#the fear of thunder storms basically

[casimircrane]

someome needs to tell the sky to SHUT THE FUCK UP!! im TRYING to ENJOY my dnd!!

[salemwasnteverhere]

Yandere!Tentacle Monster x Fem!Lighthouse keeper! Reader

Damn that title long

Cws: Tentacles are referred to as more than one, reader is a bit of a perv for wanting to bang monsters, consensual somnophilia, excessive cum, cumflation, penetration, the monster is buff ngl 💦, this is supposed to be freaky/kinky :p also reader is morally grey

SFW

You've always loved solitude. Even when you were a young girl in foster care.

Fog, mist, rain, thunder, dark clouds, all of those added to the feeling of being enclosed where no one else was.

You don't like sunny days. Not in an emo way but in a need for a calm, and the blistering sun couldn't bring you that.

Fast forward 20 something years and you struggle to stay at a job because of people. Rude customers, loud kids, lazy coworkers. Hell you got fired from your local grocer because you threw a cabbage at some entitled asshole.

And by some luck, you weren't in cuffs yet. Fate? Prolly lol

You were reading the newspaper one day and saw an ad for a lighthouse keeper. It must have been urgent if it was in the paper 4 times.

The people you met for the job were shady as hell. But they offered to pay good for you to just take care of the lighthouse completely alone for 6 months.

They put you on a boat and shipped your ass out to an island hours away from the mainland.

It had the lighthouse (duh), a cabin for you, a very small forest, and beaches covered in driftwood and seaweed.

It was foggy, cold, and wet with no sun peeking through the clouds.

Perfect.

The people who hired you were eager to get off the island. So immediately after showing you the basics they ran off.

The cabin was old and rustic, with a few holes in the roof that were covered by aged duct tape.

There was an outdoor shower and the place used gas lamps for light.

But you enjoyed it. The solitude.

Now let's skip to two months later.

You got the hang of keeping the light on and keeping it fixed. The stairs definitely worked you out though.

You spent 80% of your time using the small workshop to repair the cabin. It eventually looked slightly livable.

Everything was completely normal

Until that day on the beach.

You were outside your cabin showering.

The outdoor shower didn't exactly have curtains so you were exposed to the beach it faced.

The hot water kept you comfortable in the cold weather and you were relaxed...until you heard a growl.

You assumed it was an animal and looked around when you saw something light purple disappear into the ocean waves.

Coral you thought just coral

You went on with your week like nothing happened but you always felt watched.

It wasn't until one night during a storm you felt it.

A storm had hit the island hard, it was freezing and your shitty blankets did little.

You barely managed to fall asleep when something warm engulfed you, arms and slimy embraces.

You screamed in shock and fear but your unwelcome bedmate held you harder and wouldn't let you move.

It was only after you calmed down that it relaxed.

Light purple skin was what you noticed when looking down. With scales in areas that were slightly darker.

The tentacles were wrapped around your legs tightly, writhing in certain areas.

You got a better look when your holder put you on your back and sat above you.

A humanoid creature with light purple skin and what seemed to be a jellyfish head sat on its actual head. It had no nose and completely white eyes, not to mention a gentle smile.

It cooed at you, dragging it's hands up your stomach and sliding up your bra.

Slimy and warm, that was it's skin.

You normally would have thrashed and kicked, but maybe it was the pheromones the creature left out, or how one tentacle pressed right against your cunt through your damp shorts.

But you moaned when it touched you. A soft, unashamed moan.

The tentacle at your shorts practically tore them off, panties included, and it slid up and down your slit and flicked against your clit.

You watch as it's hand fondled your tits and pinched your nipples, its eyes slightly lidded.

You let your body roam down it's chest and saw it didn't have a cock. It was kinda like a ken doll. But the tentacles must have the same effect as one when you saw white precum drip from the larger tentacles tip.

More tentacles held your arms and legs open while the tentacle squirmed into you, thick and struggling.

There wasn't a part of you it didn't fill. Your stomach bulged slightly as it didn't wait and immediately moved in you, wiggling before pulling out and slamming back in.

The cabin was full of lewd wet noises and your cries, along with the creature chirps and coos while it pet your head that night.

NSFW

There wasn't a second it didn't have a tentacle on or in you.

Despite its main body being in the water there was a tentacle wrapped around your legs that you never found the start of.

It had an iron grip and wouldn't come off unless the creature itself was nearby.

When the tentacle wasn't dormant it would rub against your clit through your pants or would be in you, gently drawing orgasms after orgasms until you begged it to let you breathe.

The creature was never gone for more than a few hours. And when it came back it came with gifts.

Shells, pearls, fish, jewelry it made or rusty jewelery it found on the bottom of the ocean.

You noticed it liked it when you wore the jewelry during sex, mainly due to how much rougher it was.

Then there was the slight fear of getting knocked up.

Every single time you had sex you would try and tell it to pull out but it would just smile and pet your head before cumming in you for the third time that hour. And you loved it.

Sometimes, when you were especially needy, you'd put on more of a show when showering.

Even touching yourself when you knew it was watching. The creature loved it.

You'd see it stand in the water and would beckon you closer, to which you happily obliged.

You'd meet in the water and it would kiss you roughly before lifting your legs around its waist and kept you above the water as it fucked its tentacles deep into you. The water mixing with the (possible) gallons of cum that spilled from you

One of your favorite things was waking up to its coos and growls.

You'd be held tight by its tentacles while it found shoved it's tounge in your cunt, hitting deep spots with its flexible prongs.

Other times it would wake up to you using one of its tentacles, whining when you couldn't get it to stay stiff by itself. It would act asleep and slowly stiffens the tentacle so you could have your fun.

What a perv you are

But then again the sun's gonna blow up one day so :p

It seemed to have infinite stamina and an infinite libido.

It could be the most inconvenient time ever and all you need to do is give it a look before your suspended in the air by your hands while it curls a smaller tentacle around your clit and fucks you with its thick one.

The creature was possessive before you knew it was there, especially when people dropped off your supplies.

But now that your it's? A whole new genre of possessive.

On time you had to keep a straight face while talking to someone cause the mini tentacle was rubbed right against your g-spot while somehow rubbing your clit under your skirt.

It even started biting you hard enough to leave marks.

--

Requests are open :)

[producedbysohyun]

Reverse comfort

Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: Reader is scared of thunder, and even though Dae-ho is a bit startled as well, he pushes his fear aside to make them feel safe.

Warnings: Non!squid game au, maybe slightly OC Dae-ho? GN reader

masterlist

a/n: I keep seeing “reader comforts Dae-ho” and stuff like that but your girl needs some comfort as well so I decided to make one 😃 (please be kind this is my first time writing and English is not my first language 🙏)

The storm came out of nowhere. One minute, the sky was clear, and the next, it was dark and stormy. You sat curled up on the couch, hands gripping your ears as a way to drown the loud sound out.

Dae-ho was sitting on the opposite side of the room, the loud sound made him flinch, too. It wasn’t like he wasn’t scared, he definitely was. But he realized that you need more comfort than him at the moment.

Another clap of thunder struck and you jumped, breathing a little more erratic now.

“Hey,” Dae-ho said, voice soft as he stood up and walked over to you. “It’s just a storm. Nothing to be afraid of..” He said trying to convince himself as well.

But the look in your eyes told him you weren’t quite buying it. The thunder crashed again, louder this time, and your hands shook as you pulled your knees to you chest, trying to do anything to block out the awful sound.

Dae-ho’s heart tightened, the urge to comfort you stronger than his own fear. “Hey, come here,” he said, gently pulling you into his side as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, basically pulling you into his lap at this point.

The sound of thunder shook the apartment again, and you stiffened, a small gasp escaping your lips.

Dae-ho’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “I know it’s scary,” he said quietly, “but you’re safe here. I’m right here with you.” He said again, not fully believing himself.

You nod slightly, trying your best to not focus on the thunder. You bring your legs up to rest on his lap, the two of you holding tightly onto each other.

Dae-ho gave you a small smile, rubbing your leg softly. He could feel the tension in your body starting to melt away, and that was enough to make him forget about the thunder for a second.

“See? We’re fine,” he said, his hand still resting on your leg. “You’re not alone.”

Your voice was barely a whisper when you finally spoke. “Thanks, Dae-ho.”

He just nodded, pulling you a little closer. “Of course, angel….”

As the storm raged on, the loud booms of thunder and flashes of lightning outside only seemed to intensify. But inside, with Dae-ho's comforting presence beside you, you felt a little safer. The warmth of his body against yours felt like the only thing keeping you grounded.

Another boom rolled through the apartment, and you stiffened, your grip tightening on Dae-ho’s sweatshirt. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear rising again with each noise from the storm. But this time, you didn't panic as much.

Dae-ho noticed the way you tensed and, without hesitation, he moved his hand from your leg to rap around you again, pulling you just a little closer. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft against the storm outside. "Ive got you."

You cling onto him so tightly that you can feel the way he’s shaking as well. You can’t help the guilt that creeps up your body as you realize that he’s scared as well. All you can do is mumble out a quiet apology.

“I’m sorry….”

Dae-ho looks at you in confusion. “Sorry… for what?”

You sigh. “I- I don’t know… I feel bad… I know you’re scared too and I just-“

Dae-ho cuts you off. “Hey.. don’t worry about me ok? I’m fine…”

You know that’s probably a lie given the way he’s shaking so you try to defend your statement. “But you-“

“Y/N.. it’s ok… let me take care of you…” he says, cutting you off once again.

You sigh, too exhausted and scared to argue over it so you just lean into him more.

“There you go…” he says as he rubs your back softly.

“Thank you….” You say tiredly, your body feeling more relaxed as you hear the storm calming down.

He smiles and reply’s. “No need to thank me baby…”

You both sit in comfortable silence. Your body practically on-top of his as he continues to rub your back, both of you calming down as the claps of thunder become less frequent.

After a while, you drift off to sleep, Dae-ho following soon after, still wrapped in each other’s arms. And as the storm calmly continued outside, you couldn’t help but think that if enduring a thunderstorm meant being held and comforted by your boyfriend for hours, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

a/n: ignore how bad I am at making endings but I hope you enjoyed it 😭

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could you do honkai girls with an s/o who can transform like a Power Ranger or Kamen Rider?

(H:SR/ToCS) Firefly, Herta, Seele, Rappa, Laura, Emma, and Duvalie's S/O having a Power Rangers Transformation

"IT'S MAKING ME CRINGE, DUTCH!-" *VIOLENT COUGHING* - 99% of the characters in this post

Firefly at first was taken aback by S/O's wrist suddenly glowing a bright red color.

...Which were then quickly followed up by flashy and dramatic poses.

(S/O) "IT'S MORPHN' TIME!"

(Firefly) "Morphing what-?"

In an instant, S/O's body was overtaken by electricity, before their clothes were replaced with a red spandex jumpsuit, posing and an explosion appearing behind them.

Firefly couldn't react too outwardly, considering that she was still acting as SAM.

And...truthfully, yeah if she criticized them about it, it'd be the pot calling the kettle black.

She knew her transformations were sometimes dramatic, but that was a fear factor. S/O's on the other hand?

Well, even their explosion was color coded to their suit, so this was going a little overboard.

(Firefly) "...I wonder if the armor would form like that flawlessly if I posed like that too."

Herta was honestly fascinated by S/O's Power Suit, moreso than she was annoyed.

It was kind of funny too, if not cringeworthy.

(S/O) "GO, GALACTIC!-"

S/O pointed their sword heroically in the air, scaring the subjects Herta had them fighting against.

Which was impressive, considering they were all automatons.

(Herta) snrrk! "Is the catchphrase necessary?"

(S/O) "Absolutely it is!"

(Herta) "I see...Note to self, make prototype not require vocal confirmation-"

Once she got around to making her own for science, she would not be shouting that literally every single time she needed someone beat up.

As for the residual energy buildup, Herta would also make sure that a transformation would not cause a catastrophic explosion too.

Seele just groaned everytime a fight broke out near her and S/O.

Normally, she would have been concerned that the love of her life had the risk of getting hurt.

S/O's method of fighting was anything but normal.

(Grunt) "Tch, what is a Galaxy Ranger going to do, bring us to 'justice'?! Hah, get real!-"

(S/O) "I'm not just any ranger. Not by a long shot...!"

S/O stuck their hand out, reaching for the weird red lizard-themed wrist device on them.

(S/O) "I need more quantum power!"

Seele crossed her arms and waited impatiently, foot tapping on the ground waiting as the suit suddenly morphed around them, shocking everyone but her.

(Seele) "Can you get this over with already? I'm not gonna wait for you to summon your giant robot this time."

After seeing it for the 50th time this month, Seele is more than just a little over this flashy and stupid ass way of fighting.

Who the hell would even find this cool?!

(Rappa) "THAT IS SO FRIGGIN' COOL, NINJA KOIBITO!"

Rappa is basically frothing at the mouth the moment S/O transforms into their suit.

Even their lines mirrored hers, and which meant that it was over the top, obnoxiously loud, and flashier than the signs around Penacony.

It was to the point that Rappa copied S/O: lines, movement, and all.

(Rappa & S/O) "NINJA STORM, RANGER FORM!-"

Landing in front of the robbers they were bringing to justice, they struck a pose inflicting fear into their hearts!

...Or at the very least, left them confused as to what they were witnessing.

(S/O) "WITH THE SPEED OF THE WIND!"

(Rappa) "AND STRENGTH LIKE THUNDER!-"

Rappa has zero issues with their transformation, and is enjoying it perhaps a little too much.

(Rappa) "Ninja Koibito, you will get me a suit like yours, won't you?!"

Laura knew that S/O was part of a very eccentric Bracer group, but she truly had no idea how weird they were until seeing them in action.

She drew her greatsword, prepared to fight the monsters threatening the village before S/O ran past her, reaching for their wrist.

(Laura) "S/O! Hang on, we need to-"

(S/O) "LIGHTSPEED, RESCUE!-"

S/O apparently thought it was more important to pose in front of the monster than dodge it, something that gave nearly gave her a heart attack.

With a blinding light, S/O transformed into a red jumpsuit that effortlessly punched past the monsters, causing them to burst into a fiery explosion, one that nearly scorched her, as they effortlessly saved the townspeople behind them.

They landed from the explosion with a rather impressive flip, but she was still absolutely floored by their theatrics.

And the townspeople were just as weirded out as her.

(S/O) "Don't worry, we're here to save you! Now go!"

(Man) "T-Thanks...I think?"

(Laura) "S/O, are the poses required?-"

(S/O) "Hm? What poses?"

(Laura) "...Nevermind."

Now, Emma has dealt with and seen some strange magic in her time.

But never has she seen anything like the way S/O uses theirs.

Emma is half convinced it isn't really magic, since they were using a device that wasn't too dissimilar from an Arcus to activate it.

And she certainly hopes it wasn't, because just watching S/O transform gave her second-hand embarassment.

(S/O) "MAGICAL SOURCE, MYSTIC FORCE!"

As they dramatically posed and pointed their phone into the sky, Emma's hand slid down her face, slightly knocking her glasses out of position.

(Emma) "Dear Goddess...-"

She couldn't imagine having to do that everytime she used her staff, let alone keeping a straight face and not think it was the dumbest thing.

