#i know people with it have blue eyes and not red like many animals with it but this is fantasy so it might still work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetarks · 8 months

Text

"they don't love me like you do!"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: despite the countless valentines day offers he receives, satoru will only ever accept one confession. but you're confessing... to his best friend?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, high school! au

"please accept these chocolates, gojo!" says the girl in front of him. satoru casually pulls down his glasses enough to see the red, heart-shaped cardboard box.

"oh, uh... thank you." he awkwardly says. this girl was two year below him, judging by the colours of her indoor shoes. he didn't even know her name. "this is... a surprise."

"i've liked you ever since orientation day. i hope you like these." she says with a nervous grin. she's stiff as he takes them out of her hands, standing up straight to stare at the tall man. "thank you for always being so funny and helping everyone you can."

"ah, you're welcome." he says, tucking the chocolates and the letter taped to it under his arm. luckily, the lunch bell had rung and everyone should've been off to enjoy their break. "well, i'll... see you around."

"b—bye, gojo!" she calls, waving at him as he walks the other way. he gives a kind smile before he turns the corner, dropping it immediately.

on the way to class, multiple other students watched him as he carelessly skimmed through the letter before stuffing it in his book bag, ready to throw it (and the others) away once home. valentines day was this week and it was two days before it today. yet satoru had received tons of confession letters and date proposals, none of which he had the intention of accepting.

plopping down in his chair, he groans, hanging his head, "ugh! i hate being so loveable..."

suguru rolls his eyes, outting his book down. "here we go again." he grunts, shaking his head.

"seriously! why can't i be left alone around valentines day?" he questions out lout, pulling his lunch box from his bag.

shoko bites into her sandwich as she listens to him. as she swallows, she retorts, "maybe it's because you flirt with every living being on earth." satoru sends him a pointed look. "so how many letters today?"

"seven." satoru responds, knocking his bag.

"and?"

"none of them were from y/n." he sighs out, picking up his chopsticks.

"wait, y/n?" suguru pipes up, putting his juicebox down, "as in y/n from class d?"

the blue-eyed boy raises a brow, halting his movements. "uh, yeah? l/n y/n." he recalls to his friend, tilting his head, "what? i've been talking about 'em for the past three months—suguru, have you been listening to me at all?"

"oh!" the dark-haired boy chuckles, nodding his head, "i know y/n. we're in the same literature class."

satoru stares at him in disbelief. the other students surrounding them are in their own little world, but the three of them didn't even mind them hearing if they tried. shoko continues to eat her food while suguru shrugs at his friend.

"are you kidding me?" satoru gasps out, waving a hand in the air, "i've been trying to get with them for three months and you tell me this just now?"

"you should've been more specific, man." suguru retorts, waving it off, "anyway, you gonna' ask them to be your valentine?"

satoru sighs loudly, hanging his head back, "i don't know... we only share bio together, i bet there's a lot of people who have asked them to be their valentine. they probably won't even accept mine."

shoko purses her lips and stretches her arms. "i don't know about that." she claims, "you're a pretty guy and everyone knows you. i doubt they'd pass up the chance to revel in that popularity."

"... thanks, shoko."

soon enough, the bell rings and the day goes on.

the next day, satoru notices something in your hand during biology class.

"whatchu' got there, y/n?" he asks, peaking over your shoulder. he sat behind you, enough room to see the handwritten letter you were writing.

"satoru!" you jump a little, covering the page. he furrows his brow. "it's, uh... i'm just writng something."

"is it... for valentines day tomorrow?" he inquires, curious to who was the lucky person. but you were still hiding it from him!

"no, of course not." you were lying, he could tell by the way you look to the left. a pout falls on his lips. "it's notes. for another class."

"oh... okay." he responds, a bit disappointed. why would you lie to him? he sits back in his chair, writing down some paragraphs from the textbook mindlessly. he saw the way your elbow quickly shifted, you were writing faster. your head was down too, never looking up. you were so concentrated.

he's known you for a couple of months now. you bumped into him on the way to school, and you admitted to him that you were a bit lost since you didn't live around here. satoru, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort you. you thought he was some creep (he tried reaching to hold your hand and when you jerked away on instinct, he played it off as it being the wind).

but once realising you two shared some classes together, you grew fond of him. you knew of the countless students throwing themselves at him. both older and younger. he was the school heartthrob. it's a shame though, only your smile could make his heart race like he makes others do.

when you gave him your lucky pen when he told you he didn't study and he was freaking out, you had this kind smile that made him think 'i don't want anyone else to see this but me'.

and he noticed that you awkwardly took it back from him, looking away as he clasped your hands tightly in the filled hallway and thanked you. your reactions were just the cutest...

when the bell rings, you perk up, putting your 'notes' in a suspicious looking envelope and signing it off with something. you stand up and satoru is quick to walk by your side when a classmates holds his arm to talk.

"huh?" satoru grunts, furrowed brows.

"gojo, i... i wanted to give you this." they say, holding out a teddy-bear saying 'be my valentine!'. satoru frowned when he took it. "you don't have to answer today... just let me know tomorrow, please."

as they continue to talk, he sees you exit the classroom. the letter sits comfortably in your palm, and you look left, right, before walking off. satoru is electrified.

"okay, thanks!" he says, running out of the classroom while he clutches the bear in his hands.

weaving through the crowd, he looks for the top of your head. after more and more people pass him, staring at the teddy and whispering 'who gave that to him this time?', he spots you turning the corner, a nervous look on your face. he mutters out apologies as he bumps into people heading to their next class.

the hallway you're in now is empty. you stand in front of a classroom door, waiting. notably, suguru's math class.

satoru stands at the end of the corridor, behind the corner, as the classroom door opens to reveal his best friend, geto suguru.

"suguru!" you call, smile. your shoulders are straightened, you hold the letter in front of you. not scared to show him...

"oh, y/n, hey." he responds, grinning as well. the comfortability around you two was so strange to see. "what's up?"

satoru feels like he's buzzing out. he can't hear everything you're saying, but you look a bit excited yet anxious. he hears your sweet voice speak to his best friend with such kindness that he's jealous. sure, suguru was attactive and nice and he definitely didn't feed into the popularity like satoru did, but...

why did it have to be you who was interested in him?

"please, take this." you say, handing him the same letter you had before. except this time, satoru sees the 'g.s' on it. 'geto suguru'. and you take out a box of his favourite snacks to hand to him. "thank you for everything, again. you're the best."

suguru takes it with ease, seeing how you looked at him. his gaze softens as he takes the treat as well. "you're welcome, y/n. anything you need, i'll help with." he puts the letter in his own bag before slinging am arm around your shoulders. "now, what're your plans for after?"

he was blatantly asking you out now! right after satoru told him he had feelings for you! such betrayal!

you two walk to the other end of the hallway, in the direction of your literature class. satoru slumps against the wall, furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. after a second, he pushes his glasses up and lets out a slow exhale. he could get over this...

"gojo! may i please have a moment of your time?"

"wait no! me first!"

"gojo, can i talk to you?"

"please accept these!"

or maybe he couldn't.

valentines day was today and you danced into school with such confidence. you had a bouquet of flowers in your arms, chocolates of the sweetest kinds, and a bag of new perfume that you knew your crush would like.

you were so excited.

satoru, who was walking a few people behind you, was not.

he saw the amount of passion you put into the holiday, and it made him sick to know it was for his best friend. the guys was in such a bad mood, he ignored suguru and shoko's calls this morning to meet up and walk to school together like usual.

satoru clicked his tongue, thinking about how dramatic the whole valentines day idea was. really, who needed it all anyway?

in homeroom, he can hear your class (which is next to his, across the hall) start whooping and cheering when you walk in. and he knows it's you by the chants of your last name being heard. he sits in his chair in anguish.

"satoru, morning. finally." shoko says, sitting down as well. she grins, bitting the popsicle stick between her lips. "where are all of your valentines presents?"

"stuffed in my shoe locker and under my desk." he claimed, opening the top of it to showcase the blaring red and pink gifts. she picked at one pocky box, munching on the biscuits. "how about you?"

"i got a couple letters and cookies in my locker." she claims, shrugging her shoulders, "lots of 'em are from the badminton team. i don't know why."

satoru shrugs as well as soon as suguru sits down in front of him. the blue-eyed students scoffs, looking away.

"good morning, satoru." he says, noticing his friend's behaviour, "what's got his panties in a twist this morning? does he know we called him a hundred times?"

"i dunno'." shoko says, looking out the window to the school garden. "ask him."

"satoru, what's wrong? didn't get enough presents this year?" he teases, leaning in his chair to poke his head, "wake up late?"

but satoru angrily swats his hand away. the raven-haire boy blinks curiously before satoru glares at him. "why didn't you tell me you were interested in y/n?" he asks, hurt.

shoko looks back to the two boys, seeing suguru just as confused as she is. "you're into y/n?"

"what? no! who said that?" suguru retorts, hands up in defense, "i'm not interested in dating y/n, swear on my life."

"that's a lie!" satoru accuses, pointing a finger against his friend's nose, "shoko, i saw him and y/n all... all... familiar yesterday after period 2! he had his arm around them!"

"suguru..." shoko warns.

"wait wait, that's—you got it all wrong." suguru groans, now understanding. he digs through his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. "here. open it."

satoru pushes away the paper reading 'g.s'. "no way! i'm not reading y/n's love letter to you!"

"ugh! just open it!" suguru grunts, shoving it onto his desk.

satoru begrudgingly takes it and gently opens the letter, not wanting to rip it. once his eyes fall upon the page, he confirms that it's your handwriting.

'thank you for being the sweetest boy to me. i am truly honoured to know such a beautiful person, inside and out.'

satoru wants to barf.

'sitting near you in biology really helped me to understand you, satoru. you're not only a pretty face, but a world-class sweet tooth, a sucker for romantic cliches and a cologne-collector.'

satoru thinks this is the most beautiful thing he's ever read.

he contiues to read, expression changing, letting shoko and suguru understand his thoughts. the girl looks to the other boy, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

"i'm confused." shoko states, tilting her head.

"y/n isn't confessing to me, they're confessing—"

"y/n is confessing to me! me, satoru!" satoru exclaims, waving the letter around like a maniac. everyone else in the class was suddenly a listener, peaking at the trio. they were interested in finding out what the one confession that resulted in this reaction was. "oh my god, oh my god!"

suguru nods his head. placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "yes, yes, they are. i was meant to give you the letter this morning to read before homeroom, but someone was pissy." he scoffs, shaking his head, "so i had to go and tell y/n that plans had changed."

"you... helped y/n plan this all out?" satoru mumbles, "but you didn't even know!"

shoko chuckles, staring out the window again.

"i just said i wasn't paying attention so you didn't think i was snooping. which i was. and i only told you i knew y/n so you wouldn't get any ideas, like this." suguru circles the air with his finger, deadpanning at the clueless satoru, "you think anyone would do this without definitive proof the other person liked them?"

satoru continues to read the letter you wrote for him before his eyes land on the ending. "'please meet me at the school fountain before homeroom ends.'" he murmurs out, blinking, "suguru—"

"you were meant to go two minutes ago." his friend sings out, standing in front of shoko's desk. he points out the window, much like other students were doing in their own classrooms. "you should..."

when his friends turn around to him, satoru is already one foot out of the door. he's rushing downstairs (down three flights of stairs, actually) with your letter clutched in his hand. he almost flies into a couple teachers on the way to the garden, only for their attention to be caught by students opening the windows and pointing outside.

when he rushed through the doors to the garden, you're staring at the floor, still holding the flowers and gifts you brought to school with you. taking a moment to gather himself, satoru runs fingers through his hair and fixes his glasses. the pair you've complimented a thousand times.

satoru walks closer to you and when he catches your eye, you stand up straight and smile.

"satoru." you chime, not missing the thousand pairs of eyes that were following your every move. "good morning. happy valentines day."

you hold out the flowers to him. it's set in a nice box, and the treats are in a gift bag. when you give it to him, your smile is awkward but hopeful.

"happy valentines day, y/n." he replies, taking it from you. he sits down on the fountain edge, and you follow along. "i'm so sorry, i... i don't have anything for you."

"no, no, no." you retort, grinning, "it's fine. this was a surprise for you, anyway."

he sighs, "no, i'm sorry... please, let me make it up to you."

you laugh a little, placing a hand over his on his lap. the flowers were sat on the fountain with his gifts. "sure thing." you retort, "hey, suguru told me that this morning—"

"i'm sorry, i know, i just thought..." he begins, cutting you off. he looks embarrassed, heavy blush falling over his cheeks. "i saw you and suguru yesterday and you gave him that letter. had me thinkin' you were confessing to him instead of me."

you let out a small chuckle, making him gulp, "oh my goodness, i'm sorry, i didn't mean for you to see that. we were trying to be sneaky."

satoru's chest feels lighter, and he feels better just hearing it from you. he links his fingers with yours, facing you fully.

"ah, no it's fine." he tells you, the most purest form of adoration in his eyes that you can see from the top of his slanted down glasses. you grin softly. "listen, i have had a crush on you for months... and i was hoping that you'd go out with me. i want a chance to get to know you personally, away from any prying eyes."

you peer to the side, seeing the people watching you. they were practically hanging out the window, waving their hands and fighting to view the whole scene for themselves. cameras took photos and videos, capturing your moment with him.

"i'd love that, satoru." you say, scanning his face, "you're the best."

it only takes him a single second to reach his hand out and brush his thumb agaisnt your cheek. you don't freeze up though, only relaxing into him. he was the most inviting guy you've ever met.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, voice unwavering. his blue eyes are staring at your face with such kindness that it cannot be described.

you don't even say anything, only leaaning forward and pressing your lips to his. he's smiling against your lips, gentle hand caressing your cheek. your eyes flutter shut, holding his hand tightly.

cheers erupt from the school. screams and whoops from guys and girls alike. most students are heartbroken due to the obvious confession. nobody had even gotten that close to satoru. no one has been able to hold his hand, let alone get him to go crazy over a letter. you got him to race out of that classroom like a madman, and everyone was surely surprised.

the shouts die down as the kiss deescalates, many of the students sighing as they're forced to move on from the heart-throb gojo satoru.

when you pull away, satoru chases, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. your smile is wide and you pinch his cheek softly.

"you're such a drama queen, satoru." you say, standing up, "i was wondering why everyone started yelling and staring at me all of a sudden."

satoru stands with his presents, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds your hand. h goes to answer when a voice is heard from the fourth floor.

"the idiot took some convincing, y/n!" suguru shouts, waving his hand, "glad to know he's got some sense in him!"

"shut up, suguru!" satoru calls back, showing his fist.

"first period is about to start, you two!" the principle says through a window on the third floor, "this is all heart-warming, but you've failed two of ms kinoshita's classes, gojo!"

"r—right!" he retorts, pacing to the school entrance as people begin to 'ooh' at him. he looks back at you, smiling the brightest. "let's go out after school today, yeah? i'll buy you as many sweets as you want."

you chuckle, kissing his cheek, "my hero."

