#richest man in the world ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anastasiabowe · 23 days

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𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙃 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉 — As a broke college student, it’s not wrong to want a rich boyfriend! That doesn’t mean you’re a gold digger, or will stoop so low you will ruin your worth, it just means you want a man who will take care of you, and guess what? You found him.

note: this will be a 3 part series! First one I’ve ever made and may be my last! So please not too much on these writings! Luv you!

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄𝙄

Content Warnings: language, suggestive content

Nanami is a man of morals. He usually keeps his hands and eyes to himself, he holds the door for anyone, women especially, he respects boundaries, and if anything that causes him to think inappropriately he will kindly excuse himself to make sure he doesn’t seem like a creep. But Nanami is just like any man.

Nanami longs for a lover, a wife. He desires children, a family. But in this cruel, sick world, he can’t find a woman who wants him for him. Nanami is one of the top 10 richest men on the planet, he not including himself, but his company in that title.

Every woman he has attempted to date tries to put on their best “I love you for your heart not your money!” act, but it slips the second they tell him “oh no! I forgot my wallet!”

Nanami knows every trick in the book, he knows the look women give him when they are impressed by his wealth, he knows the lip biting they do to show interest in his looks, he knows the voice and excuses they say to make him fall down to their feet, which he never once has done nor will do. He knows it all. So dating people that have seen him before he’s met them makes it all the more boring.

So, when Nanami’s friend, Haibara introduced him to dating apps, he obviously was shook.

“You really had no idea there were dating apps?” Haibara blankly looked at him. Nanami bit his thumb in uncertainty.

He grumbled a little “no.” And his friend smiled. “Then sign up! What can you lose? They don’t have to know what you look like.”

Nanami hated that idea. “No, I want them to know who I am.” His firm voice erased that idea completely from his friends plan.

“Well, 80% of this world knows who you are, that wish you want isn’t going to happen.” Nanami sighed knowingly, just tired from his sad lonely life.

“Haibara, thank you for this..” Nanami thought carefully of his words. “Great discovery, but I think it’s best you head home and I sleep on it.” Haibara understood, and firmly grabbed Nanami’s shoulder on his way out.

“You’ll find her, I know you will.” Nanami placed his hand firmly on Haibara’s in a thank you, and Haibara left.

After Nanami heard Haibara leave, he hurriedly sat down on his couch and opened the dating site.

“RICHTON THE DATING APP FOR THE WEALTHY!”

Nanami quickly laughed at the cringe advertisement, but it was a popular app, so something was working.

Nanami put in his information and had to choose which photos to put on his profile. He chose the first decent ones he could find, not caring too much about perfection, and he was brought up with the interests slide.

He clicked three random ones and pressed continue. The app asked to use his camera to verify his age and photos. Nanami positioned the camera to where it said to and he was verified. The app welcomed him to a very ugly woman.

Nanami had skipped the tutorial at the beginning and just swiped towards the X like he has seen on TV. This app was the definition of a gold diggers dream. Rich men pay to speak with women that aren’t even all that.

Nanami swiped and swiped towards the x. No woman looked like a decent women. They all looked like they seduce men or are prostitutes, maybe both. Nanami frowned seeing all the half naked women.

“Should I really be on this app?” He thought to himself. He continued to swipe, heart sinking each swipe to the left seeing women who don’t know their worth. Ass in the camera more than their face just to get a quick buck. Nanami swiped one more time ready to turn his phone off, and his thumb froze.

A girl with straight hair smiling in what seems to be senior photo. She was in a white summer dress posing in a daisy field. The beach was calm behind her and he couldn’t help but stare at her smile. She seemed so pure, so innocent and that was exactly what he was looking for. He swiped right on her profile and it opened up a message saying:

“YOUR FIRST MATCH! SEND HER A MESSAGE WITH THE AMOUNT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEND!”

Nanami saw a text box and a drop box. The drop box has let Nanami type in the amount he would like to send. The minimum was 5 dollars. He typed in $100 and pressed on the text box.

His thumbs again froze. What should he say? Should he compliment her? Introduce himself? Nanami combined them. He typed.

“Hello, my name is Kento and I couldn’t help but be in absolute awe seeing your photos. You are absolutely beautiful.” He sent it without looking back, this was already hard enough.

Nearly instantly you saw his message and typed.

Y: “Oh my god, you did NOT have to send that much money!”

He imagined your voice as he read your message. He chuckled to himself like a madman and he started typing back.

N: “I wanted to, you are so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

He nervously tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone waiting for your response.

Y: “I really do appreciate the compliment but $100 is too much, I can’t accept that!”

N: “Too late, I want you to have it, I want to talk to you.”

Y: “You can’t talk to me for free!”

N: “That’s not how this app works..?” Nanami was confused.

Y: “Oh, right.. I forgot you have to pay to chat.”

N: “Please don’t be alarmed by the money, I’m not running out anytime soon😂”

Nanami cringed at himself for using such an emoji, but he wanted you to feel at ease.

Y: “Thank you, you really didn’t have to though. I won’t stop saying that.”

N: “Then let’s change the subject. Why are you on this app?”

You saw his message but didn’t text back. Did he ask a triggering question? You soon started typing, and his nerves came back.

Y: “You know, a broke college student who needs a little extra cash😅”

He chuckled, for a girl who didn’t want a hundred bucks, that’s sure what she was looking for.

N: “Haha, so you won’t mind if I send more?”

Y: “Don’t send more! I’m not that broke😭”

Nanami smiled. He smiled as if you were really there. He imagined having this conversation with you and how hard you would make him laugh with your silly remarks.

N: “Don’t worry, I won’t 😂, but it’s not like you’re going to stop me.”

Y: “I’ll send it back😜✌🏾”

N: “I’ll send it back!”

Y: “And I’ll send it again, it will be a whole thing if you make it💀”

The fact you both were arguing over money is crazy, Nanami never argued with a woman about sending them money. They usually do a “oh no you don’t have to do that!” But will eventually accept. You on the other hand are just outright refusing. Nanami is now intrigued by you.

N: “If you won’t accept my money via here, how about dinner? I’ll pay, and I won’t argue about it when we get there.”

You again took your time typing, very obvious you are unsure.

Y: “Okay… but where are you tryna take me?”

N: “I was thinking…. Hermes?”

Y: “You’re joking!”

N: “What?”

Y: “I can’t afford that!”

N: “You’re not paying.”

Y: “Still, I can’t make you pay for that!”

N: “I want to pay for it, I eat there all the time.”

Y: “Not for two☹️”

N: “I’ve paid for 10.”

Y:“Kento..”

N: “Y/n, please. I want to meet you. You intrigue me, I’ve never met someone like you. I don’t want to seem like a begged, nor do I want to pressure you, but I would love to meet you and enjoy a nice dinner with you.”

Nanami felt desperate even though he just met you not even an hour ago.

The long response time again happened, and Nanami felt like he blew it. The once time he felt like he actually found someone worth the time, he blew it.

Y: “Okay.”

Nanami’s heart fluttered seeing your message.

N: “You will have dinner with me?”

Y: “Yes! I’ll have dinner with you😂”

Nanami felt like a little boy again. He hadn’t felt this excited to ask a girl out since never and it felt good.

N: “How does tomorrow sound? I know that’s soon, but it’s the only day my schedule isn’t busy.”

Y: “Yeah, tomorrow would be great!”

N: “Alright, I’ll see you then!”

Y: “See you!”

The next day Nanami felt different. His head was somewhere else, somewhere lighter, happier. He felt… excited? He wasn’t sure, he hasn’t felt this way until his first client offered him half a million dollars as he started his journey in this company.

Nanami played more upbeat music, very different from his normal taste, and he swayed and stepped with every beat to the song as he ironed his clothes. He had opened windows and instead of wincing from the sun hitting his eyes, he smiled.

“What a beautiful morning.” He thought to himself. Nanami must have been in a different place that he didn’t even know was so negative until now. He was looking forward to a dinner with someone. He hasn’t felt that way in years and he just wishes he could meet you right then and there.

Nanami nearly put on his freshly ironed clothes and grabbed his briefcase and blazer. He locked his garage door and headed straight to his black Porsche that he usually doesn’t drive, but today, why not?

Nanami drove to work with a smile on his face. Haibara greeted Nanami as he stepped out of his car and a valet stepped in for him.

“Good morning.” Nanami smiled and Haibara walked beside him.

“Good morning…” Haibara stared at Nanami’s face.

“Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you win the lottery? What’s got you so happy?”

“Haibara.” Nanami stopped and turned towards his friend, “Thank you.”

Haibara wanted to laugh, he didn’t even do anything, right?

“for what” Nanami smiled at Haibara.

“For showing me that ‘app’. I’m going to meet someone for dinner tonight.” Haibara smiled at Nanami.

“That’s great, Kento! What’s her name?”

“Y/n.”

“Hm, is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

“Is she rich?”

“Eh..”

“Is she young?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean by ‘kind of?”

“She’s… 20..” Nanami purses his lips waiting for Haibara’s reaction.

“20?!” His eyes were wide and he laughed. “You’re 34!”

“She’s very aware of my age.” Nanami said not amused by his friends reaction.

“I mean, hey, if a woman 14 years older than me asked me out, and she was hot, I’d go out worth her too.” Haibara threw his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ pose and Nanami rolled his eyes.

“We meet at 6, so I just need to get through today.” Nanami said more to himself. The happy facade started to break, and he felt the butterflies pool in his stomach.

He was nervous. He hasn’t been on a date with someone he actually wants to meet in over 10 years. He doesn’t remember how to be charismatic, he doesn’t remember how to be enticing and interesting. Work has been the only topic that’s been keeping his conversations alive. He doesn’t talk to anyone about anything personally other than Haibara and that is hard enough.

Haibara saw Nanami. He knew Nanami for nearly 6 years and this was the look of nervousness. He’s seen it countless times, but that’s only because he knows him. He can tell from the slight twitch in his jaw and the subtle fidgeting with his hands.

“Come on Nanami, let’s go to my office.” Nanami nodded and followed Haibara.

In Haibaras office, he gave Nanami tips.

“Now I have met countless women. Hard to believe, I know, and I know how to get them wanting more.” Nanami cringed at the thought of his good friend seducing women.

“I’m not trying to get anything from her, I just want to hold a conversation and hopefully get to know her more.”

“Alright, I got you.” Haibara walked over to his whiteboard and wrote “NANAMI’S FIRST DATE”

“This isn’t my first date, Haibara.”

“I know, but you’re acting like it is.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, and Haibara clapped his hands together.

“I have cancelled all meeting that require you to be there, and will have your secretary fill in for the ones that don’t. We have all day to get you ready for your date, alright?”

