#let them use that overpowered weapon

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Tender Care.

Written for a very lovely, very indulgent anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Yor x Reader (SxF).

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Slight Asphyxiation, Overstimulation, Implied Violence, Bad Medical Advice, Oral Sex, Delusional Behavior, and Prolonged Stalking.

[Part Two]

Your first instinct was, unimpressively, to assume that she’d followed you here.

It wasn’t the most brilliant idea that’d ever flashed across your mind, but honestly, what else were you supposed to think? You could count the number of days in the past three months you hadn’t ‘coincidentally’ run into the Forgers on a single hand, and you had to hold the precious few nights you didn’t spend helping Loid cook for his busy family or attempting to tutor Anya or trying to talk your way out of whatever family outing they’d invited you on close – if you could really call Yor showing up on your doorstep with a spare dress and a beaming smile an invitation. You couldn’t seem to get rid of them, so it wasn’t out of the question that you wouldn’t be as safe as you’d hoped in the sanctuary of an opera house two trains and three taxis away from the little apartment complex that’d become your waking nightmare. Even if it was only Yor, rather than all three. Even if she clearly wasn’t paying attention to you, her concentration solely on the man she had pinned to wall, one hand wrapped around his throat and a long, needle-like blade clasped in the other. Even if she couldn’t have known you would’ve gotten lost on your way to your seat, couldn’t have snuck into a place like this in a dress sporting so many strange, crimson stains. Even if nothing you were looking at made any sense, you couldn’t help it.

Your second instinct – when you realized that the man she had pinned to the wall wasn’t breathing, that the strange substance painted across her dress probably had something to do with the blood leaking from his throat, that you could only pray she hadn’t come here for you – was to scream.

You covered your mouth as quickly as you could, but it was too late. Yor snapped in your direction, letting the dead man fall to the ground as she turned to face you. Suddenly, as those prying crimson eyes met yours, the hallway between you and her didn’t feel as long as it had, a moment ago, the threat she presented less psychological and more immediate, more physical. Yor seemed to recover from her bloodlust before you managed to pull yourself out of your shock; her eyes widening as she took a step towards you, then another, tucking her weapon into her belt as she approached you slowly, as if her pace would be what scared you away.

And, to her credit, you didn’t move. It was one thing to dread running into your clingy neighbor in an unused wing of an opera house on the other side of town, another entirely to see that same neighbor strangling a man to death. It was all you could do to remind yourself to breathe, to try and fail to stop yourself from shaking as she came to stand in front of you. There was an airy sigh, a quick shake of her head, then her blood-stained hands came up to cup your face, to tilt your head back and force you to acknowledge her adoring stare, the tentative grin tugging at the corner of her lips – not entirely dissimilar to the expression she wore as she forced you out of your peaceful seclusion.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” she asked, in the same gentle tone she used when Anya got into a fight with one of her classmates, when Loid came home with bags under his eyes and only half the energy it would’ve taken to stumble to bed. “I thought you were supposed to be staying home, tonight.”

Did you? You didn’t remember that. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of anything beyond this, beyond the feeling of Yor’s warmth seeping into your cheek, the sight of her looming above you. Had she always been so tall? She couldn’t have been. If it’d always been so clear just how easily she would be able to overpower you, you would’ve moved to the other side of the country the day she and her awful husband moved in.

You didn’t respond, but Yor didn’t seem to care. “It’s alright,” she went on, as if that would be enough to stop your knees from buckling underneath you, as if that would be enough to stop you from running for your life as soon as you remembered how to move your legs. “I’ll have this cleaned up in a few minutes. Then, we can spend the rest of the night together.”

She bowed her head, ducking low enough for her lips to brush against the top of your head and linger there.

She didn’t get a chance to pull away before your legs gave out and the world around you went dark.

~

Yor’s first instinct was, of course, to catch you, smiling as your body went limp and collapsed into her arms.

Her second, rather belatedly, was to remember that she was still very much in the middle of a mission and think that maybe, just maybe, she should stage your little reunion somewhere other than her crime scene.

It helped that her time alone with you was cut short before she could let you distract her, again. For as adorable as she’d found it, your scream had drawn more than a little unwanted attention; she could already hear a rush of footsteps only a few hundred feet away, five or so civilians she didn’t have the clearance to dispose of. With a small frown, a disappointed sigh, she took you into her arms and found somewhere to stow you away – a cramped, forgotten dressing room, left neglected by those responsible for its upkeep. She didn’t bother trying to turn on the lights, relying on her limited sight to find a dust-coated vanity and lean you against a cracked mirror she could only hope wouldn’t cut you. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you got hurt because of her carelessness.

Even unconscious, it was clear you were already in distress. Your breathing was uneven, ragged, and she could practically feel your heart beating as she pressed her ear to your chest, even if she was glad to know it was beating at all. She’d let rose-colored joy tinge your greeting, but she now that she thought about it, Yor could remember how shocked you’d looked to see her, how shaken the sight of so much blood had left you. Oh, poor thing. She couldn’t begin to imagine how scared you must’ve been.

She couldn’t begin to imagine how scared you still were. With her head still resting against your chest, she felt you start to stir, shifting underneath her as your own restlessness brought your brief respite to an abrupt end. Your hands – still shaking, much to Yor’s shame – rose to her shoulders, shoving her away gently as you attempted to speak for the first time since you’d run into each other. “P-please, I need—Please, don’t—”

The footsteps were closer, now, a small collection of vaguely masculine voices coming into earshot. Her hand was around your throat in a moment, her palm forced over your mouth in another. You let out a panicked, muffled shriek, and Yor did what she could to hush you, to comfort you. You looked like you could use some comfort, right now.

“I know, I know, it’s scary,” she started, doing her best to keep her voice down, to make sure her hold on your throat wasn’t too tight, that she wasn’t pressing too hard on anything you couldn’t live without. It’d be a shame to accidentally snap your neck, or worse – choke you until you passed out for the second time that day. Even you wouldn’t forgive her for something like that. “Please, try to stay with me. We just have to wait until the commotion dies down, then I can explain what’s going on.”

Her excuses did little to soothe you. Her heart broke as you kicked and struggled, your nails biting into her wrist and thick, warm tears soon flooding down your cheeks. In any other situation, the sight would’ve brought her to hysterics too, but she couldn’t, she had to be strong for you. Catching her with her mark must’ve left you more off-kilter than she’d thought. You weren’t just startled, you were terrified – no, worse than that, you were irrational, past the point of anything Yor could think to say. You were—

You were hysterical.

The phrase rose up from a half-remembered conversation she’d had with Loid weeks ago, after she commented on how cutely your voice shook and wondered aloud if you were always so nervous, if there was anything they would be able to do to help you lower your guard. It was only a passing thought, an ill-advised suggestion, something he’d mumbled about in a state of exhaustion and refused to mention again after a full night’s rest. Pelvic massages, he’d called them, an outdated treatment administered to women experiencing fits of extreme emotion. Often administered without consent, let alone proper documentation.

‘Outdated’, Loid had called it, but he never said ‘ineffective’.

Yor took a deep breath, steeling herself. She tightened her hold on your throat until each shallow breath took every last drop of your concentration. Only when she was sure you didn’t have the oxygen to cry out did she let her palm fall away from your mouth – taking to the space between your thighs, instead. “I’m going to help you,” she whispered, more for herself than for you. “Just… just let me do this for you, please.”

Her voice shook as she found the hem of your dress. Thankfully, your skirt had pooled around your thighs when she set you on the vanity, meaning she’d only just started to blush by the time she’d dragged it up to your waist. She tried to think about how Loid would handle this, about how he would handle you, but nervous static overwhelmed her more rational thoughts the moment her fingertips made contact with your panties, already damp where the fabric pressed against your slit. That was good. A doctor would’ve thought that was good, surely.

Yor couldn’t help but think that it was great – just how quickly you’d gotten wet for her.

She slipped too fingers underneath the thin material, pulling it to the side. In response, you let out a noiseless whine, only identifiably by the slight reverberation of your throat against her palm, and tried to shut your legs, to stop her from helping you. She worked a knee between your legs before they could close completely, forcing your thighs apart and finding your clit with her thumb, eager to prove how useful she could be before you tried to shut her out again. Admittedly, she wasn’t the most experienced caretaker you could’ve had, but she tried to picture the anatomical models she’d seen in Loid’s study, to think of the way she touched herself when she had a excuse to let herself into your apartment, when she was surrounded by things that smelled like you and unable to hold herself back. Slowly, carefully, she started to circle the bundle of nerves with the pad of her thumb, mindful not to hurt you or leave you feeling neglected, unloved.

When you bucked against her, she only held you more securely. Soon, her chin rested on your shoulder, quiet coos and words of comfort falling past her lips as she slid two fingers into your pussy and scissored them apart, savoring how you clenched around her. You weren’t in a relationship (she would’ve noticed if you were, would’ve made sure no one else got close enough to hurt you), and while she wasn’t sure how often you… how often you took care of yourself, it couldn’t have been often enough. All she had to do was curl her fingers, flick her wrist, pay a little attention to your clit, and you were practically melting around her. As your slick began to drip down the inside of your thighs, she added a third digit, and your body stiffened underneath her touch, a pair of hands shooting up and taking hold of her shoulders. You really were adorable, she thought, as your nails bit into her skin. You really did need her.

It took more than a little strength to remember why she was doing this, to keep herself from leaning into your affection and keep her pace steady, her tempo constant. The most self-indulgence she allowed herself was a stolen kiss to the curve of your neck, right above the point where her hand wrapped around your throat, then another to your collarbone, a satisfied hum escaping despite her best efforts when she realized you were wearing the low-cut dress she and Loid had gotten for you, last time you accompanied them on a day-long shopping trip. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop her heart from skipping a beat as you stiffened, as your pulse raced underneath her palm and the walls of your pussy convulsed around her fingers. Your mouth fell open, but she managed to keep any sound you might’ve made silent as she brought you to your first climax; your orgasm gentle, but intense enough for her to draw out for minutes before it ended and left you limp, clearly exhausted. Your eyes flickered up, meeting hers in a wordless plea to stop, but she couldn’t afford to be soft with you, not when your own well-being was at stake. Not when you so clearly needed her help.

Tearing a strip of material from the ringed collar of her dress, she pushed an apologetic kiss into the corner of your lips and fastened the makeshift choker around your neck, tight enough to keep you quiet, tight enough to make sure you’d have that pretty, glassy-eyed look for just a few minutes longer. She couldn’t hear the civilians anymore, but then again, she couldn’t hear much of anything over the sound of her own heart beating in her hears as she kneeled in front of you, her hands keeping your thighs spread open as she buried her face between your thighs, mouth latching onto your dripping pussy as if by instinct. Attempting to think about what was medically necessary, what was best for your health was beyond her, now, as her tongue lapped over your entrance, as she tasted you for the first time and found pure euphoria between your thighs. For all the joy she felt, she wasn’t surprised. She’d always known you’d be the sweetest thing she ever tasted.

Any noise you might’ve made was quickly replaced by the slick noise of sucking, lapping, savoring. It was messy, not as calculated as she wanted to pretend to be or as tender as it had been whenever she imagined your first time together, but Yor’s best traits had always lied with her passion, her brute strength, and it only took seconds for you to let out a breathy, muffled sob of a moan, to grind stiltedly into her mouth as she swallowed down everything you had to give her. This time, she didn’t attempt to pull away, to act like she could let that much distance form between you and her. Loid had called it a treatment, right? No, it wasn’t a question, she was sure – this was supposed to be a treatment.

And, as far as Yor could tell, that meant she’d have to help you until you were completely, entirely, absolutely better.

No matter how many hours it took to cure you, she wouldn’t leave your side until you’d made a full recovery.

[ageingfangirl2]

Fight Someone Your Own Size! Mihawk (OPLA)

Mihawk comes to your aid and is intrigued by you. Dracule Mihawk x Reader

Part 2

Y/N

You'd just finished a long shift at the local tavern and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest. The tavern wasn't in the nicest part of town, so you always made sure to have a blade on hand in case trouble came your way. Tonight you decided to take a well-known shortcut through a couple of notorious alleys because it would save you a few minutes. It wasn't that you couldn't fight, you could very well, you just weren't a big fan of confrontation.

You make it through the first alley with ease, but the second you step foot into the second alley the air changes and you immediately pull out your blade to defend yourself. Behind you, footsteps can be heard, and just as you pick up your pace, your path is blocked by four men in front of you. Looking over your shoulder you see three more.

The obvious leader of the group steps towards being a burly man with a scruffy beard and sneers at you through yellow teeth, 'Well, well, what do we have here, boys? A little birdie caught in our net.'

The rest of the men snigger and wolf whistle, as you take a deep breath and try to mask your fear, 'I don't want any trouble, just let me through. You can have my money if you want.'

The men shared a wicked laugh, and the leader stepped closer, his eyes filled with malevolence. 'Money? We'll take your money, sweetheart, but we also want a little fun.'

He reveals a blade much longer than you own, and you get into a defensive position not wanting to go down without a fight, 'not going to happen.'

Before you could react, one of the other men lunged at her, brandishing a gleaming switchblade. Instinct kicked in, and you managed to dodge his initial attack, but the odds were stacked against you. The rest of the group closed in, overpowering you with sheer numbers. You feel a sharp pain as a blade grazes your arm.

You managed to get some good stabs in before one punch to the gut sends you to your knees.

'You call yourself men yet you're a disgrace to our kind,' an unfamiliar male voice comes from behind you, his voice monotone, condescending, and a little bored.

You dare to look over your shoulder and see a tall man step out of the shadows, his eyes were piercing, and your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his bare chest and a golden cross that looked heavy. You hadn't seen this man around town before.

Three of the men who attacked you sneer and run at the man weapons ready to strike, but the mystery man almost danced around their attacks with elegance.

'Who the hell are you?' the leader questions.

You use the distraction to get back to your feet, just in time to see the mystery man pull a large sword which was sheathed on his back that looked deadly and impressive, 'I'm bored now,' the man drawls.

He brings down the sword against all three men at once, and the sheer force actually pushes you back a bit.

The leader of the group, realising they were outmatched, grabbed his remaining men and yelled, 'Let's get out of here!' The remaining men flee, leaving you and your mysterious saviour alone in the alley.

The man sheathes his sword and ignores the three dead men at his feet as he turns towards you, 'Are you okay?' he asks in a low, soothing voice.

You nod and put your blade down, 'Err yeah...thank you...did you really have to go that far and kill them?'

The man tilts his head, and you can't help but admire the feather in his hat, 'oh my dear, trust me, I wanted to go much further but they ran away like cowards. You would have probably won if there were fewer, I'm intrigued y/n.'

Your eyes widen, 'how do you know my name? I haven't seen you around town.'

'I only show myself when I absolutely have to. You have a bit of a reputation around town so I was surprised to overhear those men decide to attack you.'

You scuff your feet on the ground, 'I swear I've seen your face somewhere, but I can't remember your name.'

The man turns to walk away, 'Dracule Mihawk, I sense we'll meet again y/n. You have potential.'

Before you can say anything else he all but disappears into the shadows he'd emerged from. Dracule Mihawk, that name meant something to you, but right now you needed to get out of the alley before anyone found the dead bodies and you were attacked again.

[oneshotnewbie]

Emily Prentiss saving reader from an unsub and reader just falls into her arms, sobbing in relief?

ᕚ---ᕘ

In a darkened warehouse in a remote industrial area, the gloomy silence oppressed the air, which was already hard to breathe in due to the thick dust. Emily Prentiss, a supervisory special agent from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, scurried gingerly through the shadowy hallways. Her heartbeat pulsed in her neck vein in harmony with the tension in every fiber of her body. But she had no choice, she was looking for you, a young woman who was the next victim of a notorious serial killer and had potentially been trafficked here.

The dim illumination of the flashlight beneath her drawn weapon bathed the surroundings in a dim light as she lurked and looked around every corner, her weapon tightly gripped in her clammy hands. She had gotten to the middle of the large building when she suddenly heard a faint noise. A stifled whimper under tape or fabric that seemed to come from near an old storage room.