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru #satoru x reader

1K notes · View notes

giuseppe-yuki · 2 months

Text

feathers

alex albon x cockatiel shapeshifter! reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: one suggestive comment

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you annoy alex; ft. james vowles

picture credits from pinterest :)

the parc ferme was packed with people as you fluttered around alex’s head, feathers swaying in the wind. he wasn’t hard to follow, considering his tall 6’1 figure and unmistakable forest green aa23 hoodie. the crowds parted like moses and the red sea as he crossed, recognizing him as 1 of the 20 drivers on the grid. from your birds-eye view, you were pretty sure you saw zak efron five meters away from you next to the red bull garage and scotty james hovering around daniel’s blue vcarb next door.

nobody batted an eye at your presence- they all assumed you were just one of the many albon pets.

chittering, you land on alex’s shoulder and give him a few hard pecks with your beak, ripping out a few strands of his bleached hair. you giggle internally- he was so easy to annoy when you were in cockatiel form.

“hey!” he protests, stopping in his tracks front of the aston martin garage. he raises his hand, about to forcefully push you off his shoulder for being mean. before alex is able to, he spots two young fans, sporting fernando alonso caps, looking at him. not wanting to be labeled as “alex albon the bird assaulter,” he slowly lowers his hand, and instead converts it to an awkward wave. to avoid another awkward situation, he takes off running towards his original destination, the williams garage, but not before shooting a glare at you.

when you arrive at the williams garage, you find logan standing in front as well. alex waves his hand in greeting and you chirp in a greeting.

“took you long enough,” logan quips, smiling. “james called for you a while ago!”

“well, i would have gotten here quicker if this cockatiel would stop being irritating!” alex says, gesturing towards you. turning his head towards you, he places a kiss on top of your feathery little head. “you’re kinda lucky that i love you, or else i would probably have donated you to the zoo!” he jokes.

for the second time that evening, you give peck his head, hard.

logan laughs at the interaction in front of him. “if you’d like, i know a hawk that can act as ‘animal control’ for you! she’s back at home in miami right now, though.”

the gall of this man! you know logan is joking, but still, you hop off of alex’s shoulder and purposely fly at logan’s face, flapping your feathers in the direction of his eyes.

“okay, okay, okay,” logan laughs, trying to cover his face, “tell your girlfriend to stop attacking me or else i’m sending my girlfriend after her when you guys come to the states!”

ten minutes later, when you enter the air-conditioned williams motorhome, you are dressed in a flowy white pants and a williams blue silk halter top. you loop your arm through alex’s as he asks his race strategist the whereabouts of his team principal.

when he finishes with his conversation, he leads you towards his driver’s room

“i thought you came here to meet james,” you question, looking up at alex.

“yeah, i did,” he responds, “but apparently he had to have a quick meeting with the engineers and will find me later, so i guess we have a little time to rest in my driver’s room before the race.” a flashes a devilish smile and little wink at you.

a flash of shock runs across your face, and you shoot him a dirty glare. “we are NOT doing that in your drivers room.”

“what do you mean?” he replies innocently, “ when i said rest, i meant that we could maybe chill on the couch and watch a little bit of high school musical- i saw you looking at zac efron in parc ferme earlier.”

you groan exasperatedly, but follow him into the small room.

when you first started dating alex, he was always ever the gentleman, complimenting you and whispering sweet things into your ear when you were with him. you trusted him with all your heart, and instead of freaking out when you told him that you could shapeshift into a cockatiel, he immediately started researching info about cockatiels and began carrying sunflower seeds around for you. as time passed, your relationship evolved into a loop of you bullying alex in bird form and him teasing you nonstop in public. (he obviously still knew your limit though, and was always the sweetest behind closed doors)

you hop on the couch as alex navigates to disney+ on the tv and starts the movie. he places his arm around your shoulder and leans his head against yours. you curl up into him, breathing in the smell of him. to your disappointment, within in the first twenty minutes, alex is dead asleep on the couch. you frown, lifting his arm off of you. you were about the shake him awake when you came up with a brilliant idea.

turning back into your cockatiel form, you shake off your loose feathers onto the couch. you smile to yourself. alex hated when you left your feathers everywhere. you pick up a feather or two with your beak, and place it strategically on the floor. one on the couch hand rest, three on alex’s head, two behind the couch (when you placed those, you found a giant glossy picture of george russell behind the couch?? you’ll have to talk to him about that later). after arranging the finishing touches, you nudge alex’s cheek with your feathery head to wake him up. as soon as he opens his sleepy eyes, he immediately sees the absolute mess you made everywhere. but before he could say a word, a knock sounds from the door.

“alex, it’s james,” says the voice outside the door.

alex’s eyes widen, and (screw his ultra-quick reflexes) proceeds to quickly snatch you off of his lap and unceremoniously shoves you inside a nearby drawer. he slides it shut, except for a little crack so you could breathe.

oh you were gonna kill him.

you hear the door open, and footsteps into the room.

“hey, says james, “so i was gonna come here to talk to you about a chassis problem, but i think that it would be better if we could talk about it as a team in a meeting after the race. i was going to send you an email about it, but since i was passing by your drivers room, i just wanted to pop in in-person to let you know.”

you hop towards the crack and raise an eye to see through. alex is standing awkwardly, half in front of the coach with his hands next to his sides, pointedly trying to block the mess of feathers on the couch.

“err.. yeah! of course!” your boyfriend says.

as if just noticing the feathers all over the couch, james raises an eyebrow. “did you kill a bird in here or are you making an art project?” he asks, looking at alex with an incredulous look.

“art project,” alex responds, almost immediately.

“okay.” james says, in a tone that suggested he didn’t really believe alex. he turns to leave, hand on the handle. but before he does, he turns around. “wait a second, i could have sworn logan said that you were in here with your girlfriend?”

a/n: second installment of the series! ( i wrote this at 3am) if you didn't get the george russell picture reference, here's a link to a video that i watched: link

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso

#f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 rpf fic #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon imagine #alex albon x y/n #f1 x female reader #aa23 x reader

385 notes · View notes

kamiversee · 7 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 22 || The Anime References

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & a teeny-weeny drop of angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO SATORU WAS ALMOST TOO stunned to speak. He knows he just gave you his consent to do whatever you want but he was not mentally prepared for you to request such a thing.

Since when were you into that kinda stuff? Have you always been? Why do you even want to tie him up? So many questions run through his mind after your words hit his ears.

Nonetheless, his answer is a quick, "Sure." Then, he swallows down a deep sum of air to collect himself, "But uh... can I ask why you want to tie me up?"

You smile and lean away from his face, moving your hands over his arms and slowly pulling them off your body, "Cause' I know how much you like touching me." You explain.

Gojo smirks slightly, "So then, is this your form of punishment or somethin'?"

His arms are drawn off of you completely before you move them over his head again, crossing his wrists over one another and holding them there. "Yeah," You whisper, kissing him on the cheek, "After all, you said I could use you."

Gojo chuckles, "R-Right..."

With a smile, you lift yourself from sitting on him and carefully get off the bed. You didn't have the whole thing planned out or anything and you were just going to go with the flow based on how you felt. Gojo stayed put, arms up over his head, watching you walk around your dim room in search of something.

After a couple of minutes, you find a strip of abandoned ribbon that'd come off of one of your dresses some time ago. It was long enough to wrap around his wrists and you already knew he wasn't going to try breaking out of it so it's not like you needed something extremely strong.

The silky fabric of the ribbon was bright baby blue, the color ironically matching Gojo. You chuckle at the irony as you head back over to him and move to straddle his body once more.

Gojo watches with wide eyes as you hold yourself up and tie his wrists together above his head. You decide to knot the ribbon into a pretty little bow, smiling at the cuteness of it despite what you plan on doing.

"Pretty color," Gojo comments quietly.

"It's not too tight, is it?" You question just in case.

He tries to part his wrists from one another and then shakes his head, "Nope, it's perfect." He then looks up into your eyes, "But y'know... we should establish a safe word just in case."

You blink, almost embarrassed that you didn't think of that after being the one to suggest this entire thing. "Right uhm... well, you're the one tied up so..."

Gojo glances off to the side to think, taking only a few seconds before he shrugs, "Red."

You gradually ease yourself down from standing on your knees to sit on his lap again, "Red?"

"Mhm..." Gojo hums.

"So if I get too rough or..." Your voice softens, "If you grow uncomfortable..."

"I'll say red."

A sigh is let out from you as you shut your eyes and begin to worry, "Are you sure you're okay with this-"

"Sweetheart, what part of my body is nothing more than a tool for you, did you not understand?" Gojo cuts off, the look in his eyes serious.

You understood it perfectly well but, you were hesitant since using someone isn't exactly something you're fond of-- after all, you're not him. With a sigh, you give him a nod and ease yourself back into your mindset.

A little more small talk occurs as you make sure he's not uncomfortable, having never done this kind of thing before and wanting to be safe. It's only his wrists tied up but you can't help but feel anxious anyways.

Gojo assures you with gentle whispers, telling you over and over that you can use him as you see fit and he tries his best to talk you through all of your worried questions.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you finally grow comfortable with the situation again, your lips are right back on his.

It's a heated kiss this time and Gojo quickly regrets allowing you to tie him up. There was so much precum leaking from his cock that he could feel the slight mess he was of himself within his boxers. He didn't expect to get this turned on by being restricted but he was.

Each time you pulled away from his lips to breathe, Gojo would chase after you desperately, never wanting the kiss to end. He's so clearly not used to being the one with no control so it takes him some time to get used to it.

It's cute how he pushes himself forward to meet your lips once more, how he lets out quiet whines every time you kiss him passionately or aggressively, and so very sexy how he'll groan into your mouth every time you roll your hips and grind against his cock.

His head tilts in the opposite direction of yours, teeth moving to tug on your lower lip in an attempt of keeping you close to him. You end up prying away from his mouth anyway, another messy string of saliva keeping the two of you connected.

Your hands slide down the man's body while the two of you pant for lost air and you soon grab ahold of the bottom of his t-shirt, quickly working the item up and over his head. It's discarded before you start touching his abs and feeling him tense up beneath you.

Your lips make contact with his neck and Gojo groans again, "Fuck," He breathes.

You begin to suck on the area just under his jaw and watch the way he squirms beneath you, his movement making you grin.

"S-Shit." Gojo chokes out, "Not there-, agh..."

You pull away slightly, "Hm? Why?"

He's glad you aren't looking at his face right now because it's bright red, embarrassment overwhelming him before he utters out the words, "T-That's..." Gojo's voice gets smaller, "Where I'm weak-"

You cut him off by sucking on the area he's referring to, hearing the way he moans softly and feeling how his cock twitches beneath you.

"G-God-," Gojo choked, tipping his head further back and allowing you more space to kiss him, despite being overly sensitive.

Your mouth works to leave a dark mark on the male's pale skin, sliding down to kiss and nibble on other parts of his neck before you consider yourself satisfied.

When your head pulls away from his neck, you move to take the sweater he gave you off. Gojo's eyes widen as he sees your body for the first time after so long, quickly noticing faint love marks and bitemarks in various places.

Choso had quite literally left his mark on you after the multiple times you slept with him, hickeys decorating different parts of your torso. Hell, there's even a bite mark on your shoulder that Gojo notices.

Clearly, you'd slept with Choso more times than you told Gojo you did. That fact quickly makes the man beneath you so very jealous. He doesn't even care if he shouldn't feel that way-- seeing visual evidence of you with someone else makes his heart hurt.

As if he wasn't the one who forced you to do so anyway...

You grin at how Gojo's eyes go from one mark to another, happy to show evidence of you receiving pleasure from someone who isn't him. And what makes it better is that he knows it's Choso who left these marks on you, having been aware that you never let anyone else leave anything on you.

Even so, the marks on your body are in the act of fading away since it's been some time since you've been with Choso.

"Gojo," You whisper, earning a glance from the male.

"H-Hm?" He hums. His face was so flushed and his entire body felt like it was on fire, "Yes ma'am?" He utters in response.

Even his voice was affected by all the kissing and taunting, now having a raspy little pitch to it.

"You said you missed me, right?" You ask as you move your hands behind your back and unclip your bra.

Gojo doesn't miss the way you sensually take the item off, allowing your breasts to spill out in front of him. The sight only makes his dick throb violently beneath you.

"Mhm," Gojo ends up humming in response to you.

You tilt your head before lifting yourself up a little, your hand moving down to his sweats, "Tell me what you missed about me."

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to do so, words falling off his tongue immediately when your hand touches his bulge. "Hah... A-Alright," Gojo breathes out.

Your eyes are on him while you soon work his bottoms off. Gojo struggles to begin when your hand goes into his boxers and you work his cock out, length slapping against his abdomen. You can't help but smile at the sight of his wet member, eyeing the precum oozing out of his tip and slipping down along his shaft.

Saliva builds up in your mouth as you stare, pulse after pulse felt from in between your legs.

"I-I uhm..." Gojo inhales sharply, "Fuck, where do I even start?" He chuckles wearily.

Your eyes are glued down to his dick, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth as you move only your index finger to roll around his tip. "Wherever you want," You reply.

Gojo tries lifting his hips into your touch, "Shit, okay... I missed your face," He begins, swallowing down any sounds of his that threaten to pour out. "Y-Your voice... Hah, I really missed your voice..." He emphasizes.

"Awwh... go on..." You taunt, moving to toy with his erection by giving him only one gentle stroke.

"Mmgh... U-Uh, your-" You suddenly spit down onto his tip, causing Gojo to straight up whine. "A-Ah... your mouth, fucking hell..." He groaned throughout his little noise.

Your body is seated slightly on his thighs as you begin to torture him by slowly jerking him off. "My mouth?" You echo.

"Mhm," He whines again, "M-Missed feelin' you too."

"Yeah?" You say cooingly.

Gojo feels the way your hand squeezes his tip and he can't help the moan that leaves him, "O-Oh fuuuck." He shuts his eyes and tries lifting his hips into your hold.

You smirk, "You're weak here too, huh?" Your words were said to mock his earlier statement, clearly making him worse beneath you.

"Only when you touch me t-there..." Gojo almost whimpers, "I'm only w-weak for you..."

You rotate your palm around his tip while stroking his length, feeling yourself soak at the state you've reduced this man to. "Really? What's so special about me?" You whisper.

"E-Everything," Gojo choked, his jaw dropping in reaction to your hand movements, "Fuckin' everything, I swear..."

"Mmh..." You hum lightly.

Your hand gives him one last pull before you remove it from his cock, causing Gojo to tip his head back and pant. You move to simply pull your panties to the side, now feeling so needy for friction.

The man beneath you almost cums when you simply hover over him, maneuvering his cock to rub in between your wet folds.

"F-Fuck," Gojo curses, "P-Put it in... Please, fuck I c-can't take this..." He begs desperately.

You smile and ignore him, just barely pressing yourself down and not even allowing his tip to enter you. Instead, you drag him against your sex over and over, the sensation dizzying you with arousal as his needy tip slips over your clit.

"Hah... What?" You ask as if you didn't hear him the first time.

"Please put it in," Gojo whined, "Needa' be inside you s'fucking b-bad..." He slurs out, his eyes watering.

His expression is so desperate for you, the sight only adding to how wet you are. You continue your teasing anyway, rolling your hips in a circle around his tip, "Beg a little more and maybe I'll put in."

"Ha-ah... S'that what you want?" Gojo scoffs heavily, "W-Want me to fuckin' beg?"