“Ok.” Nanami replied. Nanami felt silly sitting in the chair and listening to his younger friend teach him how to act right on a date. Nanami usually lets the women talk since he usually doesn’t care too much about them. He usually just lets his colleagues recommend a woman and set up a date. Nanami regrets every single dollar he wasted on the money thirsty women. But he wants to try with you. He wants to talk to you and let you talk. He wants to actually get to know you, maybe even go on more dates and hang out.

“Ok, first step. Do NOT let them talk the whole time. Even if they ramble, try and have a mutual conversation. Sometimes when they ramble, they think it’s because you aren’t interested and they will want to make sure you're still intrested” Haibara took in a huge breath, “OR they are nervous.”

Nanami nodded.

“You just have to read their body language.”

“Well, how will I know if they are nervous or not?”

“You’ll know. If they look around when talking, when they cover their face when talking, when they hold their hands in their lap, if they look tense, come on, you know what nervous looks like.”

Nanami nodded again.

“Use your words, this is practice. Don’t just nod your head,” Haibara mocked him by aggressively nodding his head “say things like ‘I agree’ or ‘I’m listening’ or ask them about whatever they’re talking about so they know you’re listening.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t just say ‘okay’.” Haibara mocked again. “Try and be more creative! Let’s practice.”

Haibara sat down in his seat and tried his best to look more feminine.

“So yeah, me and my friends went mini golfing and I didn’t know what to do so I just sat and watched them play.”

Nanami sat there. What did Haibara want him to say? Haibara looked at him, waiting for a response.

“Oh, well that is very sad.” Nanami said unsure. Haibara sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yep, might as well pay the bill and leave.” Nanami sat there dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say?

“What should I have said instead?”

“Nanami, I can’t tell you what to say, but that would have sent her home crying. You sounded like you didn’t care. You should say something along the lines of ‘did you ever end up knowing how to play mini golf?’ That will at least let her know you’re listening.” Haibara stood up and sighed.

“We have a lot of work to do.”

After many hours of preparing, Nanami’s watch chimed. It was 5:30 and he needed to head home and change.

“Thank you Haibara, this was very helpful.” Nanami shook his friends hand and headed towards the front of the office.

“Don’t try too hard! Just let it come out naturally!” Haibara cakes out to Nanami. Nanami smiled back at his friend and Haibara sighed.

“Please don’t screw this up.”

#nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk kento #kento smut

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emo-batboy · 6 months

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Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows

For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.

Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.

(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)

But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.

Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.

One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.

The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.

Here are these appearances :)

RuPaul’s Drag Race

Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities

So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity

And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!

Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.

Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.

They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.

“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”

“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”

Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.

“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”

We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.

Only THEN do they learn he's bi

One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.

The flirting is thus taken up a notch.

On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.

(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)

After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”

While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”

The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”

It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.

It’s v cute 🥰

Nailed It!

I love Nicole Byer.

She is Mother.

In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.

The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.

Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.

So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.

(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)

Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”

Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”

The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(

(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)

For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.

Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”

“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”

For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.

Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.

It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D

The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.

This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)

As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.

Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.

Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*

Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.

When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.

Celebrity Family Feud

Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago

This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.

It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.

They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.

(Some at Bruce's expense)

Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-

All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.

For exactly half of the episode.

Then it happens.

Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”

What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.

Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.

“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”

Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.

But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”

Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.

And by god, the memes

“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”

The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok

Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter

10/10 never again

Running Wild with Bear Grylls

Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.

For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.

“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”

This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.

Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.

Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.

Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.

Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.

Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?

Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.

But do you know what is vegetarian?

Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.

How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?

To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.

Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”

He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.

(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)

Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”

Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.

For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“

Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.

They don’t have those in Gotham.

Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?

“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”

Because oh. shit.

Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.

Bruce has a meltdown.

He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!

This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.

Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.

Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*

Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy

Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.

Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.

Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.

And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)

Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?

Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3

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wilwheaton · 1 year

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the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He's the richest man on the planet. You can't go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he's part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he's a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They'll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn't enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That's a tragedy for him, but it's dangerous for us. He doesn't care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying "hurt people hurt people"? He's a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man's midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what's really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please.

Don't hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn't stand up to anyone. He doesn't stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He's angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn't care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is ... a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

#fuck elon musk

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zkvry · 7 months

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My Lady | Possesive!Aemond Targaryen x Targ!Fem!Reader

Summary : You provoke Aemond, who is prone to jealousy

Warnings : red flag behaviour, some violence towards the end, jealous and posessive Aemond. Slightly dark towards the end.

Additional Information :

> standalone from HOTD storyline (there are no spoilers) > written in second person perspective > 1232 words | 9 minutes

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Aemond sipped on wine mindlessly as he watches you interact with Lords of noble houses. It was clear that they were trying to woo you, in hopes to have your hand in marriage.

His only seeing eye narrows with distaste, his lips pursed.

From afar, you mindlessly nod at whatever the man was saying, sipping on your wine to keep yourself busy.

Aemond had seen a few men approach you. It was obvious that they had taken to your beauty. His right hand had clenched around his wine cup, and his smile was gone as he watched the scenario play out. His eye remained fixed upon you, unblinking.

His eye was filled with an angry glare, his lips had pressed into a hard line, he was jealous, and did little to hide it.

you were finally able to run off from the man that had occupied your attention longer than you had hoped. Walking with haste, you approach the Royal Table, isolated from the rest and telling of your royal status.

You plop yourself down next to Aemond, sighing in relief.

Aemond sees your approaching figure, and softens his gaze, his eye hiding the fury he was feeling only moments ago. His mouth pulls up into a faint, pleasant smile.

"Did anyone bother you, my lady?" His voice quiet and monotonous, yet there was a hint of concern in his voice.

"I continuously, have been steering away from marriage proposals. I do not know how much longer I can entertain this," You chuckle humorlessly, hiding your face in hands with exasperation.

Aemond chuckles lightly at your reaction, a tone of amusement evident in his voice. "So it seems, my lady is popular?"

You took it upon yourself be forward, a small smirk on your lips. "Well, yes. your lady is popular".

Your words made him smile softly, a hint of his dimples showing. Unsure of how to respond, a slight blush appears on his face. His eye remains fixed upon your own, for there was a sense of appreciation, admiration, and respect that very few people can evoke.

"Do I have any competition?" He asks softly, his voice merely a whisper as he entertains your teasing.

"Yes. Yes, you do," you lean closer to him, subtly pointing at a few noble lords in the crowd.

"By that table, we have Cregan Stark. He is noble and a gentleman. I almost fell for him, truth be told-" You chuckle, hearing Aemond breathed in sharply, sounding constrained.

"-And over there, is Tyland Lannister. His house is one of the richest in all Seven Kingdoms, he said he would buy me a castle and build the largest dragonpit the world has ever seen. But he is arrogant," You continue your teasing, wondering how far you could push him.

Aemond turned his head, following the direction of your finger. His lip frowned for a moment, before he looked at you again, unimpressed.

"The Northmen and the Westmen are both powerful and wealthy. But I can buy you a castle and build you a dragonpit, too."

He chuckles - "And I am not arrogant."

Aemond gives you a sly smile, his pride evident.

Your eyes study him. "No, you are not arrogant.. You are cunning, loving, and very handsome," You trail off, a certain twinkle in your eye.

"-but stubborn!" You point an accusing finger at him, a playful smile on your lips.

Aemond chuckles at your accusation. His eye brightened with glee while his grin grew a tiny bit wider. "You know me well, my love."

"Cunning, loving, handsome, stubborn.. and proud." He repeats it back to you. "Are my qualities what attracted you to me?" He asks you with a teasing tone in his voice, his eye twinkling with mischief.

"You wish! you would be the luckiest man alive if you had me as your wife" You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

Aemond chuckles, while his cheeks took upon a slightly redder hue. He takes his finger and rests it under your chin, pulling it nearer to his face as he leans closer to you.

"I am only the most blessed man because I have you," He spoke in High Valyrian, his words easily putting butterflies in your stomach. Your heart drums in your chest at your closeness.

You narrow your eyes, not once breaking away from his hypnotic gaze. A sly smiles creeps onto your face. "What makes you think you have me already, hm?"

Aemond's top lip twitches slightly, curving into a smirk as he sees your sly smile and narrowed eyes.

"The way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you behave around me," He speaks without missing a beat, his eye still trained on yours. His gaze falls to your lips, returning back to your meet your eyes - his pupils dilated.

Aemond paused for a second, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, his voice sultry and deep. "You love me, just admit it."

Your smile only grows wider as he lists down the things about you. You try horribly to keep your emotions in check as the your heart beats loudly in your chest, feeling tingly in your stomach. Biting your lip, you lean into his ear.

"I'm sorry, but I have marriage proposals to accept" You pull away, the faintest of red on your cheeks. Still, you did not want to back down. Your words were a harmless effort to rile him up, and rile him up you did.

Aemond's heart started to beat heavier and quicker, his eye shimmered with jealousy, narrowing to fix his gaze on you. His lips curved in a sneer, his gaze predatory. Aemond pulled you towards him with force, holding you by your wrists as he brought his face threateningly close.

In your shared mother tongue, he softly spoke, his voice firm and threatening. "Would you accept someone else's proposal?"

You give him an impish smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "What would you do if I did?"

Aemond's breathes become staggered as he holds on with restraint. His face appeared filled with wrath, his voice lowered with an iron determination. His hands tightens around your wrist, pulling you to his hard chest.

He leaned forward, his other hand clamped around the back of your neck. His voice firm and serious - "I will kill anyone who dares to marry you, for you are mine, my love. Only I hold your heart."

Your hand is turning white from the deadly grip he has on your wrists. Your faces merely inches from each other as he holds your neck firmly. You feel his hot breath on your face, seeing this pupils blown with desire and rage. You smirk devilishly, you had him right where you wanted him.

"Would you claim me as yours?" You whisper lowly, your voice enchanting. Your eyes were half-closed with desire.

Aemond's eye gleamed again, angry and full of wrath.

His voice was filled with dominance and authority, "Yes." He replied confidently, as he stared directly into your eyes. "You are mine, my love. I will claim you, mark you…" He whispered, his eye roaming your figure with hunger.

His lip sneered with ferocious determination, as he uttered - "By the Gods.. you will have our children, and I will make you forever loyal and bound to me, and to our house."

#hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #posessive!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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sweet-evie · 7 months

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I have so many thoughts and headcanons about the Gojo clan... You have no idea. 😭 Also, I'm talking out of my ass and everything I say is fictional and from pure imagination... Don't take it seriously.