Determined to free you, the black-haired woman moved towards the storage room, her steps deliberate and noiseless. When she reached the door, which was half hanging off its hinges and squeaked gently from the fine blast of air, she listened for a moment before carefully opening it a crack with the barrel of her weapon and shortly afterwards sticking her head through.

Emily's eyes widened in horror and anger as she discovered you tied up and helpless in a dark corner of the room while the suspect, a massive young man with a dark and scowl in his eyes, menacingly approached your powerless body. "FBI! Raise your hands above your head where I can see them!" she shouted with a strong authority in her gravelly voice, her gun unlocked and aimed squarely at the back of the man's head.

The suspect abruptly turned away from you and towards her, a devilish grin on his thin lips, only now did she noticed the shiny silver in his hands. "Agent Prentiss. You're too late to save this pretty thing. She'll be my next trophy and you'll get to watch so it eats you up inside that you couldn't save her in time."

Emily, however, remained calm, her eyes sparkling with determination to free you from the clutches of this monster and get you to safety. “Put the knife down and slowly step away from the woman,” the man in front of her just laughed scornfully and looked back at you for a second. You tried to squeeze yourself deeper into the corner, the look in his eyes deadly. You were panicking. You were afraid for your life. "You won't get in my way, Prentiss. Last time you interfered with my plans and the woman got away. But not this time,"

With a quick movement, he tightened the knife in his hand and rushed towards her, ready to attack and hurt her. But the agent reacted quickly and, as she had learned, ducked skillfully to the side and fired three shots, which, due to her sway in her balance, hit the ground just next to the attacker. The man flinched and frightened for a moment, but his resolve to stop her from saving you seemed undiminished.

In an all-too-quick turn of events, he leapt forward from his crouched position towards her, knife raised high, forcing Emily into an intense hand-to-hand combat. She couldn't use her pistol from such close range. The risk was too high, even for an experienced shooter like her, to hit you and injure or even kill you with one shot. However, her hand-to-hand combat training and experience gave her the advantage over him, but the man was a fierce opponent who would not let go of her until he got what he wanted.

A quick slash of the knife cut the skin above the collarbone, but the agent gritted her teeth and withstood him, her determination to save you unwavering. In a strong counterattack, she cleverly turned to face her, took advantage of the man's open attack area and brought him down, along with herself. She overpowered him and now sat on his thighs, forcing him to drop the knife by grabbing his upper arm and hitting it multiple times on the cold concrete floor before she secured him with handcuffs.

Emily was breathing heavily, the pain in her shoulder was throbbing and the blood was flowing down her dark blue blouse, but her eyes quickly darted to you, who was still cowering in fear in the corner. She quickly freed you from the restraints, pulled the tape from your mouth and hugged you protectively while you fell into her strong arms, sobbing in relief. She was desperately trying to calm you down with gentle words. "It's over, sweetie. You're safe."

More police sirens and their team approached their position in the warehouse as Emily, continuing to ignore her sore shoulder, carefully led you out of the darkness. You shivered uncontrollably in her arms as the cold night air enveloped you, but you also felt a soothing warmth as you clung to your rescuer.

The emotions that overwhelmed you and dragged every fiber of your body into a deep quagmire left you struggling to breathe, and tears began to stream inexorably down your cheeks. Emily pulled you closer to her, feeling the tremble on the side of her body and your pulse beating wildly in your arms as she held you gently. "It's over. You're safe and nothing can happen to you anymore."

Her words were a distant echo in your head as you sobbed desperately, the weight of fear and agony of the last day released in an overwhelming torrent of tears. Your legs felt weak, like you couldn't take another step, but Emily supported you gently, her presence like an anchor in the middle of a violent storm at sea.

The environment around you seemed to fade and you were unsure of your voice, however a few words came out quietly between the sobs, barely audible but full of gratitude and deep relief that Emily had saved you. "Thank you, Agent Prentiss. Thank you for helping me. I thought I would never get out of there alive again."

"That's my job, sweetie. I loved doing it," Emily hugged you gently again, her own heart heavy with compassion. She stroked your back soothingly while a gentle kiss touched your hair. "You've been brave and now you're here and I'm with you. It's over."

The minutes passed as you slowly came out of shock and regained your composure. Your breaths became deeper and slower, your heart calmed and its pulse rate normalized. Emily continued to hold you gently in her arms by the ambulance steps, supporting you until your tears stopped and you were assessed by the paramedics. “Can I go home please?” You murmured in a shaky voice, looking up at her, your eyes red and tired.

The agent nodded gently and stood, lending you a hand to hold you before leading you to her car that was parked nearby. You felt exhausted but also relieved as you sank into the passenger seat of the car, Emily standing by your side.

The drive to your home was filled with a calming silence as Emily made sure to bring you cheerfully back to your family. Only when she sat down on the top steps of your family home and convinced herself that you were safe from now on and were being looked after by trustworthy hands did she leave the house. But not without giving you her private number first so you could call her when you needed someone to talk to.

[planetxiao]

# MORNING LIGHT

𖤐 bachira meguru ; mikage reo ; nagi seishiro x reader

⟢ fluff, headcanons // things they do in the morning that make the sunlight feel just a bit warmer <3

𖤐 BACHIRA MEGURU

TRACES YOUR LIPS TO WAKE YOU UP.

On the very very rare occasions that Bachira wakes up before you, it takes him a second to realize you’re still asleep. He’ll mumble a sleepy “G’morning…” before instinctually leaning his head toward you, awaiting a kiss. Upon noticing the lack of response, he’ll crack his eyes open to see you slumbering peacefully next to him. After admiring your pretty features within the sunlight that slips into your bedroom, Bachira will trace the shape of your lips lightly with his fingertip, utterly entranced by how soft they are.

The look in his eyes could be described as one of a lovestruck fool, completely taken by your soft breaths and glowing skin; though, he finds your lips to be the most irresistible both in the way they look and the way they feel. His gaze is always drawn to them no matter the time — whether you’re talking, smiling, focusing on something, etc.

His amber irises follow the path of his fingertip on your lips, memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and curve of your bottom lip. It only takes a couple rounds of tracing to make you stir, your eyes scrunching briefly before fluttering open. When your eyes meet his, Bachira is quick to plant a kiss to your lips with a small “G’morning, hun’ bun.” You respond with a peck to his temple — the one he had yearned for all morning —and with that, your morning routines had been completed.

𖤐 MIKAGE REO

LEAVES YOU LOVE NOTES ON THE NIGHTSTAND.

As a professional soccer player, Reo often has to leave for training just as dawn breaks. His stacked schedule makes it so that you’re able to fall asleep within his arms, but wake up in an empty bed. Though you haven’t complained about this, Reo still feels guilt when he leaves you without so much as a greeting. So, Reo does what he feels is the next best thing: he writes you little love notes to wake up to.

The notes are full of words he wishes he could exchange with you before leaving; love confessions, reminders to take care of yourself, letting you know he’s thinking of you, etc. Messages that look like “Morning, my love. Remember to eat breakfast! I’ll be thinking about you all day. Be home soon. I love you. xx, Reo.” Each day it’s a different one, but they all hold the same kind of sentiment.

It’s the least he could do, he thinks, since he is rarely able to share the morning with you. He’ll place them on the nightstand and press a kiss to your forehead before leaving, hoping his written words can somewhat make up for the missing morning greetings and cuddles. And to you, they do. They never fail to bring a smile to your face when you read them. In fact, you have an entire box full of every note he has left you.

𖤐 NAGI SEISHIRO

PRESSES A KISS TO THE BACK OF YOUR NECK.

Nagi is quite hard to wake up in the morning, ever the sleepyhead and lazy boy; this is something you have known since you started dating. You pull out every method to coax him from his slumber, but sometimes all you get are groans in return. Instead of finally giving up and opening his eyes, he’ll pull you back down into bed with his chest pressed to your back, a gentle kiss being placed on the back of your neck that makes you melt into his arms again.

It had taken a bit of time, but you started to understand Nagi’s nonverbal language that he uses from time to time. In this instance, the kiss on the back of your neck meant, “Stay in bed with me a little longer,” and the way his hold on you would tighten only confirmed it. After such a soft gesture, you find it hard to fight him. He has this weapon to overpower your initial motives, and it works every time.

In some ways, Nagi Seishiro annoyed you with the effect he had on you. Even if you wanted to get back up, his warmth was just too inviting, his small snores too cute, his hold too comforting to will yourself away. Stay in bed with me a little longer, a silent request that you can’t seem to refuse. So, you relent, letting your hand find one of his and interlocking them as you let your eyes flutter back closed, Nagi’s breath lulling you to sleep once again.

note: still trying to get their characterizations down, but omg mothe actually wrote something!! wow!!

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

Hi! I wanted to ask for Percy x daughter of Apollo headcanons? Like best friends to lovers or wtv you feel like! Thank you but no worries if not 💕💕

☆Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo☆

Authors note: This is so sweet, i love best friends to lovers. (also, not me literally searching up what wtv means only to find out it means whatever and its not a trope lol)

you're his agapitós, just so you know. maybe he will come up with a nice nickanme and a private nickname for the two of you in private.

The child of Apollo has a bit of a love/hate relationship with their godly parent. On one hand, they admire Apollo's power and grace, but on the other hand, they feel like they can never live up to him.

They often struggle to decide if they should be proud of being his child, or if they should resent him for his high expectations.

Despite this inner turmoil, they do strive to live up to Apollo's ideals and make him proud.

Their relationship with Percy is a bit tense at times, you might often feel that Percy is too overprotective and doesn't let you take risks.

Despite this friction, you both genuinely care about each other deeply.

your bond with him is strong, you are dating a guy who only has eyes for his beloved.

maybe the child of apollo has a friend who is a troublemaker, a trickster and a prankster; which is how you managed to get acquainted with Percy.

Though you might not be a child of the big three or a prodigy like Annabeth, you put on a brave face and take down your foes with your skills, whether its medicine, archery, light - any weapon at all!

perhaps you are a charming person and can convicne a bunch of people to do something, even if you dont have charmspeak.

you are known to be the mediater during fights, someone people can rely on for good input since you arent biased. Which could be useful when dealing with the constant drama of demigod life.

capture the flag is the time for you to shine.

(I had to google this);The child of Apollo has the power to harness the energy of the sun, allowing them to create destructive solar blasts, drain the power of others, or even create an aura of warmth.

So, imagine the reader just harnessing the power of a STAR to make themselves overpowered in battle, landing accurate shots with their bow or even straight up knives, becoming faster and agile - flexible, moving so fast it looks natural.

heck, this type of fighting style is for sure gonna make percy stare and admire you.

I IMAGINE that you have a warm body because of the godly power that runs throuhg you, so if you were to hold percys hand (i imagine that hes kind of cold) youre a perfect pair.

demigod life is crazy and percy keeps getting dragged on quests, what if you join him and break the "3-people maximum in a party" rule? he would not care, he wants you near him because he trusts you and your abilities.

healing properties would also be nice but dont get too stressed, percy would never out you on the spot to make you uncomfortable.

percy is a feeler, he understands people because no one took the time to understand him, other than people really close to him. if you even furrow your brow in the slightest, this guy will try to think of anything that happened that day to make you upset or annoyed, and try to think of a solution. his solution is to engage in an awkward convo and give a compliment/pat on the back, but hes so goddamn awkward its funny but you cant laugh because you kind of want percy to keep doing right?

so you start doing the same, sit next to him when hes sitting alone, make your way toward him when he's literally just standing there completely comfortable with being alone;

but no, you want him to know you're there. give him a small smile and he would see you as somebody he can tlak to about his feelings! heck!!

during the pjo-series he never really lets himself feel too much, and instead undermines his feelings to the point he starts to ignore his on needs.

luckily, you are his anchor too. keep him on his toes but not in the way annabeth or the way his mother does; but in another way that can be even seen as intimite, if thats the right word for it.

caressing his back and wiping away his tears but letting him know that "hey, im not wiping them away because I want you to stop, but i'm wiping them away to let you know you're safe and not alone".

by the way, that last line?, would definetly make percy stop and stare at you like a deer in headlights and just try to process this whole entire situation. i dont know why but its funny for me to imagine him being angry or sad and just suddenly stopping, his eyebrows shoot up and he's staring at you as if he cant believe somebody does actually care about what he feels.

percy is a feeler who wont let himself feel, but you are there to remind him that in order for him to even confront his enemies, his foes - he needs to make an ally of himself first.

"dont make yourself your own enemy"

"*again percy is at a loss for words*"

beautiful and powerful, courages but not too aggressive, sentimental and empathetic, are words to describe the reader (definetly not percys own internal thoughts about you cough cough).

you stand out on your own, not because of who your godly parent is, but because of who you are. thats powerful and enough in itself. you dont need to be someone important to the prophecy or the war, you dont need to be someone great. you hold value in your worth for being you.

I feel like at some point you want percy to get out off his head for one second and look at himself the way you look at him.

it's up to you to determine what kind of person you want to be and what you want to make of your own life. and not because of some great prophecy.

Percy has always tried to do the best he can to live up to his destiny, but his own sense of self-worth and identity doesn't rely on those outside factors. percy values freedom and choice, which is why in the end he chose you because you make an impact on his life and his place in the world.

percy really isnt that difficult to get along with. if we tke a look at kane chronicles, he got to know the main character and was somewhat comfortable with him after fighting alongside him for literally 30-40minutes. the problem is that he never really opens up, maybe a result of his uppringing and unresolves trauma - you need to remind him that: control is not the same as suppression.

you would turn his world upside down for the better and his way thinking.

if its difficult through words, you write it down and make an essay about how great he is and how much more he can do with just being himself. he would read this in his room and on the ride home from long-island over and over again, at first he would be shocked - then flattered, happy and somewhat flustered.

he finds this compassionate side of you cute, that you are never really aggressive but are when it comes to letting him know that he is worth it and worth so much more.

he finds this side of you endearing, you speaking up (maybe not always but when the time is right) you stand tall with your chest full of words and you speak.

percys world would transform because of you. he cant be attracted to your light. it might seem like a normal light but it sparks full of life until it completely takes over before he can even understand whats going on.

His perspective and outlook on life would be completely altered by your compassionate and uplifting words.

He would be entranced by your light, drawn in by its brightness and energy, until it finally consumes him completely.

It's a powerful and transformative process that he might not even be able to comprehend or resist.

With you by his side, he would be transformed into something greater than he ever believed possible.

percy would in the end find his voice to speak up about his troubles, isntead of cracking a joke or making it seem like a joke.

or like the scene in HOO with Jason - just moving and and changing the subject when he sees that nobody said anythingn to comfort him (this scene makes me a tad-bit sad, he said it himself that he wasn't ok but bc they were exchausted nobody said anything so he just pretended he didnt say anything in the first place). but dont you think this is evidence that he does try to get better with speaking up, but he just needs someone to reach their hand out.

the two of you have a unique and intense connection to one another. percys sense of duty combined with your passionate nature, makes both an intriguing and powerful couple.

percy would be attached to you; your energy and he would feel inspired and motivated for bringing out a new side of himself.

at some point, percy stops looking shocked when you scold him for not caring about his feelings and while you go on a rant about how he's so important, he instead has a small smile on his face while hes looking up at you through his bangs.

reader: goes on a rant about percys emotions and how great he really is, not bc of his father but because of the way he truly and deeply cares for people and is even willing to look past past-mistakes

*literally batting his eyelashes because butterflies keep dancing in his stomach but he cant stop staring at you*

annabeth would exchange a knowing-look and smile when you make eye contact with her during one of your speeches, and you feel shy because you're realize that people are staring and PERCY IS STARING WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING so he quickly finish the speech and walk fast out of there.

percy strives to be the best partner he can be.

As Percy begins to gain more confidence and express himself in a more authentic way, he would be more honest and upfront about his feelings, including his feelings for the child of Apollo.