Technically, he already was begging but you thrived off hearing him like this.

"C'mon... a-at least the tip?" Gojo pleads, "Please?"

You clench around nothing due to the sound of his voice. "One more time f'me." You utter.

"P-Please." Gojo moans, "Pleease, fuck..." His eyes are so teary and he's simply hazed with lust and desperation, "Please-, a-ahh... please let me be inside y-you." He whimpers.

You quickly folded under the sound of his begging. Gojo has never been so whiny and needy like this for you before so you found yourself a complete mess in between your legs, liquids from your arousal dripping down onto his cock.

"You're not gonna cum inside me as soon as I put it in, are you?" You ask him, tilting your head.

He knows he wants to and it'll be difficult not to do such a thing when he's already leaking like crazy. "M-Mhm..." He hums.

You start to lower yourself, allowing his tip to just barely push into you, "Words." You order.

He smiles, just barely, "...N-No promises," Gojo sighs, "Aagh... feels l-like I'm gonna cum right now..."

You frown, "C'mon now, don't disappoint me..."

"I'll h-hold it..." He breathes, "Just... please, just fuck me."

Your eyes skim over his flushed expression, seeing how his chest rises and falls rapidly due to his heavy breathing. His teary blue eyes are stuck on your face, refusing to look down at your actions.

"You're so cute like this, y'know..." You sigh, trying not to moan while you finally sink a mere inch down onto him.

"Mmmh... A-Am I?" He hums.

You nod, your gaze diving back down to your actions as you see how much of his cock you have left to sit yourself down on. You'd forgotten how lengthy the male is, swallowing nervously while you look at the sight below.

You're worried you may not be able to keep up this dominant act of yours. You continue anyway, sliding down inch by inch until you get about halfway. Gojo's eyes flicker and his lips remain parted.

You look him dead in the eyes and purposefully clench around his length, watching the way he literally chokes on air.

"Oh c-c'monn... y-you can't expect me not to cum when you..." His jaw drops and a heavy breath leaves his throat, "f-fuckin' squeeze around me like that..."

An innocent smile graces your face, "If you cum without my permission, I'm only gonna make things worse for you."

"I w-won't." Gojo says, "You're jus' makin' it hard for me not to."

You chuckle slightly at him in response before adjusting yourself. Leaning back, you move both of your hands behind you to hold your body up and then sit yourself all the way down on his dick. Gojo moans all too loudly in relief, the sound filling the air of your room.

One of your hands flies back in front of you as you place your hand over his mouth. "You're so noisy," You point out, your voice coming out softer than you would've liked. "Be quieter f'me..."

Gojo shakes his head, knowing won't be able to. "Can't," He just barely mumbles out beneath your skin.

You feel him whine against your hand, his breath warm against you. "Yes you cannn." You whisper encouragingly, "C'mon Gojo..."

He shakes his head for a second time and closes his eyes, pressing his lips into your hand and kissing you. "C-Can you call me Satoru? P-Please," He begs desperately.

You sigh, "Promise not to be too loud 'nd maybe I will."

Gojo suddenly licks your hand and just barely opens his eyes, his pretty eyelashes moist with the way he was on the verge of pleasureful tears. "I promise," He breathes out, his lips moving against your palm, "P-Promise not to be loud..."

You retreat your hand from his mouth, "Alright then..."

Your arm moves behind you once more, leaning yourself back before you roll your hips forward and feel the way his cock twitches inside you. This is the type of sex you expected to have last night-- the type of sex you needed.

You pick up a steady rhythm of grinding over Gojo with the tip of his dick nice and snug up against your cervix without him having to do much. The male grits his teeth and his eyes flicker as you begin to ride him slowly. He tries to keep his gaze on your face, watching the way your lips part and you moan ever so slightly.

Your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth as you struggle a little to keep your noises in. Feeling his cockhead knock around your insides, sliding against your walls in all the right ways is only dizzying you with pleasure.

Gojo was able to keep himself from looking at the entire lewd sight in front of him up until he saw your arm move in his peripherals. His eyes mistakenly drop down to the movement and he watches as you move two fingers over your clit, his breath hitching at the sight.

He wishes he could've done that for you instead but given the restraints, all he can do is watch you satisfy yourself and feel the way your wam cunt clenches around his girth. "Fuck," He curses under his breath.

Your hips suddenly lift a little and then ease back down, giving both of you more pleasure than expected. You moan a bit more than you expected yourself to and Gojo... he almost blew his load.

His head rests against the headboard and his eyes roll back, "W-Warn me next time b-before you-," His words are cut off as you ignore him and simply repeat your action, lifting yourself up and easing right back down. Gojo whimpers again, as quietly as he possibly can, "M'gonna c-cum..."

You lean forward and pull yourself almost all the way up, only his tip left inside you, and then drop yourself right back down. "N-Not yet," You stammer out to him.

Nothing you prepare him for the struggle he begins to face as you start bouncing on his cock. Every time he feels your soaked walls slide back down on his cock, he swears he's another second close to spilling his seed inside you. And of course, you make it worse by moving to messily kiss his exposed neck.

Gojo's arms twitch within the restraints, wanting nothing more than to move you away from his neck for just a second. "Fu-uck... p-please..." He begs, not even knowing what exactly what he's begging for.

You continue your movements, using your muscles to ride his cock and please yourself. Your breath is warm against his neck as you eagerly rub two fingers over your clit, "Mmgh... f-fuck... please what, Satoru?" You moan softly.

The aggressive twitching of his cock is felt as you question him. Gojo lets out another whine, the sound going straight to your core. "L-Let me c-cum..." He moans, sudden tears rolling down his cheeks.

No one has ever made him feel like this before. He's not sure if it was the restraints, the way you kisses, nibbled, and sucked on his neck, the way you rode his dick or the way you said his name but, Gojo was losing his mind trying not to release.

You move to that sensitive spot right under his jaw and suck at his skin before speaking against it, "...Lemme hear you b-beg again," You stammer slightly. It was difficult for you to speak one hundred percent properly with how deep inside you his cock reached.

"H-Hhnngh.... P-Please..." Gojo croaks out, "Please let me cum... c-can't hold it anymore... please... I-I'll do anything, fuuuuck... please."

You moan against his neck as his words go straight to your pussy, causing you to only clench around him even more. "A-Anything?" You smile slightly.

Gojo sucks in a deep breath, the sound close to a sniffle, "Yes. Any-, ngh... t-thing..." He sighs.

You move to his ear, "Delete the video of me."

He shakes his head, "I already d-did..." Gojo finally tells you.

That information makes your cunt throb for some reason as if the sound of freedom from that stupid list turned you on. "L-Liar," You huff out, not yet fully believing him.

"M'not lying..." Gojo suddenly sniffles, tears of struggling pleasure rolling down his cheeks, "D-Deleted it a long-, ah... t-time ago...."

You lean away from his ear and slow your pace a little, staring into his teary eyes. "Mmgh... really?"

He nods, "Mhm..."

Your arms wrap around his neck and you near his lips while humping him slowly, the pleasure making your eyes flicker. He wasn't the only one who was close. "So... hah, are you finally l-letting me go?" You whisper.

One of your hands slides up into his hair, feeling his white strands in between your fingers. Gojo shakes his head, "C-Could never let you go, sweetheart." He claims, not exactly referring to the list anymore.

You swallow and furrow your brows, your gaze traveling between his left and right eyes in search of an explanation, "Fuck... What do you mean?"

He pants, letting the desperation for his release and his emotions get the absolute best of him. Gojo unintentionally peers up into your eyes longingly, choking out something all too emotional, "I love you too much to do that..." He cries out, the look in his eyes completely serious and vulnerable.

Your jaw drops and your hips stutter in movement, "W-What?"

"I love you," Gojo repeats, swallowing afterward, "L-Love you s'much..."

"Satoru..." You flash him a confused look, "Y-You don't mean th-that..."

He nods his head, his eyes struggling to remain on yours, "I do. I s-swear, m'so in love with you-, fuck..."

You breathe out a heavy pant, trying to wrap your head around his sudden confession. There is absolutely no way your blackmailer is in love with you. Surely he's just saying this because he... maybe he's confused? He can't love you, it doesn't make sense.

Gojo leans forward and kisses you, breaking you away from your panicked thoughts, "C-Can I... ha-ah, nngh... Can I..." He trails off, struggling to voice his request.

You know what he wants anyway so you simply nod, permitting him to finally release. Gojo's eyes roll all the way back as he finally cums inside you with an unintentionally loud groan.

You're still stunned by his confession, a mixture of confusion and arousal fighting within your mind. Part of you is too into the moment to really process what he said but the other part of you was just left in disbelief.

Something inside you feels all mushy and you unconsciously voice out a soft, "Can you say it again?"

You can still feel him releasing into you, painting your insides white with his seed while you continue. "I-I love you," Gojo stammers, his eyes slowly going back into place.

"Mmgh... Y-Yeah?" You smile for some reason and reach your orgasm unexpectedly.

There's a mess where the two of you are connected but you don't care. Not only is Gojo still hard after his release, but you have no desire to move away from him.

After one last look of longing, the two of your lips connect. You both moan into each other's mouth as you press your body flush against his. The rapid beating of both your hearts can be felt against your chest and his.

Soft smacks, mixed with moans and whines slip into the sex-induced air. Gojo's arms continue to twitch as you make out with him, feining for the feeling of your skin against his fingertips. He wants to run his hands along your waist, your hips, hell, he even longs to roll his thumb over your clit.

So badly does Gojo want to please you even more.

You drag your lips away from his, leaving only a little bit of space between you and him, "S-Satoru," You call out, your gaze hazy, "T-Tell me you didn't mean that."

He smirks tiredly, "I can't."

You shake your head in disapproval, "You can't love me."

"Why not?" He sighs. "Hm?"

You peck his lips again, "Cause' I hate you..."

He chuckles against you while you part your lips over his. Your tongue enters his mouth and he accepts it happily, his cum-covered cock nestling inside your warmth.

"No..." He speaks between kisses, "You don't."

You groan into his mouth and he tries not to smile against you, "I do."

"Liar," He argues.

Your lips disconnect and you frown, "You know I do."

"Then," Gojo swallows, "Why do you kiss me like that?"

"You're a good kisser." You reply.

He raises a brow, "Why'd you fuck me like that?"

"You make me feel good, sometimes."

"Alright," He scoffs, "Last one; why... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Satoru, you literally just told me you love me. How the hell am I supposed to look at you?" You utter in disbelief.

He shakes his head, "Definitely not like that."

"And what is that, exactly?"

He grins, "Like you feel the same-"

"In your dreams." You cut off.

"Sweetheart... it's okay to love me too y'know."

"Fuck you." You fire at him.

"You jus' did."

You release a groan, annoyed by his claims now that he's returning to his normal state. "And I'm gonna do it again if you don't shut up." You threaten.

"Oh, I'm definitely not shutting up now." He flashes a charming yet fucked out smile, "Fuck me again please."

Your cunt squeezes around him, "...No."

"Mmgh... Or you can keep doin' that." He shrugs, "I like the way you keep my dick warm."

"You talk too much y'know."

"Shut me up then," Gojo challenges.

With a roll of your eyes, you move a hand to the side of his face, your thumb sliding to his lip, "Open," You order.

Almost like a well-trained dog, Gojo obediently parts his lips for you. With a smile, you slide your thumb into his mouth, "Now," You lean closer to him, "Be a good boy and keep quiet, okay?"

Gojo chokes around your finger and he blinks, his cock twitching within you.

The feeling makes you smile, "You're into that too? Shit... how many kinks do you have...?"

He sucks on your thumb eagerly, his eyes low but directly on yours. The man shrugs as if to answer you and you chuckle.

Slowly, you pull your finger out of his mouth and switch to replace it with your middle and ring finer. Gojo raises his brows, wondering what you have planned inside that head of yours.

After a few gentle thrusts of your fingers into his mouth and slips along his tongue, you draw them out with a loud pop leaving him.

Your torso then leans back again and Gojo gets a full view of your body, watching as you take your fingers that are covered in his saliva, and slip them down to rub slow circles around your clit. He lets out a deep hum while watching.

"That's so sexy. Fuuck..." Gojo voices out.

You smile before rolling your head back and moaning softly, "Aah.. is it?"

The male bites his lip and suddenly grinds his hips up into you, catching you by surprise as his cock presses against your insides. "So fuckin' sexy." He utters.

He then looks down at how he looks inside you, wanting to press against the bulge his dick creates against your skin so badly. A whine leaves those pretty lips of yours and Gojo smiles.

"Look who's being loud now?" He taunts.

"Shut up." You reply.

He chuckles, "Whyy? Teasing you is funnn."

"I'm s-supposed to be the one teasing you." You stammer suddenly as he works up a little pace below you, trying to match his slight thrusts to the movement of your fingers.

"You still can... But c'mon, you gotta let me tease you at least a little bit." He says, flashing a cheeky little smile.

"No, I don't."

His expression sinks into a pout, "But you like when I tease you."

"I do not..." You deny.

"Yeahh you do."

"You're so annoying."

"Am I?" Gojo tilts his head and narrows his eyes, his sights set on the way your folds spread around his member, "Even when my cock is stuffed inside you, I'm still annoying?"

Your breathing stutters, "G-God, shut up..."

"Nah, I don't think I will." Gojo hums, softly rutting his hips up into your sopping hole. "You should see the way you creamed around me."

"That was you... n-not me."

"No, sweetheart." He smiles, "That's you."

"It's not-"

"Listen to it." Gojo interrupts.

You blink, "W-What?"

Gojo's hips continue to steadily fuck up into your cunt, the sloppy wet sounds hitting your ears. "Hear that?" He taunts, grunting slightly, "Hear how messy you are f'me?"

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, "Shut up-," The tip of his cock rams into this dizzying spot inside you, making you choke, "F-Fuck..."

"Y'know if you untie me... I'd be able to fuck you properly." Gojo suggests.

"No..." You tell him.

He groans frustratedly, deciding to just quietly watch you work to get yourself off for a second time. His hips continue the steady push upward, constantly giving you friction and making you feel good, even if only a little bit.

After a few seconds, your head rolls back into place and you notice the way his rose-tinted lips are parted and his eyes are downward. With a swallow, you try to go back to what he said earlier, "Satoru..." You call softly.

"Hm?" He hums, his eyes remaining down.

"Did you mean i-it?"

"Mean what?" He sighs.

You rub over your clit a bit faster and he tries to match your pace as best as he can, "...Are you really... mgh, in love with me?"

He tips his head back and smiles, "Terribly so, yes."

"Hah... and, I don't have to finish the list right?" You ask.

He freezes. Gojo almost forgot that he told you he deleted the video of you, quickly regretting admitting that to you. "U-Uhm..."

You frown at his hesitance, "Satoru, please?" You whine.

He grits his teeth and looks away from you, "I... You still have t-to finish it..."

You're not sure what you expected and you don't even want to ask why-- already having an idea of what his next form of blackmail would be. After all, you did fuck a professor and for a man who wasn't scared to go to jail, you're sure he's not scared to expose that information.

So, you simply shake your head in disbelief before lifting yourself. For a second, Gojo thought you were about to hop off him but you catch him off guard by plopping all your weight back down.

"H-Holy-," His eyes go wide, "F-Fuck, sweetheart... m'sensative-," He whines.