The Gojo clan may or may not span 40 generations based off of how long ago Suguwara Michizane lived...

and ummm... That's a lot of generational wealth 🤯.

Imagine if you married into that -- married Satoru Gojo. You're automatically the highest-ranking woman in the family, on top of having access to all that money. 😆

Listen, some of the world's richest families like the Rockefellers currently span 7 generations and they're worth billions of dollars.

Damn I really need a full backstory on the 3 major clans. I need to know how rich they are and how they maintained and/or grew that wealth until the modern day.

There's plenty of drama and info on the Zen'in clan. We get crumbs and pieces about the Kamo clan...

But info on the Gojo clan is close to nada, and I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM DAMMIT! I'm so thirsty for more worldbuilding in JJK, you have no idea.

At this point, just seeing Satoru's parents would make me happy.

I have a headcanon that Gojo's family, apart from being sorcerers and political powers in the jujutsu community, are probably mixed bags of company shareholders, politicians, lawyers, philantropists, etc.

Yeah, it's said that the Gojo clan is a one-man army that consists of Satoru Gojo, but I interpret that as Satoru outshining every other family member -- especially every other practicing sorcerer in the family. (There's simply no surpassing the wielder of the Six Eyes and the Limitless technique).

The Gojo clan is a sorcerer clan first and upper tier members of Japanese society second.

Some of Satoru's male relatives are probably Shinto and Buddhist monks. The point is to have a foothold in influential religions among non-sorcerers.

I like to think that maybe one sorcerer in the clan has Limitless... maybe his grandpa, but the man was never as efficient with it as Satoru Gojo.

Maybe the majority of the sorcerers in the Gojo clan fight with Grade 1 cursed tools and good-old hand-to-hand imbued with cursed energy. Maybe other cursed techniques exist within the Gojo clan too... It's all just overshadowed by Satoru.

I also think the Big 3 actually tend to keep to themselves (e.g., the Zen'ins having their own military unit). Their spawns don't ALL go to Jujutsu High, do they? It's a choice for them rather than a necessity. Like, Jujutsu High was established primarily for sorcerers who come from "somewhat normal" backgrounds, unlike people from the Big 3. Satoru was born into jujutsu sorcery and it's the only life he's ever known, whereas people like Suguru who come from non-sorcerer families are brought into Jujutsu Tech to learn about what it means to be a part of jujutsu society, and to teach them that they're not, you know, mentally ill because they can see curses.

Quick side note, I imagine Jujutsu Tech as the bridge between the branch of the Japanese government that is aware of the existence of curses and the jujutsu society as a whole. It just kind of makes sense that way, especially when you consider where their funds to pay people come from -- not from thin air, that's for sure. I mean, how else do the higher-ups get the funding to pay their actively practicing sorcerers, especially the special-grades? Does jujutsu sorcerer pay roll come from citizens' tax money?

Also... On top of Satoru Gojo having access to his clan's generational wealth and assets, how much is he getting paid as an instructor at Jujutsu Tech? Is that salary separate from his special-grade sorcerer salary? Is he technically working 2 full-time jobs?

Man is rolling in cash...

Anyway, I want to circle back to the point that Satoru Gojo is the most active sorcerer in the Gojo clan when it comes to interacting with the higher-ups and being a constant presence in Jujutsu Tech. Obviously, his fingerprints are all over Jujutsu society politics as well.

I headcanon that Satoru comes from a big family, actually. Satoru is an only child, but I imagine lots of cousins and aunts and uncles and distant relatives, and the Gojo estate is probably one massive compound where most of the family lives. Like, they can live in that huge ass ancestral property if they want too... There's plenty of room.

The clan also likely owns several other properties and probably small temples or shrines across Japan. They have one ancestral seat and other properties. That goes for the Kamo and the Zen'in clans as well.

That real estate portfolio be popping.

As for actual size, think Heian estate in ancient Japan big. It's expansive.

Maybe the sorcerers in the family would be fond of living in the Gojo estate. The others, especially the ones who hold positions in the government or the military or who have public-facing jobs have their own homes registered under their own name, and not... you know... registered under the family with the clan head.

Another headcanon is that the clan head is capable of assigning properties and other clan assets to family members if he chooses to. Satoru Gojo can give away houses if he wants too, like a nobleman or European feudal lord. But for real, the Gojo clan might have been part of the nobility in ancient Japan, only losing their noble titles after the Imperial family changed the rules around the 1940s.

Speaking of, it's probably not a reach to assume, that the clan head has his fingers in many many honey pots. 🍯 That is to say, Satoru Gojo has access to more money than he can spend in a single life time. And after he's passed, maybe the money just goes back to the surviving members of the clan.

I need to know Satoru Gojo's net worth.

I think each of the Big 3 has their own hierarchy and their own family politics. Again, the Zen'ins are a prime example...

For the Gojo clan, I headcanon that there's a small council of elders -- people way older than Satoru. Satoru's own father is probably part of that. Put his grandfather and a couple of uncles and aunts in there too.

How do they work? I imagine it's pretty similar to how the Small Council functions in Game of Thrones. Like, there's someone in charge of managing finances, someone who keeps an ear on clan politics, someone who has a foothold in the national military, etc.

I imagine they have a bi-weekly gathering. They offer counsel, but the final decision in any dilemma they discuss always falls to the clan head -- Satoru Gojo.

I also headcanon that Satoru has a penthouse somewhere in Tokyo -- a place he considers as his own residence, away from clan politics and the rest of his probably snobby family.

But Satoru is always busy, so his penthouse is way too clean. It looks like no one lives there.

This is the vibe of the penthouse... I have his penthouse in my Sims 4 game.

Speaking of snobby... The Gojo's clan general reputation? I would say... They're intellectual people, some of them are likely obsessed with history, and rigid and formal when it comes to observing traditions. I imagine they have a tendency to be really elegant.

Whenever the Zen'ins look at them, the stereotypical thought is, "Look at those pompous, snobby, jackasses."

In the succeeding years since December 7, 1989, the Gojo clan's sense of pride has only grown, because well... The most powerful and strongest sorcerer of the modern age came through their lineage.

Needless to say, Satoru Gojo is the pride and power of the Gojo clan.

Satoru's parents were practicing Grade 1 sorcerers... really active in the field, and Satoru's grandfather was Clan Head for a time.

Satoru's mom retired from fieldwork after she married Satoru's dad and after she got pregnant and became a mom. I love my headcanon that she's a shrewd politician and is all about maintaining good standing with the elders while doing intelligence gathering. The woman maintains a network, so she's always in-the-know.

Satoru doesn't make it easy for his mom especially when he goes around and does what he wants. e.g., Becoming a benefactor to Megumi, saving Yuji and Yuta, etc. She's actively working to cover his tracks wherever she can.

Satoru's mom is actively looking for a wife for him, for obvious reasons. The plan never came to fruition because of the Shibuya incident and Ch #236.

Satoru's father is more politician than actively practicing sorcerer by the time Satoru was studying in Jujutsu Tech. He's all about maintaining solid relations with the other clans, the elders, and collaborating with the branch of Japanese government that knows of the existence of jujutsu sorcery. He probably works with the Japanese government too.

Satoru Gojo visits the family estate once in a while... for other business, but primarily for hearings and clan meetings. It's peculiar to look at during these meetings because Satoru is the only person in that room who isn't wearing traditional clothes. Like, I headcanon that he shows up in casual attire, or his Jujutsu Tech uniform, complete with the blindfold.

His mom probably tried to talk him into wearing traditional clothes for these meetings when he was younger, but it just never stuck. Satoru is Satoru, after all.

After Satoru Gojo passes away, I like to imagine the Gojo clan takes a bit of a backseat. It's probably the wiser course of action too, considering everything that's happened in Japan after October 31, 2018.

[I know some people think he's the only survivor of the Gojo clan, but you gotta think of the fact that he learned about Hollow Purple from some people. Someone taught him FBE as a kid.]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #gojo clan

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i-am-dulaman · 2 years

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Okay I'm riled up about this rn so time for a history of economics lesson (rant) from me, a stranger on the internet

I'm a communist, I hate capitlism, so lemme just put that out there. But capitlism had its moments. Even marx had some praise for parts of capitlism.

And by far the most successful form of capitlism was Keynesian economics, as evident by the enormous increase in living standards in those countries which adopted it between the 1930s and 1970s.

What's Keynesian economics? The idea that capitlism can't survive on its own, and must be supported by government spending at the poorest ends of society and taxes at the richest ends of society (essentially the opposite of trickle down economics) as well as strong regulations on certain industries like banking.

It basically started in 1936 with President Roosevelt who was a personal friend of John Keynes (who the theory is named after).

Roosevelt implemented Keynesian economics to great effect; he raised the top tax rate to 94% (he actually wanted a 100% tax rate on the highest incomes, essentially creating a maximum wage, but the senate negotiated down to 94%) and similarly high corporate tax rates, he created the first ever minimum wage, created the first ever unemployment benefit, created social security in America, pension funds, and increased public spending on things like public utilities and infrastructure, national parks, etc. Which created about 15 million public sector jobs.

This ended the great depression and eventually lead to America winning world War 2, after which many countries followed suit in implementing similar policies, including UK, Australia, and NZ (apologies for the anglosphere-centric list here but they're the countries I'm personally most familiar with so bare with me)

Over the next 40 years these countries had unprecedented growth in living standards and incomes, and either decreasing or stable wealth inequality, and housing prices increasing in line with inflation. Virtually every household bought a car and a TV, rates of higher education increased dramatically, america put a man on the moon, and so on.

Then it all abruptly ended in the 80s and the answer is plain and obvious. 1979 thatcher became UK prime minister. 1981 reagan became US president. 1983 the wage accords were signed in aus. 1984 was the start of rogernomics in NZ (Someone link that Twitter thread of the guy who posts graphs of economic trends and points out where reagan became president)

(Also worth noting those last two in NZ and Aus were both implemented by 'left' leaning governments, but they are both heavily associated with right wing policies.)

This marked the beginning of trickle down economics: tax cuts, privatization of publicly owned assets, reduction in public spending, and deregulation of the finance sector. The top tax rates are down to the low 30s in most of these countries, down from the 80s/90s it was prior. Now THATS a tax cut.

And what happened next?

Wages stagnated. Housing prices skyrocketed. Bankers got away with gambling on the economy. Public infrastruce and utilies degraded. And wealth inequality now exceeds France in 1791.

I don't know how anyone can deny the evidence if they see it, but there's so much propaganda and false information that a lot of people just don't see the evidence.

Literally all the evidence supports going back to Keynesian economics but now that the rich have accumulated so much wealth it's virtually impossible to democratically dethrone them when they have most of the politicians on both the right and the left in their pocket.

