#reader inser

Source for pic

Trouble 9

Word Count: 5471

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I've left very ominous comments in the last chapter, saying something big would happen in chapter 9... I didn't get to write the part I wanted, but I still think some big stuff happens in this chapter... I'll let you all be the judges of that! So tell me all about it, will you?

Masterlist

─ Yandere!bonten x motherly!reader (platonic)

─ Summary: you were just trying to help someone and you ended up being the obsession of a criminal organization

─ Warnings: obsession, stalking, toxic behaviors, kidnapping, slight mention of drugs and stuff related

Part two / Part three / Part four / Part five

You turned on the light in your kitchen, almost tripping over one of the stools because your eyes were still half closed, you had fallen asleep correcting the last report that the newspaper where you worked had sent you. You had noticed that you hadn't even had dinner before, so you made a quick meal before heading back to work, but before you could touch your laptop you heard a crash at the front door, as if someone had collapsed and slammed against it.

It's not that you lived in one of the worst areas of the city, but it was strange that something happened in the wee hours of the morning, you walked slowly, opening the door, or trying to, because the body of a man was blocking the entrance, a few minutes of struggle was enough for the unconscious body to fall to the other side, leaving you to open the door completely and contemplate the man.

He had one of those mullets that were fashionable among young people, several earrings, some scars on his mouth and stains of what appeared to be vomit and blood, okay, you did not want to interfere with anyone who seemed to be a drug addict, but on second thought, it was better to help the man than to have to give statements to the police as to why there was a dead body at your door.

You dragged him home and laid him on the couch, laying him on his side so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit if he ever did, though after further scanning you decided he needed a good shower. You did not feel self-conscious in doing this job, you are of an age and you have worked in many things, among them you had a position taking care of the elderly, all kinds of care being more specific, so no, you did not feel uncomfortable having to wash this man.

You changed his clothes and put his striped suit in the wash, leaving him back on the sofa, you continued with your work, reading and quickly correcting the errors you found, the night passed quite quickly and you fell asleep once you were completely done your work, sending it to the head of the newspaper.

The next morning you woke up with a gun pointed at your temple and that man's pretty eyes staring back at you, good way to start the day indeed.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Are you young people these days so ungrateful? It was you who passed out on the doorstep of my house at two in the morning."

He lowered the gun, seeming to remember some parts of his night, he sat still a little bewildered and with his head elsewhere because of the drugs taken yesterday, he looked at you in silence now noticing his change of clothes as well as the smell of his hair, it was not the smell of his usual shampoo.

"Did you…?"

"Yes, oh, don't be ashamed, it's been a long time since I stopped being interested in that kind of thing, at a certain age the only thing one looks for is economic stability and peace of mind, are you going to stay for lunch?"

He blinked contemplating your calm form, he didn't know if he was still under the pressure of narcotics, but he didn't reject your proposal, Sanzu was anything but embarrassing, however he felt like a little boy next to you being cared for by the mother he never had.

For your part, he was not the first brat you helped, you had married friends, with grown children or adolescents who did not stop getting into small problems, you acted like the aunt who drinks wine and criticizes everyone at family gatherings, for your attitude, they found it easier to access you when they had problems they didn't want your friends ─their moms─ to know about, you always had their backs unless it was something that was detrimental to their health, then you wouldn't hesitate to call your friends to give their children a lecture, even as adults.

That same attitude was the one that made Sanzu visit you more often than he would like to admit, although most of the times he left scolded for coming home drunk or drugged, you never closed the door on him, how could you? You weren't heartless enough to leave him lying in the street when he came desperately asking for help with some of his hallucinations.

Your kindness led him to an obsession towards you, you were like his little lifeboat, his conscious part about all the madness in which he was involved, he began to watch you from afar, observing your interactions with strangers and friends, it bothered him, it bothered him that you were just as kind to others as you were to him, he wanted all your attention just for him. He was also worried about you, he had seen the worst part of the rotten world in which he lived, someone with a soft heart like you could not survive against the predators of this society.