When given the moment to confess, he would seize the opportunity and kiss the child of Apollo with a slightly sheepish smile, perhaps even a tad embarrassed about putting himself out there so directly. However, he would also be proud of his newfound confidence and would look forward to growing and developing this relationship with you....

the type of guy to be entranced by you when you speak for multiple reasons; hes inlove and loves you, he loves the way you speak, he cant stop staring at you face light up when you talk about something you consider worth of value, he cant stop staring at your lips.

i feel like every time you lick your lips during a convo with him or in a group setting, his eyes automatically flicker downwards to stare at them for a good second.

he whips his head around when he hear your voice and turns his body to the direction you are, even when someone is trying to talk to him.

blushing around your affections. this guy would get giddy at night thinking about the fact that you just took a leaf out of his hair or straightened up his shirt.

when you are around his home turf he wants to grab your attention by any means. his favourite thing is if he's able to grab your attention when you're talkign to someone, and makes you stop mid-sentence because of whatever he's doing.

he would strut over to you and you think hes just gonna talk to you like normal but he surges ofrward and give you a peck, and he watches your reaction as when he pulls away. his insecurities are still there but hes getting better.

he likes it especially, another favourite of his, is if he makes you flustered. whether you try to ignore him or you start breathing faster (which he can tell btw) or if you have a certain habit of touching something or somewhere on your body, he likes to pay attention and be attentive to the little things about you. he needs to know everything.

okay, his ALL TIME FAVOURITE, is if you try to suppress that beautiful smile. your mouth twitches, the corners of your eyes crinkle just a tiny bit, you lick you lips and try to pretend that you're cool - but then you let your guard down and let yourself smile.

he absolutely loves it when you look at him after that. your gaze is different from usual. of course, you always look at him in a way that only lovers do, but this look in your eyes is for him and him only. that special look of love and devotion in your eyes is his.

he loves every moment of vulnerability and weakness between the two of you, he likes to savour every moment with you...

[arireynes]

Thinking about being a royal's loyal guard. I'll do anything they ask of me, and I'm so eager to obey them that when they ask me to start staying in their room at night, I'd do it without question.

But I wouldn't know they slept in a loose, silky, practically see-through robe. Or that they shifted so much in their sleep that the blanket uncovered them, leaving them bathed in moonlight. I wouldn't have known that they had dirty dreams, or that they gasped and arched in their sleep.

They'd thank me each morning with a smile, and I'd nod and not mention how needy seeing them that way got me. It would go on for days, then weeks before I finally worked up the nerve to do anything.

One night, I'd let my hand slip down, eyes on my pretty royal. I'd listen to their sweet sounds, and let myself get off on it, till I'm gasping my way to a silent release.

And, of course, that night would be the first time they wake up. They'd catch me rushing to compose myself, and scold me for getting off watching them. I tower over them, but I'm embarrassed as they get up off the bed to ask me what I like about watching them? Was it seeing their skin on display? Or the pretty noises they make? Was I imagining having them beneath me?

They'd laugh when I'd confirm yes to all of those. They'd tell me that only in my dreams would they let me fuck them. They can't be sore the next morning, now can they? But they have an alternate situation, if I wanted.

And I wouldn't be able to disagree.

So I'd find myself laid out on their bed, stripped of my armor and weapons, my lovely royal between my legs, smirking down at me. They'd tease me for getting overpowered so easily, saying that I'm so much stronger, but I'll be good and obey because that's all I can do, right? I'm their knight, and they know I'll listen to them.

And I'd be so desperate, and beg them to have their way with me. Tell them that I'll take it because I'll do everything I can to give them what they want. They'd praise me, and tell me that I'm such a good knight for them, and that they may need to keep me if I'll be so well behaved.

And that's how I would become the royal's favorite knight by day, and their toy to use at night.

[gingiesworld]

Family Ties (1/?)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Angst.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories

If anyone wants to be a part of the taglist, please drop me a message or comment. Have a boss day my awesome dudes.

18+ MINORS DNI

The Selene clan were well known among the other werewolf bloodlines. They were feared by most, and worshiped by more. Although, power can be an untrustworthy friend to have. Ricard Selene, one of the Elder's who had made a deal with a growing organization, thinking he would be protecting his clan. Only to be proven wrong one night.

As everyone had tried to save the young, running into the woods. Ricard made sure that Y/N was unable to follow her family. As much as she tried to bite and claw at him, he was stronger.

"This will be our new beginning little one." He told her with a smirk as he led her to one of the agents.

Y/N looked around in horror as a vast majority of her family were unfortunate, laying lifeless and scattered among the fields. Y/N tried to get away, but she was only a pup, she was unable to overpower them as they injected her with an unknown liquid, all she knew was that her entire body screamed as her blood felt like it was on fire.

"What was that?" Ricard questioned as the Agent smiled wickedly.

"Aconitine." He informed him as the two watched as Y/N writhed in pain.

"Wolfsbane." He stated as the agent nodded, signaling for another two to place her in a cage.

"This little one will help us create the ultimate weapon." He smirked as Y/N was loaded up into the van. Ricard followed them as he saw the bloodshed because of his actions. He knew at that moment, he would never be accepted back into the clan. He would be murdered brutally if he was found by any of his family.

Although he never realised that Y/N's father, Aaron was watching from the treeline. His youngest in his arms as he felt anger and pain as he watched his daughter get taken away like some rabid animal.

As the years went on, Y/N was experimented on, her blood drawn and studied. She was forced to train endless hours as she had a constant drip of aconitine running through her veins. When the night fell, she would be chained up and muzzled, as though the agents were afraid she would escape.

"Come on mut." An agent sneered as he slashed her arm, causing her to yelp out in pain. "Change." He ordered her. It had become a regular thing, the constant transformations would take its toll on her, especially with the constant injections and lack of nutrition. It was worse than death itself, although she woke everyday, hoping it would be her last. What she never knew was that one of her own family watched every day as she was tortured.

"So, you think this is another base like the Strucker base?" Tony questioned Steve as they all sat in the briefing room.

"Yes." Steve stated. "It is the second base that has been confirmed to take part in experimentation, but is even more heavily guarded than the Strucker base for some reason."

"Maybe it might be another infinity stone?" Thor questioned as Steve shook his head.

"We already found the mind stone in Loki's scepter." He pointed to Vision. "The space stone is off-world with the reality stone. The mind stone is with Dr Strange and the power stone is also off world and who knows where the soul stone is."

"So this base is kind of like Fort Knox." Tony stated. "We would be stupid to go there!"

"But we could be stopping something that could end the world." Natasha stated as everyone turned to her. "Maybe if we ask Fury for a team of agents to help take out the guards while we infiltrate the base, get whatever intel we can get our hands on and blow the place up."

"What if we find prisoners?" Wanda questioned as Tony huffed.

"Leave them behind and let them die." He told her.

"We can't do that!" Steve yelled as Tony scoffed.

"We don't need any more enhanced individuals running around here." Tony told them.

"You can't be serious." Steve scoffed. "They are still human, we can help them like we did with the twins." He gestured to Wanda who played with her fingers at the mention of her brother.

"You can't control their powers, Steve." Tony seethed.

"I don't need to control their powers, I just need to earn their trust and let them know that they are safe." Steve told him firmly.

"So it's settled, any prisoners we bring with us for Cho and Bruce to check out." Natasha spoke firmly, looking around the room and waiting for anyone to disagree, her eyes soon glaring holes in Tony's head.

"We leave at sundown." Steve told them before he left the room with an angry Tony on his tail. Natasha had requested backup for this mission, only getting a firm yes from Fury.

The start of the mission went as expected, many Hydra agents were ready for the attack on the base. The SHIELD agents helped in taking the enemy out and covering the Avengers as they infiltrated the base.

"I have the intel." Tony informed everyone as Nat and Steve had walked side by side, lines of cells were locked but most remained empty.

"We have a prisoner." Steve informed them as he opened the door as Nat entered the cell, her heart broke at the sight of the woman who had been strung up and muzzled.

"What's with the chains?" Nat questioned as Steve helped get her down.

"I wish I knew." Steve told her. "Get ready to catch her." Nat had done as she was told, holding her around her waist as she fell limp in her arms. She could feel her ribs very prominently as she was also extremely light. Steve had also removed the muzzle and picked her up in his arms. "We're on our way out. Bruce, we need you on standby." Steve spoke over comms as Nat covered him.

"Who do we have?" Bruce asked as soon as Steve placed the girl on the gurney.

"It's a female, but I can't quite tell how old. Must be in her 20s?" Steve told him as Bruce started to work on cleaning the wounds.

"We're 5 minutes from landing." Clint notified everyone as Bruce decided to have the girls help with making sure that the patient was secure for landing.

"We're going to need Wanda to look into her mind." Tony stated as they landed.

"No." Wanda shook her head as Steve gave Tony a disapproving look.

"We don't need to do that." Steve told him firmly. "When she is well and ready, then we can question her. Until then, she is off limits." Tony just scoffed as he headed towards his lab, leaving Bruce, Cho and Steve to head to the med bay.

"Do you think she has powers?" Wanda asked as the two entered the kitchen.

"I don't know but the way she was strapped up tells me that there may be a reason." Nat mumbled as she brewed the coffee. "I just don't know what." She turned to face Wanda. "She had a muzzle on, like the one from that vampire show you watch, the one with the two brothers and the doppelganger."

"The Vampire Diaries." Wanda stated excitedly making Nat chuckle. "Do you think she is a vampire?"

"Vampires don't exist." Nat told her with a smirk.

"You never know." Wanda shrugged. "We live in a world where I can move things with my mind, Steve and Bucky have super human strength. We have a God of Thunder who visits regularly, so really anything is possible."

"I doubt that vampires are real." Nat chuckled.

"What about Dracula?" Wanda questioned with a raised brow.

"He was a recluse." Nat told her. "He never showered because he was afraid of water. The reason he was claimed to be a vampire is because of the lack of vitamin D, so he lost the pigment in his skin and the light hurt his eyes. That's where all of the myths come from."

"But it could be." Wanda questioned again as Nat shrugged.

"Anything is possible I guess." She said as she handed Wanda a cup as she walked away with a smirk on her face, leaving an excited Wanda behind.

She made her way to the med bay, standing beside Steve as he looked through the window as Bruce and Cho worked on her.

"Any news?" Nat asked as he sighed.

"No, she is still unconscious, Bruce has taken a blood sample to do some blood work." He told her. "There are multiple scars on her body and her wounds are practically healed."

"She looks just a little older than Wanda." Nat stated as Steve looked at her. "The lines around the eyes." She told him as he nodded. "But why would Hydra have her? What does she have that they want?"

"There have been sightings of beasts running around some Hydra bases." Vision informed them.

"What kind of beasts?" Steve asked as he took the tablet from the synthezoid.

"They seem to be of the canine family." He informed them. "But they also seem to be looking for someone."

"Her." Nat stated as the two looked at her. "The last base they had infiltrated was only 300 miles away from the base we had just been to."

"So do you think she could be one of those beasts?" Steve questioned as she shrugged.

"Let's just see if she wakes up, we can ask her when she is better." She told the two.

"But what if she is a danger to us all?" Vision questioned as Nat shook her head.

"She won't be if we don't string her up like a fucking animal." She growled before Vision left the room.

"So you think we are all safe?" Steve asked her as she nodded.

"Yes." Nat nodded. "She has been a prisoner for who knows how long. If we treat her as one, then yes, she will likely turn. But if we treat her as an innocent, a casualty of war, we may earn her trust."

"I hope you're right about this Natasha." Steve told her before he left, Nat remained watching as the doctor's worked on her. It was a while until she was moved into another room before Bruce came out.

"How is she?" Nat asked him as he sighed.

"She is ok." He told her. "There was a lot of scar tissue and multiple lacerations, but nothing too major."

"Then why is she still out?" Nat questioned as he shrugged.

"I don't know. We did multiple scans and nothing." He told her. "I have her blood work to go over and I will tell you as soon as I have the results."

"Thanks Bruce." She smiled at him as he nodded before heading to his lab. Nat entered the room where she lay sleeping, Nat decided to sit in a chair and wait however long she needed to until Y/N woke up. Looking through the folder she had took from the synthezoid as the steady sound of Y/N's breathing filled the room.

[hypostatic-oath]

Tales Of Meropide

SAGAU!Tartaglia-centered, angst with some comfort.

Warnings: Swearing. I think it's just one but I'm not entirely sure. Written before 4.2, but finished after 4.1 - contains spoilers for the released story quest so far.

_________________

Childe had never once in his life assumed jail would be fun. He had no delusions in that regard. But he had to admit, his hopes were raised once he heard of the Pankration Ring in the Fortress of Meropide. A competition ring for those who had "extra energy" they wished to "burn out" through regular sparring matches? Sign him up!

His hopes were very quickly shattered once he was told that no, a Fatui Harbinger was not allowed to compete, because "no way anyone would sign up to fight him" and "even if he did fight with one hand behind his back, that would set the bar too high for the other matches, and the spectators would be bored." Damn it - so the ring wasn't truly for fight afficionados - it was a marketing ploy! The fight itself wasn't the focus, it was the fact that it had to look good for an audience.

Childe huffed as he sat in the bed he'd taken to occupying. Fontaine was getting on his nerves - it seemed as though everything was for show, and very little was actually real. Where were the Traveler or the Overseer when one needed them?! Oh, what he wouldn't do to fight against a decent opponent!

His boredom was made worse by the fact that the Overseer - damn them and their excuse of "immersion" - had decided to bench him until he was out of prison. So now he rusted away in the Fortress of Meropide, with no one to fight, no one to banter with...

He could try the Duke again, he figured. While at first things hadn't gone his way, after explaining his issue, Wriothesley had, once or twice, been amenable to a sparring match, and it was the one thing keeping Tartaglia remotely sane. But lately the warden had been more and more busy - and less and less inclined to indulge the restless Harbinger. Were it not for the fact that he already had an escape plan in the works, Childe was sure he would have lost his mind for real. He was getting rusty. Every day that he did not raise his weapon was one day he grew weaker, and that the competition grew stronger. And he knew he had competition, both among the Fatui - how he was the Eleventh of a group of nine still eluded him - and among the other vessels.

It had hurt, the knowledge that right after his banner would come that of the Iudex who'd promptly knocked him out and sent him to jail... and that he wasn't even there to fight him about it! He hadn't been aware of the sheer strength of Fontaine's Chief Justice, but now that he'd caught a glimpse, Childe had to admit he was intrigued. And by intrigued let it be absolutely clear that what he meant was "eager to fight him again". Hell, the judge had managed to knock him out while he was using Foul Legacy! What else was this Neuvillette guy capable of? And, more importantly... had you noticed?

It was a thought Ajax didn't like to have. One he'd been trying to drown out - hah! Drown! Now that his hydro Vision was gone, and Neuvillette was out there using hydro as he pleased - since he'd first been told he wouldn't be able to fight down here. And yet, now that the Fortress had quieted down for the night, there was no sound to overpower his own thoughts.

The thoughts of being replaced. The thoughts that told him he was no longer enough. He was growing weaker, even before being arrested. His Vision had failed him. And now, how convenient - an insanely strong Hydro user was available. It didn't matter whether or not you'd pulled on Childe's banner earlier - he knew you needed strong members on your team, and at this rate he'd be no match for Neuvillette. Not in a fight, and not in your team. What was he supposed to do without it?! The worst of all was the nagging feeling that you'd grown used to not having him with you already. He'd been imprisoned for a while now, and not a peep from you. Not for the Abyss, not for Ley Lines, not for Domains, not even for Commissions.

He missed it.

He missed you.

Childe laid down on the bed - which was only slightly less uncomfortable than the slab of rock he used to sleep on during hos months in the Abyss - and turned to face the brass wall, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along his Delusion.

If only he could use it while you were taking hold of him - if only he could use his Foul Legacy transformation, too. He had developed (and tested) the theory that due to your influence, these things would have almost to no toll on his body. That was, apparently, part of the unspoken contract between an Overseer and their Vessels - not only would they become stronger, but their injuries and exhaustion would be your responsibility instead of theirs. For Childe, it was the perfect deal, lending you control of his body to fight all kinds of opponents and having his strength increase a hundredfold. Except for the part that, try as he might - and most importantly, try as you might - it was impossible for him to use his Delusion, or his Foul Legacy transformation, or, much to your chagrin, his signature "whale toss".