Your hand suddenly moves to his face and you force him to look at you as you ride him aggressively, "Good." You breathe out to him.

Gojo quickly falls back into that whiney state from earlier. "P-Please, wa-ait..." He chokes out.

You continue anyways, your eyes tear due to the pleasure and the situation, "I r-really fucking hate you, y'know that?"

He moans, "Th-Then... why're you still, aagh... fucking me?"

You scoff, "Cause' that's all you're good for." You utter meanly.

He sighs and the sound of your skin meeting his every time you sink down on him fills the room. The noises are wet and sloppy due to how hard the male came inside you and the entire thing is creamy where you're connected.

"Nnngh," Gojo moans, "I'm s-sorry..."

"You don't mean it," You fire back, trying your hardest not to moan along with him, "You.. mmh.. Y-You never do."

He let something slip abruptly, "W-Wish I c-could tell you everything, sweets..."

Your brows furrow at that.

Are you missing something here?

What else is there for him to tell you? He's blackmailing you into sleeping with people he owes favors to. What more is there to that story?

Too caught up in the act of pleasing yourself, you brush his comment off for now, deciding to come back to it when his cock isn't stuffed inside you.

With that, Gojo continues, "...I-I promise I'll..." He hesitates to finish. "I'll help y-you get with-, agh... I'll h-help you get with Choso." He suddenly promises to you.

Your movement stutters at the mere mention of your crush, a moan pouring from your lips. "Mmgh, really?" It's not the best promise in the world and you'd much rather he just drop the list but-- you suppose it makes up for something.

He nods his head, "Yes... I swear..." Gojo says urgently, "I-I'll make sure he never finds out about the list and..." Your cunt tightens around him suddenly, "Oh f-fuck... I'll uh... m-make sure you guys get t-together." He finally gets out.

Your eyes narrow and your orgasm grows near, "You swear?"

"S-Swear it on my love for you-," Gojo claims. If only you knew how deep that affection really went, "Swear on my life." He whispers.

You grit your teeth and sigh out a heavy, "Okay."

It's not perfect but, for now, you suppose that's a decent enough promise to encourage you to finish the list. Though, you were never truly worried about Choso finding out about the list so it was kind of odd that Gojo mentioned it in the first place.

That, and once you finish the list, you already know Choso's going to accept you into his arms-- you wouldn't need help with that. But, something about Gojo's promise felt needed. It felt like something you had to accept or else things would get worse.

You are unsure of what this underlying emotion it was that you were feeling but there was just something about his promise. It felt different than his last one, it felt more severe.

This severity that you felt was something that you'd figure out much later but as of now; you wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck and continued your acts until both of you came undone for a second time.

Whatever it was you felt about that promise of his; it was important.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

761 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 months

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

#aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

403 notes · View notes

dosshie · 2 months

Text

my mom, that studied african religion for more than a decade and is part of umbanda, live reaction to ororon and iansan:

"I don't care if you make them white with blue eyes, at least study the gods you're basing them from!!!!"

im too afraid of twitter so imma post this here, but for short: the skin color is not the only problem! lol

i asked my mom who is very knowledgeable of the religion for her opinions and this is what we talked!! please don't take this post as an flawless analysis, you should also hear the opinions of people from umbanda, candomblé, and specially from nigeria. i'm mainly doing this because this religion barely gets any representation at all, so this will be the first time many people will be introduced to this culture and while i'm happy that it's included in a game that i play, it's important to recognize its shortcomings, anyway enough rambling!

for iansan, her character is based on iansã, the orixá (deity/god) of the winds and storms, she is seen as a warrior and is associated with the color red

she said that they easily could've given her buffalo horns on her mask, since iansã's animal is the buffalo (tho i know some people may think this is insensitive since yknow, giving one of the few dark-skinned charactes an animal skull doesn't look very good), the other thing she said is that they could've given her some braids in her hair, because in history thats what iansã and her army used to wear when they were going in combat (which was like, VERY on point??? i didnt tell her natlan was the nation of war beforehand)

other than that she didn't gave much imput, probably because her design does look like someone who fights

now, as for ororon... he is based on olorum, the orixá closest to a god/creator, and is commonly associated with...... the color white..... and one of his visual features is his staff

she said that they could've easily given him light hair/eyes, for her ororon doesn't seem to resemble olorum in the slightest, i also asked jokingly what she thought about him being a wolfboy and she said that it was fine lol

she asked me what power (vision/weapon) they gave to him and i said that i didn't know, but from the leaks they said that he's a bow character, and she immediately said that they made logunedé, in her words: "HE'S A HUNTER AND HE LOOKS A BIT SISSY, IT'S LOGUMEDÉ!"

logumedé is the son of the orixás oxóssi and oxum, he is a hunter like his father and takes care of his looks like his mother* (that's why she called him sissy LOL), his weapon is the bow, his colors are blue and yellow and he's associated with the animal peacock, which was what made my mom make that connection, ororon's scarf reminded her a lot of a peacock feather

*the word used here is vaidoso but... that doesn't exist in english lmao?? the closest we have is "vain" but vain is much more akin to superficial, which is not a synonymous of vaidoso, so yeah, weird translation quirk here, vaidoso means that you care of yourself/your looks because they are important to you

erhmmm anyway 1 like and i'll redesign them based on the actual orixás (/hj i still have artfight attacks to finish lmao)

#genshin impact #natlan #iansan #ororon #genshin analysis #also if anyone wants to repost this feel free. i just ask you to censor my user if possible lol this isnt any sort of in-depth analysis #i wanna leave the good analysis to the people who are more knowledgeable than me

241 notes · View notes

nsharks · 10 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

1K notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 11 months

Text

Determination! (Platonic)

Warning for this chapter: fisher tigers part is much more serious. It’s talks of slavery and while it isnt too graphic it does included a lot of mature themes. If that makes you uncomfortable please skip over it

You find that your dreams are very disjointed

Granted, you normally don’t dream at all

It’s typically just empty blackness as you fall into unconsciousness and then back into the waking world

But when you do have a dream every once in a blue moon

It’s…odd

Even for Dream standards you think their somewhat odd

The voices of those long past that you’d met cheering you on

Flashes of multicoloured sparks

The endless expanse of space as you stare at a star

It’s an old one, a dying one

Your not sure how you know that information yet you do

And you watch it die with sparkling eyes

It implodes on itself

Creating a massive explosion of light and energy that dispersed throughout the galaxy

Bright white light shattering into every colour imaginable into the void of space

The energy going in every corner of the universe

A supernova

Your not sure how you know that word but it comes into your mind

Perhaps it hasn’t even been invented yet because you know for a fact that knowledge on stars was vastly limited

Yet that doesn’t stop you from knowing knowledge you never knew before

You reach out towards the remnants of the dead star in a trance

The cheers of the dead yelling “stay determined!”

You open your mouth to eat the star shards

And then you wake up

How curious

Sun Pirates

In your time adrift at the endless sea you had come across many people of many races

Humans, odd winged people, mermaids, devil fruit users, marines and pirates

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you come across a group of fishmen sailing the sea

They all look over deck at you with a mixture of expressions

Some worry, others pity and some with conflict

But as they all watch a Fishman with rose red skin, a tattoo of a sun on his chest and black hair tied back with a bandanna

He ushers them aside to look Down at you from what you assume to be his ship

“Hi! Do any of you know what part of the sea I’m in?. I think it’s the north blue? But I’m not sure. You’d think with the amount of time I’ve been afloat I’d be able to tell but-“

“Kid are you alone?!”

“Do you see anyone else on this ship?”

You don’t have much of a choice before your brought upon their ship

To their surprise though your not scared?

In fact you seem rather amused at the predicament your in

One that would usually leave normal people scared shitless

But it’s easy for the entire crew to tell your not a normal kid

Especially as you seem to find interest in what type of marine animals each member is

Even more so when you ask about how the capabilities/features of said marine animal

It’s…odd how knowledgeable you are despite your young age

And when they ask about it you just say “I know from experiences on the sea”

Like the fuck is that supposed to mean when your talking about the dangerous venom of the stonefish

They are worried

Like real worried

Some are still off put by the fact your a human but with how your talking the mixture of shock and concern overpower it

God they never thought they’d be fretting over a human but when you talk in visceral odd detail about how sharks occasionally eat people when desperate or confusing them for other prey

It’s a bit freaky

Doesn’t help that it’s oddly specific which makes it seem much more personal

And how you explain all these facts with a completely wide smile not noticing how their all horrified

Their captain Fisher tiger is especially worried when he questions you about how you ended up alone at sea in the first place

He keeps pressing you on the matter but always gets the same response of “I set out to sea and haven’t looked back” and “I’m not sure if my island exists anymore. It’s not like anyone would remember me, I’ve been gone for such a long time”

That implies so much and at the same time is very vague

This poor man is a few migraines away from bashing his head against a wall

But other than that and the worry he finds you to be an interesting kid

While watching you interact with his crew he notices that you treat them all as regular people

You don’t make snide comments nor do you go off of stereotypes to categorize them

Instead you see them as their own individual people

People who were owed respect no matter their race or appearance

And even when a few aren’t exactly the most friendly towards you your respect

Giving them space as you see their uncomfortable

For a kid your emotionally aware in a way that even most adults can’t compare

You can tell if someone has deep rooted trauma and don’t push the subject

Going out of your way not to bring up bad memories associated with humans if your presence did so

There were seemingly no bad feelings about it either

Just pure understanding in your eyes from possible personal experience

Even when he harbours hate for you it’s brushed off as seemingly nothing personal

When your not conversing your quietly helping around

Somehow knowing how to raise the sails and properly clean the deck

Never telling anyone of your deeds and just doing them to help out

It’s clear by how organic it is for you that your used to doing it

Yet your own …”ship” is something more akin to a poorly put together raft

Everything about you is odd

And for a long while he isn’t sure if that’s good or bad

Fisher is a man haunted by the actions inflicted upon him

A shared trauma among all his people from humans

He does not discriminate when rescuing slaves but he still has his own afflictions towards humans

The actions of them still on his skin and baring his soul

Yet he allows you on his ship despite it

Because he knows your a child

Someone who had not harmed him nor his people

Someone who’s innocent to the horrors of the world

To the harm done by your race

He grapples with his own hated for you because of something you cannot pick

He feels guilty and horrible for it

Yet the look in your eyes says that you understand him somehow

And that makes him feel worse

A child should not understand hatred from others

Let alone understand why he feels hatred towards them

And then also accept it with such empathy

it hurts

he's reminded of the guards who used to sneer at him for being who he was

you feel no sadness due to his gaze

only kindness as you do your best to avoid him

in some sense you understand why he gazes at you that way

you can't blame him, not when you yourself had been victim of the abuse of your own kind

looked down upon as dirt

seen as lesser

what hurts worse though is that you can't solely blame one group like he and some of his men can do

your human and your hurt by other humans

maybe it's worse in some aspects

it's why you give an understanding look in your eyes despite his occasional glare

Jinbe is perhaps the one you spend the most time with on the ship other than Hatchan

There is apprehension at first but what follows after a short period of time is kindness

Your just a kid

One not guilty for the crimes of others

He can’t blame someone’s actions on you

Especially when your nothing but respectful to them all despite their hesitation due to your race

He reminds you of a gentle giant which is fitting with what marine animal he’s acquainted to

Most times spent with him are ones where he listens to your words

Finding interest and intrigue in your stories and facts of the sea

It seems far fetched a child experienced all this but the look in your eyes says it’s true

The small mementos that hang on your form like hand woven bracelets, necklaces of shells and shark teeth, a coat befit for a captain hanging on your shoulders and bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair tangled with pearls back

Their all signs that somehow your tales are true

As amazing and horrifying as they seem their true

And it leaves him feeling anxious

Your a good kid

Maybe one of the best he’s met so far and seeing the wear and tear on you hits him hard

You put up a smile and bare through whatever someone throws your way

Never once speaking back unless your standing up for someone besides yourself

It’s admirable but he sees how it has worn you down

Once upon a time he can imagine you smiling out of actual joy

And now it’s a mechanism for you to write off your pain

Your selfless to a fault

And on the sea people take advantage of that

But perhaps you already experienced that

And it leaves Jinbe’s stomach swirling with unease

He frets over you like a mother hen when you throw all regard for safety away and when you get something simple like a paper cut cause he knows either way you won’t care to tend to your own wounds

He honestly at the point wonders if this is what being a mother feels like

But he can’t contemplate that long cause Arlong is being a dick once again

Tension with him was high before but now Jinbe has half the mind to knock him square in the jaw if he kicks you again

And now he has half the mind to shake some sense into you when you walk it off

God he needs some sort of therapist cause he does not know how to help you beyond being protective and patching you up

It’s obvious that your hurt beyond repair on the inside

The times he’s found you just simply staring off towards the sea with a dead look in your eyes is a testament to that

A call of longing in long gone innocent eyes that still retain kindness despite it all

In those moments he just sits by your side and holds you

You grasp him like a lifeline

Something anchoring you down to reality as your mind makes you remember

He tells stories of fishmen island to distract you

He noticed though that when he tells of the promise to fishmen island from joyboy something in your eyes light up

Sparkles of light within them that dance but then fizzle away after a moment along with a shiver gliding down his back for some reason

He writes it off though

Just going back to his tales

It’s under yet another moon lit night you end up staring out at sea again

Memories of the past swirling in your mind like a hurricane

You can’t help it

Not after being reminded of one life you particularly didn’t like

You didn’t mean to overhear Fisher and Jinbe but it just happened

The captain of the crew talking about his time as a slave

The horror inflicted upon him at the hands of humans

You just keep staring out at the water

Burying yourself deeper into your subconscious trying to escape

But you can’t

Too distracted by the memories that you don’t even notice the two coming out the captains quarters to find you

Vacantly staring out at sea

Your staring out at the water

A deep empty stare

Darkness swirling in your irises

Occasionally you twitch, a jolt of imaginary pain burning your back once more

You sometimes still feel the pain of the brand that luckily now doesn’t haunt your skin

You hadn’t felt it in a long while until you realized after hearing him talk the tattoo of the sun on him was his brand covered up

It served as some sort of trigger

The memories came flooding back

The pain

The torture

The screams

The death

The rot

The overwhelming plea for death in a hell that became a limbo realm

Your hands trace the symbol on the wood lightly

Every couple of months (or maybe years? Your not sure) these thoughts and memories came up

It’s a normal cycle for you

Yet now they hit harder after seeing his tattoo

Cause it makes you think of them

Of the 3 sisters, the names of you never got as your mind makes the effort to forget what you experienced

Up until now you always had the worry of forgetting

You had been alive for a long time

so much so that your memories are inconsistent and blur together

Yet your time as a slave is something clear in your head that you wish erase

To wipe clean from your mind and bury

Yet you can’t will yourself to forget them

Because of those 3 girls you’d befriended over scraps of dry bread

Of the shared pain that was all understood from the four of you

Crying silently together while huddled in the dark

Cleaning one another’s bruises

The eldest girl of the bunch holding you one night when noticing your shivering form, the other two following in the action of huddling around you

A budding friendship formed from barely any words but silent understanding and conversations though looks

You can’t abandon their memory even if it’s attached to other ones you wished to bleach from your mind

It’s there staring into the darkened water you mutter 2 words that had been erased from your mind out of fear

“Celestial dragons”

The words are spat out like a curse yet your tone is full of emptiness

It’s something only someone affected by them could say in such a tone

Perhaps that’s why Fisher now looks at you with realization

“You…you were one too?”