Of course, Bonten executives were not stupid, usually most of them lived in the headquarters, they had private properties where they spent a few days or weeks, but most of the time they were in that headquarter, especially Sanzu, that's why they started to noticing his absence more and more, it's not like he had to explain himself to anyone ─except if Mikey asked him to─ but his behavior was strange, didn't he arrive drugged? It seemed like a bad joke, clothes without a bloodstain? he was definitely doing something outside their radar.

Not that the others cared much, but the Haitani brothers were a bit nosy, like gossips who want to know why their partner seems happier when he comes back in the morning after a night of 'fun'. They discussed it a couple of times with the others when Sanzu wasn't around, and they all agreed that his behavior was unusual, so they began to investigate what he did in his leisure.

This led to an ordinary person like you being watched by two executives of the largest criminal organization in the country. At first they thought that you were a whore with whom he had fallen in love, but investigating more about you, they discovered that you were a lady with an established daily life, there was nothing about you that stood out and yet you seemed so interesting.

"Sanzu please, I need to finish correcting this report, I promise you that later you can have all the hugs you want."

"No."

He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck, you were trying to do your job but Sanzu found your hugs too comforting after you once found him crying ─from being drugged─, killing people leaves obstacles in any person and as much as he loved it, certain deaths of innocent people always ended up flying over his thoughts like ghosts that tormented him from time to time.

The sound of the doorbell made you stop typing, moving the man slightly away to go to open, you were not expecting a visitor which was strange to you, Sanzu felt a chill when you opened the door, meeting the eyes of the youngest of the Haitani directly, he got up quickly without even letting you ask what those guys wanted, he pulled you back before Ran could drag you with him.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?"

"Make sure you don't have too much fun, are you so in love that you forget the meetings?"

They started a little discussion while you looked blankly, you and Rindou looked at each other in silence while the other two talked, you greeted with a brief nod, thinking they were Sanzu's coworkers.

Luckily just when the discussion was getting more heated, a 'ding' coming from the oven threw everyone off concentration, taking advantage of this you got out of the man's strong grip, walking towards the kitchen to see that the cookies you had been working on before were ready.

"There are plenty of cookies for everyone, Sanzu you can invite your friends."

"They are not my friends!"

"That's very kind of you, we'd love to meet our friend's friend."

So you ended up having lunch with the three men in an awkward silence between them, due to the tension of which you preferred not to take into account, Ran and Rindou were quite nice and understood that you were not a love interest, nor did you want it, nor did you seek it. Alarm bells of boys without a mother figure going off again, of course you caught their interest more than before, they knew your background but not your personality, and they ended up falling into that obsession towards you, as if there was something that made them gravitate towards you, was it because of your simplicity? for your kind words? They didn't know it, but they were jealous that Sanzu could snuggle up against you and they would have to keep more of their distance.

Now you had three of Bonten's executives constantly visiting your house, whether it was asking you for small favors or advice on nonsense to asking you to make them cookies or food in general, they just desperately wanted your attention, like babies crying out for their mother.

This cycle of obsession only made the others begin to suspect that they were up to something, whether it was harmful to Bonten or not, Takeomi was the first to notice, Kokonoi the same, he noticed how the brothers spent a certain amount of money, which they didn't used to do that often, followed by Kakucho, Mochizuki and lastly Mikey.

So it led you to be kidnapped by Mochi after doing enough research on you, because they didn't take much notice of it at first when the brothers first noticed. You were tied hand and foot, a blindfold was removed after consciousness returned to you, you found yourself face to face with a man with immense dark circles and eyes full of lifeless, on his right side another man with a large scar on his face, on his left side another man with a small scar on his left eye.

You felt something cold touching your temple, again you had a gun pointed at you, held by the same boy who had kidnapped you, you turned your head also noticing another man with long white hair.

"Who are you and why do you have my executives after you?"

"Executives…?" you looked at everyone carefully, connecting the dots when you saw their tattoos "Oh- so that's why they never wanted to tell me what they worked for… are you some kind of organization? Like arms smuggling, money laundering or something?"

You took the situation calmly, that your life was hanging by a thread right now was not one of your biggest concerns, you had lived a full and happy life up to now, you had no regrets, you were mature enough to understand the point at which you were, the more the years go by, the less afraid you are of the things that used to terrify you when you were young.

"GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF MY MOTHER!"

Everyone was surprised to see how Sanzu entered kicking Mochizuki so that the weapon flew out of his hands, away from you, the Haitani brothers followed closely untying you quickly while all those men had a discussion of looks, the dense silence was broken by your giggle, you were trying to control yourself as much as you could but it was impossible.

"My God, Sanzu, you just called me mom!?"

The boy's face was completely dyed in pink tones, all the attention was now focused on you while you let out a laugh at the slip that your child had, something made the hearts of others clench in pain when they heard your laugh, no matter how bad it sounded, whether it was asthmatic, uproarious, or silent laughter, it was like real music to the ears of all the executives at Bonten, including the leader. As if you had flipped a switch in the mind of their rotten minds, they now had a new interest in you, as if you had further triggered an obsession you were unaware of with the first three you met.

They began to understand why those three felt attracted to you, it was as if your mere presence was intoxicating for them, as if just listening to you or looking at you calmed their broken hearts, many alarms from boys without a mother figure, of course that was a triggering reason, all these men longed for that kind of love that they could hardly experience.

Reanimated Bones

(LostBoys x Necromancer Reader)

Ch 1: Passerotto

💀Gore/Horror

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66316807/chapters/170985277

Summary

What if Max came up with a different plan to get Lucy's attention. With a kidnapped witch/necromancer (reader) now thrown to the Lost Boys mercy for the time being. Michael and Sam are unknowingly in danger and Max hopes to use them as leverage, he should have listened to the warnings given.

This includes Max being a manipulative ass tryna get Lucy. Michael is still human, Max wants to kill them and use the reader's abilities to revive them so Lucy has no choice but to choose him. Unluckily for Max he didn't listen to the witch and how their abilities actually work, luckily for Lucy's son's the reader grows a friendship with the group of punkish vamps..

I'm sorry if any of the Italian petnames used aren't correct but they are intended as:

Passerotto: little sparrow

STORY BELOW

------------

The floor creaked as synthetic light poured into the room with the opening door.

Your vision squinted at the sudden blinding light, grimacing and falling over yourself at the sudden pull of the handcuffs that had been chained to the empty bedframe.

"Up, don't make this harder" Max's voice was firm as he spoke, fed up with nights of waiting and trying to outwit the witch to follow his word.

He was losing patience.

"Finally letting me go?" You quipped, your voice was hoarse from not talking and minimal water whenever your 'host' remembered you needed substance to continue living. Not that he wanted you in top shape, it was the reason you were being kept here, with little movement, no light and scarce food and water. Nevermind the method Max had been using to make sure you were so low on strength you were unable to scramble any little flecks of power to aid you. So called method defining his monstrous nature more than you already new, feeding almost nightly off of your blood to keep you weak and himself from having to leave to feed too often.

"Not tonight my dear" Shaking to your feet you blew some of your hair out of your face, your legs were unused to having to bear their own weight for the past week or so. Following the tall man, not that you had much choice, you slowly left the room on unsteady feet, at least Max waited long enough for you to get down the stairs without injuring yourself more and breaking anything.

The car journey wasn't long, although it was hard to tell, even sat in the car seat had your body wanting to lay down and sleep somewhat comfortably compared to the past wooden floors. Your mind couldn't comprehend escaping even if you could, head sluggish and senses understimulated, conjuring any sort of magic was far from your reach.

You didn't recognise the surrounding area when the car stopped, your captor getting out and unlocking the door and motioning you out. You wouldn't get far from the head vamp if you tried, and by the gods did it irritate you. Before you would have easily reached for the connection between your magic and death, bringing forth the spirits of lost forgotten bones to listen to your will. Now? You would have been luckily to be able to identify and locate a single vertebrae in the surrounding dirt.

It was night, expected, not like Max could walk around in the day, you almost preferred it with your eyes having grown accustomed to the forever darkness you were forcefully shrouded in in Max's home. Your handcuffs were plucked forward, being guided to walk down the steep hidden steps that were more rock and cascading stones than actual stairs. Walking down them was hard with the awkward unbalance of your hards forced infront of you by the cuffs, with the blowing wind from the crashing sea below the cliff you tumbled down the last few steps with a groan.