Emma would find the suit and cape kind of cool, if it weren't for the flamboyant poses they struck, and the explosions that happened everytime S/O finished fighting something.

Now that had to be magic.

She politely chooses not to say anything about it, for better and worse.

Duvalie's jaw dropped the first time she saw S/O in action.

She was in awe alright, awe of their stupidity.

S/O had brought an ancient lizard-like archaism to their control, colored it bright red, and even managed to make it pose with them.

On top of that, they changed into their combat gear with a dramatic flash of colors, complete with pose and catchphrase.

Duvalie's eye twitched as she watched them effortlessly bulldoze through scores of monsters.

Which someone in spandex, no armor, and a sword that borderline looked like a toy shouldn't be able to do.

Meanwhile, her two subordinates simply watched, turning to their head knight.

(Ines) "...Did they just shout, 'Dino-'"

Duvalie spun around to Ines, finger on her chest as her voice bordered full on yelling.

(Duvalie) "NOT. ANOTHER. WORD. Oh, they are SO DEAD THE MOMENT THEY COME BACK!"

(Ennea) "If anything, they're doing a good job. We were supposed to be here clearing them out. Perhaps we need to don their jumpsuits and-"

(Duvalie) "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I WOULD NEVER PUT ON SOMETHING SO STUPID LIKE THAT!"

(Ines) "And you let S/O do that?-"

(Duvalie) "IF THE TWO OF YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD, I'LL MAKE THEIR GIANT MACHINE EAT YOU!"

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 8 - The Lightening King

Chapter Summary - A storm hits, igniting an unexpected fear from one of the boys, and bringing him a little closer to Y/N. Y/N decides to investigate Hongjoong's office while home alone.

warnings: trauma-induced fear, oral (f receiving)

Series Masterlist

MINORS NOT ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT

It had been a long time since I'd had company during a storm. However, it was still the same as it was before. I had no one to turn to.

I had been in the kitchen since about 2am, waiting for the storm to pass while sipping on some water to calm my nerves. It was worse when I was alone living in that crappy apartment, I'd usually cower in my bathroom until the storm would pass.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter, far away from the window by the sink. I was usually calm this time, like something supernatural was comforting me. As I sat, another crack of lightning illuminated the room, revealing a silhouette in the doorway.

I let out a yell, luckily muffled by a boom of thunder. The silhouette steps out of the dark, revealing Jongho watching me with a puzzled expression.

"You scared me!" I snap.

"Why are you awake?" He asks, his voice rough from sleep. He steps a little closer, I notice he glances at the window briefly before moving away from it. "I went to check on you-" He shuts his mouth quickly.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. Did he go into my room?

He stays silent, avoiding eye contact. He sighs, hopping up onto the counter beside me, not looking at me as I just stare at him dumbfounded. This is probably the longest we'd stayed in a room alone together.

He glances at my wrist, his eyes scanning over the healing area. "Does it hurt?" He asks softly, looking at me.

I glance at him before looking down at the cup in my hands. "Not anymore," I answer. The bruise had died down after a few days, I kept it uncovered on purpose so I could rub it in Seonghwa's face a little.

He refused to look at me, not even in passing. Wooyoung and Hongjoong had tried to speak to me, but I'd ignored them. That's what they get for doing nothing. Wooyoung had gotten pouty once he realised I was ignoring him, whining whenever I'd walk away from him if he wanted to talk about his day. Hongjoong seemed to not care, his infuriating grin visible even in my peripherals.

I missed Seonghwa a little, which was strange considering what he had done. Maybe I missed the idea he had fatuated for me.

"Y/N?" Jongho calls out softly, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. "I am sorry... About all this."

"Why are you apologising?" It wasn't his fault, I was the one who agreed to do this, I wasn't forced.

"We should have warned you about things." He says, staring down at his feet that dangled. I took a moment to take in his attire. Rarely did I see them in something as basic as a shirt and sweatpants. Jongho only wore a baggy shirt and grey sweatpants in that moment, a look I could have never imagined on him up until this point.

"I knew I was getting into something shady." I say, "So don't feel bad for me."

Jongho hums softly, glancing at me briefly. "Why are you up so late?" He asks, looking me in the eye for the very first time. His eyes were so calm. Something about them made me want to fall into them and never return to this world.

"I'm scared of thunder." I say, causing him to raise his eyebrow. "You better not laugh." I huff.

"No, it's fine." He chuckles. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't like lightning."

I stiffle a snort. Big, gruff and scary Jongho is scared of lightning? Who would have guessed.

"I'm not laughing at you!" He complains, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Is there a reason?" I ask, placing my cup down on the counter.

"I suppose." He says, face dropping. "Does your fear of thunder have a reason?" I nod in answer.

The night I left, my father chased me up the stairs in rage. I never thought he'd actually cared that much about my presence to be so angry that I had made it into the Society. I managed to lock myself in my room, but the banging on my door went on for hours. The profanities, the promise of my death, every possible name or slur under the sun was thrown at me that night. I managed to pack a bag and sneak out of my bedroom window, not even bothering with goodbyes.

My mother never came to help. No one did. My sister was too weak at that time to plead with him, and as far as I knew, Chalita was dead. I had no one.

I told Jongho the part about my father, I'd never told anyone about it before. But something about the boy next to me made me want to open up to him, to tell him everything.

He listened, his eyes never leaving my face as I talked for what felt like hours.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, hesitating for my hand before pulling away. "No child should ever go through something like that."

I nod in agreement. I'd come to terms with my shit childhood long ago, like most children of abuse do at a certain age. Though it sticks, you grow from it and vow to never repeat those actions again.

"What about you?" I ask suddenly.

"Me?"

"Why're you scared of lightning?" I ask.

Jongho looks around the kitchen for a moment before speaking. "When I was little, my house caught on fire. Electrical wire in my dads workshop caught on fire while I was at school. My younger brother decided to stay home that day too." He explains.

"I wasn't even there... Yet, for some reason, whenever I see lightning or wires just laying around, I get scared." I nod in understanding, and unlike him, I don't hesitate to take his hand. He looks at me, somewhat shocked before squeezing slightly.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"11." He answers. "I didn't grow up in this life. My families riches was nothing compared to this." He says, gesturing around, referring to the house in general.

"How did you get here then?" I ask.

"Yeosang found me." He says, looking towards the centre island. "I was working as a bouncer for a bar back in college and dealing with these two guys tryna get in without ID. Guess he liked me." He chuckles. I smile at his story. "By the time he convinced me to meet Hongjoong, everyone was almost here. Well, except Wooyoung." He states. "Wooyoung was the last to join."

I listen intently, picking up the small crumbs that I could about these men.

"They aren't that bad." He says, noticing my analysing. "They just... We all have our issues."

"Issues that involve threatening me?" I say, giving him a deadpanned look.

"Well, that was a bit much, I agree." He says with a sigh, looking down sheepishly.

"I just want to be accepted properly." I say, hopping off of the counter to stand in front of him. "I want to know you guys, I don't want to be an outcast or some woman that will one day give Hongjoong an heir." He flinches at my last sentence. I guess they didn't know that I knew of their true intentions.

Asami had laid it out for me during the brunch. I could respect her bluntness in all honesty.

"I don't want to be just an incubator."

"You're more than that." He blurts out. "Mingi can see it. I can see it." He hops down from the counter also, standing in front of me. "Look, I don't want to make excuses for them because what Seonghwa did was wrong." He says, gently tilting my chin up to look at him. "But that doesn't mean that they aren't trying."

"Well... They're not trying very hard." I grumble, causing him to chuckle. A rumble of thunder, which makes me jump in surprise, gripping Jongho's forarms tightly.

"Come on." He says, taking my hand and tugging me along. I follow mindlessly, as he leads me back towards the stairs and to my bedroom.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." He offers, closing my door behind us. I head to my bed, not hesitating to jump onto the soft sheets. He comes to sit beside me, his feet still firmly on the floor as I sit up to look at him.

"You don't have to." I say softly, but he doesn't get up, only shifting a little closer.

"I want to." He whispers. "I know I don't talk much." He starts, his breath fanning across my face. "But I think you are one of the prettiest women I have ever laid eyes on."

In an instant, I feel his lips on mine, his tongue running across my lower lip seeking entry. I grant it, much to my own surprise, humming softly as he gently moves me to lay down against the soft cushions.

A heat stirs inside me as he pulls away, his hard gaze boaring down at me so intensely my skin felt on fire. I pull him down again, tangling my fingers in his hair, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. He grinds his hips down on mine, desperately seeking friction as his hands scrunch up the sheets around my head.

"Do you want this?" He whispers, his lips hovering close to my ear.

"Yes." I say, voice could barely be heard over the thundering of rain outside. But, he heard me. His lips moved to my jaw, then to my neck, then finally his fingers unbuttoned the first button of my pyjama top to reveal my collarbone and top of my cleavage. He left soft bites and sloppy kisses there. My hand stayed behind his head as he went, my fingers tugging on his hair lightly with every little nibble he punctured into my skin.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes before moving down, his hands spreading my thighs further apart to make space for him before his hands found the waistband of my shorts. A flicker of question flashed into his eyes, darkening once more when I nodded.

He pulls my shorts and panties down together, throwing them towards the end of the bed before lifting my thighs to rest on his shoulders. I could feel his breath, cold against the searing heat of my core.

I laid my head back, waiting for contact with bated breath. He moved his head forward, pressing his tongue flat against my clit to test the waters. When my body jolts, he moves to my core, groaning at the taste before beginning to devour me like it's his last meal.

The storm outside is forgotten. All I can feel is the way Jongho explores and brings me pleasure I have never felt before with only his tongue. I look down, my eyes meeting his as he watches my every reaction, my bodies movements, and facial expressions with every flick of his tongue. He reaches a thumb up to gently circle my clit, causing me to let out a soft gasp.

My moans are soft and high pitched, only stirring him in more as he presses his face impossibly closer, practically smothering himself with my slick.

I can feel my orgasm approaching, the cord in my stomach tightening as I neared the edge. I knew he could tell, the way his thumb moved faster over my clit, bringing me closer and closer as if coaxing me towards release.

I felt something snap, letting out a soft cry as the pleasure washed over me. He helped me through it, not pulling away until my body fell limp and my breathing steadied. He slowly moves back up my body, pressing a gentle kiss to my forhead before laying down beside me.

"What about you?" I ask softly, my voice hoarse.

"I'll be fine." He answers, his strong arm pulling me closer. "You can return the favour another day."

Feeling watched wasn't an odd thing. It had started since the first time I noticed Aurora's portrait, and I found a comfort in it.

The presence didn't feel hostile, despite the lack of affection from the men I lived with, making this odd prison feel a little warmer.

I heard a call of my name on the breeze as it flowed through the winding halls of the estate. It was as if it was beckoning me towards Hongjoongs office, one of two places I was forbidden to go. I knew if he'd found out I went in there, Seonghwas threat would become reality. However, that didn't deter me.

I waited until I was home alone, which was normally between 7am and 5pm on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, giving me plenty of time to snoop. I had no idea what I was looking for in hindsight, but someone wanted me in there. Or something.

Hongjoongs office was a mess. Books staked to great heights and pushed away into corners of the room, his desk covered with so many papers I could only get a glimpse of the desks surface.

I move around the office, careful not to trip on anything as I look at a specific bookshelf full of folders. The folders had names written on the side, all members of high society. I stopped briefly when I saw my own name, the dust on the shelf indicating it had been recently taken down and put back. I looked for others with similar dust patterns. Kim Namjoon, YangYang Liu, Lalisa Manoban. I paused when I saw it, my breath hitching and heart stopping briefly; Chalita L/N. My sister.

Hongjoong had a file on my sister? The one I pursumed dead over 10 years ago. Why?

I take the file, staring down at the cover for a moment before opening it. There were photos from our childhood, of her, myself, and our youngest sister, all smiles without a care in the world. She was 7 years older and was a firecracker, to say the least. I missed her.

I heard the front door open and close downstairs, making the hairs on my arms stand up. Did one of them come home? I glance around, noticing Hongjoongs laptop still sitting on his desk. Shit. I stood my ground despite the fear coursing through my veins. He knew something about my sister, I had to know what.

When his office door swung open, he stood there in shock. For once, I had him by surprise, and it had me thrilled.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong snaps, his eyes turning into a glare.

"What do you know about her?" I ask, ignoring his question and holding up the file. "What do you know about my sister?"

"Put it back. You shouldn't be in here." He snaps, stepping closer, but I raise the file in defence.

"Don't tou dare tell me what to do when you've done nothing but lie to my face!" I yell, causing him to step back.

"Okay. I'm sorry." He says gently, holding his hands up.

"Cut the act." I scowl, causing his face to relax into a teasing grin.

"You're picking up fast, Princess." He chuckles, stepping closer and gripping the file and ripping it from my hands. He walks towards the window, gazing down at the cover.

"Chalita is a topic of interest right now." He says simply. He glances at me for a moment, studying me. "So it's true you thought she was dead?"

"How did you-?"

"I know a lot of things." Hongjoong says. "Everyone my men come in contact with, everyone you know, everyone that you will know, I know them all." He says, walking to stand in front of me again.

"How did you know I thought she was dead?" I ask.

"Your father did that. Told everyone that she was years ago." He explains. "Said he found her mutilated, like a victim of The Cobra." He says, noticing the flicker of familiarity in my gaze.

"But she's alive?" I ask.

"Yes." He answers simply, sliding the file back into its place. "Now, should I tell Seonghwa you snuck into my office?"

I scoff. "Do it, when he comes raging, I'll already be out the door." I say, turning on my heel before he stops me, taking my wrist gently.

"He is sorry." Hongjoong says, but I don't turn around.

"It's not an apology if it comes from someone else." I say, ripping my hand away and walking out into the hallway. I stop for a moment. "Maybe you and the others should take notes from Mingi and Jongho. Or have they not told you of our time together?" I ask, turning to see his puzzled expression.

"What?"

"I see they left details out." I laugh, turning once again and heading back towards my room with a skip in my step, knowing full well Hongjoong is watching my every move.

By 8pm I was hiding away in my room once again. I hoped Mingi or Jongho would join me, my stomach feeling giddy at the feeling.

When I heard someone knock on the door, a smile spread across my face. I jumped up and shuffled hastily to the door, only for my smile to drop when I realised that it was neither.

Seonghwa stood there, one hand behind his back and the other reaching out to stop the door from slamming shut in his face. It backfired, his fingers getting wedged roughly in the door causing him to let out a grunt of pain. I swing the door open again in shock, staring at his fingers and then at him.

"Guess that makes us even." He jokes through gritted teeth, cradling his hand against his chest. That's when I noticed it, a box clutched tightly in the hand that was hidden. "Can we talk?"

I blink for a moment, processing his words before foolishly stepping aside. He enters slowly, making his way to my bed and sitting down on the end. I stay standing, opting to sit on the loveseat by the window.

"I'm sorry." He says, breaking the awkward tension. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."

"Yea, you shouldn't have." I say, crossing my arms. He huffs softly, a smile spreading across his face.