“Yeah, it…I think it was a couple years back, I’m not sure though. The passage of time is hard for me to notice anymore, it all blurs together. Hell I can barely remember my life before the sea, I know I had parents and then they died but…I can’t remember their faces. Anyways, I was captured and sold, ended up in some dungeon.” For a moment you pause going over your memories as you pinch your chin in thought, the way you speak about it is nonchalant yet holds a lot of untold weight “it’s a blur of pain, I remember it specifically on my back. I try to limit how clear it is cause I don’t specifically like remembering it. There were these 3 girls though, sisters who all ended up in the same cell as me. We found kinship in our situation, I gave them the scraps of food I got since they needed it more than me.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” At hearing this you turn to Jinbe, a solemn expression crossing your face as an answer

“Not sure. I…like to hope that their ok, that they found their way back home” your tone is anything but hopeful, cracking with gloom that’s evident in your eyes “but hoping is all I can do. I wished for death when I was there, hoping they’d just finish me off so I could move on. At some point though I began to hope, those 3 girls needed someone there for them and I hoped I could remain just for them”

“Why’d you escape then?”

“I didn’t have choice.”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t really make sense”

They watch as an odd look forms in your eyes

They sparkle with unknown mystery

Something old and sentimental

Something ancient despite the young face you have

“Can you keep a secret?”

They look at one another for a moment

A silent conversation between the two

Jinbe is the one who nods first, your gaze then shifting to Fisher who takes a moment to look at you

He never noticed it till now but your eyes have something about them that…seems inhuman

For a second he swears he even sees stars sparkle in them

Great big shining stars that light the night sky’s and allow sailors to navigate the treacherous seas they love and call home

Stars that when he looks at reminds him of his freedom

Of not staring at the ceiling of a cage

Stars he wished to grasp at back in the days he wore shackles

Stars that for some reason now seemed to shine brighter, as if mirroring your resolve

He nods, watching a moment of vulnerability shine through eyes that look blank for a child

Eyes that have seen horrors

Eyes that had lost their twinkle of innocence yet still retain childlike charm in viewing the world

Eyes that sparkle of something ancient and old, residing in the depths of your irises like a great deity in the void of the night sky

“Have you heard about a star that never dies?” And so you begin your tale

By the time your done your tale they both sit there in silence

A deafening and choking silence that grips at you like the old collar of rusting steel or ball and chain that used to be attached to your leg

A sign of having your freedom weighed down

Locked away

You had once tried to break that leg but the girls stopped you

The eldest of them crying for you to stop

So you did

You watch them both stay in silence

And then see the tears line their eyes

And then they crumble like a cracked heart

Jinbe falling first as he grips you

Strong and battle-worn hands now soft and gentle

Afraid that you’d fade away

Afraid what would happen if he let go

It’s what you expected from him

But then You look to Fisher and find him in a similar state much to your surprise, if not he might be even worse than how Jinbe is handling what you told

Pure grief in his eyes

Regret

Pain

Solidarity

Familiarity

And most of all empathy

It pours out from him like his tears

Like a waterfall with never ending raging water crashing down onto the rocks

it’s loud and passionate

Covers up the internal screams of the past latching back onto him, into the lingering scars

Stinging Pain sinking back into those same spots like the angry gnashing claws of a beast

He’s hurting

But so are you

Your hurting together through shared experiences and ones he could never wish to experience

Jinbe holds you for a long while

Time melts away as do the phantom pains of those long past days

You hold him back

The soft material of his yukata pulling you in even further

Warmth

Comfort

Understanding

And your unspoken words of ‘thank you’ to his of ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’

You let time melt away a little more as they find themselves once more

“Why did you tell us this?” Fisher asks this with tears still falling down his face. Jinbe holds you close, webbed hand behind your head as he pulls you closer. You hear the waves lapping at the boat and the beats of his heart, it thumps like a drum. Rhythmically helping your equally torn apart emotions.

“I heard you talking about your experience. I thought it’s fair that I do the same” it’s said in such a simple manner that it makes the two fishmen reel back in shock for the third time in a night. It’s said in such sincerity and innocence, as if that was something normal “an equal exchange,If you will”

The crew watch on in confusion the next morning at the expression of thinking Fisher has on his face

Along with the clear signs of crying that Jinbe and him hold

People push but neither say a word

They say it isn’t their story to tell as their eyes trail back to you sitting with Hatchan

Playing a game innocently

Obliviously

Like a regular kid

Most don’t push after their captains grim expression

The look in his eyes

Some keep their curiosity to a low lit flame yet don’t get anywhere on the account they can’t get you to spill anything and Jinbe doesn’t exactly like them being nosey

So it eventually fizzles out

Things back back to normal

You tell your tales

Show them games they’d never played

You in turn learn more about fishman and mermaid society

But then you leave just as abruptly as you appeared

It’s weird to say but at a diner with them all as shanties are sung you just randomly say that soon you’ll be leaving

And despite how most of them hate to admit it

They didn’t want you to go

Hatchan is comically crying as a few others stubbornly argue against it

That it’s dangerous and you could get yourself killed

They look to Fisher and Jinbe who had been more observant of you as of late (if that’s even more humanly possible for Jinbe)

But their met with a reaction none had thought would happen

They object

They say it’s your choice and they can’t shackle you here

The sea was your home

And so the decision for your leave was cemented

In the days leading up to it you spend time with most the crew

But they all notice that at night you and their captain look out to the sky at night

Silence conversations happening through mere looks

pure understanding

Just pure solemn understanding

None make comments on it if they see it

Don’t mention it and forget it ever happened out of respect for both parties

And when the time comes to leave they all watch (some crying even) while waving goodbye

You promise them you’d meet again

“You’ll all be at sea right? Then that means you’ll definitely see me again someday! Wait and see! Grasp your freedom strong and tight, never take it forgranted”

Fisher watches and waves as you drift off into the distance, he holds a gentle smile

He hopes he’d meet you again

Hopes that perhaps you’d somehow end up on fishman island and talk to his people

As much as he thought Otohime’s talks of humans and fishmen working together in harmony were a naive and impossible dream

Perhaps if there were more humans like you it could work

And maybe

Just maybe

It would help both sides see that in the end neither were that different from one another

In your words on the silent night before you left “we both bleed, we feel and in the end we both have the same fates don’t we?. At heart no matter if your fishman, mermaid, human or anything else we experience the same gifts of life. We are all equal in the fact we are born on this earth and die here, and with that comes the desire for freedom and the pursuit of happiness”

He and his crew still have a lot to grapple with on the road to change

But you helped them start the first steps in overcoming the hate for your kind

A young immortal human child who had seen horrors upon horrors

Inflicted by their own kind that they will never stop loving with all their heart

Because you believe that inherently almost every sentient creature is born with kindness in them. It’s the world that corrupts it

When they are asked to take a former slave girl back to her hometown he does not have any hesitation to do so

He hopes that this is the next step in overcoming his hatred

Mihawk

Mihawk thought he was going to have a nice and relaxing day

His morning had been going great, a nice glass of red wine before he trained, a good breakfast

And then when he went outside of his castle there he finds is a young child looking around confused

….god damn it

So yeah, you died and just randomly appeared on the island that houses the greatest swordsman currently in the world

Not exactly your first choice but it wasn’t the worse

Well wasn’t bad instil the swordsman himself shows up looking as confused as you were

Yeah seems like you have some explaining to do

And dying or running away wouldn’t exactly help with the endeavour either since he seems intent on an answer

So here you are

In a gothic mansion lead by Mihawk into a room as he calmly sits down and asks you to explain

Now

And so you do

Well…you do the best you can to explain your entire situation as he sits there with a blank expression

By the end he just sighs

To be honest he’s not sure if he believes it or not but he takes it as an answer for now

And after that you two form an odd friendship and routine as you spend your time on his island

To his pleasure your polite and not loud

Silently watching him train or go about his day

Along with that conversations with you are actually quite pleasant

Mihawk is a man of very few words

Only shanks is able to get him talking with the help of finely aged booze

Yet talking with you comes naturally as breathing the air around him

It’s intriguing

Especially as it seems your story isn’t a bluff for how personally and detailed your recounts of events are

Colour him impressed

you talk of Roger in a way that only Shanks could do

Describe the gods valley event with details only found in classified marine files

Not only that but your also a good storyteller

Telling such events in glorious ways that he can’t help but listen to the liquid gold that is your voice

The treasure trove of stories that flow out your mind

He must admit that he can’t help but sit on the edge of his seat

Wanting to hear more

In this time he comes to care for you

Your a child eternally

One in a cruel world that preys on the weak

While you may be strong mentally (god knows if you hadn’t then you would’ve gone insane) but physical your not

What doesn’t help is your total and utter lack of self awareness

God knows the amount of times he’d saved your ass from being killed by Humandrills

After awhile they seem to get the memo of leaving you alone but that still doesn’t stop you from almost dying in other ways

Almost walking off a cliff

Almost falling into a river

Almost getting hit by a piece of falling stone

He is now paranoid and trails you like a shadows or has you stick around him incase of yet another near death incident

God is this what being a dad feels like? Cause that’s how Mihawk feels at this point

He has half the mind to buy a child leash or something similar

Cause if you wander off one more time and almost die he’s gonna-

You make his stress levels go through the roof

Doesn’t help you completely brush of dying as no big deal

As if being eaten that one time isn’t traumatic as hell

He wonders if his position of warlord has some sort of health benefits cause he might look into therapy

Not that you think you need it though, you think your completely fine yet he begs to differ

You find it funny how stoic he is yet you can read him like a book

He shows his growing care through actions

Like making breakfast or decorating a spare room of his castle to something more suited to your taste

The unspoken offer of “if you need a place to stay your always welcome here” through these actions

A silent way of also prepping for you leaving

He knows that moment is coming

Especially as your small “boat” drifts ashore

He’s hardly call that a boat but nether the less it floats on water and you call it a boat

In your time preparing to leave he insists on at least teaching you the basics of using a sword

The proper positioning of your grip and stance

How to give a powerful slash

You pick up quickly, years of watching experienced swordsmen coming into play

He’s proud yet worry sows itself into his brow

Your a kind soul

One that has been put through untold hell and back

Even the strongest sword can bend and break if pressure is put on the perfect point

He doesn’t know what your breaking point will be but he’s worried

Cause inevitably it’s bound to happen

He at least has some peace of mind knowing he taught you how to fight

And when he sends you off he promises that when you next meet he’d have Sword fit for you

The castle feels more lonely without your small pitter patter of footsteps

The air is still when it should be filled with your stories of old

The garden takes more effort than he remembers when your not there to pull out the weeds

The Humandrills seem to miss your presence

It’s odd but you’d left such an impact in such a small amount of time

Mihawk wouldn’t have it any other way though

Hiriluk

Recently on the spring island you found yourself on there had been rumours of a thief going by

Normally this wouldn’t had caught your attention

But one day as you walk past an odd eccentric man with Snow White hair in a ridiculous manner with clearly stolen objects you can’t help but be intrigued

Especially as he shifts into an alleyway, leaning against the grimy wall with a hand over his heart

Coughs racking his entire form

Almost crumbling down as the subsequent spoils of his stealing fall as well

It’s then and there you become invested in this odd man

His story

So you decide to help him

For someone’s who’s a thief you’d thinks he’d be less enthusiastic about giving out his name

But your sorrily mistaken (in a good way) as the man introduces himself as Hiriluk

A master thief of the grand line

A plunderer of countless treasures and various tales

You nod along

Listening intently to his words as you help walk him to his hideout

The poor man is still shaken after his illness acting up again

Apparently as of late it’s been worse, so much so that he fears his days are now limited

But despite that he keeps a quite chipper attitude

Somehow finding enjoyment despite his circumstances

He’s…much like yourself in that sense

Finding joy even in the bleak conditions of your reality

It…is nice in some sense

To find someone a lot like yourself in mindset

Makes conversation much more interesting as you both talk of similar viewpoints

Much like you he is plagued with a curse that follows him everywhere he goes

From island to island

No matter the pace he canning escape his disease

A factor of his life that he must now deal with as he enjoys the time he has left

He’d given up on a cure by now

But…despite that you can’t help but research a bit to at least try

He appreciates the effort but solemnly admits that he’s tried everything

Hell, his island is known for their doctors and they couldn’t help him

He’s a lost cause like anyone with white lead disease

It’s a fact he accepts

And sadly you do so as well

Your stand only works for you

It’s entire purpose is for its user and not for anyone else

Not versatile or has any multiple uses

At least not that you knew of anyways

So on that factor you can’t do anything

So as you accept that fact you instead focus on spending time with the man

Listening to him get drunk and talk of someone named Kureha

An “old witch” with a stubborn edge and sharp tongue

But also has a kind heart

Someone who became a doctor for a reason, to help others as best she could even if she caused some chaos in the process

An odd one just like him (and you he adds with a smile) someone who didn’t fit in with the crowd

But maybe that was ok

Being different could very much be a curse for several reasons

Especially in a judgmental society that is maintained by the world government

But that otherness was also a blessing

Weirdness serving as a catalyst for so many wonderful things

For new ideas

For stubborn creativity that wouldn’t be snuffed out but instead burn bright

For brining together the people society looked down upon and giving them a chance to rise up

Your stay on the island is coming to a close but despite that Hiriluk doesn’t panic or seem depressed at the thought

Instead he finds happiness in the time still left

The conversations that have been spoken

The time he has left in this world being used for something truly nice

Not just stealing

Instead now truly engaging with life

The spring island your both on is now at its fullest bloom

The place was somewhat famous for how beautiful it was but neither of you had yet to see it

So the day before you go you asked if he’d like to go see it with you before you left

A last hurrah

One that would be spent watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom and have lunch

He agreed

The next morning is spent with him getting snacks of all kinds

Him packing them in a small basket as you lead him with the directions you got from locals

The two of you go up the hill overlooking the light pink trees in full bloom

His hand gripping yours as he goes still in shook

The sight is breath taking

Even the air from your lungs is seemingly sucked out at the sight of the trees in full bloom

The petals gently cascading down like snow around you

Getting stuck in your hair and pooling in his cupped hands

His eyes tear up and stare down at the pink petals

It’s breathtaking

And for the first time in a long while he feels ok

There was no blockage in his chest

Nor the looming grip of death on his shoulders

He felt cured

Like an average man that he always wanted to

The dream of his that died long ago in a doctors office when they said it was incurable

But now as he stares he feels hope

Something igniting in him in place of his Illness

These small fluttering petals had an impact on him just as you had

It cured him somehow

You showing him this magical sight cured him

And now he wanted to do that for others

He wanted to show the people of his bleak winter island this magnificent sight

To see pink instead of the white fluttering snow

To see trees not covered in snow that dampened their beauty

To feel the air escape their lungs

The lunch goes by quickly as does your leaving but both of you do so with a smile

He sets off with a new goal and you wish him luck

Telling him that you believe he’d somehow come up with a solution cause people like the two if you always did somehow

He smiles

When he returns back to his home island he sets out to be a doctor

To help cure others just as you had done with him

Some of The petals he collected that day kept in a small glass jar he kept as a souvenir and for testing

When Kureha calls him crazy he takes the words in pride

Recalling back on your time spent together

That odd little kid who had a spirit beyond their days

One who would humour his ramblings

Took him to that fateful place of blooming Sakura that would go on to change his life course forever

A parting gift in both an experience and in changing his life for the good

So he works on bringing that miracle to the winter island he lives on

Despite how impossible it seems he tries

And he tries and tries

And he keeps going despite how many times he is pushed down by yet another failure

You motivate him

The gift you gave him that he wants to share with others motivated him

His new student that in a lot of ways reminds him of you motivated him

Chopper sometimes still wonders why Hiriluk had taken him in

It lingers on the small reindeer’s mind

And it’s glaringly obvious what he’s thinking making the old “doctor” laugh

“Us weirdo’s have to stick together. I learned that from a friend of mine” as he says this the small blue nosed reindeer watches as the man pulls a framed photo off the wall. In it is him and a child with a large smile. “Hopefully one day you’ll meet them.”