Unfortunately it was the great depression and ww2 that gave politicians the political power to implement these policies the first time around. Some thought the 2008 crash would spur movement back towards Keynesianism (which it actually did in Iceland, congrats to them), I hoped covid would force governments to now, but nope.

All these recent crises' seem to have just pushed politics further and further right, with more austerity and tax cuts.

I don't really have a message or statement to end on other than shits fucked yo.

#also this is purely talking about the economics side of things #i know pre-80s the social side of politics was fucked despite the increasing living standards #with jim crow laws ans segregation and countless anti-queer laws etc.#and i know you canr seperate the economy entirely from social aspects of politics #but for the purposes of this post this is about the theoretical implications of different forms of capitlism #thats also why im not mentioning the recent descent towards fascism even tho it is closely tied to the economy #anyway #so yeah ive been reading a lot on economics lately #capitlism #economy #Keynesian economics #communism

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rowretro · 22 days

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𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, Cheshire Riki, manipulation ig? mentions of going mad, blood, mentions of abuse, mentioned of being stoned

❁synopsis: Y/n is a very curious girl, and incredibly creative, having grown up in a heartless, cold, boring family, others always ponderred if the mother perhaps had an affair. She's so sweet and cheery and always curious. Her head always in may books, shows, as she feeds off of whatever knowledge gains... In fact she herself started wanderring whether hse was going mad....

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Y/n was stuck in her room, her arms and legs all scratched up and bloody, she sat on the floor of her now, somewhat messy room. There and then she cried. Her eyes landed on the book above her vanity, she got up, limping, tripping over one of her stuffed toys, as she gripped onto the frame of the mirror, her face landing right on the mirror. However to her surprise, she didn't shatter it, or hurt her face, in fact she saw a whole new world.

Perhaps she had hit her head a little too hard and she was now in the afterlife? She immediately pulled away with all her might. Not a scratch on her face. She didn't even hurt herself. Curious, she reached her hand out to touch the mirror again, the mirror rippling as her hand went right. through the mirror. She looked back at her messy room then back at the mirror.

There's a whole crazy world on the other side of that mirror, No boring beings, senseless story books, long science essays that are meant to feed one's knowledge. Maybe behind the silver there's a whole dreamland. Smiling she stepped through the mirror. Boy was she stunned. Shocked, but she loved what she was seeing. "Oi mind your step!" a tulip yelled from beneath her foot.

"Oops- sorry sirmaam maamsir?-" she questioned, as she stared up at the sky "Ooh score tree candy!" she smiled, trying to reach for the gumdrop, only for the tree branch to suddenly go up "awh- can't I have candy mrmissmrrsmx tree?" Y/n asked, assuming the tree would also talk. A smile appeared mid air, and there, a handsome fucking man, smiling mischievously whilst staring down at her. "Well you're one cute lil kitty~" Riki said with a smile.

Since that very moment, everything seemed to be a blur. Y/n woke up gasping for air, there on the ground of her messy room. She had one very vivid, crazy dream, it felt so real yet she barely remembered most of it. She could only make out the figures of actual, human-sized solitaire cards chasing her down, A queen with a heart-shaped head. A white rabbit quite like her pet one, except it's male and it talks.

"Is there a chance I was stoned?" she asked herself as she shrugged, sitting up, there on her wall, surrounding the frame of her mirror, are solitaire cards. Is this some sort of Deja vu? Her shaky hands reached out toward the mirror, touching it. Yet she just left a finger print. It was just a dream. "No it wasn't sweetheart." Shocked, she turned to where that deep, dreamy yet familiar voice was heard. It's the Cheshire man.

"Have I officially gone mad? it's said that too much knowledge makes a human go mad" Y/n asked as the man snickerred, teleporting before her. "Everyone's mad here my darling..." he said "Darling?... no one's ever called me that-" She admittingly said. Riki smirked, walking around her in circles, tutting as he admired every inch of her "What a princess what a princess... why don't you do the honours miss Heart, and be my darling wife?" the handsome man asked as he stared down at her.

"Y/N. WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!" a woman screamed from the entrance, her eyes doubling in size as she noticed her daughter talking to thin air. "I KNEW IT. WE SHLDN'T HAVE ADOPTED SOME RANDOM 5 YEAR OLD THAT WAS PAINTING ON BRICK WALLS.... WE CAN'T HAVE A MAD WOMAN IN THE HOUSE. NO ONE'D MARRY YOU." she screamed. Ah yes, marriage. She's nothing but a pretty doll to sell to the richest man that'll treat her like his sex slave as he slept with other women, just so her so called family could have the money they want.

As the woman picked up a sharp dagger to stab poor y/n, she suddenly dropped dead, the very dagger pierced into her heart. "It seems you have no other choice my darling... you have to come back with me. Marry me. Let me love you in the place I call home, and you call your dreamland... if you stay here, they'll torture you cand claim that you killed her...." Riki explained as Y/n stood there frozen. Sure the woman was cruel and unloving, but she's still her mother...

"She isn't your real mother darling...... I know you're real mother... The queen of hearts." The male said, nothing but truth in his mouth. "You know you can trust my y/n... I know everything about you... I've been watching you through this mirror, my poor princess, so creative, curious and darling.... being mistreated in this dungeon.... let me take you home~" he said, opening a portal in the mirror. She had no choice, the guards had discovered the body... so through the mirror she went... into her wonderland.

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a/n: Idk if this is very yandere or if u cld wrap ur head around it, I'll try to be more active for now my darlings as I will be pretty inactive due to a-levels and soon even uni and work etc etc, I'll work through my requests<3

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

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An Offer · part 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: language, typical mafia themes, men talking, a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

When your father died, you only had time to fit all the stages of grief into one brief episode of momentary shock, then your thoughts revolved solely around the future of the Family. Besides your mother and younger sister, you had to take care of business. And even though you understood the rules of the dark world you grew up in, no one had ever explained to you what decisions you should make to prevent the empire your father had created from crumbling.

The warm rays of the setting sun were breaking through between the gravestones. You had to admit that the sun made everything a little better. Ironically, everything around you seemed to be coming to life; the greening grass, the budding leaves on the trees, the birds singing somewhere in the background. Even the slight rain didn't seem so bothersome when the sun was warming your skin and there was a crisp spring breeze in the air.

You couldn’t focus on the ceremony, your thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. You were unable to ignore the fact that, as the minutes passed, your high heels were being swallowed up more and more by the mud. In all this sense of loss, which you had never experienced before, you felt sorry for a pair of shoes, even though you had hundreds of them. So instead of letting your emotions take over, you began to list some of the funeral attendees you managed to recognise.

You spotted some members of the Rumlow Family. Despite the generally accepted rule of temporary peace and immunity for any funeral, the sight of Rumlow Senior and his son made you a little uncomfortable. You knew that their presence in any other situation would have meant trouble. For as long as you could remember, your Families had lived in discord, and even if there had not yet been a major clash, their company carried the echo of a bomb ticking somewhere nearby.

A few rows away were representatives of the Russian mafia – Melina Vostokova, who stood at the head of the group, and Natasha Romanoff.

You also saw Tony Stark – the biggest manufacturer of weapons, which your father helped distribute mainly on the black market. Tony himself claimed that he was not a gangster, but the truth was that he took the side that benefited him the most. No wonder he was the richest man in the United States. Or at least as far as you were aware.

Even state attorney Alexander Pierce showed up, which struck you as highly risky and simply stupid, but perhaps it was all about some twisted way of paying respect to a worthy rival. On the other hand – no matter how absurd it was – you wouldn't be surprised if it was John Walker, Pierce's nephew, who persuaded his uncle to attend the funeral. Walker had been looking for an opportunity to approach you for a long time; even now he was staring at you with a strange longing and an inappropriate dreaminess spreading across his face. You felt your skin itch as he stared at you like that, so you decided to look away in case John got the idea to take the initiative.

As discreetly as before, you looked a little further away. You weren't surprised by the presence of Timothy Barnes, the head of the Barnes Family, which not only lived in peace with yours; there were times when the paths of your Families would cross, so Timothy and your father occasionally visited each other to discuss the best strategy of action together.

It was the company of his nephew that surprised you. Mainly because the presence of Bucky Barnes was an unusual occurrence – a few years ago he simply disappeared and no one really knew what was going on with him at the time.

With much longer hair and a broader chest, he looked a little different than when you last saw him. And when you watched him from where you were standing you realised that he was staring at some indefinable point, and the hostility beaming from his eyes made you shudder; even if it wasn't directed at you.

You followed his gaze, wanting to know the poor man who had earned Bucky Barnes' cold, piercing stare, and you met Walker's eyes again. As John looked at you, Bucky observed him intently.

You stayed close to your mother, but did not directly accompany her when condolences and respects were paid. Right next to you stood Michael – your father's trusted advisor and confidant.

“Look at that... How desperate they are,” he said quietly, leaning towards you. “Waiting to take over everything your father worked for.”

You blinked a few times, suddenly awakened by the interest in the man's words. You were, after all, supposed to somehow take care of all this, and what Michael had said complicated matters a lot. You didn't know how you could not only control the money, the power in the Family, the influence, the connections and the territories, but also keep it from the mentioned takeover. You were getting more and more confused.

“How would they do it..?” you asked hesitantly.

“By marriage, certainly. Nobody wants a war,” Michael replied. Almost choking, you held your breath, an unpleasant knot, burning with anxiety, was tied in your stomach. “But don't worry about it,” he added calmly. “I'll try to get some suitable offer.”

Nibbling nervously on your lower lip, you glanced at your mother. You wished you had been a little more selfish and a lot more cruel – maybe then you would have focused completely on yourself. “Make sure they'll be safe. Mom and Suzie.”

Michael nodded obediently and walked away, leaving you alone with the impression that he had already begun searching for a candidate. But before that feeling could poison your consciousness completely, your mind picked up someone's presence. So you looked in front of you and, still confused by the subject brought up by Michael, fixed your gaze on Bucky Barnes, as it turned out. You frowned slightly, not quite sure why he was standing before you. In addition, alone; his uncle was talking to your mother.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that made you believe his words.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, but with proper politeness. For some unknown reason, you wanted to move. Perhaps you intended to shake Bucky's hand, or perhaps you just needed to change position. Whatever that was, you shifted, but one of your shoes refused to come off the ground. “Oh, this fucking mud…” you whimpered in helplessness rather than irritation.