"I promise I'll do better to keep my anger in check. I did not mean to hurt you. Understand that." He says, moving now to kneel on both knees in front of me. "You were right with what you said with Jongho. You don't deserve to be just a woman to us when you've accepted us so kindly and without much complaint." He says, flattening my palm and placing the box in my hand.

"What is this?" I ask.

"A peace offering." He says, gesturing for me to open it. I do, shocked by what I find inside.

It's a ring, but not an engagement ring. It was an exact replica of the one each of them had on their finger. Signifying their bond to each other, that they were a family. This ring would mean they were recognising me as one of them. How good did Jongho talk me up?

"Seonghwa.."

"You don't have to accept it right away." He says. "Just- Know that we're trying."

My gaze softens as I look at the ring. The details are so much clearer now, every dent and engraving.

"I know." I whisper, looking up at him. "And I'm trying to."

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in love and war - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? district 3 spencer reid x cold district 7 fem!reader

category: slow burn, star-crossed lovers, ANGST!!!

content warnings: typical hunger games violence and gore. reader is basically johanna mason. suicide. major character death!!!

word count: around 7k

a/n: second post! please please please leave a comment, or send me some asks. i love feedback!!

The Capitol’s anthem blared over the dusty square of District 7, its piercing, triumphant notes slicing through the oppressive silence that had settled over the crowd. The sound was sharp and artificial, a cruel reminder of the Capitol’s control over every aspect of their lives. The crowd, a sea of tired faces etched with lines of hard labor, stood motionless. Not even the wind dared to stir the suffocating stillness.

You stood in the center of it all, your chin high, your jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Your hands were curled into fists at your sides, the nails biting into your palms, but you welcomed the sting—it was a tether, a reminder to hold your ground. Fear churned in your chest like a storm, but you refused to let it show. Not here, where the Capitol’s eyes bore into every detail. Not now, when weakness could feel like surrender.

The escort—a garish figure swathed in layers of shimmering emerald fabric that glimmered like scales—stepped forward. Her unnaturally bright smile stretched wide, her too-pale face powdered to an unsettling perfection. She carried an air of frivolous delight that clashed violently with the grim reality of the moment.

Her hand dipped into the glass bowl filled with slips of paper, each one carrying a name, a fate. The crowd seemed to hold its collective breath as she unfolded the slip, the paper crackling like thunder in the silence.

“Y/N L/N.” She called, her voice almost sing-song, as though your name were a punchline in some grotesque joke.

Your stomach dropped. It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, and for one dizzying second, you felt weightless. Around you, the crowd shifted, parting like a tide. The faces you’d known all your life turned down, their gazes fixed on the ground. No one met your eyes—not out of malice, but out of helplessness. They couldn’t bear to see the fear that mirrored their own.

Your body moved on its own, each step measured and deliberate, a march toward your fate. You straightened your spine, forcing a calm you didn’t feel, willing yourself not to stumble. Not here, not in front of them. The Capitol would take your life, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

The stage loomed closer, its polished wood gleaming under the harsh afternoon sun. The escort’s sugary smile widened as you ascended the steps, her eyes glittering with a disturbing mix of glee and detachment. The weight of her gaze, coupled with the cameras trained on you, made your skin crawl. The icy dread clawing up your spine felt almost unbearable, but you pushed it down, burying it beneath a mask of resolve.

You took your place beside the male tribute. A boy your age, his face pale and drawn, with eyes that darted nervously over the crowd before finally settling on the ground. You’d seen him before—briefly, in passing. Maybe at the lumberyard or the market. You tried to recall his name, but your mind, heavy with the gravity of your fate, couldn’t hold onto the thought.

The Capitol had chosen its players, and now the game would begin.

The train to the Capitol hurtled forward through a blur of dense forests and barren plains, but inside, it was eerily silent. The only sound was the relentless chatter of the escort, her voice a cloying melody of superficial pleasantries and Capitol propaganda. She spoke of fashion, of glory, of the grand spectacle awaiting you, her words as empty as the smiles she had worn during the reaping. You ignored her, your gaze fixed on the window.

Outside, the world rushed by in muted greens and browns, a stark contrast to the gleaming metallic interior of the train. The plush seats and gilded fixtures exuded a nauseating opulence that mocked everything you had ever known. The Capitol’s promise of luxury was a cruel jest, a reminder of their excess against the backdrop of your district’s suffering.

Yet, when the meals came, you ate. The richly spiced meats, the delicate pastries that melted on your tongue, the sparkling drinks that fizzed against your lips—it all tasted of betrayal, but you swallowed it anyway. Every bite, every sip, felt like succumbing to the Capitol’s siren call. It was a grotesque imitation of comfort, designed to dull the edge of fear, to make you forget, even for a moment, what awaited you.

But the arena loomed in your mind, a shadowy specter that refused to be ignored. The thought of it gnawed at you, relentless and unyielding, like a ravenous beast caged just beneath your consciousness. Blood. Death. Survival. The knowledge of what you would have to do, of the lives you would have to take, coiled around your thoughts like barbed wire.

You forced yourself to push it all down—the guilt, the sorrow, the horror. You had no choice. Survival demanded that you bury your humanity, and the Capitol was counting on it.

At the front of the carriage, a small holographic display flickered to life, its cool blue glow casting faint shadows on the polished walls. The screen showed the reaping ceremonies from the other districts, each one a carefully orchestrated tableau of misery.

Districts 1 and 2 were first. Volunteers stepped forward with practiced bravado, their faces alight with the twisted pride of those who saw the Games as an honor. Their confidence, their hunger for glory, was a stark contrast to the quiet dread that settled over you like a shroud.

Then the broadcast shifted to District 3. The boy’s name was announced, and the camera panned to him.

“Spencer Reid.”

He was tall and lanky, his frame awkwardly angular as he stepped forward. The camera lingered on him, capturing every flicker of unease. He adjusted his glasses with a trembling hand, his movements hesitant, as if he could somehow shrink himself into nothingness. His face was pale, almost translucent under the harsh lights, his lips pressed into a tight, uncertain line.

He climbed the stage slowly, his shoulders hunched as though he were bracing for the weight of the Capitol’s gaze. Among the other reaped tributes—many of them brimming with bravado or resignation—he looked out of place, a fragile figure thrust into a world of brutality.

But when the camera zoomed in on his face, you saw something unexpected. Beneath the surface of his fear, hidden in the depths of his wide, intelligent eyes, was a spark of defiance. It wasn’t loud or overt—it wasn’t a rebel’s roar or a warrior’s fury. It was quiet, subtle, the kind of strength that doesn’t need to announce itself to exist.

You stared at the hologram, transfixed. Spencer Reid didn’t look like a fighter. He didn’t look like a killer. But there was something about him—a quiet resolve that made your chest tighten.

The hologram flickered to the next district, but his image lingered in your mind, a puzzle piece that didn’t yet fit. In the Capitol’s cruel game, you knew better than to hope. But for the first time since your name had been called, you felt the faintest stirrings of something you couldn’t quite name.

The training center was a swirling chaos of noise and motion, a cacophony of clashing weapons, shouted instructions, and the low hum of tributes murmuring strategies. Each station buzzed with activity as tributes from every district worked with single-minded determination, their eyes sharp, scanning the room for threats and opportunities alike. The air was charged with tension, a palpable reminder that everyone here was both a potential ally and a likely enemy.

You gravitated toward the weapons station, your steps purposeful despite the oppressive atmosphere. Your fingers closed around the handle of an axe, the smooth wood familiar against your calloused palms. The weight of it settled in your grip, solid and unyielding. It was a grim comfort, a connection to the forests of District 7, where axes were tools before they were weapons. Here, though, it was a tool for survival, one you knew you would have to wield with deadly precision.

Across the room, Spencer stood at the survival skills station, a stark contrast to the hardened tributes around him. He lingered near a trainer demonstrating knot-tying techniques, his posture slightly hunched as though trying to make himself smaller. His slight frame and nervous energy drew attention, a handful of tributes sparing amused or derisive glances in his direction.

Yet, he absorbed everything with a quiet intensity. His eyes flickered over the trainer’s hands, cataloging each movement, every knot and technique. His sharp mind seemed to analyze and store every detail, not missing a beat. But he wasn’t just watching the trainer—he was studying the other tributes, too. The arrogance in their stances, the overconfidence in their eyes, the way they dismissed him without a second thought. Spencer noted it all, filing it away, hoping that these observations would one day give him the edge he so desperately needed.

You first noticed him during a combat demonstration. The trainer had called for volunteers, and to your surprise, Spencer stepped forward, his thin fingers hesitantly wrapping around a wooden staff. The moment was over almost as soon as it began. A career tribute from District 2—a towering boy with broad shoulders and a predator’s grin—disarmed him with ease, knocking Spencer to the ground with a swift, calculated strike.

Spencer scrambled to his feet, his glasses askew, his hands fumbling to adjust them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the careers’ laughter. Their mocking echoes rang through the training hall, a cruel reminder of the Capitol’s engineered hierarchy.

Yet, he didn’t slink away. Instead, he stepped back, watching the careers’ movements closely. He reached for the notebook tucked under his arm, flipping it open and furiously scribbling notes, his brow furrowed in thought. Each failure seemed to fuel his focus, his mind dissecting every detail, breaking down what went wrong and how he could do better next time.

Something about him caught your attention. Maybe it was his stubborn determination to keep trying despite the odds stacked against him. Maybe it was the way his fingers trembled slightly as he wrote, but his gaze stayed steady, as if he could out-think the inevitability of the Games. Or maybe it was because he reminded you of someone—a faint, long-buried memory of someone who had needed protecting once, and how it had torn at you when you couldn’t.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” you said bluntly, stepping into his path as he left the station.

Spencer startled, nearly dropping his notebook. His knuckles turned white as he clutched it tighter, holding it like a lifeline. “I… I know,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet but remarkably steady. His hazel eyes met yours, nervous but resolute. “But there’s not much I can do about that… Unless you have a suggestion?”

You raised an eyebrow, studying him for a beat. He wasn’t cocky like the careers or resigned like so many others. He was clever, you could see that, and he had a spark of something most tributes didn’t: hope, no matter how faint.

“Stick with me in the arena,” you said, your tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “You focus on keeping us alive. I’ll handle the killing.”

He hesitated, his sharp mind clearly running calculations, weighing the risk and reward of your offer. “Why?” he asked finally, his gaze searching yours.

“Because you’re going to be dead weight otherwise,” you said bluntly, crossing your arms. “And I don’t want to fight your ghost on top of everyone else’s.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close enough. “Fair point,” he said softly, nodding.

You turned away, heading back toward the weapons station. Over your shoulder, you added, “Don’t make me regret it, Reid.”

He didn’t reply, but when you glanced back, you saw him adjust his glasses, straighten his posture, and follow.

The arena was a sprawling expanse of forest, its towering trees stretching endlessly toward the sky, their gnarled branches intertwining to form a suffocating canopy. The dense undergrowth was a labyrinth of roots and thorns, each step a gamble against the hidden dangers lurking beneath. The air was heavy, saturated with the earthy scent of pine, damp moss, and the faint metallic tang of decay. Overhead, the sky was a hazy gray, muted and ominous, as though even the sun refused to bear witness to the bloodshed below.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant boom of a cannon—a haunting reminder that lives were being snuffed out one by one. The eerie stillness of the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if the very land recoiled from the Capitol’s violence.

You and Spencer had been separated during the chaos of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Amid the screams and the clash of weapons, you had fought your way to an axe, its familiar weight a small comfort in the madness. Spencer, ever the strategist, had snatched a small pack and disappeared into the tree line, avoiding direct confrontation. It wasn’t until hours later, when the initial slaughter had subsided and the forest had swallowed the remaining tributes, that you found him.

He was crouched low among the undergrowth, his shoulders hunched as he worked with trembling hands to set a rudimentary snare. The cord slipped in his grip, and he muttered a quiet curse under his breath, his frustration evident. Despite the tension in his frame, there was an odd focus in his movements, a determination to make himself useful even here, where everything was designed to kill.

“You’re terrible at hiding,” you said, stepping into view. Your voice broke the stillness like a crack of lightning, and he flinched violently, his hand jerking the snare out of place. His wide eyes darted to you, and for a split second, you saw fear flash across his face. But then recognition settled in, and his body relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhaled shakily.

Even so, you could see the doubt lingering in his expression, the silent question of whether you would keep your word. Whether you would protect him—or if the promise was as fragile as the alliances so many others had already shattered.

“I’m better at traps,” he said defensively, gesturing to the mangled snare. His voice wavered, but there was a thread of defiance woven through his words. “Not much use if I’m dead, though.”

You sighed, letting your gaze sweep over the dense forest. Every shadow felt like a threat, every rustle of leaves a prelude to attack. The arena’s oppressive atmosphere bore down on you, the Capitol’s eyes undoubtedly watching, waiting for a misstep.

“Come on,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost resigned. “Let’s find somewhere safer.”

He hesitated, glancing at the ruined snare before looking back at you. For a moment, you thought he might protest, insist on finishing what he’d started. But then he nodded, pushing himself to his feet and clutching the pack tightly.

As the two of you moved deeper into the forest, the unspoken understanding between you solidified. The arena was no place for trust, but in that moment, you both understood what was necessary. Spencer’s sharp mind and your strength would keep you alive—for now. Together, you were a tenuous partnership, forged in the fire of desperation, bound by the fragile hope of survival.

Days passed in a blur of relentless survival, the forest around you becoming both your sanctuary and your prison. Spencer’s quick thinking kept you ahead of the others, his mind proving sharper than any blade. He devised traps with a precision that belied the trembling of his hands. One night, a tripwire he rigged sent a sharpened branch hurtling toward a career tribute, the impact punctuated by the sharp, deafening boom of a cannon. You froze, listening as the sound echoed through the trees, a grim acknowledgment of another life taken.

But for all his brilliance, Spencer’s lack of combat skills was glaringly obvious. The fragility of your alliance was brutally highlighted when a career tribute ambushed your camp at dawn. You had been sharpening your axe when the attack came—a blur of movement and the glint of a blade in the weak morning light. Spencer had scrambled back, his hands flying up in instinctive defense, but it was you who stood between him and death.

The fight was savage and merciless. Your axe cleaved through the air with deadly precision, each swing driven by adrenaline and the primal need to survive. Blood sprayed across your face, warm and sticky, as you buried the blade deep into the career’s chest. The sickening crunch of bone gave way to silence, broken only by your ragged breathing.

You stood over the lifeless body, the axe slipping from your trembling hands, its handle slick with blood that dripped in slow, viscous trails down your arms. The metallic scent was overpowering, mingling with the damp earth beneath your feet. Spencer emerged from behind a tree, his face ashen and his glasses askew. He stared at the carnage with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and guilt.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice trembling, pitched higher than usual.

You wiped a streak of blood from your eyes with the back of your hand, spitting a glob of your own onto the ground. “Fine,” you said shortly, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you. “Let’s keep moving.”

The nights were the worst. The Capitol’s mutts prowled the forest, their distorted howls piercing the stillness and sending chills racing down your spine. The Gamemakers seemed to delight in tormenting the tributes, their traps and horrors pushing all of you to the brink. Spencer stayed close during those long, restless hours, his sharp mind constantly working to outthink the Capitol’s cruelty. But the strain of it all was evident. The sleepless nights, the gnawing hunger, the constant threat of death—it wore on both of you.