Ah, yes. That had been another issue.

Ever since he'd gotten to the Fortress, he'd seen it.

In dreams, in flashes during the day, hell, he was even hearing it, its song echoing through the brass walls. And yet, no one else seemed to be able to. That in itself was a sign - this was indeed the one he'd roused from slumber... and it was beckoning him to answer its calls.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps tonight's dream would provide more insight. He'd seek it out as soon as he managed to leave, he just had to wait for a pipe cleaning day in order to make his escape. For now, though, all he could do was wait, as time passed agonizingly slow. And so, lulled by boredom and whalesong, he forced himself to sleep it off.

_________

You were getting impatient.

You'd decided to give storyline immersion a try once Childe was arrested, thinking that it'd be pretty weird for the recently arrested Harbinger to be roaming the streets of Fontaine - and you'd been doing a lot of roaming recently, having a whole new nation to explore. By now, you were aware that your game was responsive to you, and that had been a big reason why you'd made that decision, knowing that they were aware of what you did. You did not want to stir up trouble with Neuvillette or Wriothesley... not when they hadn't come home yet. It was best to play to their interests a little bit. However... this was getting ridiculous.

"We're gonna have to break him out at this rate." You huffed, as you picked up yet another Romaritime flower. As usual, the members of your party who hadn't been so used to you seemed a little startled at hearing your voice, while the Traveler and Paimon were far more relaxed. You supposed it made sense - if a disembodied voice started talking about jailbreak out of nowhere, you'd probably be pretty spooked too.

"But, Overseer..." Paimon began. "If we break him out of jail, won't people notice he's missing? And you still want to get Monsieur Neuvillette as soon as his banner drops - are you sure we should interfere with justice right now?"

"Neuvillette will come whether he likes it or not." You said, a steely determination in your voice. You'd meant nothing threatening by it, only that he was guaranteed and near pity, but it still sent a chill down the most inexperienced members of your team's spines. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that's what the next Archon Quest will be - break Childe out of jail. He's gonna come home with us, and everything will be okay. So it shouldn't really matter... if we give him a taste of freedom early, now does it?"

"I suppose it's alright." The Traveler chimed in. They were still the vessel who was more in tune with your emotions after all these years together, and thst could be both a blessing and a curse. Now, what they felt was your eagerness to see Childe again... and concern.

You were worried about him.

With a few clicks, you opened the map. Were it anyone else, you would've teleported to somewhere nice. Maybe Angel's Share, or Liuli Pavilion, or any of the many other restaurants and cafés that dotted the regions of Teyvat that had opened themselves to you.

But you knew that after being stuck for so long, your Tartaglia would need something more than a simple apology meal.

__________

The Golden house. Of course his dreams would take him there - he'd fallen asleep to thoughts of you. It was a respite from the other ones, but pleasant as dreams of fighting may be, they had about the same effect as dreams of a feast to a starving man. No matter how much he fought, he'd still wake up feeling empty.

"What's the matter with you? No 'Surrender is a valid option' today?" Your voice rang out. Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten his usual taunt... did it matter, in a dream? Apparently it did, because you'd commented on it. Still, he wasn't sure if he felt like going along with it. Why would it matter? It wasn't real. He'd likely never see you again, and his stupid dream was only making things worse.

"You seem out of it. Childe." The Traveler stood before him as you spoke, their weapon lowered but still unsheated. "Maybe prison put you in a worse shape than I thought... oh, I'm going to kill them. I don't care. Traveler, we're going to take this man out of there."

"Paimon's pretty sure that's illegal..."

"Illegal? Look at what they've done to him! They massacred my boy! He has no will to live!"

Tartaglia watched as you spoke with the Traveler and Paimon. It wasn't often that he got to witness such direct interactions, and he had to admit, it was a little bit funny seeing the blonde outlander and his companion arguing with the air. They usually faced the direction opposite of where Paimon hovered - mostly so the poor guide didn't feel like they were arguing with her instead - but it still looked as though the Traveler were speaking to absolutely nothing.

Even though he was sure this was a dream - of course it was, after all, you bringing him for a fight now, and within a few seconds immediately deciding to break him out and go on a murder spree for his sake? Tartaglia could recognize his own wishful thinking - the image brought a smile to his face.

"What have they done to you?" You asked, addressing him directly once more. "How bad is it? Are you eating enough? Are you eating at all? Are you sick? Bastards..."

Concern. He could almost feel your warmth. He had to remind himself that it wasn't real. He had to remind himself that, in the real world, in the waking world, he was still in bed. That you, powerful entity that you were, could pull him out any time, and yet you hadn't.

He'd started thinking this was just like last time. Just like in the Abyss.

At first, he'd wanted his parents to come looking for him. He'd wanted them to notice he was gone, and many a night had he dreamt of them finding him. Then came his master, and with her, he held even less delusions that she'd come to his aid. And then, he'd joined the Fatui, and there it was set in stone that comrades as they may be, there'd be no help whatsoever, so he might as well give up hope.

He still dreamt it, sometimes. That someday there'd be someone to reach out a hand, someone who'd give him a bright smile when he was at his worst and help him stand, so they could take on the world together. He still dreamt that for once, just once, someone would care enough to help.

But nobody came.

He needed to be strong. He loved being strong, he loved fighting. Which was a good thing, he'd many times surmised, since it was the only thing the world needed him to do. You win the fight, you live. That was that, and it was all it had ever been and all it ever would be.

There'd be no parents looking for him. No Skirk coming in at the last minute to parry the blow. No comrades to call upon. No Overseer willing to go on a murder spree to take him out of jail.

The truth, the cold truth, was nothing like the warm dreams where someone came to his aid. The truth was that once again, he'd have to break out alone.

All he could do for now was enjoy the opportunity to fight "you", even if just in a dream, so he took a deep, shaky breath, and got ready to spar.

_________

You wondered if he knew he was crying.

It didn't last too long. You quickly opted out of the Golden House - you'd clearly overestimated his will to fight. Even as he stood at the ready, you could see the changes in his demeanor. Maybe you should've gone with Angel's Share after all.

You emptied your party - save for the Traveler - and placed Childe on one of the empty slots. Then, you quickly teleported the three of them (because the Traveler always counted as two, with Paimon beside them all the time) to your teapot. It was clear Childe needed more than just an apology fight.

"Traveler, do me a favor." You asked, once the loading screen was out of the way. "Could you get some food started, please?"

That should give you a little alone time with the Harbinger. Maybe it'd be easier, you figured, to coax information on his wellbeing if you were alone.

As the Traveller nodded and went to handle the cooking at a nearby stove, you switched to Tartaglia. It was a little odd now, controlling them when you knew they were aware of your existence. The vast majority didn't seem to mind, and you took some comfort in how responsive and talkative they were - at least you weren't some malevolent, brainwashing eldritch entity. Your characters - erm, Vessels, as they preferred to call it - seemed fine.

Childe, however, didn't.

"Hey. Ajax." You made sure to keep your voice softer than usual as you guided him towards the hot springs, sitting him down. "I'm sorry. I genuinely thought we'd get to break you out sooner."

For a while, he didn't answer.

You placed the cursor over his shoulder. By now, you knew they could feel a sort of phantom touch, and it was the closest thing you could do to offer a comforting hand.

"Whatever they did to you ends now. I'm hereby overruling your sentence. You're staying here while I'm logged off until the Traveler and I resolve this, and when I'm around, you're back on the team."

You could see Childe trying to look at you, so you did him the favor of turning the camera in such a way that it looked as though you were sitting beside him.

"Over here."

He couldn't see your expression, but you still hoped he could somehow hear the way you felt through your voice. Oh, how you wanted to be able to reach him.

Tartaglia looked in the vague direction of you, and you wished you had a way to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears threatening to spill from those lifeless eyes. You moved the cursor to rest over his pinky finger - this was the closest thing you could do to a pinky promise, after all.

"It's over, Ajax. It's done. Canon can go fuck itself. If they want to put you back in jail they're gonna have to go through me first."

__________

Ajax had wished you were physically in Teyvat many times. Most of these times were because he wished to fight you personally, some because he wished to share some food with you. This time, feeling the unmistakable warmth of your phantom touch slide from his shoulder to his hand, before focusing on his pinky as you promised to fight for him, he wished he could pull you into the tightest embrace. What a cruel dream - couldn't his mind have dreamt you a physical body, too? One he could hold on to. One he could curl up around.

He felt your touch on his back, soothing circles of warmth rhytmically rubbed, and he would've leaned into your touch if he had any idea of which direction to lean into.

"I have an escape route planned already." He sighed. "And a few other things I need to handle, too."

"Still." You insisted. "You look terrible. No offense."

"I'm f-"

"You're not fine, Ajax. I'm not an idiot. Look, the teapot has a place for you whenever you'd like. You have the Sigil of Permission, and I'll make sure to leave an empty room, so you can come and go whenever. So you at least get food, drink, a place to sleep... I'm pretty sure that with the Shogun around you'll always have someone to spar with, too, that should keep you from boredom-"

The Sigil of Permission.

Of course.

How could he have forgotten?

A dream as this may be - and he was start to suspect it wasn't, due to the unmistakable feeling of your energy seeping into his own and, perhaps a more obvious sign, how his clothes felt against his body due to being in the hot springs fully clothed (perhaps Overseers had no concept of clothing, and you refused to remove it because you considered his outfit a part of his skin? He'd heard you refer to the Tianquan's new outfit as a "new skin" once, after all...), the water making them heavier - it had still provided him something that could help him once he woke. The Traveler had once bestowed him with a sigil of permission that granted him access to your Serenitea Pot - a sigil of permission that was still in his possession.

Childe could feel a spark of hope inside his chest, the corners of his lips curving in a discreet yet confident smile.

He'd definitely take you up on that offer later.

"That's more like it!" You sounded relieved. And, as it usually was for Vessels when you were pouring your energy into them, your energy felt relieved as well, your emotions bleeding through into his body. All that, just for a small smile? Tartaglia smiled wider, in the general direction of where you should be, and the feeling increased.

He felt that familiar sensation of your focus on his hair, and found himself thinking that maybe, if you were there beside him, you would've ran your fingers through it, and maybe he'd lean closer, perhaps to rest his head on your shoulder or your lap.

Archons, what was happening to him? He wasn't supposed to let himself go like this. This wasn't a dream at all, he couldn't simply indulge as though it were. He had to stop leaning into your phantom touch, he had to stop hoping. This sort of hope, this sort of weakness, it'd kill him. He needed to-

"What you need is rest. And to be comfortable. And to let me and the Traveler take care of you." Your voice brought him out of his spiraling train of thought. Oh, right. He'd forgotten that lately you'd gotten better at hearing their thoughts. A trick you'd picked up in Sumeru, no doubt. He sighed.

"That... would be nice. Thank you, comrade. But you really don't need-"

"I don't. But I want to, so I will. So come on, let's get you fed while I redecorate the teapot again. It was bound for a change sooner or later, anyway."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If you're currently taking requests, can you please do yandere dorm leaders + Jamil with a demigod reader like from Percy Jackson the readers godly parent can be your choice. If you're not currently taking requests feel free to ignore this

Percy Jackson Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Child of one of the big three, water bends to your will. And in the oddest moments, your father gives his two senses. Nonetheless, your power earns you a lot of respect and a lot of scorn from the average student. Of course, those interested don’t mind all that much until your powers seem to be an obstacle to your love for them: 

Malleus Draconia

“I see. Your mastery of the sea is impressive. I wonder if we spar who would fare best?”

He wants to engage with your power because it gets him an excuse to take your time 

This also helps him gauge your power against his own

He doesn’t cease his repeated sniping of people that hang around you 

Even if you actually challenge him seriously

He thinks you’re just the cutest

“Fine, my love. If you wish to challenge me let's have a wager. If you win I’ll stop my…warnings. But if I win you will forfeit all rights to speak to others. This is more than fair.”

Idia Shroud

“I feel we’re connected in some odd way…”

“Yeah….”

“Do you want to play COD?”

There’s a weird synergy that has you both respecting one another

He thinks its cool how you can heal up with magic

But his excuse for prying creepily into your privacy+ is justified by his constant experimentation to measure your powers

“W-what this camera? Ha, it’s only to track what you’d do in such a harrowing situation! I-it w-wasn’t b-because your wearing j-just a white shirt.”

Jamil Viper

“You’re a lot like Kalim, I’m sure your just as susceptible.”

“...I uh…get the feeling you’re capable of something…manipulative.”

“Wow, how insightful.”

Your dear old dad is probably the only help your getting with him

He’s often finding himself befriending you 

Despite being caught trying to hypnotize you

He makes a point to use his usual tactic to leave you alone

With plenty of time to come and hang out with him

“Scarabia’s the perfect setting, not a whole lot of water for their father to stay anything.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Yay! Twinsies!”

He’s so happy that you have an affinity for water just like him

He can’t make weapons like you do or heal yourself with it

But he thinks it's pretty cool

It's even cooler that you get really cuddly weak if you stay in Scarabia long enough

“Awww why don’t you stay! I promise I’ll bring the water as soon as we finish our carpet ride!”

Vil Schoenheit

“I doubt that. If you really were the child of Poseidon I doubt he’d let you walk around with skin as dehydrated as yours.”

“Gee thanks, Vil.”

“Yup that’s what I’m here for.”

He knows he’d never be able to overpower you

But he’s not all that hurt

Where you can pride yourself on your strength it doesn’t do anything against his finesse and intellect

Which he prefers

because what power couple doesn’t complement one another with their flaws and strengths

And while you may be willing to entertain these invasive welps bold suitors

He’s not so lenient

“Where you wish to merely scare them off, I wish to punish them. It’s only a given that we mirror one another, in the method.” 

Leona Kingscholar

“Join Savvannaclaw, you herbivore. You still have some evolving you can do.”

Strong mates are always fought for in life

And to make his mark he has to sand fight off the competition

The next part will be winning your heart or successfully taming you

Just give him time, he’ll make it happen

One way or another

“Ha let’s exercise I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“With your kind of power…you could overthrow the entire empire within the coral sea!”

“Uh, I guess.”

“You guess? (Y/n), we could bring all of those who laughed at me to their knees. Metaphorically speaking.”

“They…bullied you?”

“...”

“Aww Azul…”

“S-shut up! Let’s just put them all in their place beneath you”

He loves you immensely 

And while he may seem that he’s always aiming to slip you into a contract for ‘sea conquering’ 

He’s after something more

He’s after you

His pearl, his angelfish, he wants to be your plus one as you right the world

“Ho ho what a predicament. Why don’t we negotiate the subject of payment, after the broken china incident with Grim, we wouldn’t want you to fall into debt.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I hardly believe your dyslexia is attributed to such a trait.”

“Bet. Write something in Greek I can do it.”

“...I stand corrected.”

“Ha see?!”

“Nonetheless you’re in desperate need of my studying prowess. Come to Heartslabyul.”

He is enamored by you 

The powers and heritage just add another layer

But he finds you are lacking for someone so kind

Or rather that you don’t have conviction

In your studies or in your boundaries

You don’t need to worry he’ll do that for you

Collaring anyone who gives threatening looks  and any look in general

“Off with your head! I decree that you will be punished for the breaking of the Queen’s law: that no one touches the Ramshackle prefect but you’re queen!”

[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay lil idea! Don’t force urself to do this I had to write this down before I forget.

Fem reader who has a soothing lullaby voice while also good at singing!, reader lives in a cabin deep in the woods, hunts and build her own tools, she uses a bow and arrow, got that magnificent strong will, stubborn as shit tho, never backs down from a challenge no matter how overpowered her enemy is. Very smart mouth always fights back never fail to step back from a fight.