“You…do you think they would accept me?”

Hiriluk let’s our a large laugh at that, clutching his sides as small tears line his eyes “if they hung around a old crazy coot like me then I’m sure they’d love you”

His young apprentice feels hope at his words

Sometimes silently staring at the picture with faint hope that one day he’d meet the doctor-….no his dad’s old friend

Perhaps in the future

But for now he had to help him find a cure

His sickness is getting worse and chopper doesn’t now if he could live with himself if he didn’t find a cure

His only lead as of now is some mushroom that can apparently cure anything

It’s a long shot but he has to try

He gazes as the photo once more

Hiriluk’s smiling face staring back along with your own

He’ll make sure Hiriluk will get to see you again

He promises it

With that the young reindeer sets off in the snow

Whenever you see the cascading petals of cherry blossoms you wonder how that odd doctor was doing

Brook

It was at reverse mountain that you had found yourself being picked up by a particular crew

The rumbar pirates had originated in the west blue

A musical band of jolly singing pirates with instruments of all kinds

All of which varied from different islands and cultures

Brough together in musical harmony

It’s amazing to you how music seems to come to them wordlessly

They play and magic is produced from their songs

So much so a baby whale follows them in their journey and is now waiting for them to return

A promise they intend to keep as the travel the sea like any good crew

Whilst the captain and crew are welcoming and friendly there’s one person in particular your drawn to

Brook is a fun and free soul

Constantly with a smile or chuckling out his odd but charming laugh

The musician teaches you piano as best he can

His hands guiding yours as the crew eagerly watch with bright smiles

Eventually as they sing and dance he has you play side by side with him

Placing his top hat in your head as they all call you “mini brook”

It’s fun

Especially as the giant of a man picks up his violin and lets you play alone

The two of you stringing together a melody that the others join in on

Dancing and singing with slurred speech and jumbled steps

Those nights feel like a haze in your mind

One with a rosy tinted filter overtop those memories

Of the songs sung

The dancing as the crew took turns showing you their groove

Taking your hands into their own and your feet atop theirs as they showed you to dance

But then the music began to die

Despite your many deaths you’d experienced and saw of pirates

This was one that was common yet still chilling

Illness

Honestly with how many ships you’d been on your surprised you’d never experienced a death like this

And it’s certainly one you’d never thought they’d have to suffer through

It starts off as one person

And then it spreads

Brook and the others keep you away from the sight

Telling you that they were just hungover

You don’t tell them you know hangovers don’t last several days

As others being to fall Brook keeps to at least trying to keep the facade of things are fine in front of you

Even as he has to take the place of their captain

He has a good facade

But you hear his sobs at night

For his fallen Crew and the fact it’s still spreading

And for you

By god is he worried for you

They’d all talked of the possibility of having you take your small shipped tied to their own and leave

But they all agree it’s too big of a risk

Their at the middle of the sea, it would be a death sentence if they let you go on your own

They can’t have that happen

Even if there’s still a chance here that you’ll die

There’s still the possibility that at least someone will spot their ship

That help can come and at least rescue you

So for now they have you stay

The symptoms come slowly

You feel more tired

Burning up

Laboured breath

Their all mortified as you one day pass out on deck

When you wake up your tucked into bed

Nearby someone sobs

You recognize his voice and blurred figure despite your senses being dulled

Small shaky hands reach for his

And he reciprocated the action repeating that he’s sorry

That he’s so sorry

That it’s his fault

That he was supposed to keep you safe

You say it isn’t his fault but it falls on deaf ears

He keeps crying even as he coughs

You keep saying it’s alright even as it feels harder to breath

Eventually even though everyone is dead or on the brink of dying they decide to do one last number

One last piece

Binks booze

You sit beside Brook having to lean against him for support as both his and your hands drift along the ivory keys

The songs plays full force

The few left playing the tune

Some cheerfully sing with smiles and dance withe one another

But they fall first

Dying with smiles despite it all

You sing in their place along with those who are left

The singing goes down by one as yet another falls down

Violin clattering to the floor

You sing louder in his place despite how your lungs burn and throat feels as if needles scrape against it

Another violinist goes down after this

Brook shakes beside you

He keeps up a smile

You do so as well but tears escape your eyes

A quartet

The cello goes down

A trio

His smile wavers and tears trail down his face now

He’s breaking

The final goes down now

It’s just you and Brook left, but you feel yourself getting weaker

The edges of your eyes have black dotes and every time you close them it’s harder to open them once more

A duet

You keep playing for his sake

He looks down at you sobbing silently as he continues to play

Their flag waves silently in the wind

“I’m not sure how longer I can play…do you think you can do a solo?”

Tearfully he nods

Playing as you sing

Continuing even after the lyrics stop flowing from your mouth and you slump down into his side

A solo

He cries

Eventually the piano comes to a close

Despite there being no skeleton of you to put with the rest of the memorial Brook doesn’t question it

The sight of Your body disappearing into golden light was just a trick of the mind all those years ago to help with the grief of him failing you

He knows he went insane a long time ago

He’s spent years alone at sea mulling over their deaths, of yours and the promise to Laboon

His mind is long gone as he wanders the old tattered ship that used to be filled with song

Despite it all he tries to put up a mask of being happy

But he never sings

Never plays music

He can’t deal with another solo

Can’t deal with that last performance

Sometimes he thinks of the songs they made

The one the crew made about you that surprisingly got popular

Based off the odd tales of stars you talked about

An undying one

He wonders if it still plays

You remember they made a song about you

It’s long forgotten to the many new sailors of the sea

But on occasion you hear it from old souls. Those who had traveled the seas for many years and had retained the songs and myths now forgotten to the new

The sound of it always makes you smile, but it is tinged with sadness as you do so

Whenever it is sung or Binks Booze you promised yourself you’d always join in

A promise to them, that kind musical crew all those years ago that suffered a horrible death from a bad stroke of luck

You carry their memory along with Laboon

Whenever you end up at reverse mountain you always sing the songs they once did to ease the whales heart ache

It can only do so much but Laboon at least stops jutting against the mountain momentarily

Wanting to one day reunite with those jolly sailors

You wish you could one day do the same

But for now you carry their memories

Their songs that house the remnants of their souls

Sometimes you swear you see their rotting ship

But you always wave it off as missing them

Of delusions of your mind as you stare out into the darkness of the sea

#platonic #one piece x reader #brook x reader #hiriluk x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule Mihawk x reader #Jinbe x reader #fisher tiger x reader

416 notes · View notes

louloulemons-posts · 3 months

Text

Dark Waters

Knight!Eddie X Princess!Elf!Reader

Word Count : 1.8k

(creds to owners)

Warnings : not proofread, cursing, sirens, drowning, knives, swords, death of minor characters, eddie is called Edward, use of Y/N

~ / / / * \ \ \

“You know we’re not supposed to be this far outside the castles walls!” Robin exclaimed, hurrying after you. “Robin come on! I just want to explore, I can’t stand all of the talk of my brother coronation, my mother just talks about marrying me off now!”

“Well would marriage be such a bad thing?”

You paused in your tracks to look at your friend, she nodded, “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you continued through down the path. Removing the hood of your cloak from your head, sighed as the sun warmed your face.

Robin linked her arm with yours, walking side by side, no worries about would may see you, you were outside the city now.

The emerald leaves of the woods shone under the daylight, “Maybe we should head back?” Robin said.

“Me and my father always walked this path when I was small, come on Robin we’ll be quick.”

Beams of sun shone through the branches, illuminating the multi coloured flowers, small animals ran across the path, faeries flew past with their tingling bell sound.

The forest was alive with springtime. Your own gown seemed to be brighter in colour, the periwinkle of yours and royal blue of robins.

Your hair was also more alive, the small braids throughout, shining with pretty gems, similarly to your sharp pointed ears showing who you really were.

“Did you hear that?” Robin asked suddenly.

“Hear what?” She paused for a moment, turning her head to listen for the mysterious sound.

“That!” The shorter haired girl exclaimed.

“Robin, I really can’t hear anything,” you really did try to hear whatever it was, but soon enough Robin was dragging you down the winding path.

“Robs wait! she was moving at an ungodly pace, something you’d never seen from her, almost like magic. It wasn’t unusual sure, but this was a different kind of magic.

Pulling your arm from her grip, you grabbed Robins shoulders forcing her to meet your gaze. “What can you hear?”

“Singing!”

“Singing?”

“Yes it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” Robin continued to push against your hold, walking towards whatever singing she heard.

Letting her go you followed behind, trying to figure out what was going on. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted someone else. No, many other people.

The were all walking in the same direction as your and Robin. “Robin, we have to go,” you tugged at her sleeve, trying to drag her back, she was now stepping off of the path.

“I need to find out whose voice that is, it’s beautiful.” Your head flooded with thoughts, what was it? Who was it?

Then you saw it, the waters edge. “Sirens,” you whispered. You could see their tails glistening as they swam closer, hands with webbed fingers, arriving at the waterside.

“Robin come away,” you pulled at her arm, but the girl yanked away from your grip, making you stumble.

A red haired woman emerged from the water, pushing herself up on the bank.

“Hello,” she purred.

“H-Hi,” Robin smiled.

“What’s your name?”

“Robin.”

“Come with me Robin.”

Her webbed fingers came out of the water, hand reaching towards Robins. Your friend took it softly, letting the woman pull her closer to the waters edge.

Pushing yourself up, you reached out for Robin, “No!” you screamed as Robin was pulled into the water. Jumping in after her you kicked at the beast, grabbing onto Robin.

The siren hissed at you, bearing her teeth. Pushing Robin up towards the surface, you began to swim up after her, but a hand gripped onto your ankle.

Hearing a calling sound, more and more sirens swam towards you, some holding onto men and women and those inbetween.

With panic you kicked at the siren with fire red hair, hoping to get free, but as more and more air left your lungs your kicks got weaker.

Slowly feeling yourself go limp, you felt more webbed hands grab hold of you, pulling you down into the depths.

Your eyes fell closed as the remaining breath left you.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Help! Someone please help me!” Robin called out to anyone who was near. Hooves came towards her, two faces she recognised from passing days.

“Thank goodness.”

“Miss Robin, what’s happened?” The man with shorter hair asked, taking in the woman’s panicked appearance. Dress and hair soaked from water.

“The princess … there were sirens … she saved me … but they … they …” the man with longer hair climbed from the horse.

“Breathe, what happened?” he asked.

“They pulled her down,” Robin sobbed, covering her face. “Steve wait here with Miss Robin.”

The man removed his heavy layer of armour with ease and speed, throwing himself into the water. The murky depths were hard to see through, but the commotion was unmissable.

Swimming towards the group of sirens, he spotted you, seeing them drag you towards their cave, he knew once you reached that point you were gone.

Pushing himself through the water, his curls came loose from how they’d been sat at the base of his neck. Swimming deeper and deeper, he heard a screech of warning from a siren.

“A knight!” One screamed. Drawing his sword, he slashed at a beast, drawing blood. Once that occurred, the sirens let you go, swarming the knight.

Your body fell down, close to the floor of the water. Swinging for the sirens, he cut many of them, ending the lives of others.

They grabbed him, but as he cut the neck of one final siren, one screamed,”Retreat!”

They grabbed the body of those who had passed and swam towards the cave. The knight felt his lungs burn, as he swam deeper for you.

Pulling your body, he went towards the light, the surface. On the bank, Steve’s arm was around Robin, rubbing her side to keep her warm. “Have you got her?!” The woman cried.

“Yes,” the knight coughed, water leaving his lungs, as he gasped a breath. Pulling you on the bank, he panicked as he noticed the lack of movement in your chest.

“No!” Robin sobbed, pulling towards you, but the knight shouted, “Keep her back!” Steve grabbed her waist holding her in place, trying to comfort her.

Pulling the outer layer of your dress off, he was met with a corset, “Shit!” he sighed, pulling a knife from the holster on his leg.

Slicing the ribbons from the corset, he yanked it off your chest, staring to press his hand in a rhythm against it.

He held your nose, blowing into your mouth, “Come on, wake up!” He spoke through gritted teeth. “One! Two! Three!” He kept pressing against your chest.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“One! Two! Three! Come on!” A voice spoke. Feeling air come back to you, you coughed loudly, water coming up. Gasping, you held your hand to your chest, hearing a laugh of joy.

“Oh thank god.” Robin. That was Robin.

“Robs?”

“I’m here,” the girl sat next to you, wrapping you in a hug. “Oh thank goodness.”

“Thank you so much,” Robin said to the knight. Looking up at the man, you couldn’t be more thankful. “You saved me.”

“I did what anyone would your Highness.”

Letting Robin help you to your feet, you couldn’t even be embarrassed at the lack of garments. The knight walked to his horse, pulling a cloak off and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“What’s your name sir.”

“Edward.”

“Thank you Edward, you saved my life. I must repay you.”

“I need nothing your Highness, just allow me and my colleague to help you and your friend home safely.”

“Thank you.” Letting the knight help you onto his horse, he climbed up behind, Robin and the other man doing the same thing. You may your way back into the town and up to the castle.

He made sure to keep his hands in a respectful position, keeping you steady on the horse.

“Open the gates for the Princess, the man behind your called. The gates opened, men and women ran towards you, including your mother.

“Darling!” she called.

“Mother,” you smiled. The man, Edward, jumped off the horse, holding out his hand to help you down. “What happened?” your mother asked.

“Sirens in the lake, one grabbed me, but this kind Knight, Edward,” you smiled at the curly haired man, “He saved me mother.”

“Is this true?” she asked Robin and Edward, “Yes your majesty,” they both said.

“Thank you, you saved my girl.” She squeezed your hand, “Come let’s get you all clean and dry.”

Your mother led you all into the castle, “Thank you your Majesty, but we must be heading to the Knights quarters to clean up,” The other man said.

“Yes of course, what is your name sir?” Your mother asked. “Steve,” he spoke softly.

“I owe you my thanks also, Steve. Me and my husband shall call for you both, do not be alarmed, it shall be as a reward.”

“There’s no need-“ Edward started, but your mother held her hand up. “Sir, you saved my daughter, I cannot thank you enough, she is .. she is the light of my life.”