Sleep came in fleeting moments, and when it did, it brought no peace. Nightmares plagued you, images of blood-soaked battlefields and the cold, lifeless faces of those you had killed. You would wake with a start, your hand instinctively reaching for the axe by your side. Spencer, ever vigilant, would glance up from his notebook, offering a weak, wordless reassurance.

One night, as the oppressive silence stretched between you, he broke it. “You don’t have to stay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the distant rustle of leaves. He was hunched over his notebook again, the pen in his hand tapping rhythmically against its edge. “I know I’m just a liability. If you leave… you’d have a better chance.”

His words hit you harder than they should have, stirring an ache in your chest that you didn’t want to acknowledge. You scoffed, forcing a veneer of indifference. “Don’t be stupid,” you said, glancing down at the axe lying between your legs. The wood was stained a deep crimson, a grim testament to your survival. “You’d be dead in a minute.”

“Probably,” he admitted, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he seemed impossibly fragile. “But that doesn’t mean it’s fair to you—to have to carry my weight.”

You leaned forward, your eyes locking with his. His vulnerability was laid bare, and for a fleeting moment, you saw past the fear to the resolve underneath. “Fair doesn’t matter here,” you said, your voice firm. “Survival does. And you’re not dying on my watch, Reid.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, unspoken promises threading through the tension. Spencer didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on you, a quiet gratitude shining in his eyes. In the brutal reality of the arena, fairness was a luxury no one could afford. But in that moment, you knew you’d fight to keep him alive, even if it meant sacrificing a part of yourself.

The Gamemakers were growing impatient, their orchestrations more desperate and cruel. Walls of fire erupted in the forest, their heat searing and relentless, driving you and Spencer forward. Rivers swelled and burst their banks, churning torrents swallowing the land and leaving no room for retreat. The Capitol’s games were designed for spectacle, and now, they demanded a climactic confrontation.

It came in a clearing, a barren stretch of earth encircled by the towering trees that had once been your refuge. You and Spencer stood in the center, backs pressed together, the forest closing in around you. The air was electric with tension, heavy with the anticipation of violence. Your axe was clenched tightly in your hands, its familiar weight a lifeline in the chaos. Across the clearing, the last remaining tributes emerged from the shadows, their faces hard and eyes gleaming with a deadly determination.

The careers were relentless. Their movements were precise, their strikes calculated, honed by years of brutal training. They were predators, and you were their prey—but you refused to be cornered.

The first blow came from the left, a flash of steel aimed at your head. You ducked, swinging your axe upward in a wide arc that sent the attacker sprawling. Before you could strike again, another career was upon you, their weapon slashing toward your side. Spencer’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

“Y/N, duck!”

You dropped to the ground just as a handful of crushed leaves sailed over your head. The air ignited in a blinding flash, the chemical reaction disorienting your attackers. Spencer had discovered the trick earlier, his sharp mind identifying the properties of the plants scattered through the arena. It bought you precious seconds, enough to regain your footing and strike.

Your axe moved with ruthless efficiency, the weight of it an extension of your will to survive. It cleaved through the air, connecting with flesh and bone in a sickening symphony of destruction. Blood sprayed across the clearing, warm and sticky, coating your hands and arms as you fought with everything you had.

Spencer, though less skilled in combat, was no less vital. His quick thinking and unorthodox tactics kept you alive, each small advantage tipping the scales in your favor. He ducked and dodged, his movements frantic but purposeful, throwing dirt in an attacker’s eyes or tripping them with a hastily arranged snare.

The clearing became a battlefield, the ground slick with blood and churned by desperate footsteps. The coppery scent hung thick in the air, mingling with the earth’s damp tang and the acrid smoke from the Gamemakers’ fires. The cacophony of screams, grunts, and clashing steel reverberated through the forest, a grotesque chorus that seemed to echo endlessly.

Finally, the chaos began to subside. One by one, the careers fell, their arrogance and brutality no match for your combined determination. The last tribute standing faced you with defiance in their eyes, but their movements were sluggish, their strength waning. Your axe swung in a final, decisive arc, and the cannon’s resounding boom signaled the end.

As the clearing fell silent, you turned to Spencer. He stood hunched, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, his glasses smeared with dirt. Despite the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, his eyes met yours with a flicker of relief. For a fleeting moment, the two of you simply stood there, surrounded by the carnage, the enormity of what you’d just survived sinking in.

But you knew this wasn’t the end.

The forest loomed like a living nightmare, shadows twisting and stretching as if they sought to devour what little light dared to filter through the canopy. Every sound, every faint rustle of leaves, clawed at Spencer’s already frayed nerves. His breaths came shallow and ragged, his legs protesting with searing pain as he pushed through the dense undergrowth. Branches lashed at his arms and face, leaving thin, stinging cuts, but none of it registered.

All he could think about was you.

“Y/N!” he screamed again, his voice a raw echo of his mounting panic. The name reverberated through the forest only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence. His heart pounded erratically, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild thrum of his thoughts.

You were out there. Alone.

And then, like a cruel omen, he saw it—a trail of blood.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his body locking in place as he stared at the crimson streaks spattered across the dirt. His mind involuntarily cataloged the details: arterial spray, not a steady drip—suggesting deep, possibly fatal wounds. The sight rooted him with dread, but the desperate need to find you propelled him forward.

“Please,” he whispered under his breath, a fragile prayer to an indifferent world. “Please, not you.”

The blood led him deeper into the forest, the undergrowth thickening as the trail veered toward a small clearing. Sunlight filtered hesitantly through the branches above, dappling the ground in patches of gold that felt out of place against the grim tableau ahead. At first, the clearing seemed empty, just another cruel trick of the arena.

Then he saw you.

Spencer stumbled forward, the sight of your crumpled body hitting him like a physical blow. You were slumped against a tree, your form unnaturally still, streaked with dirt and blood. The once vibrant color of your skin was replaced by a deathly pallor, your chest rising and falling so faintly that he nearly missed it.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, and he fell to his knees beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your battered frame as if afraid his touch might make things worse.

Your injuries were horrifying. Deep, angry gashes carved into your side, your clothes soaked with drying blood. Bruises bloomed across your face, dark and angry, nearly obscuring your features. Your lips were cracked and dry, the faintest tremble the only sign of life.

“Please, no,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he pressed his fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse. The moment he felt the faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips, a sob broke free from his chest.

“You’re alive,” he murmured, tears spilling freely down his face. “Thank God, you’re alive.”

But the relief was fleeting. The blood around you was too much, the wounds too deep. A surge of helplessness clawed at him, and his hands hovered, unsure where to start. His mind, usually so quick and sharp, felt sluggish, drowned in panic and fear.

“Y/N, wake up,” he pleaded, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed against the streaks of blood and dirt marring your skin. “Please, I need you to wake up.”

A faint groan escaped your lips, the soft sound pulling him from the edge of despair. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight of exhaustion and pain. Finally, your eyes opened, glassy and unfocused, but alive.

“Spencer?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse and weak, but it was enough.

“I’m here,” he choked out, his tears falling unchecked. “I’m here, Y/N. I thought I’d lost you.”

Your gaze slowly sharpened, focusing on him through the haze of pain. “What… happened?”

“You were attacked,” he said, his voice breaking. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “I failed you.”

You weakly lifted a hand, your fingers brushing against his. He caught it immediately, holding it tightly as though letting go would mean losing you again. “You couldn’t have known,” you murmured, your voice soft but resolute.

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, his fear spilling out as frustration. “Don’t act like it’s okay. It’s not—I can’t—” His voice faltered, cracking under the weight of his emotions. He looked away, his shoulders trembling.

“Spencer.” Your voice, though faint, cut through the storm inside him.

He turned back to you, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours. Even in your battered state, there was a flicker of strength in your gaze, a reminder of why he couldn’t fall apart.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me going, Y/N. You’re the only thing that matters.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, mingling with the blood and grime. Despite the pain, you managed a faint smile. “You’re not going to lose me,” you said softly.

Spencer leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His fingers tangled in your hair, careful of your injuries. “Promise me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me you’ll stay.”

“I promise,” you whispered back, though your voice wavered with exhaustion.

For a moment, the horrors of the arena receded, leaving only the two of you in the fragile stillness of the clearing. Spencer clung to that moment, to the fragile hope that it could last. But deep down, he knew the arena’s cruelty wouldn’t allow it.

Spencer cradled you against him, his arms encircling your fragile, battered body like a shield against the arena’s relentless cruelty. Each of your shallow breaths, brushing faintly against his neck, felt like a fragile thread tethering him to hope. The world around you seemed to pause, the usual cacophony of the arena muted to nothing but the gentle rustle of leaves and the haunting, distant growls of the Capitol’s muttations.

His heart pounded as he finally pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. The dim light filtering through the trees illuminated the anguish and resolve in his expression. His eyes, filled with a fierce determination, searched yours as though he could absorb your pain and bear it for you.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and trembling with conviction. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever again.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the grime and blood streaked across your skin. Despite the searing pain coursing through your injuries, you leaned into his touch, craving the connection and comfort he offered. The way he looked at you, with a mix of tenderness and desperation, made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just survival that drove him—it was you.

“Spencer,” you murmured, your voice raw but steady enough to convey the depth of your feelings. “You saved me.”

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it was tinged with sadness. “You saved me first,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. The horrors of the arena melted away, leaving only the two of you in a fragile bubble of shared understanding. Without hesitation, Spencer leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was tender. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once. Every unspoken word of fear, gratitude, and love found its voice in that fleeting moment.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, the quiet mingling of your breaths grounding you both. Spencer’s voice was raw when he spoke again, the vulnerability in his words laying his heart bare. “I love you,” he whispered, the confession slipping free like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

Your hand found his, your fingers intertwining with his as though they were meant to fit together. “I love you too,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice making the moment feel almost sacred.

Though the kiss and the confession hung between you like a protective shield, reality pressed back in. Spencer glanced around, his sharp mind already assessing the next steps. He helped you to your feet with painstaking care, his touch gentle but firm as he ensured you wouldn’t collapse. “We need to find shelter,” he said, his tone decisive. “You need rest, and I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Together, you stumbled through the dense underbrush, Spencer’s arm steadying you every step of the way. He moved with deliberate caution, his every thought focused on your survival. After what felt like an eternity, you came upon a hollow nestled beneath the sprawling roots of a massive tree. It wasn’t much—a dark, cramped space hidden from sight—but in the arena, it was a sanctuary.

Spencer guided you inside, his every movement a careful balance between urgency and gentleness. Once he was sure you were settled, he set to work, his trembling hands tending to your wounds with an almost reverent care. Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, his focus never wavered.

The night descended upon the arena with a heavy, oppressive silence, the darkness pressing in like a living thing. Inside the hollow, you both finally allowed yourselves to rest. Spencer pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around you as though sheer will alone could keep the horrors at bay.

“Sleep,” he murmured against your hair, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “I’ll keep watch.”

Your hand clutched at the fabric of his shirt, a weak but determined gesture. “No,” you whispered, your voice resolute despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “We’ll keep watch together.”

But the adrenaline that had fuelled you both through the day ebbed away, replaced by an unbearable fatigue. Sleep claimed you both, drawing you into its embrace. In the warmth of Spencer’s arms, the terror of the arena faded, leaving behind the steady rhythm of shared breaths and the fragile hope that, for at least a few precious hours, you were safe.

The cannon echoed in the distance, signaling the death of the second-to-last tribute. Spencer’s heart sank as the reality settled over him. It was just the two of you now.

You turned to him, bloodied and exhausted, your eyes wide with the same realization. “Spencer…”

“There can only be one,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

The Capitol’s anthem blared overhead, and the cold voice of the announcer filled the air. “Congratulations to our final two tributes! Only one may claim victory—who will it be?”

The unspoken command hung heavy between you, suffocating in its finality.

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t do it, Spencer. I won’t.”

“And I won’t hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “But there’s no other way. They won’t let us both walk out of here.”

“Then we find a way to beat them!” you cried, desperation lacing your voice. “We’ll refuse. We’ll—”

Spencer grabbed your shoulders gently but firmly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been lucky to make it this far, but there’s no beating them. Not like this.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t falter. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head frantically. “No, we can survive this together. We’ll figure it out. We—”

“Y/N.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You have to live. I need you to live.”

Your breath hitched, panic rising as you saw something in his expression—a quiet determination, a resolve that shattered your heart. “Spencer, no. Don’t you dare.”

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. “You are everything good in this world,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “You deserve to live. You deserve to go home.”

“I can’t go home without you!” you cried, your hands clutching his shirt as if holding him could anchor him here, with you.

Spencer leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss filled with all the love and sorrow he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and shaky.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Before you could react, he stepped back, his hands slipping from your grasp. Your heart dropped as he picked up the knife you’d discarded moments earlier.

“Spencer, don’t!” you screamed, scrambling toward him, but he shook his head.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I love you.”

And then, before you could stop him, he turned the blade on himself.

“NO!”

You caught him as he collapsed, cradling him in your arms. Blood soaked through your hands, and your sobs tore through the quiet of the arena. His breathing was shallow, his lips trembling as he tried to speak.

“I… couldn’t let it be you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You have to win. Promise me… promise me you’ll live.”

“Spencer, please,” you begged, clutching him tightly. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

But his eyes fluttered closed, and with one last ragged breath, the cannon boomed.

The hovercraft descended moments later, and you didn’t resist as they pried Spencer from your arms. His blood was on your hands, your clothes, and your soul, and yet you couldn’t muster the strength to fight them. The Capitol’s voice returned, dispassionate and final, declaring you the victor. The words echoed through the cold, metallic space around you, hollow and meaningless.

You were the last one standing. The survivor.

But at what cost?

The world blurred as the medical team swarmed you, their hands prodding and pulling, their antiseptic words promising you safety and care. None of it mattered. Your eyes stayed fixed on Spencer’s limp form as they wheeled him away, disappearing behind a sterile door. The emptiness he left behind was suffocating.

He had sacrificed himself so you could live.

The words repeated in your mind, a haunting mantra that clawed at your sanity. The memory of his final smile, soft and full of love even as his life slipped away, seared itself into your soul. You wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice of it all, but you felt hollow. Numb.

The hovercraft docked, and the transition from the arena’s horrors to the Capitol’s opulence was jarring. Lavish rooms, bright lights, and hollow congratulations assaulted your senses. The Capitol citizens cheered your name, their voices clashing in an orchestra of sickening delight. You barely heard them.

Snow himself greeted you, his snake-like smile as unnerving as ever. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice laced with a false warmth. “You’re a symbol of strength, of survival. The Capitol admires your resilience.”

Your response was a vacant stare.

Days blurred into nights as you went through the motions. The Victory Tour loomed, a macabre parade meant to celebrate your survival while parading the Capitol’s power. But all you could think about was Spencer—the way he had looked at you, the way his voice had trembled when he said goodbye.

In the privacy of your room, you allowed yourself to grieve. The tears came in silent waves, unstoppable and all-consuming. You clutched the token he’d worn—a simple bracelet made of knotted twine—now yours to carry. It was the only piece of him you had left.