Fem reader x We'ar-ow

Siren Calls for a Challenge

Pairing: We'ar-ow (female Yautja) x Reader

Word Count: 3913

Summary: Deep in the woods of Alaska, far up north in the state, you have a little hut. It serves it purpose throughout the years and seasons. You live and hunt up there, far from civilization. The best life you've known. As you venture out for a hunt you've planned, there a shimmer in the tree line.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if I did the smart mouthing right. I had to look up good comebacks and comments as such for this. I tried to make the reader be super sassy... I hope it works! I do love sassy reader who gives no fucks about a Yautja. I should probably write more like that.

Masterlist

Ao3

Deep in the lands of Alaska, was a small little hut that worked perfectly. Just enough space to house one person and the necessities of life. A life of hardships, surviving in world meant for kill or be killed. You enjoyed it. The challenges brought to you almost everyday. The need to hunt for you own food. Even down to creating your own weapons to hunt for said food.

Guns and bullets are useful out here, easier to use against a large predator such as a bear. Yet, to get the ammo and supplies was another thing. It required you to leave the safety of the lands and travel more than fifty miles on foot alone to reach even the nearest civilization. It wasn’t a risk that was worth when arrows are craftable out here. A more renewable source for weapons. Use what the land gives in plenty.

In the confines of your hut, your vocal cords hummed with a tune your parents sung to you while young. Though, it’s original use was to lull you to sleep, now you use to fill in the silence that pierced the air. It was a soft tune that you remembered by heart, letting muscle memory guide you. Both in song and craft

More arrows were needed before the next hunt took place tomorrow morning. The supply was running low after the wind kept knocking them off course a week ago. You still brought down the elk, a smaller one than you meant to. It’s last you the week but supplies were running low. With winter coming as well, you truly needed to stock up on food before the first cold freezes over everything. All the creatures will either hunker down or rarely venture out. You couldn’t do either of those. Your stomach still needed to be filled during that time. Plus, the extra pelts never hurt to be dried and put to good use.

The last arrow had been created and sheathed into your quiver. That was set by the door with your trusty bow. A hunting knife was hung by its sheath next to the bow. Lastly, a machete for anything that tried to be up close and personal with you. This is Alaska. A dangerous land that tried to kill anyone on it, no matter who or what you are.

.

As the sun rose high above the ground, you slipped every piece of gear needed. Hunting knife? Check. Bow and arrows? Check. Machete? Check. Food and water? Also check. Once you deem everything in order, you stepped out into the chilling air. The door creaked closed behind you.

Cool air filled your lungs to the brim and enjoyed the bitting to help you wake up then you exhaled. A short, small white cloud appeared in the air. It immediately disappeared afterwards. Perfect.

A softly smile tugged at the corner of your lips while you began a path towards a known area for elk. A spot where they frequented as of late. You didn’t want to spook them from the area so soon and have to track them down all over again. Always a balance to nature, including this. After this, you would have to find a new spot to hunt before winter fell over the area. Or else, you would be stranded with no easy food source in the dead of winter. That was lesson you once learned the hard way. All it took was that one time.

Hunger wasn’t a fun feeling.

Though, you live within the confines of nature, you enjoyed every moment you were allowed this. A peacefulness that washed over you. As if you were just taking a normal stroll out to wander around. Yes, you were on a mission but it was never wrong to breath in this life you were given. A life you were too stubborn to die from, to give up. Anyone or thing would have to rip it out of your cold, dead hands.

In a peaceful atmosphere, you were still on watch. Lax as your form was, you watched everything around. Anything that could pose a threat to your way of life. May it be a mountain lion or bear growing to comfortably around your territory. You made a mental note inside of your head. Then, later on, a plan would be devised on how best to solve this situation all by your lonesome. There was no backup, no other savior this deep into Alaska. It was just you out here. Just you.

Light, carefully placed steps took you from the cozy little cabin you called home. Deeper into the forest, tracking down prey you needed to eat. With such knowledge, muscle memory guiding you, you reached the known grazing area and stopped just shy of the tree line. The meadows were void of larger life. Only soon-to-be wilting grass filled the open space. You hunkered down in a bush and took a couple sips from your water. It was refreshing over your tongue, cooling down your slightly warmed body. The hike long and helps warm up your body.

In the brush, you pulled your bow free from your torso and notched an arrow. Like the predator you’ve become, you wait as one, never faltering your gaze from the open meadows before you. Today, you were taking home next week’s food.

The day was slightly hotter, not enough to shrug off the jacket pelt that hung off of your shoulders. The sun rose higher in the sky but never crested to hit the peak. The tilt of the earth did not allow for that. It stayed midway through the blue sky the entire time, short in the amount of hours for light.

Soon, light would be a rarity this far north into Alaska.

As your hand reached out to touch the pouch containing water, a shimmer of light your attention. You froze to the spot, breath caught in your throat.

Out on the other side of the meadows, just into the tree line, sunlight reflected off something. You didn’t dare to move, only observing as the shimmered moved closer into the meadow. Nothing instantly came to mind to supply what this could be from. It wasn’t like light reflecting off of a cats eye. It was also too light for that to be. Your muscles grew taunt, ready to spring into action at a moments call.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed movement and had to take your gaze off of the shimmer. Elk. A herd of elk you’ve grown to know pranced into the meadow. A spot known for their grazing. The group bowed their heads and began to snack away at the grass.

The shimmer caught your attention again yet goes unnoticed by the prey animals. Downwind from them, you waited for a single elk to walk just close enough to strike down.

The herd dispersed a little, spreading out and growing closer to your hunkered down. You steeled your nerves despite the disturbance across the field. The bow in hand was held tighter and prepared yourself to pull the string back and fire the notched arrow.

As you prepared for the upcoming kill shot, the shimmer was on the move. Internally, you cursed and prayed to whatever god would listen to you this thing wouldn’t disturb your hunt. Just don’t spook the herd! That’s all you could ask for. It could be weeks before they returned to spot if it scared them badly.

Before you could comprehend the sight unfurling before you, one of the elks laid dead on the meadow. A large axe lodged into his head, nearly splitting the skull into two. The creature officially dead with no chance of escape. Your jaw dropped at that alone.

Then, the air was caught in your throat.

Pink, cream, and purple. A humanoid form stood at the down elk, easily dwarfing it. Adorn in metal armor, a mask covered the entirety of its face; hiding away what hid below. Four long… dreads hung over its shoulder. Then, the rest were tied up behind its elongated head shaped slightly like a dome on top. That was all you could get from the distance away.

All the other elk scattered like the prey they are. Anger flared to a blazing heat behind your sternum. With little care of what this thing was, you marched out into the field like a crazed hunter. Your steps were loud and easily announced your presence to this creature. This damn thing ruined your hunt and made you lose your next week’s food. Worst of all, this probably scared off the herd. They won’t return for some time. A growl rumbled in the back of your throat.

A blank, metal expression snapped up at you. That didn’t deter you in the slightest. You got within twenty feet of it before a bone rattle snarl bore through the rather quiet air. That stopped you in your tracks. A warning. A threat. If you stepped an inch closer, you would end up like its downed prey.

You still set a glare on the unknown, faceless creature. A challenge burning in your heated eyes. “You stole my kill. You ran off the herd. You spooked them! They won’t come back here for weeks,” you accused, knowing this thing couldn’t respond back to you. Humanoid or not. This wasn’t a human. Not with its height or the strange shape of its head. But it messed with your hunt. You weren’t about to let that slide.

Behind its emotionless mask, clicks and hisses sounded. It sounded like it was grumbling to itself. As if you were just some gnat that was annoying it. Your hand tightened on your bow, straining the wood under you palm. “You ruined my hunt,” you spat at it and pointed a finger at the unknown creature.

It snorted, muffled, and leaned down. The hatchet was swiftly pulled from the skull of its kill. The weapon twirled in its fingers. A skilled trick just show you how well it was versed with the axe. Your free hand drifted to the machete latched to your hip, ready to defend yourself.

“I did no such thing.” Soft in its tone yet told you about a chapter in its life of battle. Your grasp on the weapon nearly dropped it to the meadow’s grounds. This humanoid figure that clearly wasn’t human spoke to you.

Your eyes only flinched for a second before the glare was returned in full force. “Yes, you did! I set out this morning and waited in the brush since then for them to return here. They are a herd I follow. I know their pattern. You just scared them off!” Your body was shaking with anger. The comfort of your life had been disturbed by this thing.

The humanoid figure brushed you off by kneeling down. A knife was pulled free from a sheath at its side. With practiced movements, it sliced through the belly and began to clean its kill. This was hunter. It was too precise with the cut, the way it scooped out the guts. Your eyes narrowed on the creature and stepped closer.

An axe stuck out of the ground before your feet. Your gaze snapped down to it, nonchalant about its threatening manner. “You think that scares me?” you mused with a dangerous grin. You knew your prowess and were willing to challenge this creature for its hunt. “I’ve face worse than whatever you are.”

Without taking your eyes off of it, you leaned down and plucked the weapon from the ground. It wasn’t meant for you hand. The size and weight weren’t something even the average human would use. Yet, you still twirled it, testing its weight. “I think this mine now.” An shit eating smirk spread your mouth wide as you looked at the kneeling figure.

The growl it released shook the very ground you stood on. But, that didn’t deter you. Like any other predator who wonders into your territory, you’ll just beat it back until it learns its lesson.

It rose back to a standing position, body tense, ready just like you. You only shifted slightly into a less cocky stance and prepared to fight if it came down to it. This creature easily towered over your form, that much you could tell with the distance between you. That didn’t deter you. Instead, that only pushed more adrenaline into your veins, heart pounding into your ear.

“it’s only fair I keep this. Deny all you want, but you ruined my hunt. I feel like you need to pay for it. Either with me taking this as payment-“ you held up the hatchet- “or possibly with shed blood may sedate me enough.” The long-handled weapon was twirled again, showing off the fact you knew how to handle it.

Behind the mask, it scoffed and rolled its shoulders. “You didn’t have rights over this hunt,” it snarled at you and pulled out another hatchet on its other hip.

“I’d agree with you but then we’d both be wrong,” you snarked dropped your bow onto the ground and used the newly freed hand to grasp at your machete. Both of your hands filled with a weapon. One you were far more knowledgeable then the other.

The soles of your self-crafted shoes dug into the soft earth. Your muscles helped you launch yourself forward, straight at the creature. Instantly, you took up the offensive position. Your moved were swift, bringing down the hatchets blade  to bed itself into the creatures shoulder. An action it caught onto quickly. You weren’t looking to kill, only maim.

This newer weapon was harder wield than your machete, a different fighting style in general. It left you open for attack. The hatchet held high above your head to bring down onto its skin.

It darted backwards and started its own offensive attack. A battle of dance, trading blows and swings. Neither figure willing to back down. There you were, keeping up with this thing. Though, only by the skin of your teeth where you able to skim past without losing a limb.

A slice cut at your side, tearing your shirt open. Fresh, hot blood graced the open sky and dripped down your skin. You snarled, teeth bared in a whole show of unbridle rage. The beast returned the gesture with a bellow that shook your bones. You bared more down on it with a slash that drew its own blood and dipped the tip of your blade with neon green fluids.

The two of you trading dodges and hits the same. You were able to keep up with a beast such as it.

More cuts opened your skin. None of them fatal.

Both of you backed away from each other. Sweat clung to your skin uncomfortably, doing its job in cooling down your overheated body. Your shoulders heaved with panting breathe as you surged for air and studied the beast after a timeless battle. It took panted, chest expanding with each inhale.

“I didn’t expect for you to be able to put your money where your mouth is. If you have one. I’m impressed,” you mused and rolled one of your shoulders. An ache growing in the taunt muscles. “It’s time to leave. I told you; this was my food for the week.”

Either it straight up ignored you or just didn’t bother to care. You were quick to find yourself back into a harrowing battle with it again.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold your horse, there’s-guh! There’s plenty of me to share. Gotta keep some of it for the ladies though,” you jestered. The grin returned to your face. The hatchet’s blade skirted past the spot you once were a second before. “Man, you truly want to break off a piece like a kitkat bar.”

A small pout passed over your features when it didn’t even make a chittering noise. “it’s okay if you don’t like me. I know not everyone has good taste.” The creature only faltered for a second but left you a moment slice along its pink thigh. The creature snarled and whipped its axe towards you. Barely missing your scalp if you didn’t duck just in time.

“Oh, you missed me!” Despite not seeing its facial expressions freely, you read the irritation clear as a sun day. The muscles that lined its forearms flex while it gripped the wooden handle tighter. You thought it was about to cleave your head into two when it had the chance.

Something caught the heel of your foot while dodging a particularly deadly swipe. You gasped and teetered over straight onto your rump with a grunt. This was the end. The dance had ended with you making a fatal mistake.

Instinctively, you brought up your machete to block an knowingly incoming blow. Pain exploded in your  forearm as a weight bared down on it. You choked on spit and fought underneath the tremendous weight, but it was futile.

A blade was pressed to the vulnerable part of your throat. One swipe and everything would be over. You swallowed down the lump building in your throat and looked up at the winner.

Behind its massive head, a halo of light framed it. Like a god or goddess peering down at your injured form. The seconds began to tick on by. The only sound in the air being the two of you panting to regain a balance. Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips.

It never came for the killing blow.

“If you’re expecting me to beg for my life, might as well finish your cleaning. You won’t get anything from me,” you spat though there was a slight tone of respect in your voice. It fought well again you and became the winner in the end.

More weight was shifted onto your arm as it shuffled above you. The hatchet was pulled away and latched onto its belt. You knew at a moments notice, it could whip it back out and finish the job. Then, it’s stolen weapon was plucked from your smash arm and sheathed all the same. You clenched your teeth together in both the pain and disappointment it got it back from you.

“Can you at least give me the curtsey of knowing who and what you are before you kill me?” you questioned, tone still firm but with less anger in it. You truly wanted to know what this thing was. At least you could take that knowledge with you before it took your life.

Weaponless hands, one pinched your chin and tilted it up so you could face it. The other reached up and pulled at two tubes attached to its head. A small hiss entered the air before it tugged the metal mask free from its spot.

What was revealed wasn’t something you would ever expect. You nearly cringed at the sight. This wasn’t anything known to mankind. As if a crab was turned humanoid with a face like that.

Four mandibles or fangs adorn its completely inhuman features and twitched every once in a while. Hidden behind those were more teeth you didn’t wish to meet at anytime. Then, orange pupils that could possibly glow in the dark peered down at you. A predator look set on your pinned form. This thing screamed predator. A creature born, built for the hunt.

The hand on your chin stayed and forced you to keep looking into its eyes. “You would be dead by now. Your head hanging from my belt. Consider yourself lucky that I spared your life. I see potential in yout skills. I want to help develop those skills. I will not let them go to waste. You need a teacher.” That voice, less muffled this time.

“Wow, sparing my life? I feel so honored.” Even after escaping death, not fully though, you were still being smart mouthed.

It tightened its grip. “I might take back my offer.” The creature leaned down crowded into your space. You flashed your teeth at it with a grin.

“Nah, you wouldn’t. Seems like you already like me too much to do that.” You don’t know how you do it but you act like this was conversation with an old friend. It growled and shoved your head to the side but never made a move to gut you like the elk.

Then, it stood back up, towering over your laying form. You sat up and rubbed at your wrist you knew surely was going to bruise later today. “You still didn’t answer my questions.” If you were going to work with this beast, you would like to a put to its strange face.

At this point, the two of you caught your breaths. Its chest expanded with a deep, heavy breath. The beast turned on its heel to look down at you with a critical eye. “I’m called We’ar-ow. You will learn later what I am once I deem you worthy of the information.” You faked gasped and got up, placing a hand over your heart.

“Oh come on! We just had a battle to a near death,” you whined. “I feel like I’ve earned it.” The machete you once bore was sheathed back into its spot on your hip. Your body now sliced with multiple cuts that will require some medical assistance but not at that very moment.

All the pink beast did was look down at you with a neutral expression. Despite the difference of features, you felt it was universal for the expression to mean the same. “Fine. If you can’t answer me that, can you at least tell me if you’re an alien or not.” Still with cheeky smirk on your face. Yeah, you’ll learned it could if it so wishes. Why not tempt fate while you’re at it?