“Of course your majesty, my heart is to you and this kingdom, including your daughter.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, his eyes met yours. “Mother, may I speak to Edward alone?”

“You may, I shall wait in your bedchambers, be quick my darling,” she squeezed your cheek and ushered Robin away. Steve bowed and may his way to his own space.

“Your highness?” Edward asked.

“I just wanted to thank you again Sir. You saved me.”

“It was nothing, it is my job.”

“I cannot thank you enough for it.”

“No thanks is needed.”

“It is, please meet with my mother and father.”

“I shall your highne-“ you cut him off.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N, no your highness needed.”

“That is not proper your highness i mustn’t.”

“You must, I order it,” you smiled at him, making the corner of his mouth rise. “Well Miss Y/N, please stay away from the lake without a proper escort.”

“Of course, may I call upon you on my next stroll then?”

“Yes your high- Y/N,” he bowed his head.

“Well I must go, and you must be freezing yourself Edward.”

“Eddie.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Edward makes me feel old, so Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you smiled, “Well I shall be seeing you soon I’m sure.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he bowed. Walking towards him, you stood on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good day Eddie.”

“Good day Y/N.” He smiled as he watched you go, disappearing down the hall, his cloak still wrapped around you.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

Please leave any requests 🤍

119 notes · View notes

itsabouttimex2 · 5 months

Note

Dude Tang sanzang really sound like a gentle but also....ya know-

and maybe we could get a fic of him?I kinda curious actually-

Taken Aboard

Yandere Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong

(I’ve noticed recently that I enjoy writing yandere introduction fics- them meeting you. The content is a bit softer, but I enjoy establishing these things!)

You don't really want the shiny little key, no matter how important it looks. You just know that it's important. Made from polished silver and ending in many prongs, with a large gemstone set into the bulb... it was clearly valuable.

But you don't want it. Not the silver, not the jewel. You want what comes with taking it- a chase. And if these people didn't want to play your games, why would they come into your forest?

They’re only at the very entrance of the forest, where the trees are thinnest, but it’s still a foolish expedition that they’re surmounting.

There's easier ways to get through the area, after all. The forest is thick with trees and sharp vines, running with many rivers and populated by thousands of different animals. Clearly, these strangers are in no rush and have supplies to spare if they're traveling directly through instead of around.

So what's the harm in one little game?

You’ve learned all the creatures in this forest by heart- their scents and sounds and shapes, each palm-sized critter and earth-shaking beast impossibly dear to your heart.

Your hands; diminutive and deft, shift from tight skin to soft feathers. And as nail curves to talon, the bones of your fingers slide around your palm until they’ve diminished from five to four. In a sudden. startling flash of golden light does the rest of your form fall away.

As the aureate rays that wrap your body burn away from your reducing frame, the new truth of your body becomes clear- you’ve taken the form of a diminutive songbird. Were it not for your green-flecked wings, you would be entirely indistinguishable as a demon by the eye alone.

There’s just enough wind filtering through the dense forest to aid your feathers, sending your small form skyward.

You gather speed by twisting around clustered branches and thick tree trunks, breaking through a canopy of foliage and soaring to the warm sky.

Wings close to your body, you zip overhead the group and unfurl them in what would be a grand display, had you a more imposing form.

Tucking your wings tight, you dive haphazardly, snatching the key from a very startled monk all dressed up in a fancy cossack with a jangly golden stick.

Prying the metal free from his fingers, you retreat to the denser woods, taking a moment to perch as he calls out indignantly for you to return.

But you don’t even have time to gloat to yourself before a multicolored hawk comes at you, red and blue and ginger feathering.

Barely you manage to dodge, watching the bird soar past. The wind left in it’s blazing wake is so fast that your feathers are nearly torn out by their quills.

It rounds sharply, lurching at you again, only missing when you drop from the branch and dip towards the ground. The hawk turns and dives, losing you as you loop a low-hanging branch. It curves the bend with you, only inches away. Through the leaves, it misses by a hairsbreadth, mistaking a browning leaf for your insignificant form. Over the river your shadows startle the koi, causing them to retreat to the muddy depths. All across and through the forest are you hounded, slowly falling closer to the talons of the glorious hawk.

And you finally slip, diving too slow to avoid the clutch of avian claws.

But cold keratin is not what cages you.

Furry fingers tightly enfold your fragile form, stuck fast between the palms of the Monkey King.

He drops from the sky with some measure of grace, tail swaying in glee born of victory.

Exhausted from the chase, you concede defeat in the form of birdsong, melodically peeping and chirping to the simian from the cage his hands form.

Sun Wukong pauses at your display of surrender. It’s not often that a demonic enemy accepts being beaten. He carefully opens his hands to view you- and, to his disbelief, you hop onto the pointer finger of his right hand, holding the little key in your beak.

“You’re a funny little demon, aren’t you? So cute, but so darn troublesome… here, give me that.”

You don’t protest or fight as he snatches the jeweled key, stuffing the metal into his pocket.

“Wukong! Wukong, don’t hurt them!” Says a worried voice from just a few paces away, clearly out of breath from running. “Wukong do not make me recite the… sutra?”

His voice trails away at the sight of you, cupped in the simian’s ginger-furred hands.

“…they aren’t running, Master. They just… gave me the key after I caught them.”

The monk approaches slowly, then takes you into his gentle hands, a note of pity in his contemplative eyes. One soft finger brushes against the green spots that speckle your quills.

“Demon, I kindly ask you- reveal to me your name and form.”

With a giggling peep, you do as asked and immediately return to your true form- in his palms.

Tang Sanzang gasps from the sudden shift in weight, pulled to the ground before he can right himself. You giggle again, sprawled half on his lap and half on the dirt. And Sun Wukong laughs too, enjoying a moment of indignity from his oft-stoic master.

There’s a flash of irritation that fades the second the monk gets a good look at you- gods, you’re only a child. And so thoroughly ragged too. Mud and leaves in your never-cut hair, your fingernails chipped and uneven. Shredded clothing and no shoes.

“Have you been out here long, little one? In the forest, all on your lonesome?” Pity in his voice, compassion in his eyes. “When was the last time you had a meal? A drink? Come, quench yourself with my canteen,” he commands, lifting the fur-wrapped metal to your lips.

“They’re not a baby,” Wukong argues, tapping one clawed finger against your nose. “And don’t act like they’re harmless, Master.”

You pull away from the canteen after a long sip, sticking your tongue out at him. “No one asked you, Hóutóu!”

“Are you getting cheeky with Sun Yéyé? Maybe I should chase you all around your own home again, brat!”

Tang Sanzang sighs, not cutting into the squabble. Petty arguing was better than outright violence, and neither of you seemed all too serious about the verbal spat.

All he can really do is change the subject.

“I can hardly leave a little one all alone out here- even in the forest, it must grow cold at night. Come, you may rest in my tent when the sun falls. Then we shall find your parents, and-“

“Nope!”

“…excuse me? ‘N-no’, little one? You mustn’t joke with me like that-“

“I’m not joking,” you cheerily and confidently respond. “This whole forest is my home! And I don’t have parents, anyways! I was born from a fallen peach tree!”

That didn’t sound… too implausible, honestly. Strange things gave birth to demons, after all. Rocks, in Wukong’s own case.

But, even if you were a demon born of nature and the wilds…

Wouldn’t it be horribly cruel to leave a child out here, all alone?

You were small enough to still fit in his lap, small enough that you only came to Wukong’s hip even when you stood on your toes.

A child. Gods, how could you have survived on your own for so long? Demon or not, you were a child. Gods above, he couldn’t leave you here.

It couldn’t be that you’d leave easily. You had just declared that this forest was your home. And with the powers and skills you had, simple force wouldn’t be enough.

He… had some praying to do. To Guanyin, and to another blessed length of golden metal.

You would not be staying here a night longer.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Tang Sanzang #Yandere Sun Wukong #For Clarification #Hóutóu means ‘monkey head’ and is an insult in JTTW #And Sun Wukong often refers to himself as “’Grandpa Sun’ to mock his enemies #In form of ‘Sun Yéyé’ and ‘Son Wàigōng’#Taken Aboard #Journeyfam

141 notes · View notes

quite-right-too · 10 months

Text

Animal I Have Become

Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor doesn't like seeing people harm what's his. (18+ only)

The Oncoming Storm.

The Time Lord Victorious.

The Destroyer of Worlds.

The Doctor had many names in many different languages that spread across the stars. Tales of the last of the Time Lords echoed through the galaxy — the man who had destroyed two entire races, including his own people, and stopped being merciful many years ago.

Nobody quite knew how old the Doctor was, or how far back the legends had been traced, but one thing was certain.

Everywhere you went, people were afraid of the Doctor.

The Doctor you knew was gentle and kind. He made you breakfast in the mornings and told you how much he loved you. His eyes were so full of adoration and joy when he was around you.

However, that didn’t mean he was always like that.

All you had done was stop for repairs. You had a task to complete; find the market stall and acquire a list of parts. The Doctor had already written a list and drew some pictures next to each part to make it easier for you to find.

The city you were in was disorienting. It had already gotten dark, making the directions you were given nearly useless. One wrong turn and you found yourself in an alley. As you went to turn around, a man approached you.

His skin was a dark, rich shade of blue. He looked human aside from that. And the small horns that stuck out of his forehead. ‘Like a devil,’ you thought.

“So,” the dark humanoid man standing in front you took a step forward, prompting you to take a step back. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The street lamp above you flickered unnervingly as you inched further and further away. Each step forward was met with a step back until you were cloaked in darkness, just outside of the small illuminated circle you were relying on for just a modicum of safety.

You felt your back hit the wall as you took another step backwards — it was a dead end.

You were trapped.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Your heart began to race as a silver glint in the man’s hand caught your eye. The low light reflected off the knife that he held tightly.

Uncertainty makes you afraid. Fear makes you reckless. Just be confident in everything you do and above all else, just remember…

The Doctor’s words echoed through your head as you tightened your fists, preparing for whatever was going to come next. If you were going to die, you would not make it easy. You braced for the inevitable as your attacker surged forward.

I will always be there to save you.

The blue-skinned man was pulled backwards into the light and tossed to the ground. A sickening crack echoed through the dark alley followed by a groan and a cough.

Towering above him was the Doctor. Tall and powerful, long coat billowing around him from the speed he had run over. This was not the man you woke up next to that morning or made love to the night before.

This was the Oncoming Storm.

And he was pissed.

Even in the faint light, you could see that his eyes were impossibly dark. He stared down at the man on the ground with a sneer, his converse-clad foot pressing down on his throat. Below him, the stranger clawed at the Doctor’s leg.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the Doctor murmured coldly. “Why shouldn’t I spill your blood all over the pavement like the filth you are?”

Fear flashed in the alien’s eyes. “Please, I’m sorry,” he choked out breathlessly. “I didn’t know you- I would never have-” He was cut off as the Doctor put pressure on his throat, kneeling down to pick up the dropped knife.

The Time Lord twirled the blade in his hand. “Oh,” he cooed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” Without warning, the Doctor quietly and subtly drove the knife into the man’s chest. “And you never will again.”

The thrashing subsided and the Doctor stood up, leaving the knife in the man's chest as thick red liquid began to form a pool underneath him. Wiping his hand haphazardly on his pant leg, he stared down at the body below him.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Before you could even get a word out over what you had just witnessed, the Doctor had you pinned against the wall with a bruising kiss. “You heard me,” he growled. “You’re mine. All mine.” His hands gripped your hips with such force that you couldn’t move, even if you tried.

You gasped as he moved his mouth down your neck. “Fuck, Doctor!” That spurred him on further as he rutted against you, his hardening cock pressing against your lower abdomen.

Nimble fingers undid the button on your jeans, ripping them down your legs with your underwear. “You’re all fucking mine,” he growled as he unbuttoned his own trousers and shoved them down to his thighs, pants following.

You were desperate for more. Hard and fast and brutal.

The look in the Doctor’s eyes indicated that he knew exactly what you wanted.

Wordlessly, he helped lift you so could wrap your legs around his hips, cock resting at your entrance. “Oooh, so wet for me already?” he breathed, thrusting himself against your slit. “You got absolutely soaked watching me make sure nobody ever touches what’s mine.” His long coat settled around the two of you, offering more privacy in the darkness.

The head of his cock slipped inside you, resting just for a second, before he slammed himself into you to the hilt. “Oh, gods,” he groaned, beginning a punishing rhythm. “You feel so fucking good.” His mouth began to wander down your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into your skin.

As he pushed you harder into the wall, one of his hands wandered up to the back of your head, keeping you from hitting the wall as he fucked you mercilessly.

Even in the situation you were in now, you found it extremely endearing.

“Doctor, please,” you choked out, hands grasping at his back. “I need you, all of you.” You felt him grin against your throat at your words.

“Damn right you do. You’re mine. Only mine. Nobody else gets to touch you.” He enunciated with a particularly hard thrust, “Look at you. Fuck, nobody even gets to think about you.” He let out a filthy moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I’ll kill the next bastard that thinks they can take you from me.”

Tightening around his cock, your impending orgasm was making itself known. The Doctor knew it too, keeping his thrusts hard and fast.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, love? When you do, you’re going to scream for me. Scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to. Be good and come for me. Now.”

You felt the coil snap as your orgasm crashed over you. You followed his instructions, screaming his name. Calling out for the universe to hear. Making sure everyone knew what you were.

Property of the Doctor.

A few more thrusts and the Doctor followed with a shout, burying his face into your neck. He marked you inside and out, filling you just as you liked. Spurting his come into you and letting it trail down your arse. Leaving you absolutely fucked filthily and ruined for anyone who even thought of trying their luck with you.

“Thank you,” you sighed happily as he helped ease you down off of him. It didn’t take long for him to clean you both up and drag you off to the TARDIS.

He made sure you knew you were his at least five more times that night.

#my fic #tenth doctor #doctor who #tenth doctor x reader #time lord victorious #dark!ten

385 notes · View notes

ohmtoff · 7 months

Note

you made me think ab nerd nick too damn much its concerning. imagine jerking him off while he yaps ab his geeky stuff, stuttering and his words slurring when you squeeze around his tip

ANON…. youre actually my soulmate how did we think of the same thing (nsfw)

nerdy nick who’s far sighted so he regularly wears his glasses that make his eyes look bigger and just adorable. his wardrobe consists of graphic tees and hoodies that fit him awkwardly and his hair is most of the time disheveled.

nerdy nick whose budget goes to cosplay and comic con because those things are expensiveee and his brothers try their hardest to support him by helping him make the costumes (imagine nick unironically doing the anime hands thing around chris and matt and they try not to cringe LMFAOOOOO).

nerdy nick who yaps soooo much about his interests, from lord of the rings lore to his fav doctor from doctor who. i can just IMAGINE him making video essays complaining ab the new live action avatar series and how it doesnt hold up to the original series.

nerdy nick who’s the same sassy and witty guy as we know but he also puts that energy to defend his fav characters on the internet. best believe he has a stan account. many of his tattoos are dedicated to his comfort characters as well.

nerdy nick whose interests look innocent to others but behind closed doors he regularly reads and writes the most sheet gripping, back arching, toe curling smut about his fav fictional men. erwin from aot, thorin from the hobbit, ALL of jujutsu kaisen. he furiously stroked his dick to the thought of getting fucked dumb by nanami.

nerdy nick who acted normal and talks about regular stuff when he first met you but when he gets comfortable with you he immediately starts yapping. you think he’s just the most adorable thing when his eyes light up when talking about all his interests. you don’t even know what he’s talking about but your attention is hooked. nick, however, was used to people pretending to care about what he’s talking about so he stops himself.