They called you a hero, but you felt like a thief. You had stolen his chance to live, even if he’d willingly handed it over.

On the day of your first public appearance, you stood before a crowd of Capitol citizens, their faces painted with mock sympathy and admiration. The weight of your loss bore down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its enormity.

“I survived the arena,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But survival isn’t victory. Not when it costs everything.”

The crowd applauded, oblivious to the truth in your words. But somewhere, deep within you, a spark ignited—a quiet, simmering rage.

Spencer had believed in you, even in his final moments. He had given you a chance to live, to fight for something more than just survival. And while the Capitol celebrated its spectacle, you made a promise to yourself.

You would not let his sacrifice be in vain.

You would remember him.

And one day, you would ensure that no one else would have to pay the price he had.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jason-todd-fangirl-14]

Jason Grace Dating Headcanons!!

Thank you to all who begged for this after I mentioned I wanted to write it. This one goes out to ya’ll!! Other PJO characters dating hcs may come out as well, probably sometime after the new year if I decide to write them at all. Lmk any male characters you’d like to see if I were to do them. In the meantime, enjoy our blond Superman’s dating hcs!!

•for starters, Jason would 1000% be a gentleman. You cannot convince me otherwise.

•if you’re with him anywhere, in public or in the privacy of your own space, he will make sure your hand is in his basically at all times. If you pull your hand from him, he will give you such a disapproving look LOL.

•if you’re ever out driving just you two, he will almost always be in the drivers seat. He just loves driving his passenger princess around anywhere she wants. This may just be me, but I feel like he’d have bad motion sickness in the car, especially after his mother died in a car accident, and the only way he'd be able to be in the car is if he’s the one behind the wheel.

•book advent calendars every Christmas, Valentine’s Day & your birthday!

•Jason Grace is definitely a chivalrous man, and nobody can convince me otherwise!! He carries all of your bags if you go shopping at the mall, opens every car and building door. Heck, he will even carry you around like a bride on her wedding day if you’re too tired to walk or if you injured yourself. He won’t ever complain.

•he definitely will spoil you.

•I feel like his love language would be acts of service, physical touch or gift giving—not really receiving. He won’t ever turn down a gift from you, but he prefers to be the one giving the gift instead. He still lets you anyway.

•let us all never forget that Jason is definitely a hugger. I mean he tried hugging Nico until he realized he didn’t like hugs, and immediately backed up and apologized.

•because of this, if you happen to be like Nico, in the sense that you too don’t like hugs, he’ll back off and apologize to you, as well. Which brings me to the next headcanon:

•RESPECTFUL™!!! Must I elaborate farther??

•as for dates, he’s definitely the type to set up a picnic under the stars.

•for food served at your picnic date, I think Jason will ask Leo to help him make your favorite meal. It will end up turning out amazing because duh, Leo coached him!

•he’s definitely the type to date for marriage, and I think he’ll know very quickly if he wants to marry and settle down with you. I mean, he was already imagining a future with Piper not long after they began dating, sooooo.

•also to go with that one, he definitely already has money laid aside for your engagement ring.

•on another note, I can see Jason letting you try on his glasses. He will definitely comment on how he thinks you look better with them on then him.

•so. many. compliments!!

•expect a bouquet of flowers from the Demeter/Ceres cabin on your front steps of your house and/or cabin every month.

•little notes left by Jason with poems, reminders or words of affirmation will be all over your home/cabin.

•despite the challenges he faces with learning disabilities, I can see Jason being an huge reader, and I can see him reading all of you favorite books so he can sit down together to discuss things with you.

•encouragement in every single situation, good or bad.

•your well being and needs will ALWAYS come first, he even vowed it on the River Styx.

•if you have a fear of heights, he’ll for sure be down to help you overcome it. Keep in mind tho, he won’t ever push you into facing it until you’re ready.

•if you’re afraid of thunder and/or storms in general, he will be definitely down to cuddle to make you feel better. Tho he has some control over thunderstorms, he wouldn’t be strong enough to go up against his dad (also only one with a death wish would be willing to go up against Zeus), so cuddles and distraction is the only way for him to help you.

anyways, overall, Jason is 10/10 husband materiel!!

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter one: a blinding glimpse or the one you politely offered your heart to the king of curses in an attempt of mocking him.

warnings: ryomen sukuna, meet-cute (they're actively trying to kill eachother), hate to morbid curiosity, canon level of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, cannibalistic thoughts, hot villain covered in blood, sorcerers being clinically insane, satoru gojo cameo, fight style visual.

word count: [1.2K]

kill count: [0]

Observing it all from above, scarce stars battling with artificial lights to test his blurred vision, Sukuna realized he awakened in a distant era. One that overflows with life, he assumed.

He could hear it all. At every dark street and its endless crossroads kids would bid their farewells and run back home. Wind carried the hiss of kettles and brush of soles against old rugs. Sukuna reveled in the harmony reverberating inside each and every human blissfully unaware of the hungry void lurking above.

Offenses whispered cowardly, commands shouted, nauseating confessions. How many voices. So much unnecessary noise. Sukuna’s initial deduction was proven correct in a matter of seconds. Life overflows in every moldy corner. Surviving isn’t a concern in this brand-new world, and herds born for slaughter confuse not having a predator with having strength.

It truly is a perfect era to destroy, considering the reek of sorcerers nearby.

I was brought back, Sukuna rejoiced as the receptacle resisted his presence. To a world build to be torn apart, Sukuna laughed as an extravagant sorcerer dared use him as a training dummy. Nothing good will came out of this, Sukuna felt a shiver on his nape.

A thunder silenced the world. Wall after wall shattered as the impact of a lightning bolt threw Sukuna inside the building. Involved by a dense layer of dust, Sukuna regained balance. Pearly white waves danced above his skin. The aftermath of sheer electricity.

It didn’t burn Sukuna. It didn’t hurt him at all. A basic and quick attack lacking cursed energy and strength. Sorcerers sunk to such a low level during his slumber? Pathetic, although not surprising or disappointing. He never expected them to become stronger.

A blink later and his arrogant smile oscillated. As the energy dissipated, it was all healed. Every wound and scratch. Broken ribs and cut lips. As good as new. In an instant, all the pain inflicted on his vessel disappeared. It definitely wasn’t his doing, since Sukuna haven’t decided if this maggot was worth his time.

“Don’t ruin another school,” wind carried a new voice towards Sukuna. One tender and hospitable. It reminded him of silk. “People will question it, and then Yaga will question us.”

“His brain only works against us”, Satoru whimpered, handing Megumi the bag with his future midnight snacks. “Not an ounce of trust on our good, flawless work. When did he ever let us be?”

Looking at his pout, you giggled. “And since when did we ever let him be?”

Sukuna followed your voice. What an alluring conversation. Two sorcerers, half-complaining and half-laughing. No remnant of dread or fright. This night, no one that spoke carried the fear of someone challenging the King of Curses.

Feeling moonlight on his flesh once more, he finally saw who dared heal his vessel. And for a moment, all Sukuna could do was stare.

A pearly mist expanded with your every breath. As if haunted by a wraith or perhaps surrounded by a still gathering storm. It shined so brightly, floating right above your skin, in an extreme contrast with the darkness of your cursed energy.

Sukuna was staring at your soul.

A shiver travelled down your nape as his gaze burned something within you. Tilting your head, you faced Ryomen Sukuna. The weight of his presence alone could make curses beg. Staring back into his red eyes, you smirked.

The double-edged long axe on your hands glistened as you imbued it with more cursed energy. Biting the tip of your tongue, a habit you never truly escaped from, you observed the ancient predator in front of you. It was time to hunt.

Crouching down on the ground, you supported your weight on your toes. A simple change of position. Enough to make stupid curses hesitate. Why crouch down while holding an axe? Why not go straight for the throat? Why put your strength on your knees when you need it on your torso?

You saw no confusion inside Sukuna’s eyes. Only amusement.

In a fluid motion, your body floated above his. The fabric of your yukata covered the wide arch of your arm. The edge of your axe came down, cutting the concrete below you even far away from the ground.

As you expected, Sukuna dodged it easily. By making a fuss with your robe, you forced Sukuna to move further away to obtain a better view of your movements. And he moved exactly where you knew Satoru would be.

“And I am the one destroying the school?” Hands inside his pockets, Satoru forced his presence upon Sukuna. You wondered who among you three flashed the most annoying grin. “That was on you.”

In the air, you three danced. Satoru and his surgically correct dodges. Sukuna’s incessant pace of physical attacks without breaking a sweat. You, forcing them both to move higher in search of the upper hand. A perfect dissonance.

 “You told the kid to let him take control”, you remembered Satoru. “Everything is on you from now on.”

“How convenient for everyone else”, Satoru hissed. “And remind me who said fighting a special curse would make this day interesting? You manifested this.”

“I can take the blame if you pay the price”, you offered. Sneaking a glance at Megumi, you checked if he was safe down there. One of Sukuna’s black nails brushed against the sash around your waist. “I’ve been craving fish and-”

Hollow.

How to define inexistence properly? How to explain the palpable feeling of lacking something? The best you can do is summarize it in a single word: red. Your teary eyes, the energy growing between Satoru’s fingertips, the fist deep into your chest. Everything was burning red.

“Don’t look away from a fight”, Sukuna mocked you, tearing your chest open. There was a certain poison in his words. “And I thought you were promising.”

Crushing your heart between his fingers, blood gushed upon his lips. Sukuna laugh echoed in the midnight sky. How uncommon. Tender and hospitable. You taste just like how you sound.

If you had cried, Sukuna would be tempted to taste your tears. If you had fallen, Sukuna would enjoy the sight of a human turning into a puddle of organs and bones. If you had screamed, Sukuna would feed on your delirious rage.

But as your right hand closed around his wrist gently, Sukuna had no reaction.

“I appreciate the compliment, Sukuna-sama”, you smiled.

Grabbing your black hairpin, the golden opal gem on the end reflected moonlight directly into his eyes. Wind moved your hair, framing your face and carrying its perfume directly into his nostrils.

“You can have my heart.” Piercing the still beating organ, your smile turned into a cheeky grin. “I have no need for it anymore.”

 “Yuji”, Satoru called. And just like before, there was no remnant of dread or fright in his voice. “You can come back now.”

Staring into your menacing eyes, Sukuna felt his vessel taking control over the shared body. Licking his lips, he tasted you once more. Yuji Itadori regained consciousness to find himself with a heart in his hands and teeth dangerously close to it.

Fascinating, Sukuna admitted to himself. What an interesting era to ruin.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist | @mwalibrary @mwashelf

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hii :3

Idk if you write platonic requests but I shall try anyway. Could I request Baul (or Baur, whichever you came to know) with a half-fae reader whom he had adopted as his second child (because reader is an orphan). Reader is the same age as Sebek and they act a lot like him: they dislike humans, they yell a lot, they are angry and grumpy often. But the difference is they are so easily angered and when they are angry, they tend to get violent (they can't really control their anger well). Even as a child they frequently attacked other kids or even adults who weren't nice to them.

(Lmk if you don't do platonic stuff, then I shall get back with a romantic one)

Baul adopting a half fae

Baul Zigvolt had never planned to take in another child. He already had grandchildren to oversee,Sebek especially kept him busy with all the yelling and the dramatics. But when he first saw you, scowling, fists clenched, and standing your ground in front of an adult twice your size,your expression wild with fury and hurt,it stirred something in him.

You were small. Feral. Full of rage.

And so, of course, he took you in.

You were nothing short of a handful from day one.

You yelled too loud, stomped too hard, and argued like the world owed you an apology. You had sharp teeth, sharper eyes, and a complete lack of respect for anyone who didn’t earn it.Sebek and you often yelled at each other across rooms over the proper tone of reverence to use when mentioning Lord Malleus. You fought over everything,breakfast rights, patrol orders, Fae etiquette and yet, you were rarely apart for long.

Still, Baul noticed what others didn’t.

How your fists trembled when you were angry. How your ears twitched in fear even as you raised your voice. How, after every burst of violence, you’d retreat somewhere quiet to be alone,like you were punishing yourself for something you didn’t yet understand.

It was after one such explosion,this time over a nobleman who had insulted your parentagethat Baul found you sitting under the willow tree outside the estate. Arms wrapped around your knees. Eyes dark and distant.

He approached silently, but you didn’t look up.

“They say I’m uncontrollable,” you muttered. “A disgrace. That I don’t belong among the Fae. That I'm nothing but a weapon.”

Baul sat down beside you with a slow, deliberate grace. “Are you done sulking?”

You glared. “I'm not sulking. I’m..thinking.”

“Hm.” He crossed his arms. “You always think like thunder before the storm. Loud. Flashy. Angry. But no rain to water the earth.”

You stared at him, confused and annoyed. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said with a grunt, “you burn everything around you without thinking about what you want to grow afterward. You use your rage like a blade, but you never use it to protect. Only to push people away.”

That made something inside you twist. “Because if I don’t, they’ll hurt me first.”

Baul didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he shifted closer and, in a rare moment of quiet affection, placed a heavy, weathered hand on your head. “You are my child. You don’t need to fight alone anymore. If someone raises their hand against you without cause, they will answer to me.”

Your breath hitched. “You… still want me here?”

“I would not have taken you into this home if I hadn’t already made that decision,” he said firmly. “I will not abandon you because you’re difficult. You are half-fae, yes. You are wild and angry, yes. But you are mine. And like Sebek, I expect you to grow into your strength, not be ruled by it.”

And Baul, gruff as ever, said:

“Because I do not abandon my own. Not even when they make me want to throw them into a river.”

…Which, from him, was basically love.

Even if you didn’t always say it, he was your family. Your stone wall. Your anchor. He never smiled, but you swore that sometimes, just sometimes, the corner of his mouth would twitch when you sparred well, or when you and Sebek accidentally shouted in perfect harmony.

Two storms, under one roof.

And Baul Zigvolt?

He didn’t run from storms.

He raised them.

English is not my first language !

[savannagonemad]

in the dark

~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~

angst 💔

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.2k

author's note: i'm so sorry for my hiatus!! i wasn't feeling super motivated so writing was slow, but i'm back now! i hope you enjoy this story, i made it extra long as an apology to you all 💚💚 please send requests if you have them, it's super motivating!! ✨✨

backstory/context: sae-byeok went to the games, and the first vote ended with the majority voting to stay. after the second game, the vote was tied, and after the lights out special game, there was a successful vote to leave.

~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~

"the person you have called is currently unavailable. please leave a message after the tone."

you sighed and hung up before the tone could play. this was your seventeenth call to sae-byeok since she disappeared two days ago. you hadn't thought much of it at first, but when she didn't come home during the night, you had gotten worried. this wasn't like her.

"where are you, sae..." you whispered to yourself, turning your phone off.

sae-byeok wasn't a particularly open person, even though you two were close friends. regardless, she'd never disappeared without any communication before.

you tried to ignore the voice in the back of your mind telling you that something bad happened to her. you don't know what you would do if that was the case. you didn't have many other friends, especially not like sae-byeok. she was the only person you trusted enough in your life to live with, and having two people share an apartment is cheaper than the alternative.

a crack of thunder outside brought you back to the present. it was getting late now, and a storm was rolling in. you turned your phone on and opened your text messages with sae-byeok.