Or, you would have, if your arm wasn't caught by a gloved hand, easily catching and holding your weight as you regained yourself. Icey blue eyes staring straight through you as the leather clad man turned his attention to Max. His hand now tightening as if to keep hold of you from running away, as if you could, maybe it was to stop you from falling again.

Unlikely.

"Bringing company? Or just checking in as you claim" The man spoke, he knew Max then, and with the confidence he exuded it wasn't a far throw to presume he was also a vampire. Likely Max's kin your mind so helpfully provided "outstanding" you thought to yourself, almost missing the amused twitch at the corner of the blue eyed man's mouth. 

"A project. I'm losing patience, I have other things to attend to so perhaps you can be more persuasive David. I trust you won't fail"

"Ye of little faith" an amused smirk curled across this David's face, although it was more aimed towards Max than yourself. It was becoming clear a healthy family relationship was not in the cards for these two, not that many vampires had much of such things. So in turn it seemed you were being given to more sadistic captors? Lady luck really had cast you aside and buried you well and good.

Max gave an irritated look, akin to a father trying not to lose his temper with his child. "I would rather have this conversation in private" He emphasised the word private by pinning you with a stare, your own stared back unwavering, the will to simply spite this man one of the many things keeping you going. That and the change in environment had the tiniest cracks of hope peaking through your falling resolve.

A few seconds past before this David easily passed you off to another man who had appeared from almost thin air, this one was taller with long dark hair and a stoic look. A painted jaguar adorning the denim jacket he wore over his shirtless chest, different variations of jewellery adorning his jean belt as well as an oil stained red rag, likely used by smeone who worked on machinery. Replacing his hand with this David's, he led you into the cave, leaving the apparent leader and his sire to discuss Max's plans.

Mustering your voice in its broken hoarse tone you spoke as you made your way into the cave, taking note of the route and specific decorations that could work as a point of interest or a marker of your way out. "Where am I?"

"Doesn't matter" The response you got was flat and gave little to think on, his voice rumbling and low. Rolling your eyes you tested the will of the man, dragging your heels just enough to be irritating but not enough to be obvious, your mind starting to concoct any resemblance of determination and possible adrenaline. You could hear laughter echo through the caverns, more masculine voices occasionally cut in by a more feminine sounding one, more vampires you had to presume.

"You're Max's kin?" You question, the more information you had the clearer an image you could put together on how to escape even if it was such a tiny chance. The slight glare you got confirmed your suspicious, the reactions the two vampires you had met so far gave away that it was a rocky and likely unwanted relationship to the man. A more delirious and hopeful hostage may have believed they could have befriended these younger vampire's in hopes of escaping a combined unwanted captor, even if they didn't appear to be very captive. You quickly swatted the thought away, there was no point in wasting energy on useless plans that were almost guaranteed to fall through.

This new environment though, despite being more definite in its features to isolate you and drain you of your force of will, provided more of a chance of you being able to conjure the smallest bit of magic if you focused enough. There was definitely enough bones here somewhere, whether scattered throughout the caverns, to summon the beings energy to aid you. Even if it was just to loosen the cuffs adorning your wrists.

You stumbled as you were unceremoniously shoved into the room you had been led to, too preoccupied with your thoughts and possible plan that you hadn't even noticed you had arrived at your new 'cell' of sorts. An old caved in hotel room, the bed was splintered and any furniture was caved in, broken or vandalised to the point of being almost unusable. U landed on your knees with your handcuffed hands, regaining your balance on the cold splintered floor, ur weight pulled forward again as the dark haired man procured an old chain, forcing ur hands out and intending to attach it to your handcuffs, forcing ur limited movement in the room. He didn't get the chance though.

Gaining the smallest boost of adrenaline at the possibility of an increased chance of freedom, waiting for the man to be close enough you lurched your head forward. The splitting pain that welled from your skull flowered with the connecting hit of your temple making contact with the vampire's jaw. A snarl left him as he stumbled back and without thought grabbed hold of his jaw. Taking your chance you scrambled to your protesting feet, running away from the vampire and attempting to follow the path back to the entrance.