Its pink back met you, long legs striding away from you. The creature turned its head to look over its shoulder for a second. “Yes.” You jumped up and thrusted a fist in the air.

“Ah-ha! I knew it.” You scrambled after We’ar-ow, not wanting to wander too far from it. “So… what happens now? You said I had potential or something.” You were forced to trot next to the newly friended creature. The steps easily dwarfing three of your own.

We’ar-ow, if you remember correctly, knelt down at the belly of elk it once worked on and returned to cleaning its kill. “You will quiet down and stop asking many questions,” she snapped at you but didn’t even look over at you, focused on cutting out unneeded parts.

“Well, that’s going to a problem. I want to learn, that requires questions.” You had the creature caught then. It grunted underneath its breath and sheathed its blade after wiping it off. “I can carry that if you want.”

Orange eyes glanced over at your smaller frame. Yes, you were muscular for having to survive in a wilderness that was more than happy to kill you. The creature dipped its domed head and stood up.

You walked over to the dead elk and glanced at We’ar-ow. “Watch and learn from the master.” You crouched down onto your haunches, careful of your weight and maneuvered the downed elk onto your shoulders. A single push and you were back to a standing position, proudly looking at We’ar-ow. “Where to master?”

Oh, you were going to have fun with this creature.

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

Ch Summary: After you threaten Velaris with war. Azriel is tasked to find you and bring you to the prison above the mountain. He shadows have other plans when they confront you.

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I hope this Ch sheds a little light as to what reader is and about her powers. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

In the beginning there was Khaos. The first God in existence to precede creation. Khaos filled the space between, invoking darkness and shadow. Unable to witness her work, her intense desire to see flickered before her. Discovering her own spark, she flew towards it, the force of her wings igniting, leaving a trail of stardust; giving birth to the vast universe. From her own will khaos had created the primordial deities that would reign over the elements of the universe. And thus terra, sky, darkness, light, night and day were created.  

 From the very desires of the first primordial gods, Demi Gods emerged, living among mortals and immortals. Soon enough these half gods no longer wanted the responsibility of mortals. Thanatos and his sisters, the Gods of Death grew tired of being witness to so much violence and bloodshed. Leaving their duties caused a riot. No other God would carry the burden of their responsibilities on top of their own. Those loyal to the Divine fought in the war of Gods, neither side backing down regardless of how much blood had been spilled. Khaos wept as she witnessed her slain children. Fighting against her kin, tears streamed down her face as she slaughtered her very own. Devastated, she fell to her knees in defeat, between her sobs she whispered in the ancient tongue, “I bind myself to the darkness of death, overpowering my light within so long as my spark prevails through the moonless journey.” All fighting ceased as every God witnessed khaos, bringer of life, descend to the lands in the form of a falling star. The fates of two entwined. 

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

The house of wind was anxious, each door closed with a slam, rattling the photos that hung along the walls. The foundation, made from the mountain rock, shook and with it pieces of rubble and dust would float to the floors. Often the roaring would come back, leaving its inhabitants wide eyed and on edge. 

every member of the inner circle sat in Rhys office. The air thick with tension as Azriel explained his actions, why he blocked Cassian from hurting you, why he needed to be the one to search for you. Many questions left unanswered. How did you find Velaris? And what kind of ancient magic would allow you to pass through his wards so easily?

“Rhys, I know her! We were childhood friends!” Azriel pleads, “let me find her.” 

Elain’s eyes darted to Azriel, questioning his reason for his blatant lies. She knew he saw you once and never again. Yet she remained silent, a question for another day. 

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair. All eyes were on him as he stared at the map of Prythian that lay across his desk. He took a sip of his whiskey, considering his next move. One by one he informed them of their duties, sending every member away as soon as they received their mission.

Cassian was sent to Windhaven to ready the warriors and ensure their weapons were up to par for battle. Amren and Nesta were to stay in Velaris to survey and defend the city in case you returned. Mor was to revisit the courts that had scorched farmlands and buildings, to see if there were any more details that they overlooked. Elain wished to stay in Velaris and investigate the reason the house was slowly deteriorating. Rhys agreed. Finally he ordered Feyre to accompany Azriel in his search for you. 

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “No Rhys it has to be me alone. You can trust me.”

“After what I saw today, I’m not so sure where your mind is. I trust that you ‘ll do the right thing, but I don't agree with your current judgment so I’m sending Feyre with you.” 

Azriels shoulders slumped as he nodded in defeat. Feyre placed a gentle hand on his back, attempting to soothe his disappointment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre walked Azriel back to his room but before he entered she grabbed his arm moving him to face her. “ I have a friend I need to visit and he doesn't like when others tag along,” she whispered, hoping no one else would hear her. Azriel narrowed his eyes. “ So I hope you understand that I won't be joining you on your mission,” she winked, releasing her hold on him. Azriel just smirked, mouthing her a ‘thank you.’

Back in his room, Azriel cleared his desk of all the healer books he had meticulously studied.  All these years he’d been searching for a healer when in fact you were a God, at least according to Amren. He spent hours searching Death Gods and tracing back their lineage and none had the powers you possessed, the power in which made him search for you. The power to heal. “You've been at it for hours, come to bed honey,” Elains sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts. “None of this makes sense,” he said mostly to himself as he shook his head, ignoring Elains request.

She stood behind him, gently kneading his tense shoulders with her slim fingers. His back tensed at her touch, purely focused on his work. Determined to get him to bed, Elain rested her chin on his shoulder, angling her head towards his ear as she whispered seductively her desires. His eyes fluttered closed in frustration, as she placed wet kisses to the curve of his neck, humming at the taste of him. “Not tonight.” Coldly he shrugged her off, hating the pain she held in her eyes. Without a word Elain stepped away, leaving Azriel to drown in his work, drown in his thoughts of you. 

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

“And then I pushed through, you should have seen their faces,” you chuckled, recounting the events from Velaris to your dearest friend.  “No matter the job you always try to make it fun.” He replied, petting the hen that sat in his lap; a gift you had brought him for the delicious tea leaves he had acquired. 

You smile, enjoying his company that you often missed. Out of the corner of your eye, a wisp of shadow scurries into the darkness of the night, earning your full undivided attention. Nothing but silence is heard. “What was that?” you ask, turning back to the Suriel. “An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.” you gape at him, blinking your eyes rapidly, “I don't even want to know.” A chuckle rattles in his throat, “go before he finds you.” Without another word shimmer and darkness envelope you, winnowing you far from the Night Court.

Azriels shadows darted through the low grounds of the woods, swerving through a dense thicket of birch trees and rock formations, scouring each bush and body of water in search of you. Once they spotted you, they quickly returned to their master, curling around his ear ,whispering ‘Suriel.’  

Just as you winnowed away a blade launched itself toward the Suriel; flying through the air from a shroud of darkness, pinning his cloak to a tree. “Where is she?” he asks, tone impatient and demanding.

“Here, there, everywhere.”

Azriel pinches the space between his brows in annoyance. Shaking his head he asks another question, hoping for a straight answer.

“How do I find her?” 

“Evoke emotions without a single touch, no wings yet able to fly. To catch this God let her hear the cords of the night.” 

“I don’t…..these riddles. I don't understand.” Azriel paced in front of the Suriel, wracking his brain for any clues. 

“The touch of a memory will carry her to you.”

“Stop with the riddles!” Azriel fumed, teeth clenched tight as he stared the Suriel down. 

“Are you not a shadowsinger?” he replied, pulling out the blade that held his cloak to the tree. “I've answered your questions, whether you can decipher the meaning is no business of mine.” Finished with Azriels questioning, the Suriel made his way through the woods, hen in hand for a fresh slaughter. 

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

It had taken Azriel a few days to figure out the riddle. Repeating the words over and over, analyzing each term and its meaning. The line ‘hear the cords of the night’ was what led him to realize it was a song, but what song was what stumped him. He felt like a fool singing his favorite songs in the middle of the forest, belting it out with his whole chest.

He sang songs that made him teary eyed and even sang songs in the ancient tongue, but none of those had lured you to him. The Suriel mentioned ‘the touch of a memory,’  “oh Gods, I’m an idiot,” he said to himself. He only had one encounter with you, so it was easy to remember the events of that night, all these years he could never forget. He would never forget the song, the song he thinks is about you. His mother sang this song to him as a child and he wonders if she knew the dark power you possessed, was she singing to a God in hopes to answer her prayers, to lift her from the chains that held her down. 

The house of wind kindly provided warm tea and honey. It's eagerness to assist him piqued his curiosity. He would ask Elain about her findings another day. Soothing his vocal cords, a plan was formed to capture you and send you to the prison on top of the mountain.

You're the chaos of the night, 

A little girl lost in the woods

You're a folktale, the unexplainable

You're a bedtime story

The one that keeps the curtains closed

And I hope you're waiting for me

'Cause I can't make it on my own

I can't make it on my own. 

Azriel sang the words from his childhood, voice harmonious with a smooth baritone that held the memories from the past. He sang from the depths of his heart in hopes that the meaning behind his words would grace your ears and become a light in the dark. Guiding you towards his waiting arms.

Weathered leaves crunch under the weight of your relaxed body, grass floor cold and damp from the night. But the view of the stars in the Night Court were your favorite, they called to you as if saying 'stay.' Stars glitter like rare diamonds, and the crescent moon smiled brighter than the sun. The evening scent of mist and night felt familiar in the way that reminded you of home. It had been so long since you’ve been home, the thought of never returning grew closer and closer.

The midnight breeze caresses your skin, its gentle touch has your eyes closing, focusing on  the chirping of crickets and running water. A mellow voice sings the harmonious music of the night, its soft whisper tickles your ear like a past lover, luring you to follow the rich sound.

I hope you're waiting for me

Across your carpet of stars

You're the chaos of the night,

You're everything that we can't see

Chaos, you're the possibility.

Azriel ceases to sing once he spots you round a thick tree, his shadows excitedly rush towards you and Azriel curses under his breath at their eagerness. He observes as they affectionately coil around your neck, fluffing about in your hair before they trail down your arms. You giggle at their curiosity as they loop around your fingers, “you wanna play?” you ask, as you slowly move your fingers in awe at their closeness. They playfully bounce from one hand to the other, and you take that as a yes. Azriel is dumbfounded as he admires his shadows from afar. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against a tree, his gaze slowly trails up the delicious curves of your body and he imagines what it would be like to lay with a God. He sees you smile and nod at whatever they’ve whispered in your ear and he fears you both are up to no good. As the shadows dance in a circle just a few feet in front of you, they rapidly circle around and around creating a whirlwind of darkness. Cautiously you near the edge of their tornado and zap one of the shadows, creating an orb of light within the vortex. You're mesmerized by the display in front of you. Your power bounces off the shadowed wisps like an elegant dance, the wisps gently stroke the flame of your power, careful to not get scorched.

With the blink of your eye the orb bursts, spraying the ground and trees with thousands of specs of glittering starlight. Azriel feels a jolt of electricity zip up his body, shaking him so hard he loses balance off the tree, quickly righting himself before you notice. His effort is too late, you've already spotted him.

“You're not a stalker are you?” you ask, voice playful and curious as you near him.

If you only knew, Azriel thinks with a smirk.

“No, but I can be. Nice party trick by the way.” Azriel pushes off the tree to meet you. The first thing you notice is his eyes, hazel and dreamy framed by long thick lashes. His nose is straight and a little too perfect for a warrior, you wonder if he’s ever been punched in the face before, or maybe he's just that good at fighting. His high cheekbones and strong jaw remind you of the many demi gods that have been sculpted throughout the years. You eye him up and down, taking in his stature and broad shoulders. He’s a little too handsome and in your experience these types of males are conceited snobs who only enjoy their own reflection and company. Meanwhile Azriel does the same, completely entranced by the sway of your hips and how your hair flows over the swell of your breasts. 

“They seemed friendly.” you respond, tipping your head to the shadows that have swirled around the both of you, appearing to close the distance between you.

Azriel shakes his head, “I meant in Velaris. You threaten my home, my friends and my High Lord and expect to get away with it? How did you get past the wards? And how did you find Velaris?” 

Before you could respond the ground shakes as a blast erupts creating a cloud of dust and forest debris. Instinctually Azriel pulls your body flush to his, shielding you from injury. Dark membranous wings curl around your body, cocooning you safely in his arms. Your hands find the planes of his toned chest as you peer up at him through your full lashes. You know what the blast was but the feeling of his body pressed against yours had your knees weak, and you couldn't break away. 

Azriels heart is ramming against his chest at the proximity, his gaze is locked on your brilliant eyes as he dares to cup the side of your cheek. Angling your face to meet his, your exposed collarbone catches his attention when a bargain tattoo vanishes before his eyes; breaking the trance you had him in.

“What did you bargain?” he urges, hands now tightly gripping your upper arms.

“Your worst nightmare.”

Azriel staggered back, paling in horror as he registered your words.

Only one creature carried that name.

Bryaxis.

Part 3

Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit

[asolareclipses]

(Previous Part)

Taking a bus halfway across Maine was not on Nicos bucket list. Yet, there he was in a stuffy bus that looked, and smelled, like it had been made back in the 20’s—which Nico would know, he was there. Next to him Leo sat anything but still, his fingers drumming against the arm rests and occasionally grabbing things from his tool belt to tinker with. Sometimes he looked like a toddler hyped up on too much sugar. His constant movement comforted Nico though, it was a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Of course he was still mad at Leo for ruining his genius plan to face a goddess alone, or at least he was trying to convince himself he was mad.

“Dude, this bus needs so much work.” Leo said, as he held up his freshly made penguin that consisted of various screws. “I’m not sure how they got it to last this long, it’s like beyond messed up.”

“Probably why the tickets were so cheap,” Nico replied as he watched the screw penguin’s head bobble around.

“I give it about an hour before it breaks down,” Leo suddenly paused, titling his head as if he were hearing something. “Scratch that she’s going down now.”

As soon as he said that the bus sputtered, losing speed as the driver pulled over to the side of the road.

“Sorry everyone, we seem to be having some problems.” The bus driver grumpily announced, he acted as if this were a regular occasion.

“It’s my time to shine,” Leo grinned as he stood up from the seat. “Don’t worry mortals, Leo’s got this all under control.”

“Please ignore him,” Nico gave the few confused passengers a smile as he pushed Leo towards the door. “You can just call people mortals.”

“Oops,” Leo shrugged as he hopped down from the last bus step onto the pavement. “Anyways let’s see what’s up with this bad boy.”

Nico rolled his eyes as Leo popped open the hood of the bus to reveal the engine. The driver appeared shocked, as Leo shouldn’t have been able to just open it without releasing the latch.

“Hey kid, what do you think you’re doing?” The driver called out as he slowly made his way out of the bus.

“Just fixing up some stuff, don’t mind me.” Leo didn’t even look up as he pulled some tools out of his belt.

Nico was about to try and mediate the situation when he realized something was wrong. Back in the bus he hadn’t noticed it due to the overpowering musk of age, but the driver was most definitely a monster.

By the change of expression on the drivers face, Nico saw that he too realized they weren’t just regular mortals. Leo was, of course, oblivious to this.

“Looks like I have a rat problem,” The bus driver snarled in their direction.

“Nope, not rats, just a really rusted battery.” Leo offhandedly replied.

“Leo, he’s not talking about the bus.” Nico nudged him, as the mist around the driver began to evaporate, morphing his two eyes into one.

“Then what is he-holy smokes!” Leo dropped his wrench in surprise as he saw the undercover cyclopes be revealed.

“Should’ve known you demigods would’ve snuck in here sooner or later,” The driver clenched his bulky fists as if preparing himself to attack.

Nico scanned the area for any makeshift weapon, he was really regretting leaving his sword behind.

“Hey buddy,” Leo raised his hands in attempt to reason, “I’ll fix your bus for free, how about you don’t kill us?”

“Killing you is much better than driving this piece of junk,” His eye was focused on Nico as he spoke. “Especially you, you reek of the underworld.”