---

"text me"

delivered 10:07 pm

---

you closed your eyes and let your phone fall on the couch next to you. staying up all night wouldn't help your worrying. the best thing you could do is get some rest and hope that your friend reached out in the morning.

you resigned yourself to the call of sleep, grabbing your phone and heading to your bedroom. you put your phone on the charger and turned the notification volume up to the highest it could go in case sae-byeok texted. with one last call to sae-byeok which went unanswered, you turned off the lights and laid down on your bed. the gentle sound of rain hitting your window and the soft rolling of thunder in the distance was soothing, and you soon found yourself drifting off to sleep.

---

a violent crack of thunder and the strobe of lightning illuminating your room jolted you awake. your heart suddenly raced as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. the wind was howling outside, and the rain was assaulting the window. you took a deep breath, calming yourself. you peered out of your window, watching as somebody's track can rolled down the street, being pulled along by the wind.

suddenly, your phone blared with the sound of an incoming call. you flinched and looked towards it, reading the caller id and checking the time while you were at it.

"2:13 am"

"✨ sae-byeok ✨ is calling"

before you knew it, you had basically flown across your bed to your phone. you hastily pressed the 'answer call' button. the sound of wind, rain, and thunder came through the other end.

"sae? are you there? where are you?"

"y/n-" sae-byeok's voice came through the other side. your connection wasn't great, and she was cutting out. "come- me up?"

there was an unusual fear in her voice which immediately undid all your hard work of calming yourself down.

"are you okay? i-"

a tone played through the phone, and the sounds of weather stopped. you looked down at your phone.

"call dropped"

"fuck," you muttered under your breath. the ping of a text came through, and the preview told you it was from sae-byeok. you hurriedly opened the messages.

---

✨ sae-byeok ✨

come pick me up please

im scared

i need you

please

---

your heart raced as you read the texts. she had never texted you anything like this before, something must be seriously wrong. you typed back as quickly as you could.

---

-y/n-

are you okay

where are you

---

the reply came back almost instantly.

---

✨ sae-byeok ✨

no

i made it to the gas station nearest to our apartment

i cant walk in the dark with the storm

please come get me

please

-y/n-

i'm on my way

✨ sae-byeok ✨

please hurry

---

every text she sent you made you panic more. what did she mean that she 'made it' to the gas station? and why did she seem so afraid?

staying here wasn't going to do anything to help. you quickly grabbed your car keys and put your shoes on, rushing outside to your car. the wind and rain screamed at you as you hurried to your car. it was dangerous to drive in these conditions, but right now sae-byeok was of much more importance to you.

your car hummed to life as the rain ran across the windshield, making it hard to see. an angry roar of thunder filled you with adrenaline as you pulled out of your apartment building's parking lot and begin speeding toward the gas station. you were absolutely breaking several traffic laws but right now you didn't care. your friend was scared and might be hurt, and it's not like there would be cops out in this weather at this hour.

the near-constant flashing of lightning illuminated the road as you drove. you watched as branches were pulled off of trees nearby. the wind seemed to be trying to push you off of the road, and the rain made it hard to see even with the windshield wipers running at full speed. it was a miracle you didn't crash into something with how fast you were going.

the gas station came into view in the distance. your eyes locked onto it, and you pressed down on the gas a little harder. you whipped around the turn of the road leading to it and pulled in, scanning for sae-byeok. there was no sign of her outside, which made sense with how bad this storm was. you parked the car and got out, hurrying inside.

as soon as you stepped out of the car, the wind pushed against your body, causing you to stumble. the torrential downpour functionally blinded you, and you instinctively held your hand up to shield your eyes. the thunder and wind roared overhead, and the lightning only seemed to be getting brighter. you made your way inside, fighting against the wind with every step.

eventually, you managed to rip the door to the gas station open and duck inside. the sudden lack of wind resistance almost made you trip, but you managed to catch yourself on a shelf before you fell. your clothes were soaked, and the building shook around you from the constant thunder.

"sae-byeok?" you called out, wiping the water off your face with your hands. there was no response to your call, and you blinked a few times, your vision now being restored.

you looked around for your friend, but she was nowhere to be seen. the cashier behind the counter got your attention by waving to you, and you ran up to him.

"have you seen a girl here? tall, black hair, freckles..." your voice trailed off as he nodded and pointed towards the corner of the store. without a second thought, you hurried over to where he was pointing, turning the corner to get around the shelves.

hunched down in the corner, with her eyes closed and her hands covering her eyes, was your friend sae-byeok. you approached her gently, not wanting to startle her. she looked uncharacteristically afraid when she was usually so confident and calm. her hair and clothes were also soaked, and her green jacket seemed to have bloodstains on it. the numbers "067" were printed on the jacket. you didn't remember her ever wearing that before. you kneeled down in front of her, slowly reaching for her hand.

"sae?" you asked softly, taking hold of her hand. she flinched and her eyes flew open, and she backed herself away from you further into the corner. "hey, hey, it's me. you're okay."

her eyes scanned over you, and only then did she recognize you. as soon as she figured out you weren't a threat, you found yourself pulled into a deep hug as she clung to you, burying her head in your shoulder.

"whoa, hey- sae, are you okay? what's wrong?" you asked, holding her. she had never acted like this before, and that scared you.

"y/n," she whimpered, her voice strained and full of pain. the sound broke your heart. "please. please take me home. i don't want to be here anymore."

"okay. let's go, okay?" you helped her stand up, and she clung to your arm. you had a lot of questions, but they could wait until she wasn't terrified.

you slowly led sae-byeok to the door while she held onto you like you were the only thing keeping her anchored to the world. before you pushed the door open and stepped back into the brutal weather, you grabbed sae-byeok's hand. she immediately held onto your hand, squeezing tightly.

you opened the door and the wind immediately intruded into the building, pushing back against both of you. you felt sae-byeok grab you tighter as you forced your way through the wind and the rain, taking her to your car. you unlocked it and opened the passenger door for sae-byeok while the rain poured down. she jumped as lightning cracked above you and got into the car as fast as she could, with you doing the same on the driver's side.

as you got in, sae-byeok reached for you and held onto you again. there were sheer terror in her eyes. you were concerned, and you needed to get her home. before you could start driving, sae-byeok suddenly buried her face against your neck. you closed your eyes and pulled her against you, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. she was trembling and on-edge, and every roll of thunder made her flinch.

"shh, you're okay now, i got you," you whispered to her. she nodded weakly as she held onto you. you could tell she was fighting to get her composure back, and staying in this parking lot in a glorified metal can wouldn't help much.

you started the car and gently moved your friend so her head was resting on your shoulder. she whined and held onto your arm, which was fine - you could drive one-handed.

as you started driving back to the apartment, you glanced down at her for a moment. it's not like you would lose much visibility with the rain making everything so hard to see anyway.

"do you want to talk to me?" you asked her. she nodded meekly, taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

"mhm," she managed before choking on her own words. she swallowed, taking another breath. a violent flash of lightning scared her and she clung to your arm, whimpering.

"honey," you started, desperately wishing you could hold her. "you're okay, it's just a storm, alright? we'll be home soon,"

"okay," she breathed, fear obviously taking hold of her. she gripped your hand and squeezed hard, taking another deep breath to calm her racing heart. each flash of the lightning reminded her of the flashing lights during the so-called "special game".

sae-byeok did her best to stabilize herself with the storm. she tried really hard to ignore her fear, but it didn't work. eventually she forced herself to just think about you and focus on you - the dampness of your clothes, the softness of your skin, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. sae-byeok found herself copying your breathing rhythm. slowly, her mind cleared, and her shaking stopped, though she still clung to you.

while you were driving, you had noticed what sae-byeok was doing, and you had begun breathing in a more exaggerated fashion so she would copy you. it seemed to help, and she seemed calmer now - she wasn't jumping with every flash of lightning.

"okay..." sae-byeok took one more deep breath, her fear taking the back of her mind for now. "i can talk."

"sae, where were you? i was so worried when you weren't picking up my calls-" you rushed out. she interrupted you.

"i was kidnapped," she said, quickly adding more before you could freak out. "they said it would just be playing games for money, but they killed everyone who lost. fortunately we managed to vote to leave before too many died."

a particularly loud roll of thunder made her flinch and lean closer against you.

"you were kidnapped?!" you shrieked, which made sae-byeok jump.

"don't yell please," she whined.

"sorry," you apologized, lowering your voice.

for the remainder of the drive, sae-byeok told you everything. she told you about the pink guards, the sleeping gas, red light green light, dalgona, the fight that broke out, the voting, the murders, everything. every word she spoke drove more and more fear into your heart. it all sounded so absurd, but she was speaking in that tone that meant whatever she was saying was true.

"sae, i-" you started as you pulled into the apartment's parking lot.

"don't," she said, interrupting you. "i don't... want to think about it. i just want to forget it happened."

you sighed. clearly what she had been through had terrified her, but you respected her wishes. you would have plenty of time to talk about it later. right now you needed to get her inside.

you popped the car door open and were immediately assaulted by the rain and wind. you grimaced and got out, walking around the car and opening sae-byeok's door. she immediately grabbed onto you and you held her close, both of you fighting the wind to get inside.

sae-byeok held onto you as you guided her inside and towards the door to your apartment. the lights in the hallway were off which was strange, you definitely remembered them being on when you left.

you took your apartment key out and inserted it into the keyhole, unlocking the door. sae-byeok quickly stepped inside, clearly relieved to be home.

you closed the door behind you as you entered as well. the next thing you knew, sae-byeok had collapsed into your arms and was hugging you tightly.

"thank you," she murmured, her arms wrapped around you. you returned the hug, rubbing her back softly.

"shh, it's okay. you're safe now," you whispered to her, stroking her hair.

the two of you held each other for a moment before sae-byeok pulled away. she turned and flipped the light switch nearest to the door so you wouldn't be shrouded in darkness.

nothing happened.

she flipped it off and on again. still nothing.

"uhh, y/n..." sae-byeok started. you tried the switch a few times yourself, and nothing happened for you either.

"i guess the storm took out the power," you said, thinking about how the wind was trying to rip trees right out of the ground. "do you know if we have any candles?"

"we have like one... maybe." sae-byeok said, taking out her phone and turning the flashlight on. she shivered. she didn't like this at all.

"sae, are you okay?" you asked, noticing her shaking. she repressed her fear and looked at you.

"yeah, i'm.. i'm okay," she affirmed, absolutely not sounding okay. before you could object, she spoke again. "i'm going to go check for candles."

she turned and started walking down the hallway, freezing when she saw how dark it was. she made sure her phone's flashlight was on the maximum brightness, then slowly crept down the hallway to the bathroom. the dark shadows gave her flashbacks to the special game and how all those people around her died. adrenaline flooded her mind as she made it into the bathroom and reached under the sink, grabbing three candles. she stuffed them into her arms and bolted back to you in the living room.

you looked at your friend with concern as she abruptly returned. her eyes betrayed her now; you could see the panic and fear in them as she was reliving her memories of being in the squid game.

"i'm fine," sae-byeok said, trying and failing to sound confident.

"you don't look it," you objected. "i'm gonna go grab a lighter. stay here, okay?"

sae-byeok nodded as she sat down on the couch. "they're in one of the drawers in the kitchen," she called after you as you turned to leave her. all traces of confidence in her voice were gone, and she was clearly pretty shaken. you gave her one last worried glance before setting off to find a lighter.

just like that, sae-byeok was alone. in the dark.

she tried not to let the darkness get to her. she knew none of the players were here. there was nothing to be afraid of. her instincts told her a different story; every shadow looked like a potential threat. she stared into the darkness, pulling her knees up to her chest to make herself smaller.

after a few moments, you returned with a lighter. sae-byeok flinched as you entered her field of vision but relaxed once she identified that you weren't a threat. you took a candle from her arms and lit it, placing it onto the table next to the couch. sae-byeok watched with fearful eyes as you did the same with the other two candles, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.

wordlessly, you sat down next to your friend and pulled her into a gentle side-hug. she leaned against you, closing her eyes. she felt safer with you. you held her for a minute before you spoke up.

"we should get changed, our clothes are soaked..." you said. sae-byeok nodded and you both stood up, heading back to your rooms to change into dry clothes. fear set in once again as sae-byeok was alone in the darkness. she grabbed the closest spare clothes she could find and hastily changed, wanting to get back to you as fast as possible. you were ahead of her, and you knocked on the wall outside of her room.

"am i good to come in?" you asked, not wanting to intrude.

"you're fine," she responded. you entered the room and shined your own phone flashlight towards her. you saw some small cuts on her skin and frowned.

"stay here for a second," you said, turning and leaving for the bathroom. sae-byeok whined at your absence but did as told.

you grabbed a few bandages from the bathroom closet and returned to your friend. she watched as you approached her, her fear and anxiety seeming to die down as you got closer.

"sit on the bed with me for a second," you told her. she sat down alongside you and you began tending to her wounds, applying the bandages to wherever she was nicked.

"thank you," sae-byeok said quietly while you tended to her.

"hm?" you asked, then you figured she must be talking about the bandages. "oh, it's nothing, these cuts should be tended to anyway-"

"no," sae-byeok interrupted. "thank you... for being there for me."

you applied a bandage to a nick on her neck, then grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. she tried to look confident, but you knew her better than that.

"i care about you, sae. i was so worried. i'm just glad you're okay," you told her. a small smile crept onto her face, and a tear formed in the corner of her eye, which made you panic a bit.

"i'm sorry, did i say something wrong, i-" you stumbled over your words, but she shushed you and pulled you into a hug.

"no," she said. "i'm just so grateful to have met you."

you smiled and let her hold you for a minute before pulling yourself away from her. you stood up and she followed suit.

"we should go back to the living room now that we've changed," you suggested. sae-byeok silently nodded in agreement, and you led her back to the living room while she followed close behind you. as you walked, you checked the time on your phone.

"3:13 am"

you sighed as you made it back to the living room, looking down at the candles. sae-byeok seemed to read your mind.

"we should sleep," she said. she was admitted exhausted and wasn't sure how much longer she could stay awake. "but- i want to sleep out here tonight. by the door. in case something happens. please," she said, thinking back to the special game again. she didn't feel comfortable at all with being alone in her room while the front door was unguarded.

"okay, that's fine," you assured her, wanting to make things as comfortable for her as possible. "you can stay out here if you want."

"um, do you think..." sae-byeok started, swallowing before continuing. "can you stay out here with me tonight? i don't want to be alone..." she whined, letting her fear show through a little which pulled at your heartstrings.

"sure," you smiled at her. "whatever makes you feel safe."

you turned and headed down the hallway, making it one step before sae-byeok grabbed your hand.

"w-wait, where are you going?" she asked, not wanting to be alone.

"i'm just going to get us some pillows and blankets. i'll be right back," you assured her, squeezing her hand reassuringly before padding down the hallway to fetch the items you mentioned.

sae-byeok blushed lightly as you squeezed her hand, but the darkness hid it. she sat down nervously and waited for you to return, feeling anxious by herself.

after a few minutes, you returned with your arms full of blankets and pillows. sae-byeok let out a sigh of relief as you returned. you handed her half of the supplies and began setting up your own area. sae-byeok began prepping her couch, looking over to see what you were doing to set up. she paused and whined when she realized she couldn't see you very well, and definitely wouldn't be able to after the candles were out.

