodded in understanding, but suddenly, Geto's hold around you tightened. "Does the council of Jujucists know that y/n is here too, Gojo?" he asked tensely, surprising you. Geto appeared nervous. "No, they're unaware," Gojo replied. "I didn't inform the council of my suspicion of meeting y/n here instead of you. That way, I could test you, Geto, by forcing you to choose between your goals and your heart", and looking at you he said: "I would've never killed you, y/n. Because that would have meant I'd have had to fight an incredibly enraged Geto - and then I might have ended up losing after all." You shook your head. "You're completely insane, Gojo Satoru." Gojo winked at you. "Well I care about my best friend's loved ones." You rose to your feet slowly, and Geto was there, lending his support as you straightened up. You brushed the dust from the earlier fight off your clothes, then looked at two special grade jujutsu sorcerers. "And what happens next? What will you tell the council, Gojo?" - "That's a smart question, y/n. And our next problem. I could never kill Geto, but even if I didn't, the council would, if I captured him instead of killing him. You grabbed Getos arm immediately. "That's not an option!", you stated. "I know, dear. But the councils has spies anywhere, so they definitely know that I've met Geto here in the mall. And by now, they probably know about you y/n too. The only solution is for you two to leave this place immediately. Hide from the council until they give up searching for you", Gojo said, seemingly unhappy with the situation.

Geto took a step infront of you. "I won't drag y/n into fleeing and hiding from the council with me! It's dangerous and only I am responsible for my current situation!" His voices conveyed a deep seriousness. Gojo nodded understandably. "Then I'll take y/n with me, back to Tokyo Jujutsu High School. I'll tell the council that you manipulated y/n and that she's entirely innocent. And that I didn't have the physical strength to defeat you, but instead freeded y/n. This way, she can stay safe until the council stops their hunt for you." Geto nodded immediately in agreement, whilst your eyes widenend. "No!", you shouted, "I'll stay with Geto! I don't care if they chase us!" Gojo looked at you with pity. Suddenly you all heard a noise from the other side of the mall. "Geto, you need to leave! Someone's coming!", Gojo spoke hurriedly. "No, Geto no!", you pleaded, "no sensei abandons their student!" Geto leaned down to you, his expression a blend of sorrow and determination. "Listen, y/n," he spoke softly, "you're no longer just my student. I'm not your sensei anymore. You've surpassed me in wisdom and kindness. You're more than my equal now." He delicately brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gorgeously dark gaze meeting your watery eyes. "What I mean, y/n, is that you deserve a life free from the dangers I've attracted. As I'll be hunted, I want you to be safe. I trust Gojo to protect you until I return." Tears streamed down your face, making you speechless. Another sound echoed from the mall, but Geto remained composed as he continued: "You'll go with Gojo. Train at Jujutsu High School. Grow stronger, and we'll meet again. I'm certain." His words were clear, leaving no room for an argument. You nodded, sniffling, "I'll miss you terribly. Please take care." Geto nodded back, a soft smile gracing his lips. Gently tucking your hair behind your ear, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead before nudging you toward Gojo, who put an arm around you immediately.

As Geto stood up, he glanced at Gojo, "Take care of y/n. Without her, I'd be devoid of my humanity." - "I promise," Gojo affirmed. You brushed away your tears, whispering, "I'll make you proud, Geto." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've surpassed that already, my love," he smiled warmly. Suddenly, the screech of an eagle pierced through the broken ceiling of the mall. In the next moment, it lifted Geto off the ground, perching him on its back. "Goodbye, y/n", Geto spoke softly. The eagle let out another cry and soared into the sky. The silhouette of Geto atop the eagle diminished until it vanished into the night. You gripped Gojo's hand, tears still cascading down your cheeks. "It's okay," Gojo murmured, "I'll stay by your side until better days arrive. And until then I have just the right classmates for you to help you find your new way at Jujutsu High." You gazed at him questioningly through the wet lashes of your tears. "What do you mean by that?", you asked suspiciously, "I don't think anyone would want to be friends with someone who was with a villain for that long." Upon the Jujutsu Sorcerer's lips, there appeared a subtle yet discernible grin. "I currently have three students- one of them had an aweful father- and the other one, well, ate his villain. So I think you'll be good." You stared at Gojo. That man was always good for a surprise it seemed. "Ate...him?", you asked in disbelief. Gojos grin was now clearly visible on his face. "Exactly. You see? I'm sure Getos golden girl-", he winked at you, "will fit in just fine!"

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