“And you reek of spoiled eggs,” Nico snapped back, “at least I have an excuse, what’s yours?”

The cyclopes didn’t like that, which was made apparent by him grabbing a chunk of dirt and lobbing it towards them.

“Hit the deck!” Leo called, which didn’t really apply to them as there was no ‘deck’ but Nico didn’t point that out. Instead, he dropped to the floor as the piece of earth sailed past their heads.

“Leo, does your tool belt supply weapons?” Nico asked while the cyclopes reloaded on dirt.

Leo rummaged for a moment before pulling out a weird hatchet-hammer tool, which later Nico found out was a drywall hammer. “How’s this?”

“Good enough,” Nico said as he grabbed the hammer thing.

Another mound of dirt flew towards them but it was blasted to dust when Leo shot a ball of fire towards it. “Take that dirt boy!” He screamed.

Using Leo as a distraction Nico bolted off to the side, running around the bus so that he ended up behind the cyclopes. Unfortunately the cyclopes seemed to have predicted this as he quickly spun around, his arm slamming into Nico resulting in him being thrown into the side of the bus.

Before the cyclopes could do anymore damage Leo screamed, “Take this dirt face!” Then a wrench bounced off the back of the cyclopes’s head.

A flash of rage appeared on the cyclopes’s face as he turned towards Leo, grabbing an extra large chunk of dirt. “Oh you’re going to regret that.”

“I am?” Leo asked with a grin.

The cyclopes had forgotten about Nico leaving him the perfect opportunity, “I will crush you-” The cyclopes stopped mid sentence as Nico stabbed the hatchet into his back. Then with a look of shock, he erupted into dust.

“Nice!” Leo called out.

“Yeah..” Nico winced as he looked down at his arm, the bandages had been soaked through with blood after the hard hit he took.

“Dude, ouch.” Leo’s smile dropped as his eyes moved over the once white gauze.

“It’s fine,” Nico sighed looking back towards the bus, “more importantly. What are we going to do now?”

Leo seemed to realize they were now faced with a bus full of angry commuters, with no bus driver, and still had about 150 miles to go. “Right, looks like we’re taking a ride on the Leo express!”

—

Leo knew how to drive, mostly.

While he’d never taken the time to get an official license, he knew machines better than anyone. A bus was certainly easier to handle than a giant flying ship.

Fixing the engine was also a piece of cake.

The difficult part was the passengers, turns out they weren’t thrilled by the sudden staff change.

“There’s no way we can just let a 15 year old drive!”

“Hey!” Leo snapped at the lady who looked like she was about to demand to speak to his supervisor. “I’ll have you know i’m 18!”

“Do you even have a license?”

“Now now, everyone calm down. Listen, i’m a trained professional.” Leo shrugged with his palms up, “I mean, do you want to stay on the side of the road forever?”

The bus went quiet with defeat.

“Right, well then sit down, get comfortable, because the Leo train is leaving the station!” Leo didn’t get the cheers and applause he expected from that statement, just a few groans and unpleasant mutters.

Soon, the bus was driving smoothly across the roads and Leo barely had to pay attention as he’d fixed up a temporary autopilot gadget. Beside him, Nico winced as he removed the bandages from his scratches. Somehow the wound looked worse.

“Dude, that looks really bad,” Leo frowned as he pulled out more bandages from his tool belt.

“It’s fine,” Nico mumbled, not even looking up at Leo.

“Yeah you keep saying that but I’ve yet to start believing it.”

Nico wrapped the bandages carefully around his arm, gritting his teeth as he tried to hide the pain. “It’s just a scratch, i’ve seen worse.”

That didn’t comfort Leo, in fact in made him feel worse. Of course, it’s only expected that a demigod face some pretty rough injuries here and there—Leo himself had seen quite a few. But Nico’s insistence on ignoring his pain made Leo worried that if it were to be serious, he’d never know.

Despite that, he knew arguing would just make Nico more annoyed, so he tried to liven up the atmosphere. “You know, if we were in an episode of the Magic School Bus right now you’d be Arnold.”

“What the Hades is the Magic School Bus?” Nico looked at Leo as if he were crazy.

Leo threw his head back in exasperation, “You’ve got to be joking! You don’t know the Frizz?”

“The what?”

“That’s it, i’m making a list of all the things you need to watch when we get back to camp.”

“Whatever,” Nico rolled his eyes, “as long as you don’t put Twilight on there i’m happy.”

“Hold up, Twilight?” Leo tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, Will told me it was iconic, or whatever.” Nico paused as if remembering something unpleasant, “If iconic means torturous, then it surely was.”

Leo burst into laughter at the thought of Nico actually watching Twilight, “Dont worry, we will not be watching any vampire shows.”

The rest of the ride was spent with Leo determining what things Nico had and hadn’t watched. Turns out Will had caught him up on quite a lot, but Leo still developed a lengthy list of things he would bless Nico with. In a way Nico’s unawareness of modern culture reminded him of Jason, due to his upbringing by wolves he was a bit out of the loop when it came to many popular things. Leo figured he’d do a “modern culture” class at camp, maybe invite Hazel. The idea made him smile, it was something to look forward to.

Eventually, they made it to the bus station, where he and Nico quickly snuck away to avoid suspicion. To their luck no one at the station had realized what happened until they were long gone.

Not to their luck, they still had a five mile walk ahead of them.

They spent a large part of the walk in silence, as it was hard to focus on anything other than the heat. Eventually, Leo got bored and tried to think about anything else, his mind wandering back to their previous conversation.

“I’m really wishing I had a magic school bus right about now,” Leo whined as he trudged forward. The warm air was now unpleasant as the sun beamed down upon him.

“And i’m really wishing I left you back at camp.”

“Hey!” Leo glared at Nico who bit back a smile, “You’re lucky! I blessed you with my company.”

Nico scoffed, “Right, blessed, that’s the word I was looking for.”

“Why does this place have to be out in the middle of nowhere?” Leo asked as he peered into the distance in hopes of seeing the outline of the school.

“Guess they didn’t want any kids running off,” Nico shrugged. “Honestly I don’t remember much about it, I was only there for like a year?” He seemed to think about it for a moment before giving up.

“That was after the casino?” Leo asked, he decided to take this as a chance to ask more about Nico’s past. It was the one topic Nico avoided, or maybe Leo was the one who avoided it, after all he knew how much old memories could hurt.

“Yeah, time felt so messed up back then. I mean it was like seventy years? But then suddenly i’m in the 20th century at some school in a state i’d never heard of before.” Nico sighed, “Not sure how I wasn’t more confused, it just felt normal, or whatever I thought normal was.”

Leo nodded, he was afraid to speak, careful to not scare Nico away.

“You don’t have to be so on edge,” Nico turned to look at him, almost as if he’d read his mind.

“I’m not...” Leo paused, “It’s just you’ve never talked in depth about this stuff with me before.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t talked about it with anyone until Will. But Mr. D says ‘talking is good,’ so might as well take his advice for once.”

The idea of Mr. D being a therapist threw Leo for a loop but he didn’t say anything about it, “Yeah, I guess I never really told anyone about all my stuff until Jason.”

Nico suddenly smirked, “You too seem pretty close.”

Leo’s face flushed red as he avoided Nico’s eyes, “What? No-I mean, of course we’re close, we’re best friends. Totally platonic best friends.”

“Right, and I totally believe you.” Nico rolled his eyes with a grin. There was a peaceful silence for a split second before Nico’s smile faded. Now, in the distance the outline of a large school could be seen.

Nico sighed, a hesitant look flashing across his face before he spoke, “We’re here. Welcome to Westover.”

Part Six

[dreamsndmadness]

———

Feyd’s eyes jump around the room, alighting on each occupant, cataloging the different expressions: fear, shock, disbelief, anger. He flickers briefly to his uncle, prostrate on the floor. He looks like a giant bug, completely stunned at its predicament, pinned to a board, starting to understand that death is imminent.

It is for all of us.

The Emperor and his imposing daughter clutch at each other, processing the sounds outside with fatalistic rationality. The Sardaukar circle them in what Feyd is sure will inevitably be an ineffectual manner. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. Screams and the grating of weapons are loud outside the solid door.

Feyd waits like the rest, pacing back and forth, mind scrambling, thinking of possibilities, heart pounding harder as the noise draws nearer. Wondering how much longer they have. How they will do it. If they will make it last, make it hurt. Ringing every last drop of pain out of them all before letting them collapse to the ground, flopping at the feet of this Muad’dib. Will it please him to see them that way? Undoubtedly.

When the doors finally open, dust and Fremen spill inside, easily overpowering the Sardaukar that put up a fight. One figure stands out from the rest who fall back deferentially as he appears. This is him then? Muad’dib isn’t the hulking brute he was expecting, body slight under the layers of his stillsuit and cloak. His face is shielded, but his movements have the fluidity of youth. Not what he pictured.

Despite his appearance, his presence is undeniable. The whole room holds their breath as he strides deeper inside, casting the Emperor an unimpressed look before climbing the stairs towards his uncle. Muad’dib stands over him, Fremen knife in his gloved hand, staring down at him. Feyd watches avidly as the man’s chest heaves, knife poised and ready as he bends down. Quick and brutal, he penetrates his uncle's fleshy neck, leaning close to whisper something in his ear.

Feyd can feel his breaths coming fast and light out of his open mouth, eyes devouring the rich red blood spilling from his uncle’s prone body. Like an animal on a butcher block, vulnerable and weak. Feyd curls his fingers into his palms, inching forward to get a better look. To try and catch a glimpse of his uncle’s terrified eyes. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears, body fizzling with excitement.

Muad’dib confidently walks towards their group. He’s still too far away to pick up too many details, but Feyd can make out his Fremen blue eyes, shining bright with violence. The man speaks sharply to his soldiers, command clear in his voice despite the unfamiliar words. Feyd watches eagerly as he turns and walks confidently away, barely registering as the Fremen dispatch the Sardaukar, and order the prisoners to walk.

The cells they take them to are comfortable enough. He can hear a few sounds of despair from his terrified neighbors. Pathetic. They wait, anticipation and anxiety heavy in their prison. However, Muad’dib does not return to pass judgment as the night continues. When Feyd closes his eyes, he can conjure an image of him in his mind, blood dripping from his knife, wild anger in his blue eyes. He shoves his hand into his pants, squeezing his cock as he thinks about kneeling at the man’s feet. Thinks about his own blood choking him as Muad’dib draws the knife across his neck with loving slowness.

———

Feyd’s POV of his uncle’s murder.

[sailorangelwrites]

Alastor x Overlord!Reader One-Shot - I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

Synopsis: Being an overlord is boring, but boredom is nothing new for you. You never expected that a meeting of the overlords, of all things, would bring excitement, danger and passion to you in the form of the radio demon...

Notes: SFW, mentions of violence but nothing too explicit, non-gendered reader, apathetic reader, the reader can stand up for themself

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

After everything that had happened in the land of the living, you had no hope of reaching heaven. You couldn't remember the last time you had much hope for anything, though.

Looking at your crimson surroundings, you couldn't help but wonder what your afterlife had in store for you. Hell looked like a regular human city, just a lot more... gory and shameless. But you could handle the gore, and the shamelessness was easy enough to ignore, so you decided to explore. What took some getting used to were the odd-looking residents. Souls were... peculiar looking things, you discovered.

There was no point in dwelling on the surface-level matters, you decided. You needed a weapon.

You yearned for the steady, cool weight of a knife in your hand, the same way an artist yearned for pigment, the same way a writer yearned to give their words form. There were many tools to your trade, but a knife would be the simplest to acquire, with the added benefit of easy concealment.

As you thought about holding a knife in your hand, you felt a buzzing beneath your skin. Power. You could identify it through instinct alone. In your hand appeared a knife - black, made from a material you couldn't place.

A convenient power. One that you could get used to.

It didn't take much for you to fall back into the swing of things. You met a man in a bar. A gang of imps had stolen money from him. You tracked them down, retrieved the money, and handed the gentleman the gang leader's horns for good measure.

Word got out. You never had a shortage of customers. And once you had gotten your hands on some angelic steel, things could only escalate.

Business got a lot messier, but for every soul laid to permanent rest your notoriety grew. Sometimes, on nights where you had little to do yet so much emptiness inside, you would walk into the neverending turf wars and start slicing through the participants. Sinners would beg and offer their souls to you on a silver platter.

Who were you to decline their kind offers?

Overlord. That was what they started to call you. You should have felt accomplished, but you didn't. You didn't feel anything at all.

When was the last time you had felt anything?

You truly couldn't remember. In between the mindless slaughter, the exchange of souls and goods, you found yourself wondering if you would ever feel anything even remotely human.

One day, a small demon held out an envelope to you. The thing was sweating bullets, so you took the letter quickly, waving it away. As you opened it with a careful claw, the lesser demon scampered away in a pathetic display. Killing it might have been a kindness - it clearly wasn't cut out for the harsh environment it had condemned itself to.

However, you let it leave, and focused on the letter. It was inviting you to an overlords' meeting.

You went, if only to alleviate some of the boredom you had been suffering through.

The other overlords eyed you with what could only be described as hunger.

Could they overpower you? Could they push you out from the top? Could they subjugate you and steal away your infamy?

You kept your head high and refused to meet their discerning gazes.

"Greetings, Hell's sovereign overlords..." Carmilla began, before launching into the briefing.

Extermination statistics, turf wars, troublemakers to be dealt with...

All so very boring. You half listened and chose to observe your peers.

Each one was stranger than whoever was sitting next to them, in their own right. Their attentions were no longer focused on you. They had drawn their conclusions, which were, quite frankly, none of your business.

However, one demon continued to stare at you. Burning red eyes, thin grey skin, and a jagged smile that looked like it hurt. You met his gaze and saw the smile deepen.

Challenging. Amused. Hungry.

It was purely predatory. Something about that thrilled you - you felt it in your stomach, the conflicting urges to run and to lunge at him.

Carmilla finished up the meeting. Everyone was standing up and walking away. You glanced away from the man and to the door.

That was a mistake.

When you looked back his seat was empty.

"Why hello there, my esteemed colleague! I have heard a great many things about you down the old grapevine, so I am positively thrilled to have a chance to meet you in the flesh!"

His voice was heavily filtered, and even when he spoke he somehow managed to maintain that sharp, menacing smile. And somehow, he was behind you. How had he managed that? You had only looked away for a split second, you hadn't even heard him move.

You stood up from your chair and took a step back from him. "I haven't heard about you," you responded, keeping your tone neutral.

The overlord's expression twitched and a pop of static filled the air. Any trace of irritation was wiped away as he took a step toward you, coming far too close for comfort. "Is that so? Such a pity. There isn't a cultured demon in all of Hell who hasn't heard of the radio demon."

"Then I must not be very cultured," you said.

A laugh track roared as the 'radio demon' put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn't help the low growl that escaped you at the contact. His eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't comment on the sound.

"Fortunately there are remedies for such an affliction," he told you, walking you out of the room. You felt trapped but didn't dare to lash out. A part of you wanted to see where the interaction would go - to get a glimpse into the mind of the other overlord.

His face turned towards yours, uncanny grin wide and far too close as he said, "Those who are uncultured are simply out of tune with the arts. Perhaps a tour of my radio station is in order, hm? What do you say?"

A trap.

"I may be uncultured," you started, "but I know that it's frowned upon to go off with strange men."

"It would be a shame to incur frowns," the man said with a hum. "Oh well, another time! That certainly changes things... Oh well, you will find that I can be quite adaptable."

"How admirable," you deadpanned.

"Aren't I just?"

He led you into the elevator, still far too close, but now there was nowhere to run.

You could summon a blade or a gun, but you knew that wasn't a good idea. The only tool you could safely use were your words, but even that could go south. Still, you decided to be blunt and say, "If there's something you need, just come out with it."

"To the point, I see," he said with a chuckle. "Very well. I wanted to propose a game, of sorts."

"I have little time for games," you said, though the possibilities began to run wild through your mind.