Bucky immediately came to the rescue in this unusually absurd situation; he crouched down, and you felt the fingers of his warm hand wrap around your bare ankle. Aware that you wouldn't be able to free yourself from this ridiculous trap – at least not when your companion was throwing himself at your feet – you had to let Bucky handle it. Losing more control of your own legs, you leaned forward and involuntarily rested your hands on Bucky's shoulders. He didn't react; didn't frown, didn't give you an angry or confused look, didn't comment in any way. And you were really grateful to him for that, because you already had enough embarrassment. Though you couldn't complain about it at the moment – the unsolicited warmth spilling inside your stomach drowned out the rest of the emotions.

Bucky tightened his grip around your ankle even harder – although you couldn't call the sensation painful or at least uncomfortable – and pulled it upwards in a firm motion, freeing your heel from the muddy ground.

“You alright?” He asked, and you hurriedly nodded in response.

You were too busy setting your foot in some safer place to remember to move away from Bucky. So once he straightened up, your hands were still on his shoulders. But he didn't do anything about it this time either. In the most literal sense, Bucky Barnes let you find support in him. As soon as you realised this, you immediately took your hands away and nervously smoothed your dress, only to have them occupied by something other than Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky clasped his hands together in front of him, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. You couldn't look him in the eyes any longer; especially as his stare was somehow overwhelming. He nodded as if he were someone at your service, and you – too embarrassed by the event from a moment ago, stunned by the sudden, unexpected contact with Bucky Barnes and simply dazed by the atmosphere of the funeral – timidly followed him with your gaze until he disappeared into the crowd.

Even though he vanished from your sight, you could still feel his burning touch around your ankle.

It was late. Far too late for any social gatherings, but Michael announced briefly that you were expecting guests. He seemed to be in such a hurry that you didn't want to waste time on getting ready either. You had only had time to comb your hair when a maid sent by Michael peeked into your bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to the fact that you were only wearing a short satin nightgown. All you could think about was Michael's nervousness; you wondered what it could have meant and how bad a situation you were possibly in.

As you left the bedroom, you wrapped yourself tightly in the robe that was part of the set - just as short and satiny as your pyjamas. Before you had completely made it downstairs, you noticed two men not far from the front door. The prevailing coldness indicated that they had only just entered. You hesitantly stepped down from the last stair and headed forward. Recognising Timothy and Bucky Barnes, you immediately stopped. In your first instinct of learned politeness, you tried to give proper attention to the older one, but you couldn't help the way that every molecule in your body, pushed by natural curiosity, was drawn to Timothy's nephew.

Unlike his uncle, Bucky was not wearing a long coat but a leather jacket. Exposed to the pouring rain outside, it glistened in places. You raised your gaze to look at his damp hair, but before you got there, you noticed that he was watching you too. At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

“Gentlemen,” Michael said. An obvious tension in his voice reminded you that something was wrong. “Please.” He leaned meaningfully towards the dining room. “Miss Y/N should be here in a moment.”

“She already is,” Timothy shared his observation, a sly smile stretching out his mouth. Michael only then noticed your presence.

A silver tray with a couple bottles of alcohol – the only acceptable treat at this hour and on this occasion - was placed on the long dining table, along with glasses.

You adjusted your robe precautiously and took a seat, facing your guests. Michael sat right next to you, completing the impression of the formation of two camps separated by a table.

“I'm beginning to hear rumors that Brock Rumlow has made you an offer,” Timothy spoke, the expression on his face indicated that he wasn't surprised in any way.

“An offer..?” You repeated, holding back the urge to give Michael a disapproving look. He should have told you.

“On your hand in marriage, of course.”

‘Marriage’ combined with ‘Brock Rumlow’ made a mixture so disturbing and explosive that you felt the blast in your gut. As if someone kicked you in the stomach. You should have guessed what the ‘offer’ meant, on the other hand you hoped Michael would mention it as soon as it came up. But you didn't expect Rumlow to make a move so quickly.

“This worry does not concern you, I am afraid,” Michael claimed.

Timothy leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a slightly dismissive look. “We had a good relationship. Freddie and I. We advised each other on many occasions so that our decisions wouldn't endanger our Families,” he said. “So yes, this worry does concern us. And I'm curious to see what you decide.”

You glanced surreptitiously at Bucky, as if you needed reassurance that he was still sitting there, but you sensed he was around even without that. He held his eyes on you as you watched him with evident confusion, then reached for one of the bottles standing nearby. He took a quick look at the label, then poured some of the rusty-red liquid into a glass and slid it over to you. Did he think you needed alcohol to process what you were about to hear?

“Brock Rumlow isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” Michael said calmly. “You know how powerful the Rumlow Family is. And making peace with such a strong enemy would make our business, as well as yours, easier. I suppose I don't have to explain it to you.”

“Do you think this is what Freddie would want for his daughter?” Timothy asked.

“Freddie got himself killed,” Michael snapped, the atmosphere at the table became even thicker. “And as for his daughter, he didn't prepare her properly. He was a fool if he thought it would never happen.”

There was silence. You looked down at the glass wrapped tightly by your fingers, and finally decided to raise it to your lips. It wasn't the nasty, bitter taste of the drink that bothered you, but the thought of your future. You were pretty sure that your fate had already been decided.

“If you make an agreement with Rumlow, sooner or later he will violate, if not break, all its points,” Bucky spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. “He made the offer less than twenty-four hours after the funeral,” he pointed out. “Not to mention he only showed up to steer you towards positive consideration,” he said casually, and you thought that such diplomacy was clashing with his wet leather jacket and stubble.

“James…” Michael sighed.

It seemed, however, that Bucky was not going to let go. “You know what this deal is about,” he continued with a strange, surprising resolve, as if the matter affected him personally. “Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?” he sneered.

“You know surprisingly much about these agreements.” Michael no longer concealed his irritation.

“I can marry Brock,” you finally spoke up, and this time they all looked at you. Michael was relieved, Timothy concerned in some way, and Bucky appeared to be a little lost since you seemed to ignore everything he just said. “It’s not like I have to live with him. Right..?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked angrily at Michael. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I haven't had a chance. You admitted yourself that they were quick to make an offer,” Michael defended himself. Bending under the pressure Bucky was putting on him, Michael looked at you nervously. “Rumlow Senior has the right to claim an heir who will take over both of the Families in the future. In this case… it is possible that you will have to live with Brock after all.”

These words flooded your mind, almost making you dizzy. You grabbed your glass again and poured the rest of the alcohol down your throat to fight the nausea.

“Well…” Lips pursed, you took a deep breath through your nose. “This complicates things… a little.”

“I will arrange a meeting and everything will be clear,” Michael said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “We are not sure what they think about all this. No matter what is said about Brock,” he glanced at Bucky not accidentally. “we should meet with him.”

“Great,” Bucky snorted. “I’ll be there.”

“Excuse me..?”

“Since our decisions affect our Families…” Bucky recalled his uncle's earlier words. “It’s obvious that Y/N doesn't know enough about arranged marriages, so I’ll be there. As an adviser.” He shrugged. “You are more than happy to team up with the Rumlows, and I will try to cool that enthusiasm.” He tilted his head, smiling insincerely.

“If that's how you see it, it's more a case for your uncle,” Michael protested.

They both looked at Timothy, and his lips stretched slowly in a mysterious grin.

“I believe Buck can handle it,” he said.

The meeting was over. You decided to accompany Michael to see the guests off.

Michael walked beside Timothy, who was walking to his car; they were discussing something that didn't exactly reach your ears, but you didn't feel the need to know. You weren't concerned that they were discussing your future - you doubted they felt like it after the conversation at the table.

“Bucky?” You started in a soft tone. Bucky, who had just left your house with the intention of joining Timothy, stopped and looked at you. You walked down a few steps and stood on the stone path, right in front of him.

He swept his gaze over you again, starting from your bare feet, through your exposed legs, to the delicate material of your nightgown. His stare didn't make you sick as the thought of Brock did.

Bucky took a step towards you, and the scent of fresh laundry, mint and wet forest hit you. You stepped back, so he did it again until you were standing under the canopy that protected you from the rain.

“Do you always have to get some poor girl out of trouble?” You squinted, but couldn't help an amused smile forming on your lips.

“No. Just you.” He shrugged, slipping his hands in the jacket pockets. “I don’t want you to get cold. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to get cold.” You nodded. “Just like you didn’t want me to drown in the mud. And now you don’t want me to marry Brock,” you pointed out, raising your eyebrows. “Why? Because Michael is right; joining our Families together would be the best option. You don’t want that?”

“The best option?” he repeated. “For everyone except you?”

You smiled softly in response – you didn’t feel like thinking about that again. “So? What’s the reason?”

Bucky looked away for a second, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

You watched him expectantly, finally raised your eyebrows in theatrical disbelief and both of you laughed briefly. No matter how curious you were about the real reason, you decided not to badger him.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Walker?” Bucky asked playfully, frowning.

“Walker? John Walker..?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Why?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. You can be sure he’ll make an offer, too.”

You wanted to laugh at his words, but the truth was Bucky could be right. And the thought of that made you more exhausted than you already were. “What about you?” you asked casually. You didn't beg for anything, you didn't offer anything. You were just curious. “You're not part of this?”

For a split second you witnessed him tense up. He clenched his hands, only to relax them immediately afterwards – just like his jaw muscles. You didn't understand the source of this reaction, but you didn't even think about it; it was like a brief flash that you didn't have time to think about properly.

“I may have my heart in the right place, but I'm not a guy you marry,” he said. “Steve is. I can put in a good word for you if you want,” he added jokingly, making you smirk. “Get back inside, Y/N,” Bucky commanded softly as he began to leave, taking a couple steps backwards.

You rolled your eyes, and he turned his back to you, then got in the car, leaving you with that burning feeling again. This time it wasn't just limited to your ankle, but your whole body.

#bucky barnes #mob bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x y/n

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missmatchablossom · 25 days

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Gojo x Reader Royalty AU | Part IV.

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. after a long, stressful day, gojo somehow ends up at the door to your room at 12:04 am

a.n.: I'm not sure if anyone is still following this series, but if you are, enjoy part 4! I switched it up and made this chapter gojo's pov :) enjoy the slight angst + sweet fluff

tags: @lysaray @sad-darksoul

Gojo POV

12:04 am

I was exhausted.

Weary to my bones after all the meetings and speeches and royal bullshit I had to deal with as crown prince. I rubbed my temple as I strode towards my destination, not knowing what I was gonna do or say. I just knew that I needed to see her, even just for a second.

It bewildered me how I could live so many years of my life just fine before she came into my life, and now I suddenly can’t stand a week without her. She pops into my head when I’m supposed to be focusing - in the middle of an audience, during a meeting, while I’m working - then suddenly all I can think of is her smile.