“i’m sorry. ugh, i always talk too much, that was weird and boring”

“no, no, it’s fine. so… uruk-hais are bred between orcs and humans?”

nick wanted to suck your dick right then and there.

having sex with anime playing in the background was not rare between you two. one time, you both were watching an episode when you got distracted by how his tongue was peeking out with concentration. you noticed how fat his tongue was and how red his lips were. those same lips were wrapped around your cock not long after that. nick was gagging and moaning around it, his eyes bubbling up with tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he jerked you off from the base. saliva would drip from his mouth, running down his chin as he struggled to take everything down. he was still wearing those same glasses, sliding down his nose from the sweat. he looks up at you with those big puppy eyes, tears running down his face. the sight makes you groan and shove your dick further into his throat. you thought he looked absolutely beautiful with cum streaks on his glasses.

nerdy nick who sometimes rambles too much and in these times you love teasing him. “come on, baby, tell me more,” you whispered to the back of his ear as he writhed and thrashed on your chest, pants gone and his swollen cock red and dripping as you squeezed the base. “time- time lords have two hearts, so,” he lets out a pathetic whine, “so the doctor never dies, he—mmnghh—they instead regenerate into a new body-AH-“ you squeeze and dug your thumb into his leaking tip. his chest heaves and he pants like a dog. “fu—uck, please, please, please. i wann- i wanna cum, oh please.” you think he deserves it so you quicken your strokes and let him cum. his mouth releasing unintelligible noises while those beautiful blue eyes go cross eyed.

nerdy nick who becomes your person and who you will go to endless comic cons with, watch a new series with, and who eventually will turn you into an even bigger nerd than he is😩🤞🏼

a/n: i wrote this without pause wtf

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo fanfic

260 notes · View notes

raaorqtpbpdy · 7 months

Text

Made of Meat

Danny Phantom/DC (Animal Man) crossover (thank you @stealingyourbones for the prompt)

When strange, faintly glowing meat creatures start rampaging through the streets of San Diego, there's only one man to call. And when Animal Man could use a helping hand, Phantom swoops in to assist. Or, Danny Phantom and Animal Man team up to fight the Lunch Lady

Read it on AO3

[Warnings for minor violence, mentions of vomit, and repeated mentions/descriptions of raw meat]

When strange, faintly glowing meat creatures started rampaging through the streets of San Diego, there was only one man to call.

Absorbing the power of flight from a hawk overhead, Buddy Baker, A.K.A. Animal Man soared toward downtown to confront the monsters wreaking havoc on the innocent civilians of his city, his blond hair fluttering in the wind.

By the time he arrived, the chaos was well underway. Just like the reports had claimed, several unidentified creatures were causing the brunt of the damage, each of them about four feet tall and composed entirely of raw meat, still dripping with blood and already attracting flies, with glowing red eyes and fleshy teeth. Animal Man could see pools of vomit on the sidewalks from people who had evidently been too disgusted by the creatures to hold down their lunches, but he'd seen far worse himself and wasn't bothered by the creatures' grotesque appearance.

He swooped down to snatch a little girl out of the way of one of the things and take her to the nearest screaming woman—her mother, just as he had guessed—and urged them to run. There weren't as many people downtown as Buddy would have normally expected to see at this time, probably most of them already had already run away, but a few stragglers still remained, most of them filming the incident on their phones, some hiding, none of them in immediate danger.

With his bird's eye view, Animal Man had spotted a peculiar woman in the center of the commotion. She looked confused and sickly, with greenish skin. It wasn't her appearance that bothered him, though. Something about her felt off, and it unsettled the hero in a way he couldn't quite put into words. Using the sharp ears of a bat from the nearby zoo, he could hear her even from high in the sky, demanding to know where she was and what was for lunch.

Whoever she was, Buddy was pretty sure she was the woman in charge, and these meat gremlins were her doing. If he could knock her out, or better yet, peacefully convince her to stop, her creatures would stop too.

With the strength of a charging rhino, Animal Man plowed through her meaty minions with little trouble and slammed his whole body into her, sending her flying a few feet to land sprawled on the ground. He rushed forward to pin her so she couldn't get away, and it was then that he began to realize what was so off about her.

Her skin was cold and green, her eyes glowed red, and her clothes were about forty years out of date. But even more strange that that, he didn't feel any connection to her through the Red. The Red connected all animal life, from the tiniest single-celled organism, to the biggest blue whale, and humans were included in that. Through the Red, Animal Man could absorb the powers of any living creature.

Not this woman, though.

She looked human, and acted human... but she wasn't human.

Animal man dug deeper, trying to feel out a connection to the Green, or the Rot. It was harder for him to sense them, but all three elements were connected, and they encompassed all living things, even after death.

Except for this mysterious woman.

She wasn't fauna, or flora, or decay. And now that he was feeling through the Red, he realized that her constructs weren't connected to it either, even though they looked like they could have crawled right out of it moments before they showed up here. Buddy didn't know how that was possible, but right now, what she was didn't matter half as much as stopping her.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore," he said firmly, "but you have to stop what you're doing, or I'll be forced to. I can't let you keep attacking innocent people with your creatures. It has to stop."

The woman scowled and stood up, her body passing right through Animal Man like he was made of air, and a chill ran down his spine and he shuddered as he fell a few inches onto the asphalt below.

"What the...?" He tried to grab her again, but he couldn't even touch her. His hands passed right through her, like he was trying to catch smoke.

"You think you can stop me?!" the woman demanded, her hair standing up and writhing like snakes on her head. The meat monsters turned as one and began to converge on Animal Man. "Today's menu is doom, and now, it's lunchtime!"

"It's four-thirty!"

Animal Man snapped his head up toward the sound of the new voice, and saw a teenager flying into view. He wore a black and white jumpsuit, had white hair, and the green glow of his eyes was visible even from a distance. The teen rocketed down and slammed his fists right into the strange woman's face, sending her skidding backwards.

"You!" she hissed, her eyes widening and pulsing red—it was terrifying in person, but Buddy couldn't help the thought that it was reminiscent of a really angry Loony Tunes character.

Immediately, her creatures turned their attention away from Animal Man, and toward the newcomer. Evidently, she and him had a history. And she'd determined that the kid was a higher priority than Buddy was.

"That's right, Lunch Lady, it's me again," the kid said, grabbing a thermos that was hanging off his belt. "And I'm here to tell you that the only thing on the menu for you today is soup!"

Whatever he planned to do with that thermos, he didn't get the chance, as one of the meat gremlins morphed its arm into a long whip and knocked it away from him.

"Ew!" the kid said, dropping a few feet to punch the nearest creature and then dry-heaving for a second. "Are these things raw? Why—eugh!" he cut himself off with a shudder as another one got close and he had to punch it. Clearly the creatures were not his bag.

"Hey kid!" Animal Man shouted, ready to offer his help.

"It's Phantom," the kid shouted back. "Wait, who're you?"

"Animal Man," he replied. "I'll keep the meat things occupied if you can deal with her."

"You sure, dude?" Phantom flew back out of the meat things' reach with a grimace, and dodged the sprays of blood they spewed up after him looking almost as green as the Lunch Lady. "These things are pretty gross. Way grosser than the last time I fought 'em."

"I've handled grosser than them," Buddy assured. "They're not a problem—but I can't fight someone I can't touch."

Phantom turned slightly to look at the Lunch Lady, who was laughing triumphantly, and got splashed in the back of the head by one of the meat creatures still bombarding him. He yelped in disgust, and Buddy pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

"Alright, deal!" Phantom agreed, wiping the back of his head with a gloved hand. "I'll leave 'em to you, just don't let them merge with each other, or her, they become a much bigger problem that way."

"Got it!"

Animal Man summoned up some elephant strength, leopard agility and the reflexes of a fly and ran at the creatures. The force of his punches caused them to burst apart instantly, and in the time it took one to reform itself, he could take down three more.

Meanwhile, Phantom shot upward, firing a green beam at the Lunch Lady. His head turned frantically, like he was looking for something, but he didn't seem to find it. The Lunch Lady screamed as he dive-bombed her again, this time sending her through a wall—the wall itself undamaged. She came back through it moments later, back on her feet and angrier than ever.

As much as he wanted to keep an eye on the kid to make sure he didn't get hurt, Buddy still had to focus on his own fight. Phantom was clearly familiar with this enemy, had apparently fought her before, and he seemed like he could handle himself. None of that stopped Buddy from worrying. None of his worrying changed the fact that he had a job to do.

In his moment of distraction, one of the creatures slammed into the side of Animal Man's knee, knocking him down. He used his elephant strength to throw it off and watched it splatter into a bloody, fleshy mass against a concrete wall.

As he rolled over to get back on his feet and resume the fight, he saw the thermos Phantom had dropped. It had rolled out of sight under the bus stop bench. That must've been what the kid was looking for! Although Animal Man had no idea what Phantom could need it for, he darted forward like a cheetah on all fours and snatched the thermos up.

"Hey Phantom!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and kicking another creature into pieces. "You need this, right?"

Phantom turned, and grinned widely when he saw what his new ally was holding. Animal Man threw it up to him and he caught it easily and uncapped it right away, aiming it at the Lunch Lady.

Animal Man punched out another meat gremlin as a blue light shone from inside the thermos, and the Lunch Lady screamed and shouted in protest as she was sucked inside. As soon as the cap was back on the thermos, the remaining creatures collapsed into piles of raw meat, covered in rocks and dirt and buzzing flies. How this mess would get cleaned up was anyone's guess.

Fight ended, Phantom flew down to where Animal Man was standing, surrounded by a ring of red meat and plucked poultry, but did not touch down on the ground. A strategic choice, although it was a bit too late for the other hero to do the same.

"Eugh, I smell like a butcher shop and I have entrails in my hair," Animal Man commented, sniffing his sleeve with a grimace. "My wife isn't gonna so much as wave hello until I take a shower, and it's gonna be hell getting the stench outta my suit."

"Oh, uh... here."

Phantom put his hand on Buddy's shoulder, and a cold empty sensation wracked his body for a few seconds. All the gross chunks and fluids dropped to the ground, falling through him like he was made of air, just like the Lunch Lady had moved through him earlier. When Phantom took his hand away, Buddy was clean. Even the smell didn't seem to be coming from him anymore, although it still definitely surrounded him.

"Wow, thanks," Buddy said, marveling at the distinct lack of red stains on his white gloves which had been absolutely soaked in it a moment before. "That trick must come in pretty useful for you."

"Yeah, well, it's the least I could do after you helped me out," Phantom said. His shoulders hunched and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It was all my fault the Lunch Lady attacked in the first place. I was stupid and forgot to make sure the thermos was empty before I left Amity Park."

"Hey, you're not stupid; don't say that. Everyone makes mistakes, what's important is that you were able to fix it," Animal Man argued.

Phantom smiled gratefully, and it wasn't until he took his hand away from his neck that he seemed to remember the splatter of blood and juices he'd gotten from one of the creatures and he wrinkled his nose at the red stain on his own glove. He hardly seemed to think about it as he turned himself intangible like he had to Buddy before and let the viscera fall to the sidewalk with a splat.

"So... what was she anyway?" Buddy asked, doing his best to keep a straight face. "The Lunch Lady I mean. She definitely wasn't human, I could tell that much."

"Oh, she was a ghost," Phantom replied. "I'm a ghost, too, but I'm a good guy, I swear. Sorry, I forget not a lot of people have seen ghosts outside of Amity Park. They're super common where I come from."

"A ghost, huh?"

Animal Man considered that. It would make sense. A ghost was dead, but not decaying, not made of flesh or vegetation. Not fauna, not flora, not rot. It tracked with what he had sensed from the woman before. But if Phantom was a ghost too, that meant he'd died at about the same age Buddy's own son, Cliff, had, and that sent a pang of heartache through the man's chest.

One thing didn't make sense, though. Phantom claimed to be a ghost, like the Lunch Lady, but unlike with her, Buddy could sense Phantom through the Red. It was a thin connection, like the kid was hanging onto it by a thread, but it was a solid one, too. If this kid really was a ghost, he wasn't the same as the one he'd just trapped in that thermos of his.

For a moment, Buddy thought about pressing for answers, but he quickly decided against it. It could be that the truth was too personal, or embarrassing, or even dangerous for Phantom to reveal, especially to a virtual stranger, even one who'd helped him out. Besides everyone was entitled to their secrets. Instead, Animal Man smiled at the kid and clapped him on the back.

"That's pretty cool," he said. "Say, do ghosts eat? You should come over to my place for dinner. After a hard-fought battle like that, I'd say you deserve it."

"You can eat after fighting those things?" Phantom looked down at what remained of the meat creatures and gagged.

"Trust me, if I wasn't already a vegetarian, I would be after this," Buddy replied. "My wife's making some meat-free lasagna, and we always have tons of leftovers. She usually doesn't like me taking hero stuff home with me, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind in this case."

"She knows you're a hero?"

The open shock on Phantom's face was a bit of a surprise, but then again, he had said he was from out of town. Just because Buddy was often swarmed by local paparazzi, didn't mean he was any more than regionally famous.

"Everyone knows," he said with a shrug. "I don't keep my identity a secret. It can get annoying sometimes, but I don't really have any reason to. I'm not one of the big-shots, like Batman and Wonder-Woman. You're not from around here, so I bet you never even heard of Animal Man before today."

"Well... no...."

"Exactly," Buddy made sure to grin wide enough that the kid knew there were no hard feelings about it. "So what do you say? You coming over for dinner, or what?"

"I'd love to, but I can't," Phantom said apologetically. "I have to deal with all this meat and then my—uh... I just have other plans tonight."

"You need help with the clean up?"

Phantom frowned down at the piled of meat still surrounding the two of them.

Maybe this really hadn't been the best place to discuss dinner plans. Man, Buddy really was desensitized to this kinda stuff wasn't he? For a guy who didn't eat meat, he sure spent a lot of time surrounded by it, both in the Red, and now here.

"Nah," Phantom decided finally. "I think I can just turn the ground intangible and phase everything down under the street level so it can decompose."

"Just turn the ground intangible, huh?" Animal Man huffed a light laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, alright, if you're sure. I should get going anyway. Stay safe, kiddo. Maybe I'll see you around again before you head back home."

"Uh..." Phantom blinked owlishly at him. "Y-yeah... you uh... stay safe too."

Animal Man smiled and nodded, and took off toward his home, borrowing the power of flight from a pigeon on a telephone wire. The way Phantom had reacted, it was almost like no one had ever said that to him before. Stay safe.

Where had he said he was from? Amity Park?

Maybe Animal Man should keep tabs on him from now on, just in case. After all, ghost or not, he was still just a teenager, and all heroes needed allies from time to time.

#dpxdc #crossover #fic #things i wrote #I have way more ideas for DP/animal man crossovers so this fic will likely be the first of many #animal man

159 notes · View notes