"what is it, sae?" you asked, turning to face her when you heard her whine at you.

"don't wanna be alone..." she mumbled, a bit embarrassed that she was so anxious.

without another word, you grabbed your stuff and approached her, setting it next to her stuff.

"then i'll sleep here," you said, giving her a gentle smile.

"you're okay with that?" she asked, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. you had already done so much for her.

"of course," you said simply. you reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her over to you softly. the two of you sat down together and you began setting up the sleeping area with each other.

after a few minutes, the couch was prepared. you stood up and blew out two of the three candles, then turned to your friend before blowing out the third one.

"will you be okay in the dark?" you asked her.

"yeah," she said unconvincingly. "as long as i'm with you," she added under her breath so that you couldn't hear her.

"alright," you replied, blowing out the last candle. sae-byeok immediately whimpered as the room was plunged into darkness, and you made your way back over to her side as fast as you could, sitting down with her.

sae-byeok rested against you and you put your arm around her shoulder to comfort her. after a few minutes, the two of you laid down on the couch, and sae-byeok immediately cuddled up to you and buried her face in your shoulder.

"there was this one guy," she said suddenly. "his name was deok-su. he almost killed me. he would have if another guy named gi-hun didn't take me into his team," she whined as she remembered how he attacked her before the first game and during the special game.

"hey, hey, don't think about that right now," you whispered to her, running your fingers through her hair. "what matters right now is that you're safe with me. he can't get you here. nobody can."

sae-byeok took a deep breath and let it out slowly, cuddling even closer to you in the process.

"thank you, y/n. for everything," she said softly, forgetting about her fear of the dark now that she was with you. the wind howled by outside, thunder rolled overhead, lightning cracked, and she ignored all of it. in fact, she found an odd comfort in the sound of the rain hitting the exterior wall.

"don't mention it," you said. "you're my friend and i love you," you whispered, pausing when you realized what you said. sae-byeok, however, just smiled and nuzzled into your neck.

"i love you too," she breathed, closing her eyes.

for the first time since escaping from the games, she felt safe. neither of you said anything else, and you began to peacefully fell asleep together as the storm raged on outside, though it was beginning to weaken now. the rolling of thunder was getting quieter, and it was oddly comforting.

today showed you a side of sae-byeok you didn't know existed, and you were now aware that she was vulnerable. you made it your mission to protect her from whatever life dared to throw at her. you looked down at sae-byeok, who had already fallen fast asleep in your arms. you leaned forward and gently kissed the top of her head before you also let the call of sleep pull you in.

the last thing you heard before you fell unconscious was the peaceful breaths of sae-byeok while rain fell against the window outside.

~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~💚💚💚~~~

[ladylokianna]

A son's first hero, a daughter's first love

Pairing: Aegon II and Helaena. So, canonical and typical TargIncest. You've been warned. I know some people dislike it so if you're not comfortable, just skip this and (eventually) see you next time ☺️

Other characters: Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and yet to be born Maelor.

Word counts: 1,300 circa

Warnings: as I already said, canonic Targaryen incest, hint of smut (just a hint, very very soft) at the beginning, but basically a lot of fluff. In my head it was all about dad!Aegon but it turns out differently while writing it down. OOC, obviously. A bit of swearing.

A/N: no, i'm not at all amused about how the showrunners depicted Aegon. He's not a saint and we all know, but it's not a total imbecile. And his relation to Helaena is deeper in the book. I wanted to give these two poor souls a bit of happiness like we all deserve. Also, I love these children so much.

A/N 2: I'm not used to write about Aegon (my allegiance is for Aemond), so I hope I didn't made a mess. Also, not so good with titles, sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

English is not my first language and I still made a mess with verbs, so please be gentle.

As always, dividers by @zaldritzosrose

The storm had approached quickly, surprising the Red Keep and its inhabitants during the hour of the wolf.

Aegon rubbed his eyes, watching the pouring rain pelting down on the windows as a lightning illuminated the whole chamber.

Helaena protested with a soft moan as he lift the covers, allowing the cold air of the room to creep in between the sheets, and she slipped further under the warm layers, shivering.

She widened her eyes as soon as she became aware of the lightening, curling up under the covers in anticipation of the thunder that would come shortly, glimpsing Aegon sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching himself.

She reached out a hand toward him, braving the coldness, and got his attention after resting it on the center of his bare back. Aegon jerked at the sudden contact, shuddering and jumping out of the bed with a surprised shriek.

"Fuck, Hel! Your hand is a… is a block of ice!"

"Is it? Oh, sorry, my bad."

"You little liar, you're not sorry at all."

He crawls back onto the bed, tucking his hands under the covers and pulling Helaena toward him by the ankles, making her laugh.

"I have chills even where I shouldn't have them, thanks to you." he said, settling on all fours and towering over her. "What am I supposed to do now? As a minimum, to make amends, you have to warm me up. If nothing else, at least my hands."

Understanding where Aegon was trying to go with this, Helaena tried to escape, but he trapped her beneath him.

"Don't you even try." she admonished him, trying to give her words a tone as serious as possible. "Aegon, I mean it, don't ... ah!"

He slipped a hand under her back, just above her bottom, snickering amusedly on her lips at her gasp.

"There, that's much better now."

"You're unfair, I cannot move and now I'm colder than before." protested Helaena, placing her hands on his sides before tickling him. Aegon groaned in between laughing, trying hard not to collapse on her.

"Hel, stop."

Aegon leaned in to kiss her in an attempt to stop the tickle, feeling his cock already getting hard; settling down on a side, he then stroked her slowly, his palm wide open on her skin to savour every inch of Helaena's body, grasping gently a swollen breast, her round belly and at last, reaching down between her legs to discover that she was as aroused as him.

"Looks like you're not cold everywhere…" Aegon teased, stroking gently her warm folds, moving his fingers a little down. "Turn on your side, Hel."

A thunder more violent than the previous ones made her scream in fear, and Aegon clearly heard noises from the twins' room.

"Sorry…" murmured Helaena, scared.

"What for? You're safe, don't worry. We will come back to this later, I promise." he shushed her reassuringly, shrieking again when his feet touched the icy floor, headed to the small basin to wash his hands. "Fuck it's cold! It's so fucking cold!"

"We're in winter after all…"

"How strange however, a thunderstorm at this time of the year." he commented almost mindlessly, trying to reach his clothes scattered all over: the tunic half hanged on the backrest of an armchair, his breeches on another armchair, Helaena's nightgown on the rug near the fireplace where he had carelessly thrown it hours before, when he had nearly tore it off her body, eager to undress her.

"Here, put it on before you catch a cold." he coaxes, helping Helaena to wear the garment. "Stay under the blankets, Hel, I'll relight the fire."

Doing what Aegon had told her, Helaena watched him relighting the fire, their love skirmishes now forgotten.

"What a fortune we don't live at Storm's End… can you imagine it? A storm almost each day… must be exhausting."

Helaena chuckled a bit, avoiding to correct Aegon: that story about Storm's End battered by thunderstorms every day was nothing but a legend. 

"...what are you doing?" she asked, looking at him questioningly when, shortly after, she saw him lacing up his breeches.

"I'm getting dressed."

"I do see that, but why?"

"Because in a few minutes we will no longer be alone. And we certainly don't want our children to see something they shouldn't, do we?" was Aegon's amused reply, as another thunder seemed to rip the sky.

"Right... Jaehaera fears thunders."

And then, as Aegon had predicted, the squeak of the door's hinges and the patter of Jaehaera's light, childish steps on the stone floor.

"Daddy?" she called him, in a barely audible voice.

He turned towards Helaena, an expression in his eyes as if to say: see?

"Come in, baby, I'm over here."

Frightened, Jaehaera had reached their room in haste, barefoot and only in her nightgown, clutching her favourite puppet to her chest.

"Here you are, I was waiting for you." he smiled, picking her up and feeling soon after her little legs encircling his waist, her little body shuddering both for fear and cold, her voice faint and shaky.

"I'm scared of thunders, daddy."

"I know, sweetie, mum is scared too. But have no fear, I'm here. I'll take Sunfyre and we'll fight them until you'll be safe!" proclaimed Aegon, drawing an imaginary sword. "Rawrrr, beware of you, damn thunders!!!"

"Nooo! Stay with me!"

"Fine... let's sneak under the blanket until the storm is gone. You too Jaehaerys, I know you're behind the armchair."

The little boy followed his sister shortly after, climbing into the bed and settling between his twin and Helaena.

Another lightning, in anticipation of it's thunder.

"Shoo them away daddy."

"Uh... I'll see what I can do, but in the meantime, how about a hug? Would that be good?"

Aegon settled on his back, pulling Jaehaera to him and inducing her to rest her head on his heart, careful to cover the other ear with one hand as to shield it from the increasingly loud thunders outside.

"Here, listen to my heart. You are safe now, love, don't be scared."

"It's getting closer and closer." noticed Helaena.

Aegon reached out a hand, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.

"It will be over in no time, you'll see."

Jaeherys hugged his mother trying to imitate the embrace in which Aegon had enclosed Jaehaera.

"Here mummy, I'll protect you." he said, imitating Aegon's gestures and patting his little hand over his heart in a sort of invitation.

Helaena smiled lovingly, resting her head on her son's chest but without weighing on him.

"You are safe, mummy, fear not!"

"Be gentle Jaehaerys, your mum is carrying a baby." Aegon interjected, still stroking Jaehaera's back. When he noticed his wife's gaze upon him, he turned his head towards her. "What?"

"I've told you, you're a great dad."

He didn't tell her how much those words meant to him, to know that he was and would be a better father to their children than Viserys had been to the two of them, to Aemond, to Daeron. He did not remember ever receiving affection from him, because Viserys had reserved it only for Rhaenyra.

He looked at Jaehaera resting on his chest, stroking her silvery hair: the only thought of the endless trust his little girl had in him and how much love he felt for her, her brother, and for the little one who was about to arrive, was sufficient to make him cry in joy.

"I want them to know that they're loved. They're so loved. You're everything good that I have in my life even if sometimes I'm a mess."

"We're all a mess, in our own way. We just need to find how to put together the pieces. Look: the storm is gone."

[obxsummer]

Oooo what about a blurb/fic od the 18 months where the reader is finally getting her chance to recover from the events at the Cameron’s house/with singh/everything lol and it’s just night after night nightmares. Screaming everyone awake and such?? Can you elaborate

love love love this thank u for the request!!

also requested: I have a routledge reader idea, you mentioned nightmares she had during the 18 months, maybe John B being the one to save her from them. Basically rocking her as she screamed bloody murder. Sometimes not even nightmares just night terrors she couldn’t escape. Maybe him forcing her into going to see a therapist but it just makes her worse until the therapist suggest a family meeting and more and more of the ab*se and torture comes out she experienced

series masterlist

- -

The nightmares had been going on since you escaped the Cameron household with JJ almost three (?) years ago now. (bro can this show give a better timeline a girl is struggling)

There was no surprise you were haunted by the near-death experiences and trauma you had been through with your friends and by yourself. Whether it was Rafe, losing John B, or watching your friends disappear from your eyes, sleeping wasn’t easy and it wasn’t kind to your mind.

Obviously, the events at El Dorado, watching your father die in front of you, and watching people get shot, were hard to wrap your head around. It was like the sight was burned in your eyes and every time you tried to rest, your body couldn’t forget. 

The hospital had recommended therapy after stitching up the bullet wound from South America, and although you considered it heavily at the time, you didn’t fully commit. You’d gone to a few welcome sessions, and one individual before the cost aspect came in, and that’s where you were no longer interestd.

JJ caught you first, which made sense. The bags under your eyes were dark and you were a shell of a human at that point. JJ hadn’t realized you were slipping out of bed at night to stare at the stars, falling victim to the voices and images in your head. It was one off night where he’d been rattled by the thunder and lightning of a storm and he realized you were curled up in the hammock out on the covered balcony. Figuring you were enjoying the storm, he moved to join you, but the tears and soft sobs told him so much more.

John B witnessed the worst one.  The group was pulling an all-nighter on the shop prep before opening day and you’d dipped to take a quick nap before rejoining. John B had never had his heart drop so violently when he heard your scream. It was so deep and terrifying that he was sprinting up the stairs by two each to get to you as fast as possible, fearing the worst. 

He had never seen you in such a state, like sleep paralysis had taken over and left you silent. John B didn’t hesitate to wrap you into his hold, pulling you into a sitting position and lovingly crushing you between his arms. Seconds felt like hours before you relaxed in his embrace and the first sob left your lips. 

John B didn’t know what to do, but he was there, and that’s what mattered. 

He let it go for a few weeks, checking in with JJ when you weren’t looking to see if anything got better. When it didn’t, he practically carried your ass to therapy, claiming the gold had a loose enough budget to accommodate a few sessions. You felt guilty about the whole thing between cost and timing of someone taking you, but John B and JJ reassured you multiple times not to.

“You deserve to take up space in this family,” John B had told you when you refused to get out of the van at the third session, claiming there were more important things that needed to happen. “I know you don’t agree with me, and you probably never will, but you deserve to heal from this, too.”

And then came the arguments that you could push through, that everyone in the group likely needed therapy anyway. John B didn’t let that one last long, arguing that nobody else was waking up with screams besides you and occasionally, JJ. 

You were stubborn, and after everything, you didn’t want to let your walls down to strangers. Then, you’d found a friend (term used very lightly).

Sofia was volunteering at the sessions, but given the fact that both of you were Pogues, you’d at least clicked somewhat after talking. Neither of you talked outside of the 30–60-minute sessions, but you were grateful for the familiar face when you walked in the room. Little did you realize how much that would come to bite you in the ass.

You learned how to talk yourself out of an anxiety attack, and to acknowledge you needed to cope with this stuff on an individual basis. As much as you loved your friends, you couldn’t rely on them to fix this for you. 

The last individual session had been a shit show. The recommendation that John B come sit in with you was not a welcomed one, and although you loved your brother so much, it was hard to be emotionally vulnerable while working on building independence. 

John B had his guesses of what happened when you were with the Camerons, and then again when Singh had taken you off the beach. And while he didn’t want to pry, there were millions of questions he’d had about everything that happened. The way you shut down in the hall at Tannyhill, the screaming, the shying away from someone’s touch. 

You’d taken a lot of shit from your dad over the years, but John B’s never seen you so small and scared in your life. 

While the session was pretty much useless, and almost broke into an argument when they tried to manipulate you into answering things you didn’t want to discuss, you were done. You told John B to never bring you back again, so he didn’t.

He wanted to fix all of it, to fill the promises he’d given you over the years and be the older brother you’d deserved for so long. You were both teenagers at the end of the day, but God, you could barely act like one with everything you’d gone through.

One day, you’d spill everything to your brother...come clean about the scars, visible and hidden, that would forever stain your skin and soul. And he would listen, cry, and be there for it all… because that’s what big brothers do.

That’s what John B had promised. And he was done breaking promises.