I released a sigh of relief once I saw the light still on in her room. She was still awake, even if she should be asleep by now.

I shook my nerves off as I knocked on her door softly. The one line we’ve yet to cross is visiting each other’s bedrooms. She’s practically moved into my study, and I’ve grown so used to seeing her on my sofa immersed in her work or buried in a book that I struggle to focus when she’s not around. But coming to her bedroom is something I hadn’t dared until now.

“Yes?” she answered quietly. I’d give over my entire kingdom just to listen to her voice.

“It’s me,” I said, lingering by the front of her door.

“My prince? Come in,” she said, sounding alarmed. My sweet girl, always concerned about me. I didn’t know what it truly felt like to be taken care of until I met her. How happy it made me feel that she remembered my favorite desserts. How safe it made me feel when she never pushed me to share what I wasn’t comfortable with. How vulnerable and relieved it made me feel whenever she could see how I was feeling before I even know what I was feeling.

I carefully stepped inside, admiring how cozy she made the room feel. The fireplace lit up her space with a soft glow, and she had a book face-down on her comforter. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, but we weren’t there. Not yet.

The tension on my shoulders eased as the ache in my chest grew when I saw her. She sat on the edge of her bed wearing the crewneck I loaned her yesterday, with a pair of dangerously short sleep shorts.

For once, I felt a loss of words as I wondered how someone could be so adorable and so sexy at the same time. Thinking about her wrapped up in my crewneck did things to me that I wasn’t sure I should ever voice aloud.

“You okay?” she asked, concerned etched into her beautiful features as she walked over to me.

Lord, was she beautiful.

I’ve spent hours wondering how eyes could sparkle like hers. How her lips could look so soft and shiny. How someone could smell so sweet, like strawberries and jasmine and everything good in the world.

“Satoru?” she repeated, and I wondered how long I’d been staring. If I didn’t feel like shit, I’d be celebrating how good it felt for her to call me by my name.

“I just wanted to see you,” I admitted, watching as her eyes softened and she gave me a shy smile. I felt like the richest man in the world when she looked at me like that.

“Bad day?” she asked. I knew she would accept whatever answer I gave her. She was easy to talk to. She made me feel safe.

I decided to be brave, and let her in a bit.

“I saw Suguru today. For the first time since he abdicated,” I admitted. Her hand immediately joined mine, squeezing it gently in unspoken support. I couldn’t look at her as I continued.

“The things he said…I could barely recognize him. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but it's a lot,” I said, not feeling ashamed at how my voice cracked ever so slightly. I still struggled to articulate my feelings, but somehow she always understood exactly what I needed.

She rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand soothingly as we stood in silence.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, her warm voice washing over me as I felt my chest tighten again. I don’t know how she managed to make me feel good about unloading my problems onto her, but she did.

I nodded, squeezing her hand back. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the emotions I’d been forcing myself to keep in check throughout the day.

She looked at me as if she understood. And I was glad she did, because I didn’t have any more words in me.

She released my hand, taking a step back and opening her arms out widely.

“Would you like a hug?” she asked sweetly, and I did nothing to hide the shock on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I hugged someone because I wanted to, let alone a time someone ever asked me if I wanted one.

I was scared. I imagined the weight of my problems and stress taking her down, driving her to madness. But she patiently held her arms out to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be in her embrace.

I nodded and stepped towards her, my heart feeling like it could explode out of my chest. She wrapped her arms around my middle, pulling me in close. I felt the warmth of her head press against my chest, and I felt like crying. I could die a happy man if I could have her this close to me at all times, if I could smell her strawberry-jasmine shampoo for the rest of my life.

I carefully wrapped my arms around her shoulders, afraid of hurting her. I felt rigid, fearing I sucked at hugging and was probably making her feel like she was hugging a statue.

She didn’t say anything, though. She just held me close, rubbing up and down my back with her palms wordlessly until she felt the tension in my shoulders dissipate.

I felt myself finally relax, and I leaned down to rest my chin atop her head. I dared to press a quick kiss to the top of her hair.

I didn’t know how long we stood there embracing, I just knew I could stay there forever.

“I should probably let you get to sleep,” I murmured into her ear, and I felt her shiver at the contact. I smiled to myself, fighting against thinking about all the things I wanted to do with her beyond hugging. I made no move to release her from my embrace, though.

She pulled away first, and as I watched the way the firelight illuminated her face, I felt like dropping to my knees to worship her.

“Or, you could stay tonight,” and I felt my heart stop, while other parts of my body suddenly seemed wide awake.

My eyes must have been widened to saucers, because she immediately blushed and shook her head.

“I’m not, I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, puffing her cheeks. Something she did when she felt shy, I noticed. And thought it was adorable.

“My bed is enormous. You could just sleep next to me,” she said, daring to peek up at me. I thought I was a flirt, but this girl could teach a class.

“And, you look like you could use the company. I could too, actually,” she said. I didn’t want to return to my cold, empty room to be left alone with my thoughts.

“Are you sure?” I asked. I know she offered, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. We’ve never spent the night together before.

“I’m sure,” she said, giving me one of her devastating, full smiles. I knew she was telling the truth.

“I have popcorn, and movies!” she added, and there was nothing more that I wanted in this world than to spend the night snuggled up next to this girl.

“And, I have mint water. I know you're a royal pain in the ass and can’t drink regular water,” she joked.

I laughed for the first time the entire week, and the sound of her matching laughter made it feel as though I had no problems in the world. I didn’t have the entire kingdom of my shoulders. I wasn’t the crown prince. I was just Satoru Gojo.

I slipped my hand into her fingers, lifting the back of her hand to my lips.

“Thank you. You always know how to make me feel better,” I said truthfully, trying not to think about how hard I was falling for this girl.

That beautiful blush dusted her cheeks once again, but she recovered quickly and tugged me by my hand towards her bed.

We settled under her comforter, and I was in heaven to be surrounded by the smell of her. She set the first movie to play, and when I extended my arm out to her, she gave me a brilliant smile before snuggling to my side.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so much peace.

Here is the link to the part before this!

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

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been on a hunger games kick lately so. ghoapifying time!! yippee yahoo

(edit: extra because i felt a little silly)

Simon isn’t much when his name is reaped, just days after he’d turned 18. He’s scrawny, starved, scarred—being from District 10, the only thing he’s ever known is butchery, so maybe he’s of use with knives, but it really means nothing to him. Not when his older brother Tommy had gotten killed by Peacekeepers, not when his mother had died of illness, not when his father couldn’t give less of a shit when his youngest son is sent to die.

So all he can do is accept his fate. All he can do is listen to his mentor, train in the fleeting days he has left, and try to survive. No matter if the odds would never, ever be in his favour.

Simon doesn’t remember much from the days leading to the games. All he can really recall is the absurd pageantry and the lack of privacy, though it had been nice to be freed from the stench of blood, if only for a few days. It was nice, not having grime beneath his fingernails.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember much from the Games, either. Simon hadn’t made allies, didn’t need to—even his necessary loyalty to the girl from his district was tentative at best. She would still come down to being another competitor, in the end. Simon didn’t want to die, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

And he doesn’t. He wins, somehow—maybe out of spite. Maybe out of fear, or out of vengeance. Simon doesn’t know.

All he knows is that he hates the man he’d become in that arena.

* * *

Johnny was born and raised in the Capitol. Maybe not in a family that was the richest of the rich, but still much better off than anyone found in the districts. He’s only ever known some sense of luxury, has never encountered the cruelty of the real world, and continues to stand to benefit from the pain of others.

But even then, he does eventually recognize the faults and evilness of the system.

Eventually.

Because as a boy, he had loved the Games. Before having any sense of consequence or the realness of these people and their deaths, Johnny had been just as enraptured by it all as everyone else. He watched with interest, just as entertained as he was meant to be. The Games had been awe-inspiring to him as they are to most other Capitol children.

He still remembers Simon’s game. Ghost, as the boy from District 10 had been called, having earned the nickname from an uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere and make that cannon fire one more time. Johnny had been 15, then, still an avid watcher of this slaughter-show—but he’ll always recall that game the most, because of Simon.

Simon was shy, and awkward—but the Capitol had loved it. Loved him. And Johnny had just as well, albeit for some different reasons. Because along with everything the Capitol admired about Simon (which was mostly superficial), Johnny admired his resilience. His persistence, his triumph. He had thought, back then, that he could only ever wish to be like the boy from District 10. He’d never been so enamoured with a tribute, a victor like that before.

That was seven years ago, and things have since… changed. Not enough to be different, but enough for Johnny to notice. Enough for him to finally understand that these Games are far more than he had ever been led to believe. He just didn’t know to what extent.

Johnny is freshly 22 when he meets Simon. A friend of Johnny’s (in the loosest of terms), Philip Graves, tells him that he’d gotten a special birthday gift for Johnny that year—and while usually Johnny might be skeptical or uncaring, given Graves’ track record, it’s what he says about this gift that has Johnny… panicking?

“Remember that victor you used to have a crush on? Well, I finally managed to get in a request.”

Before Johnny can ask what he means, two Peacekeepers—escorts—are entering the room with Simon in tow.

Graves grins almost predatorily before standing and patting Johnny on the shoulder like he means to be friendly. Like he thinks he’s given Johnny all he could ask for.

And in maybe some sense he has, but not like this. Not like this.

“Enjoy the next few days, Johnny,” Graves is saying. “He’s all yours.”

Johnny thinks he might be sick. The threat of bile in his throat only grows more intense one he’s left alone with Simon.

The victor looks… different, since his time in the public eye. Bulkier, likely from a steady supply of food for the first time in his life; objectively healthier. Skin smooth, porcelain, like he hadn’t seen a day of suffering in his life. Every aspect of him perfectly tailored, manicured, prim, like a clean slate for his current proprietor.

He still has that rugged kind of handsomeness to him, though. The Capitol could change many things, but they could never take that look of fierce determination from his dark, knowing eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asks softly. Johnny can tell there’s still fight thrumming beneath his skin, but they both could guess what would happen if that were to be let free.

“I… don’t,” Johnny says before he can help himself. At the shift in Simon’s expression he feels his heart drop, so he adds quickly, “Sorry, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that. I just never realized…”

Simon tilts his head, curious, assessing. “Never realized what?”

“That you…” Johnny swallows hard. He takes a shuddering breath, nervous, like he isn’t the one with more power here. Like he’s the prey—and maybe he is. “Could be bought.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant like the idea of being bought and sold like an object is hardly a bother to him. There’s hurt in those eyes, but it doesn’t live anywhere else on his face. “There’s a lot of things you might not know outside of your world of luxury.”

Johnny’s gaze falls the floor. “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m sure there is.”