Something fun. Something to break up the boredom. A chance to beat this smarmy, smiling overlord.

"You ought to make time for games, my friend. This afterlife of ours can get terribly boring without some form of sport... Though I can see the novelty has already worn off for you. You really should smile more, my dear!"

"The novelty was never there to begin with," you answered truthfully.

"Such a shame! Yes, indeed, I must find a way to bring some passion to your weary soul!"

The elevator reached its destination, opening to a back alley. You stepped out before the man could continue puppeteering you.

This was your chance to get away. But this had been the first interesting interaction you'd had in a while...

"What sort of game did you have in mind?"

A muffled crowd cheered as the man flew over to you, invading your personal space once more. "Something right up your alley! A battle of wit, strength, and charisma!"

"That doesn't sound like something-"

"Whichever one of us can secure the most deals within a day will be the victor," he said, steamrolling over your words.

"What are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will be in eternal service to me." As he said that, he seemed to glow with feral power, his shadow growing and giving you a wicked grin. "And if you win... You will receive three favours from me. Does that sound fair?"

"No. Not even a little bit. I was interested before, but it's clear that the game is stacked in your favour."

The overlord's eyes darkened, sending a delightful pang of fear through your entire being.

"I do not appreciate the implications of that. To think that I would ever 'stack' a game? Ha, it's ludicrous, preposterous, and utterly - utterly - ridiculous!"

"Am I supposed to just believe you?" you snapped. "You make weird eyes at me, get real close, start talking about games where I'll be in 'eternal service' to you... And I'm supposed to think that you're - what? - chivalrous deep down? Trustworthy? Assume that favours from you are actually worth something? Do I look that stupid to you?"

The radio demon blinked. "Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

You folded your arms. The stance would come off as defensive, but you didn't need your arms to put up a fight, not with your particular powers. "Do you want me to blindly believe you?"

"No, of course not! I see you as... a kindred spirit, in a sense. Such violence within you, a head for business, yet bogged down by apathy... If a game is not to your tastes, then how about a mutually beneficial partnership?"

There was something in his eyes that looked almost proud. Satisfied, maybe. It was strange. He really was an expressive creature, but you could tell there were so many thoughts in his head that weren't fully reaching his features.

You had a feeling that he would be one hell of a poker player.

"'Mutually beneficial partnership'? Is that how people from your era asked each other out or something?"

"Hah! You are a funny one..."

That... wasn't a no. Huh.

"Wait, are you actually-"

"Ah, how unfortunate, but it seems I must be running along now. It's disheartening that we couldn't come to an agreement of any sort, but in the future I hope we can see eye to eye. I will be in contact with you soon, as I did enjoy this little chat!"

You found yourself smiling - genuinely smiling - for the first time in what felt like forever.

"And what's the actual name of the gentlemen I should be waiting for?" you asked.

"How rude of me, it seems I've missed a trick or two! The one you will be awaiting is Alastor. I hear he's quite the troublemaker, though."

"At least you've heard of him," you said, delighting in the way his eye left twitched.

"A funny one indeed," Alastor concluded before vanishing in a smog. The last thing you saw was his shadow grinning at you with a wink.

You stayed there for a moment, basking in the unfamiliar warmth filling your chest. It was, without a doubt, a feeling you could get used to.

(Thanks for reading - I have requests open, so if you want to see anything specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do!)

[juuuulez]

📰 | part one: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, female reader I’m so sorry!!!!, mostly scene setting..next chapter will get juicy.

summary: You meet Carl whilst the Satellite station is being raided, where they take you as prisoner.

previous | next

This is gonna be an ongoing fic!!! I’ve already got like,, 8 parts mapped out, but will likely add more stuff here and there. It also currently has no name……but I’ll think of something. It will follow canon loosely, mostly at the start, and then I’ll just diverge into whatever I want to write about LOL. Let me know what you think, if you like it, want more soon etc etc.

It’s Saviour!Reader, with very heavy father-figure Negan because I am sorry but I LOVE HIM! Slow burn, enemies to lovers with Carl, teenage squabbling, you get the gist.

I’m also open for requests!!

It feels like you can’t breathe.

It’s dark, so dark. Almost pitch black, if not for the moonlight shining through the windows, spaced out near the rooftops to allow some visibility. You try to keep your footsteps light, one hand clutched around a metal baseball bat, the other feeling the wall to make sure you don’t trip. Everybody else is asleep.

Everybody else is dead.

You have no idea who’s done this. But it’s multiple people, from what you’ve gathered. A group uninvolved with the Saviours. Until now, you suppose.

It was no secret that your father was a tyrant, and had his fair share of enemies, but this? Talk about retaliation. If you’d been sleeping, too, you’d be dead. Maybe it was some sort of fate that you weren’t. Divine intervention. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

Then an alarm blares, disturbing the calculating silence, awakening anybody who remained unconscious. Panic spreads throughout the satellite station, followed by the relentless noise of machine guns. Your grip on the bat tightens as you sprint down the hallway, searching for salvage, somewhere to hide. They’d overpower you, no doubt. Though you were strong, a dedicated fighter, there was only so much a 17 year old girl could do. Facing them was too risky.

And to come home in a body bag? Not an option; Negan would kill every last person alive.

You round the corner, facing a door that you knew led to a supply room. The perfect hiding spot. So, you check your surroundings, weapon at the ready before entering the small space.

The door slams behind you.

“Hands up.”

You panic, momentarily, yet don’t obey. Spinning on your heels, you meet the source of this threat, a pistol pointed in your direction.

But behind it stands a boy, likely no older than yourself. Messy brown hair, stupid looking hat. Eyepatch. Definitely not a soldier.

He takes your silence as offence, “I said, hands up!” The boy barks at you, pulling back the safety with a distinct click.

It feels like there’s a lump in your throat, yet you speak anyway, arms still caged defensively at your sides. “You wanna kill me?”

The question clearly takes this boy off guard, judging by the way his jaw clenches, displeased by the ambiguous attitude you’re holding.

“Haven’t decided yet.” He answers, tone cold and steely.

But the gun isn’t pointed at your head. It’s a little to the right, just past your ear. If he shot it now, the bullet would hit the concrete wall. Lack of depth perception, you decide. One eye.

And so, you take that chance. With one motion, you’re swinging your bat towards him, using all the strength in your body. For some reason, he doesn’t shoot, but does duck down, the swift motion causing that stupid sheriff’s hat to fall to the ground.

The minuscule moment of shock, uncertainty, is your window of opportunity: it doesn’t take much to barrel towards him, your shoulders colliding with a thud as you disarm the boy, letting the pistol fall to the ground.

You don’t bother to pick it up, kicking the weapon away from the two of you, letting it skid across the concrete and hit the opposing wall. But in the time it takes him to retrieve the gun, you’re already out the door.

It doesn’t take long to navigate your way out of the station. Sprinting through hallways, narrowly avoiding tripping over limp bodies of people you once knew. Then the doors are right there, so close. You could even see cracks of sunrise seeping through the gaps.

Fresh air assaults your face, filling your parched lungs, and it takes everything in you not to fall to the ground in relief.

But it doesn’t matter.

There’s shouting, the figures of people coming into view. It floods your system with panic, suddenly alert at the newfound danger. Your sprinting comes to the stop, skidding on wet grass, blanketed with morning dew.

You fall flat on your ass.

The moment of clumsiness is all it takes for these people to approach you, shouting, demanding a name. A gun in your face. You grit your teeth, spotting the metal bat a few feet away, too far to reach.

And that boy, with the stupid hat. He picks it up. It makes you want to scream.

They demand you take them to Negan. To the next outpost. Locate their friends. There’s talking, bargaining on a radio. You stood in silence, childishly frustrated about being used like a pawn on a board. Exchange of you, for their two friends. That, or they’d kill you.

This immature silence lasts the whole trip.

The handcuffs around your wrists are irritating. There’s an itch on your cheek you can’t scratch. Your shoulders begin to hurt from being twisted into such a position.

But the worst of it? That boy, with his stupid hat, holding your baseball bat.

You swallow your anger.

You swallow your anger as they leave you in the RV to raid the Saviour outpost.

You swallow your anger when they come out with their two friends, but none of yours.

You swallow your anger when they tell you that Negan is dead, he’s been killed. That you’ll be put in a cell until they know what to do with you.

“Let me see the body.” You demand, brows furrowed, attempting to shield your inner confliction. Concern.

The man with the curly hair and beard answers, already distracted, moving onto the next task. Like the life of your father was meaningless. “Ain’t no time, we gotta move. Get back to Alexandria before nightfall.”

You swallow your anger.

Until you can’t anymore.

It hasn’t even been that long. The end to a long, gruelling day. At least, it appears to be, judging by the dimming light seeping through tiny windows. You’ve never been in a prison cell before. Though, granted, it was probably time you got some semblance of consequence for your morally-grey actions.

There’s footsteps. Once person approaching, then another walking away. Keeping guard on your cell, you presume. The same process had happened twice already.

Except this time, the footsteps continue a little further. The jingle of keys, a metal door creaking open.

Then he’s standing in front of you, on the other side of the bars. You want to burn that stupid hat.

“Your hat looks stupid.”

His face twists, brows furrowed, but otherwise ignores the harsh statement. The hat remains on his head.

“What’s your name?” He asks, standing a few meters away, warily. As if he’s afraid you’ll squirm through the bars and attack him. Maybe that’s a good thing.

You don’t answer.

But the boy continues talking anyway, “Mine’s Carl.”

It’s like an olive branch, a truce. An ounce of humility amongst this whole, terrible experience.

You roll your eyes, but tell him your name anyway. Carl seems to take this as permission to continue, as he now sits down on the cold concrete floor, though still maintains the distance between the two of you.

“Were your parents back there?” He asks you, though doesn’t sound particularly curious, nor judgemental. It’s that same, weird, stony tone. Like he only wants to know simply for the benefit of information.

So, you humour him.

With a shrug, you mumble, “No.”

“Is Negan your dad?” Carl asks almost immediately, already having a path of conversation in mind. This boy knows what he wants, and intends on figuring it out. That, or he’s just really blunt.

Once again, you shrug, giving a pointed look that conveys how you don’t intent to cooperate.

In response, Carl narrows his eyes, taking your lack of cooperation as hostility.

A few moments pass, and he’s getting up again, storming towards the door. The keys jingle. Metal creaks.

And he’s gone.

Another few days pass.

Nobody had interacted with you; it felt like you were going insane. Four walls and a dinky bed.

At least Carl tried to talk to you, nobody else seemed interested.

Until the curly-haired man is back, who you presume is named Rick, and is getting you out of the cell, once again adorning handcuffs.

“You’re going to Hilltop,” He tells you, snapping your wrists together once more, but this time offers the reprieve of cuffing your hands in front of you, “Somebody will watch you, give you a new home. You misbehave? It’s back in the cell.”

Though displeased, you have no choice but to follow. Suspicion stews in your gut, as these people appear to be in a rush, ever so slightly frantic. An energy in the air.

You remain impartial, annoyance radiating from your being as they drive, all these people packed into an RV. Everybody is having their seperate conversations, though you remain alone, handcuffed at the back of the vehicle.

A few hours in… and the road is blocked.

Blocked by people. A few cars parked nearby.

Disruption stirs in the RV, weapons suddenly gripped, prepared for a threat. Just before Rick can go to investigate: you hear it.

Whistling.

Your face must clearly light up, a hint of hope, and you’re rushing to stand. Though you can only make it two steps forward, deeper into the RV, when suddenly hands are gripping your shoulders, a firm hold keeping you in place.

Keeping you from escaping.

You twist and turn, aggressive curses leaving your mouth, but are unable to fully face your captor.

But from the corner of your eye, you see the rim of that that stupid, stupid hat.

[petrichormeraki]

Tips For Writing C!TommyInnit, From A Loser With Brainrot

Tommy is LOUD. Whether he's angry or excited or playing around, he's usually yelling. He is not aware of how loud he is unless he's specifically raising his voice to overpower the conversation (which he usually only does when he's angry at someone/thing, or to make a point). He's only quieter when he's serious, at peace, or very very sad

TOMMY IS SMART!!! He thinks things through when he has time to do so. He is strategic and considers other people's behaviors when he plans something out (ex building the tower overlooking the prison slowly, so Sam didn't get as suspicious, and making a point to only inhabit it when it was dark to be less noticed). Tommy knows how people act/think if he's familiar with them, and he uses that to his advantage.

However, Tommy's very impulsive, and his emotions overrun his brains very often. This happens the most when he's angry or scared.

Tommy lets people take pity on him 80% of the time. Unless it's a serious situation and he's trying to prove himself, (ex Logstedshire) he LOVES free shit and he very easily falls into the "oh poor little TommyInnit, he has no family to his name and is dirty and cold, won't you spare some netherite for his poor soul?" narrative.

Tommy is childish. He bickers over things that don't really matter and is the epitome of "he started it!!" when he gets in trouble. He also constantly nags at people until they cave to get what he wants. I have no idea how CC!Tommy plays being a youngest sibling SO WELL since he's an only child but that is exactly who C!Tommy is

Tommy is not brave. He hides behind people to avoid danger and he runs away from conflict if he can. The times where this didn't happen (Exile, Final Disc Confrontation, November 16th) were because he was backed into a corner, literally or figuratively, and was forced to fight back.

more under the cut bc this got very long lmao

Tommy is not very private UNLESS it concerns his past trauma. He will talk about what he's doing, every thought in his head, and what he thinks of everything he sees, UNLESS it's recounting what happened to him. Getting information like that from the source is like pulling teeth, even for people he trusts completely. The reasoning for this (best as I can tell anyway) is that he simply just doesn't want to relive it.

Tommy has a very black and white way of thinking about his allies. If someone helps his enemy, they are his enemy too. He doesn't really care about personal motivations or reasonings unless they're close to him (Tubbo) and he does not forgive easily.

However, he also recognizes power. When Tommy ran from Logstedshire, he ran to the person who killed his best friend because he knew Technoblade was very powerful against Dream. Another example is when he ran to Phil when Dream escaped prison and went after him, even though Phil destroyed L'manburg WITH Dream AND killed Wilbur, two things that Tommy vehemently hates him for. Tommy seemed to not be thinking very clearly when either of these events happened, so this may have been a purely impulsive decision made out of fear.

Tommy squirrels away his riches. He only breaks into his ender chest when he really needs the resources, ie diamond armor and weapons for a showdown. He actually has quite a lot of diamonds and gold if I recall correctly, but he still resorts to stone/iron tools and no armor in his day to day.

Kind of related to above, Tommy keeps momentos of people he cares about in his ender chest, where no one can reach them but him. He is terrified of losing these things because they remind him of when times were good, and he had people he loved. (This was actually said by him, I just don't remember the stream sorry ;;w;;)

Tommy is very stubborn. He doesn't cooperate very often and views the way he does things as the best way. The only time to my memory that he defaulted to someone else was when Wilbur was alive (L'manburg, Pogtopia)

Tommy likes maintaining his surroundings. This includes harvesting crops and replacing them, patching up creeper holes, and replacing missing blocks from his house or the Prime Path. He does these things without anyone telling him to, on his "down time" if you will, and doesn't really call attention to it

TOMMY LOVES ANIMALS. He doesn't like killing them and tries to eat carrots instead of killing for meat (although he doesn't seem to have qualms with eating meat that other people give him)

Tommy has a soft spot for kids/small creatures. He tried very hard to hate Michael because he was bitter about Ranboo and Tubbo's friendship but he broke almost instantly if I remember correctly. He fawns over "cute" things and gets thoroughly distracted from whatever he was doing if he notices a baby chicken or something

Tommy is rarely still. He almost always is doing something with his hands (ie building, chopping trees, etc) if he's in conversation with someone. The only times where he actually sits down and stops is when he's watching the sunset on his bench, or having a self reflection moment/processing heavy information.

I'll stop here, but I plan on making another post that more goes into his speaking mannerisms and whatnot. I hope this helps somebody trying to write C!Tommy, feel free to send me an ask if you have specific questions!!