[h4kufilmz]

⌨ . . . ꧇ ՚՚ 𝟕;𝐌𝐈𝐇 | 𝐏.𝐉𝐒

𓂃 PAIRING(S): park jongseong x tall!(m)reader

𓂃 GENRE(S): fluff, (very) suggestive, lowercase intended.

𓂃 WARNING(S): alcohol consumption, profanity, extremely suggestive, making out.

⋆  ࣪ you never expected to find yourself in this type of setting. neither did you expect to find one of the popular guys on campus straddling you, in a cramp, secluded closet, ready to take your first kiss.

it was hot, your heart thundered loudly in your ears as a storm of new sensations came hailing down at you. you didn't know how to react or how to even move, your body was stiff as a stick and all you could ever focus on was the feeling of his lips, they were soft and full, they pressed against your own unmoving pair.

you could feel a small smirk start to shape his lips, pulling away he held your face in his hands, your skin red from the neck up. “relax,” he whispered, his soft voice cutting through the relentless beating of your heart. your wide eyes met his, a glint of mischief and amusement within those dark pools, his thumb caressed your cheek gently, you could feel yourself slightly leaning into the touch, it calmed your anxiety. your heartbeat grows steadily, yet the warm sensation on your face never leaves.

you still couldn't process everything properly, you hadn't anticipated the twist and turns the night of one not so thought out decision could bring you. one second you were with your friends, the next you began loosening up and dancing along and not long after a game of seven minutes in heaven commenced, and now you were here, in a secluded room with one of the most popular people on campus—park jongseong, or jay as everyone calls him.

and he was undoubtedly, to your standard at least—for someone whose lips were still just a mere virgin moment's ago—good. he of course had more experience, that was a no-brainer, this must've been so basic to him.

your attention drifts back to jay as you felt him shift on your lap, his thumb then brush against your bottom lip, your blush deepens.

“just take it slow,” he whispered, reaching for your hands and placing them on his hips, “no one's watching us.” good grief why did he have to be so nice about it? it would've been easier to calm down if he was indifferent or even hell an asshole. but no, he was patient, he cared, and he understood your predicament, letting you go at your pace even while your time together was limited.

unable to voice a response, you responded with a meak nod. exhaling deeply your tongue swiped across your lips nervously. jay smiled at you as he cupped your cheek, mouthing a quiet coo at your innocence before his head tilted to the side and leaned in.

you squeezed his hips, unable to contain the surprise when he caught your lips once more. willing yourself to pull through, you finally reciprocated, your eyes tightly shut trying not too hard to overthink your lack of experience or technique, letting jay the lead.

his hand slid off your face, roaming down to your neck deepening the kiss.

he didn't go too fast nor was he too slow, you couldn't fathom how he could just find the right pace just like that but it felt great, intimate, and it made you want more. you almost wanted to be mad at yourself that you didn't do this sooner. but you were also glad, glad that it was jay and not someone else, you feared that others won't be so kind.

despite the tremble in your hands, you pulled him closer, you heard jay chuckle softly, his hands slowly move down to your chest as he wanted to check how hard your heart was beating, making you shift back onto the chair.

and all of a sudden you both were falling.

your bodies hit the floor and your heart drops upon processing how badly you fucked up.

you sat up quickly, scrambling to piece your words together. “a-are you okay? holy fuck i’m so sorry—”

“pftt—” you heard him stifle, his hand covered his mouth yet it futile, like raging dam his laughter bursted out loudly.

he wasn't mad? you blinked, your head lowering slightly, unable resist the cherry blossoms that dusted your cheeks.

jay's laughter slowly ceases, propping himself up on his Infront of you, a finger hooks beneath your chin making you look up. “you're seriously so cute, y'know that?” he coo’s, stealing peck from your lips.

“i’m not..—” he stole yet another one, making your eyes grow wide, “you can't just do that—!” you tried to toughen up yet he doesn't listen, your own attempts to stop him crumbling at the next kiss, and onto another. he didn't seem to want to stop and neither did you.

lying on your back, jay quickly straddles your waist, taking the initiative to pull him down your lips barely met when a series of knocks came from the door.

“uh - guys your past seven minutes, get dressed and get outta there!” jake spoke through the door. you both shared a look before laughing, feeling slightly flustered at the prospect that everyone else thought you two were doing a little more than making out.

a small pout forms on your lips, a pit of disappointment started to form in your stomach. you didn't want to go, but you respected the rules enough, as you began to sit up yet jay pushed you back down, a hand on your chest. “just a second,” he held his hand out and you stare at him in mild confusion.

“phone,” he says and it clicks quickly.

“password?” he pushed you back down, his his hand pressing down firmly on your chest.

“uhm 08600”

“your birthday?”

your eyes furrow, “nah it's my dogs.”

jay spared you a look of surprise, “is he still alive?”

“yeah..she is…”

“no fucking way.”

you laugh softly, “don't say that! you’ll jinx it.” you roll your eyes playfully, hearing him laugh in return he hands you back your phone.

“let's talk more.” he smiled down at you.

you nod, your lips curving a smile of your own. “yeah i’ll like—call you or whatever.” you respond awkwardly, pleasing jay enough for him to leave you one last kiss before getting up.

you watched him leave, eventually standing up yourself, tugging down at the hem of your shirt. you weren't too sure what this was, and you couldn't exactly fully trust it yet you knew you were soaring higher than you intended.

let's just hope when you fall, he's there to catch you.

do not translate or copy © h4kufilmz 2024.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤! ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Can u do vs(or wxs, do whatever u prefer) kaito, minori,kohane and rui with reader that hates and is scared of thunder/storms?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yeah! I can do VS!KAITO dw ^^ also so sorry for Minori being so short ToT I kinda looked at her profile and saw "relaxing activities" in her dislikes and... well... you get it -w-

But either way!! I hope you like it <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff but can be read as platonic (parent/sibling relationship?)

✧ VS!KAITO would magically appear at your doorstep every time there's a thunderstorm happening. Or simply call you if he can't reach you right now...

✧ maybe he won't have anything fancy in his hands when he appears but that's just because he was rushing to you!

✧ but he'll make sure to find some comfy blanket at your place and wrap it around you when you're in bed~

✧ his main way of dealing with your fear would be to try making you focus on something else than weather outside

"It's alright, don't worry... just focus on me, alright? Everything will be fine, I promise."

✧ if eye contact, stories or games won't do it, he may just give you headphones with some of your favorite music playing and burry you under blankets! Don't worry tho, he makes sure you can breath and are comfortable

✧ also BACK RUBS!! He'll give you tons of those in hopes they may calm you down and... he's so perfect at it!! he moves his hand slowly up and down your back, even sending shivers down your spine

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @hayillaaaaaaa @wabatle @sucodelaranja86 - come get your soft gentleman~

✧ Minori's way of keeping you away from your fear would be by keeping things lively!

✧ you hear one thunder strike and then your phone calls with her name on it

"Are you okey?! Hey, look at Samo-chan! I'll show you the dance we can do together, just look!"

✧ and if she's with you in person, she'll most likely blast some music and dance or do karaoke so you can focus on that instead

✧ if that won't work, her other idea will be to watch something! Either video from a live of someone you like or a movie series perhaps?

✧ basically I see her thinking up of random activities just to hopefully keep your attention on something else than your fear

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @yulikesminori - come get your Haruka fan!

✧ Kohane is quick to jump into action! If possible, he'll get you inside her house, even by convincing her dad to drive you two there

✧ that's because she thinks Count Pearl may help you calm down a bit~

✧ you may get surprised by how many tricks she actually teached it! just showing off and playing with it might get you through the thunder alone~

"Hehe~ Here, let me show you another one. Count Pearl... spin!"

✧ unless you don't like/are afraid of snakes too... then she'll come to your place instead or put her pet in another room for the night

✧ so if that happens or Count Pearl won't get you through the storm, she'll also offer to watch some funny or cute animal videos! Depending on what's your favorite animal, that's what she might put on

✧ and don't think that's the end! She'll probably also give you some random facts about the animals you're watching if she knows some~

✧ if those are a no-go for you though... she may as well order or even make some comfort food with you and have a chat or just enjoy it in silence together!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @wholesaleboi @muffin-the-dog121 - come get your hamster girl!

✧ if it's just a little thunder and you two are simply silly friends, Rui would probably use it give you a little scare... and then get bonked for it by you

✧ but either shortly after or if your relationship is much closer and caring, he's gonna rush with comfort instead!

✧ his first weapon would be his robots! Especially silly ones that can dance, do light shows, cook, do tricks... I wouldn't trust HIS cooking bots tho-

✧ if that won't be enough to keep your attention somewhere else and you just so happen to be at his place, he may as well teach you how to build your own simple robot! Aka let you help while he does another one...

✧ and if neither work or you just prefer calmer approach, he's gonna settle for some classic comfort and assure you under blanket fort that it's all gonna be alright

"Don't worry, thunder can't get to us in here... Not with build like that on our heads~"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @kuzzz0ya @superstar-ethereal @alicewinterway18 @hakulivesformusic @sucodelaranja86 @sillymizu-13 @aluvslink @themiddletenmasibling - come get your crazy inventor~

[myshitaccount]

City Girl Rescue

(a/n: so basically reader is jackie but w “y/n” and reader isnt down bad for cole. Enjoy 🫶🏻 also i have a good pt 2 in my head so lmkk if anyone wants that eventhough ill prob write one anyway cuz i am down bad for this man 💋 cole aint got nothing on him)

My Life With the Walter Boys

Alex Walter x reader

plot: reader gets lost during walk during thanksgiving drama, but of course everything goes wrong. (same plot as in the show but i tweaked it)

-

Goosebumps, annoying, airpods in. It’s hard to ignore the persistent drama of the Walter house. Especially the drama between, my boyfriend, Alex and, his older brother, Cole. Not to mention the glances Cole keeps throwing at me.

It gets harder to ignore when the glances become stares. Words shared between us also prove his infatuation. I’m not tryna be another paige, so I hope Alex hasn’t noticed.

I glance down at my phone to check the time. 5? I left at 2! I quickly open the maps app to figure out the way home, but the signal isn’t strong enough. Well it couldn’t get anyworse! I eat my words as sounds signaling thunder and a cold storm fill the sky.

Anxiety truly begins to set in. I slid down one the tree ive posted up next to and scramble to call Katherine. I let it ring until im met with her voicemail. I instantly recall that the surprise party for Nathans return from the hospital is right now, no no no! The fear that they wont notice my absence worsens my anxiety. Next I, more frantically, called Alex.

If he doesnt pick up…

“Hey Y/n where are you?”

I breathe for the first time in what felt like minutes..

Now i must confess the deeply embarrassing truth, “Alex, I’m ummm, I’m lost- I was going for a walk and I-I don’t know and I don’t know what to do.”

In the mere moments that I’ve been crouched by the tree the sky has darkened and rain drops have begun. As I word vomit to Alex I can’t stop the breathe catching sobs that quickly take over my overwhelmed state. “Alex- I don’t know what to do”

“Hey. Y/n i need you to take a few deep breaths ok sweetheart” I close my eyes and listen to his voice, “Do you have any idea where you are baby?” I sniffle a response together, “No, theres trees.. a lot of trees and there was a path of sand tint gravel, but it’s gone and theres a hill too.” “Okay baby I know where you are I’ll be there as fast as I can-stay on the phone with me alright?”

The rain is now heavy without any escape and the thunder and lightning fill the sky. Yet, his voice has somehow soothed me. I glance down at my screen for the first time in a while; which is now dusted with raindrops, “Alex, my phone its about to die-“

Dead. And now I’m alone again in the wild and freezing temperatures. My shirt sticks to my skin soaked completely as well as my jeans that weigh me down with the amount of water intake. All I can do now is wait.

-

I don’t know how much time has passed at this point. Definitely not as much as it feels. I’m scary cold, my body is becoming numb, and I’m tired. super tired.

My shut eyes spring open by the new noise of twigs snapping. “Y/N! Y/N!”

My heart swells- its Alex! His voice sounds harsh like hes been yelling for a while, “ALEX! I’m right here!”

I try to rise from my position underneath the tree but i fall flat on my hands and knees. It’s so dark at this point that I can only see the distant light that Alex carries with him.

It moves erratically and is accompanied by sounds evoked by Alex’s running through the muddied forest.

He is quickly in-front of me discarding his layers. As soon as his hoodie, jean jacket, and raincoat is off of him he is dressing me with urgent yet noticeably delicate movements. “How do you feel Y/n?” He speaks pulling the hood over my head, before he puts his beanie on my head I grab his hand and look him in the eyes, “Alex- I’m ok, leave the beanie just get us out of here, please,” Without skipping a beat I’m scooped up and whisked away cradled in his arms to the family’s good-ole chariot. The beat of his heart and strong arms, definitely from all the farm labour, calm me.

He sets me with the same delicate actions into the passenger seat. My shivering has slowed and before he can turn away I grab him by the back of his neck with both hands and kiss him. His body leans into the car; one hand is around my waist while his other is on the dash securing himself. Our wet lips crash against one another’s and we both quickly become panting messes.

I pull away and his own face follows mine keeping us an inch apart. “Thank you Alex- I’ve never… been lost like that,” He grins that smile that brings warmth to my cheeks and butterflies into my stomach, “Ofcourse you haven’t- ye’arent used to having forests to get lost in city girl.”

[talekinesis]

Ninjago Headcanon: Jay used to be afraid of storms, because I love irony

When he was a kid, Jay used to be scared of thunderstorms, and anytime the clouds got a bit too dark or the wind picked up a bit too much for his liking, he'd drop whatever scrap metal he was holding and run to his parents

If it was just his mother home, he'd cling to her leg or stay by her side and hold her hand while she worked on whatever she was doing, and knowing Edna she was always happy to comfort her boy and keep him close, reassuring him that he was safe

Ed had a slightly different approach that, at the time, Edna disapproved of and worried would make his fear worse, but honestly he's the sole reason Jay got over his fear of storms (and Ninjago should thank him since Jay ended up being the master of lightning)

Ed would hold Jay on his hip and stand out on the front porch with him while they watched the storm pass over the junkyard, and just talk to his son and answer any questions he had. He taught Jay to count between lightning strikes and the clap of thunder, he had his son help him instal a lightning rod while explaining what it would do and how it would protect their house, etc.

Eventually as Jay got a little older, like 12, instead of being scared of storms, he'd ask his dad to go out onto the front porch and watch them with him, having grown fascinated by them. If they knew there wouldn't be lightning or anything dangerous, Jay often would play outside in the rain, only for his mother to have to dry him off on the porch so he wouldn't track water inside.

"Hold on there, mister, you dry off first. I know we live in a junkyard, but that's no excuse to track all that mud and water inside," and she'd hand him a towel before she let him in.

(Currently just picturing child Jay with a towel wrapped around him, sitting in a chair on the porch, kicking his legs, waiting to be dry enough to go back inside like :] )

I firmly believe his hair got extra curly when wet and drying off and his parents adored it

When Jay later learned he'd be the master of lightning, I think he called back home and basically went, "Hey remember when I was terrified of storms," because he thought it was funny. I also think Ed responded, "Yes and you're welcome for desensitizing you to them," as a joke, but he's actually so proud of his boy.