A tense silence falls over them, for just a moment, before Simon is shuffling across the room to join Johnny on the sofa. He sits close, but doesn’t touch.

“So,” Simon’s insisting, “how do you want me?”

Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll survive these next few days.

Perhaps he should at least be grateful that the transaction is on Graves’ hands.

#do i have permission to go into detail about ghost’s game #i am having. Thoughts #or whole fic? mayhap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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claymoresword · 7 days

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I Choose Her | Chp: 20

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: y/n & draco, character death, violence, general heavy themes, fluff, y/n & hermione are endgame , events follow canon (in theory)

Note: here it is.. the final chapter ! (technically it's not over yet since we still have the epilogue, which i will try my best to get out within the next week, fingers crossed)

i also want to thank you guys so much for being here. whether you just found this fic recently or you've been here since the beginning, i hope you know i appreciate your support so much. it's the reason we even got to this point! i'm truly going to miss writing this story, more than you know. especially considering it has been apart of my life for over a year now, which is crazy! but anyway, love you guys, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hours since the Dark Lord and his followers had officially retreated.

The sun was now steadily taking its position in the sky, illuminating the mortal world. Heedlessly enforcing the illusion that tragedy no longer looms over Hogwarts and all wizard-kind.

That is, of course, as further as one could possibly get from the truth.

The atmosphere amidst the Great Hall unfailingly reminds everyone of a suffocating reality. It is thick with grief. Cold, dark and devoid of life– much like the dead that lay within it.

Hermione has yet to leave your side since you found a space to sit amongst the rubble. She continues to cling to you like a lifeline. Harry has been gone for hours, and Hermione, with a bit of coaxing, has finally stopped crying.

Ginny however remained hysterical– till her father was forced to subdue her with a Laxo charm. Still its effects wear off too quickly, and Ginny is far too vulnerable to justify repeated use. So her parents have settled with putting her to sleep instead.

She rests her head on Ron’s shoulder, blind and deaf to the destruction around her, even if only for a short while.

“Are you alright?” A foolish question, but Hermione, ever sweet and gentle, doesn't berate you for it. She nods, wordlessly slipping her arm around you before nestling her face into the crook of your neck.

Hermione desperately seeks an escape through you and there is nothing more you wish to do than to give her just that. You want to be her helm in a sea of catastrophe, as much as she is yours.

Nothing matters anymore, only her.

As you slip a comforting arm around your girlfriend, you take a scan of the hall, quickly regretting your decision to do so as you divert your eyes away from the row of corpses laid across the floor.

It is then you spot a familiar face that causes your stomach twists even more, you are overcome with the sudden urge to wretch.

Draco appears just as pale and miserable as he approaches you. Gingerly taking a seat, cautious not to interrupt your embrace with Hermione. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak.

“I thought you left the castle with the rest of them.” You find yourself muttering, surprising Draco and especially yourself.

Hermione lifts her head, once she realizes you were not speaking to her.

She takes notice of the platinum haired man next to you, and you feel her tense within your hold. Hermione’s expression visibly hardens, and you recognize that it would be smart to continue putting yourself in between her and Draco for the time being.

“No, I– I couldn’t. My parents.. they were looking for me, but I– I hid.” Your best friend remarks, he is unable to keep eye contact with you.

Guilt is ever corrosive, and it was consuming him alive. You see it in the very way Draco carries himself– so far removed from the person he once was.

Much like yourself.

It seems as though Draco is entirely expecting you to push some blame onto him. As if the destruction here today was caused solely by him. Though things are hardly as simple as that– besides, there is little reward in kicking a man when he is already down.

“At least you refused them. I know it isn’t easy.” You state. A feeble attempt to uplift him.

“Doing the right thing rarely ever is.” Hermione chimes in, as she puts her head on your shoulder once more. Her demeanor has softened, and in any regular instance, this might even fill you with joy.

“Does it even matter now? It’s too late.” Draco wallows, and a part of you wants to contend his statement, but that would also mean lying to him.

“And my mother and father– I’ve disappointed them.” He adds and now you let out a humorless chuckle.

“We have that in common. Mine certainly aren’t going to acknowledge me as their daughter now.” You say, and your best friend almost seems comforted by the notion.

“Mine either.” Hermione quips plainly, her attempt at lighthearted banter only shatters you.

You turn to place a lingering kiss against her forehead. Hermione accepts it as a faint smile plays on her lips, one reserved only for you.

‘As long as we stay together it'll be fine.’ You remind yourself for the dozenth time.

Draco sighs.

“There was no point to any of this.. it's all gone to shit.” He utters, exasperated, and Hermione nods in agreement.

Another chuckle slips out of you, this time from true amusement. Possibly from exhaustion or simply just a reaction to the ludicrous position you have all found yourselves in. You are sitting in what was once the Great Hall; the safest and warmest place in all of Hogwarts is now reduced to nothing but dust, piles of stone and death.

You ought to be studying for your end of year exams, yet instead, you have been battling Death Eaters.

People you considered friends have attempted to harm you more than once, and now it is not even certain if you would survive long enough to see nightfall.

Despite herself, Hermione begins to laugh with you. Draco only scoffs at this, he averts his gaze but you manage to catch the smile threatening to form on his face.

The moment does not last much longer as a noise in the distance abruptly steals your attention. The air in Hogwarts is no longer desolate, it has been awoken once more, and you quickly find out why.

Neville is first to rise off the floor, swiftly walking out into the courtyard. Students and teachers, reluctant but curious, follow suit.

You leave Draco behind as you move through the crowd, Hermione quickly falls in next to you and Ron settles a few paces behind.

Your worst fear is realized.

They have returned, to finish what they started.

A large army of Death Eaters approaches Hogwarts, the Dark Lord leads them at the front of the brigade. As they get closer, you notice Hagrid towering over the rest, he walks with something large in his arms.

Your face falls in horror once you make out exactly what it was he was carrying. Harry Potter, limp and lifeless.

Hagrid held him as though he weighed no more than a feather. It is a devastating sight, but you can’t seem to look away.

You feel the sudden urge to pinch yourself, to force yourself awake.

You are trapped in a grim nightmare, Harry cannot be dead.

“No.” Ron utters your thoughts out loud.

Hermione is reduced to soft sobs as she turns away in distress, you feel compelled to pull her in for an embrace once more.

“Who is that, Hagrid’s carrying?” Ginny’s voice echoes through the courtyard. She is awake, only to be struck in the face with atrocity.

“Neville, who is that?” She calls, much louder and desperate.

“Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord responds to her question with glee.

“No– no!” Ginny cries, but she is quickly silenced with a wave of Voldermort’s hand, he forces her to the ground.

“Silence! You stupid girl.” He bellows as Arthur frantically helps his daughter back on her feet, dragging her as far from the enemy as possible.

“Harry Potter is dead, from this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldermort claims and he is only met with a stunned silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord declares again in celebration turning to his followers. He laughs, maniacal and bone chilling. Death eaters soon join in, a roar of erroneous joy.

Blind rage gives Hermione the strength to finally look upon Voldermort, you release her from your grip, but maintain close proximity.

“And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die.” Voldermort states, his arms outstretched– a forced gesture of welcome.

Once again, you can all only afford to stare at him in disbelief.

“Draco!” Lucius calls for his son angrily, and you only realize then that you’ve entirely lost sight of your best friend.

The crowd parts slightly, and you finally spot him at the other side of the courtyard, standing amongst Seamus, George and Dean.

“Draco.” Narcissa coaxes her son in a far gentler manner, but the distress and worry within her gaze is plain for you to see.

Draco stares at his parents for a prolonged moment and then turns to look towards you. Your breath hitches in your throat, the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he means to share the burden with you.

You manage to shake your head at him, signifying disapproval, but it seems he was not looking for advice, it was merely a look of remorse. He was just apologizing for something he was about to do.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment when Draco tears his gaze away from your own, he limps towards his parents, slowly, as if in a trance.

“Well done, Draco, well done.” The Dark Lord embraces him stiffly for all to see, your jaw tightens when his stare lands on you.

Any fear you felt in that moment has been overshadowed by plain hot resentment.

“Y/n!” Your own father calls for you the same way, you can still feel the weight of everyone’s stare upon you as you refuse to budge.

“Y/n, come here, now.” Your mother warns, but it does nothing to convince you, if anything it has the opposite effect.

You feel Hermione’s hand slip into your own, motivating a streak of confidence.

“I am fine right where I am, mother.” You remark plainly, and you catch the way Voldermort clenches his pale gray hand into a fist for an instant before composing himself.

“Well, I must admit, y/n, I am very disappointed in you. I have no doubt your parents feel the same.” He states, and it works to gain a rise out of you.

However before you can retaliate with something reckless, Voldermort raises his wand to point it at you. “Crucio.”

The next thing you recall is the ground coming up to meet you, and trying to break your fall. A blinding pain that travels from your arm to the rest of your body.

Hermione is crouched over you as you continue to seize on the ground in sheer agony.

“Stop it! Please, stop!” Your girlfriend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

You faintly hear Voldermort’s mocking laughter amidst your own gripes of pain. Certain you are about to faint, you clench your eyes tightly, but then, it all stops.

Air violently floods your lungs, you feel the ground again, this time you recognize that you are laying firmly on top of it. You feel Hermione’s desperate hands clutching your body.

The Dark Lord looks upon horrified faces– he is using you as a warning. “I will say it again. Join us, else you will suffer a worse fate that y/n. So I invite you to step forward now.”

Hermione begins to help you back on your feet, but not before kissing your temple. She smoothes out your disheveled hair, a frantic effort to soothe you, or perhaps herself.

“Please tell me you're alright.” She pleads, an anguished whisper. You ignore the sharp pain still pulsating throughout your body to give Hermione some peace of mind.

“I am, I'll be fine.” You reply, taking her arm to resume your place.

Neville slips past you then, this sudden gesture is followed by a wave of gasps.

You observed as he limped through the crowd and towards Voldermort, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Not Neville. Not him of all people.

“I must say, I hoped for better.” Voldermort hurls the jibe, brusque and overconfident. The roar of laughter that comes from his followers only causes your scowl to deepen, it is a jarring noise, deeply unsettling.

“And who might you be, young man?” The Dark Lord asks, feigned geniality.

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville admits only for the laughter to come again.

You shift your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hermione mistakes it for a sign you may collapse again so she moves closer, allowing you to lean on her; this only makes you want to weep.

This isn't right. It was never supposed to happen like this.

“Well, Neville I am sure we can find you a place in our ranks–”

“–I'd like to say something!” Neville's voice bullies over Voldermort’s.

From the looks of it, this would nearly cost him his life, as Voldermort lifts his wand, almost like a reflex but he lowers it just as quickly.

With an air of composure, he responds, but his pretense is waning.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we are all fascinated to hear what you have to say.” Voldermort’s smile only makes him appear even more displeasing to the eye.

“It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.” Neville announces, and you instinctively look to the man in Hagrid’s arms.

This can't be the end.

Only half a heartbeat until you avert your gaze again.

“Stand down, Neville!” Seamus possesses enough gumption to warn his friend, but Neville brushes him off.

“People die everyday!” He insists.

“Friends, family..” Neville trails off.

Again, you feel compelled to keep Hermione close as you notice the way she has been pursing her lips to fight back more tears.

Ron can't seem to pull his eyes away from Hagrid, and his dead best friend.

“Yeah, we lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us, in here.” Neville continues, gesturing loosely to his chest, just above where his heart is.“So is Fred, Remus, and Tonks, all of them.”

“They didn't die in vain!” Neville shouts with a newfound confidence.

“But you will, because you're wrong!”

He challenges the Dark Lord, bold and open, and it makes you wince.

“Harry's heart did beat for us, for all of us!” He continues.

“So it's not over!” Neville exclaims, and the old hat he had been holding droops to the floor. Within it is revealed an unmistakable relic: the sword of Gryffindor.

He unsheathes the steel for all to see.

Then just as suddenly, the unthinkable happens.

Harry slips out of Hagrid's hold, his body collapses to the ground, but he is not dead, he braces his hands on the ground before rising.

Harry Potter, alive.

“Merlin's beard..” You gape, and Hermione grasps your shoulder, then she laughs, shock and pure relief.

Harry sprints past the Dark Lord, quick, like a cat. He attempts to fish out Draco’s wand from his pocket but it slides past his fingers.

Harry isn't given the opportunity to retrieve it as he is forced to dodge the mania of curses being hurled his way.

There is only chaos in the courtyard now as Death Eaters begin to disapparate by the dozen, abandoning their leader.

Everyone else, desperately seeking shelter, out of the courtyard, back into the castle or elsewhere, anywhere away from harm.

“Come on, we have to go.” Hermione drags you with her, but you turn back for a moment to watch as Draco bravely pushes past the chaos, picking up his wand, unbelievably, he tosses it back to Harry.

“Potter!” Your best friend shouts just before you lose sight of him in the crowd. Although Harry catches the wand just in time.

“Confringo!” The Chosen One exclaims, Nagini writhes violently as the curse injures her.

The snake. You have to kill the snake.

Harry shares the sentiment as you get to the castle's doors, he falls in next to you, Ron and Hermione. “We need to kill the snake, I'll lure him into the castle.”

You merely nod in response, Harry continues to deflect the curses being hurled at the four of you.

“You'll need this.” Hermione says, retrieving the Basilisk fang from her bag.

The Dark Lord is rapidly inching closer now, fury has become him– yet he has never seemed so meek, utterly powerless.

He is losing, if he has not lost already.

Nagini is all he has left.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You anticipate it, but Hermione shoves you out of the way just in time as a mass of rubble comes crashing down from above.

You stumble, before coughing out a lung full of dust, squinting as it obstructs your vision. Hermione’s grip on your arm is the only thing tethering you to the present.

Harry bumps into you, just as disoriented. He has lost sight of Ron and worst of all, he can't see Voldermort.

Another large crash causes you all to flinch, it didn't take long at all for the Dark Lord to find you once again.

Harry throws another curse, powerful enough that he loses his balance, the Basilisk fang unluckily slips out of his pocket, bouncing off the stairs and to the flat ground in front of you.

You reach for it, but before you can retrieve the object, the tooth disintegrates right before your eyes.

“What–” You aren't given the chance to despair as Harry reminds you of an alternative.

“I’ll keep distracting him. Find Neville, he has the sword. Kill that snake.” He states, the sound of curses violently clashing masks his words, the Dark Lord remains oblivious to your plan, for now.

“Let's try the Great Hall.” Hermione suggests.

“If we can even get there.” You quip, actively trying to work out a way through the rubble.

You follow after Hermione, and soon, Harry disappears through the thick wall of smoke and dust, purposefully luring Voldermort towards the Astronomy Tower.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Here, this way.” Hermione says as she steps through an opening and further down a flight of stairs.

Just when you both think you are out of danger, a noise stops you dead in your tracks.

You spot the large snake coiling around the bannister before slithering across a pile of bricks towards you.

Its hiss sends a shiver down your spine as you reach for your wand.

Hermione on the other hand, acts on pure instinct. Grabbing a piece of stone, she aims it at the snake.

It successfully clips Nagini on the side of her head, but this only succeeds in agitating the beast.

“Oh.” Hermione utters as the snake recoils, ready to attack.

You both lift your wands in preparation but the snake is hit again, this time by a larger curse that disorients it.

“Go on, I'm right behind you.” Ron emerges,

pushing the both of you to continue on your search for the sword.

You only manage to get to the bottom of the stairs before Ron can be heard groaning in pain.

The snake had managed to trap him in its grasp, it was coiled around his body, an unsettling sight as it attempted to strangle the life out of him.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims, chasing back up the stairs without a moment's thought.

“Stupefy!” She exclaimed, and the snake loosens its grip on Ron just enough for him to wretch free.

Hermione drags him to his feet and you can only watch in horror as the snake attempts to come at the both of them now.

“Incendio!” She tries again but the fire fizzles out as soon as it touches the beast, as if the snake was made of ice.

It is your turn to sprint up the stairs but the snake whips its head around, baring its fangs at you as warning. You halt abruptly, forced to keep a distance, grasping your wand tightly.

Hermione shares a pleading look.

It is useless. There are three of you against Nagini, and yet you were helpless without the sword.

This is not going to work. The snake won't die. Distracting it will only mean seriously harming or even killing one of you.

Your mind reels, you frantically scan your surroundings, looking for a solution.

Then, you are graced with a miracle. Neville appears behind you, barrelling up the stairs, panting, his face caked in dirt and dried blood. He has the sword of Gryffindor in hand.

Hermione let's out another scream that snatches your attention, the snake has attempted to come at them again, and again, Ron has now resulted in shielding your girlfriend with his own body.

You have to kill it now.

As you take another step, Nagini shifts her point of attack, now preparing to lunge towards you.

“Y/n– here!” With only seconds to spare, Neville tosses the steel in your direction. You quickly drop your wand before you manage to catch the sword by the hilt, still unaccustomed to its weight, you grasp it with two hands.

Just like handling a beater's bat, you swing it, firm and hard, slicing the beast across its body mid-air.

There is no blood, instead the snake explodes into a rain of thin black ash, it is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It is all you can look at as you let the point of the sword fall by your feet.

For a while all you can hear is the clang of metal hitting the ground and a faint ringing in your ears, muffled by the sound of your own heavy breathing.

Neville's touch on your shoulder snaps you out of a trance. “It's over, it's done.”

Enough sense returns to you as you shift your gaze towards Hermione. Her expression mirrors your own.

The four of you are miraculously alive, and the snake is dead.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

In the aftermath, it did not take much convincing for you to agree to join Hermione, Harry and Ron for a walk along the bridge.

Thankful for fresh air, the afternoon sun was also a welcomed feeling upon your skin, for the first time in days, it felt like you could breathe.

As Hermione struts ahead, you manage to grab ahold of her arm, forcibly tugging her closer to your own body.

She then lets out a noise in surprise once you capture her lips with your own, but she melts into the kiss just as quickly, your hand slips to the small of her back as she opens her mouth wider to welcome your tongue.

You continue like that without care for a while, until Ron deliberately interrupts your moment by verbalizing his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, give it a rest, you two.” He remarks, but his tone lacks its usual malice as he clears a path by kicking away pieces of rubble.

You grimace as you feel Hermione pull away from embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Weasley.” You retaliate, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, the sound of Ron's laughter makes you smile.

You part Hermione’s hair away from her neck, tilting your head slightly to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck.

She smells like sweat– but, in truth, it has never been an unpleasant scent to you. Nothing about Hermione was ever unpleasant.

Even now, sleep deprived and unwashed, she was perfect.

You notice the way Hermione trembles at the sensation of your warm mouth upon her flesh.

It only works to entice you further, but before you can kiss her again, Hermione displays some semblance of self control.

She braces her hands on your chest, shoving you lightly. “Not here.”

With a pout you meet her gaze and she only rolls her eyes at that, before rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips.

“We both could use a bath later.” Hermione mutters suggestively, running her fingers through your hair.

A smirk tugs on your lips at that, but before you can retort with something clever, Hermione's gaze shifts to Harry.

The Chosen One stood at the edge of the bridge, where there was once a bannister, now just a stump of concrete and marble.

Harry is observing the wand in his hand as Hermione addresses him. “How come it didn't work for him, The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else.” Harry replies, turning to look at the three of you.

“When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. but the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“It was Draco, who disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, from that moment on, the wand answered him.” Harry explains, looking down to inspect it once more.

“Until, the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.” He continues and your eyes widen at the realization.

“So that means–” You gape, and Hermione turns to you in disbelief.

Harry nods. “It's mine.” He states, nonchalant as ever.

“What should we do with it?” Ron inquires, and Hermione merely grimaces.

“We?” She scolds.

“Ron's right, I mean, that's the Elder Wand. Most powerful in the world, with that, you'd be invisible.” You remark in support, now Hermione directs her scowl towards you, and you shrug innocently.

Although your expression twists once your gaze flits to Harry once again, he grunts as he struggles to break the wood in half.

You advanced forward to intervene, but it was too late. The wand snaps in two, like a twig.

Harry turns around, chucking pieces of the most powerful wand in existence off the edge of the bridge.

You chase after it as far as your eyes can see before it disappears, forever.

“What the fuck–” Ron mutters under his breath in shared disbelief, yet Hermione only watches the both of you with amusement.

Then she grabs you by the collar, dragging you away from the ledge.

You are forced to follow as she falls in next to Harry, strolling back to the castle.

Resisting the urge to confront Harry about what he had just done, you drape an arm across Hermione's shoulder, she welcomes it, intertwining your hands as you walked.

“I'm starving.” Ron remarks, trailing behind you. An effort to shift to a different, much simpler topic of conversation.

“So am I.” Hermione replies.

“Yeah.. reckon The Three Broomsticks are still open?” You joke, and Harry is first to laugh, followed by your girlfriend and eventually, Ron.

You allow yourself a smile, it is one of relief. You relish in a careless joy you once thought you'd never get to experience again.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #hermione granger smut

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