Not that you got far.

"Whoa there passerotto!" Your weight was easily lifted by a jacket covered arm, catching you by your waist and laughing at the chasing man that had been hot on your tail. "Going somewhere?" The new cherub faced man grinned, full of mischief and danger, like a cat with a fluttering bird caught between it's claws as he addressed you.

"Damn they caught you with your guard down Dwayney" Another voice cutting through, energetic and amused, mocking the man Dwayne, this one belonging to a wild haired blonde as he stopped at the scene, sending a wink your way. Your chance of escape fluttering away until it was gone, the heavy drain of movement leaving you crumpling a little into the curly haired blonde's arm. Not that he seemed to mind, both blondes terribly amused at the prospect of the knock you had left 'Dwayne' with, glancing back at Dwayne who glared at you despite the knock already healed it seemed having caught him off guard was more of the issue than actually hitting him.

"Their spicy" The wild blonde purred out, tilting your chin to look at him, although the look you were given was much more deadly and predatory than anything flirtatious.

"Their off the menu" David's voice cut through the gathering. The two blondes moving to accommodate their apparent leader as he stepped forward. "Max's orders". The frustrated groan from the wild blonde had him rolling his eyes, walking back towards the room with the other three following, much to ur dismay, you were eagerly brought along without much of a fight. "Star "isn't interested in whatever plaything we have now"" The wild blonde said to David, answering an unspoken question the platinum blonde must have posed to the others, using quotation marks with clawed fingers. The blonde still keeping ahold of you sniggering at his kin's mockery as he passed you off back to Dwayne.

He was rougher than before, chaining you to the room a little tighter than comfortable as he stood back and folded his arms. You hung your head, greasy hair splayed down your face as you give an unamused look at the four before you.

"Max's pawned you off to us for the time being, long as your still somewhat conscious we're free to do as we like" David states, a devilish grin over his features "But where are my manners. I'm David, this is Dwayne, Marko and Paul. Star won't be joining us tonight and you are Y/N". Introductions, for yourself and apparently the other men, you supposed though if you were going to be here a while then it wasn't too out of the question to know eachothers names. Taking a step forward David moves as  he crouches down infront of you, icey eyes cutting through you as surprisingly gentle gloved fingers carded strands of hair off your face, chuckling at the glare you gave. "We were given instructions however. We'll only feed you and sustain you just enough for you to remain barely aware but not enough to regather you'r strength. Dear ol' Max even offered your blood to us, just enough to keep you weak. Can't have you summoning your energy against us can we?" His smug tone was irritating, stating out the rules as a reminder of the position you were in as well as making the others aware of the situation. You wanted to smack the amused look off his face.

"Their what, a witch then?" Marko asked, apparently entertained as he shoved his hands in his pockets, receiving he got a a hum of agreement from David. "Damn no magic tricks for us then" Paul joked, laughing slightly at his own joke as he eyed over your form.

"Death witch" David corrected.

"So don't bring anyone back here unless you want some bitch reincarnated back on your lap" Marko mused as he playfully elbowed Paul.

"Dunno sounds like a fun time- hey- joking joking" The warning look Dwayne gave him had Paul raising his hands in defence.

Meanwhile David had taken hold of your right arm, extending it despite your weak pull to keep away from him. Cold gloves wrapping around the base of your neck as a warning, the glint of lengthening fangs causing your body to tense and try and pull away. Your face scrunching in pain at David's fangs piercing the delicate skin of your wrist, drawing out your blood as he drained just enoigh drom you. When he was done you were weaker than before, you were at no threat of death but your body demanded to rest, to regain what little energy it could.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader.

Summary: You decide to accompany your father to his business party with all his boring-looking co-workers. Until you spot Nanami Kento and you’re not able to take your eyes off of him the whole evening.

warnings / tags: No use of y/n. Reader is in her twenties, a lot of slapping, creampie, praise and degradation kink, almost public sex?, mentions of the pill, unprotected p in v, oral (f recieving). VERY BADLY WRITTEN SMUT. Sorry if i forgot anything, tell me if that is the case !

notes: This was so self-indulgent. I'm really sorry if you read this I'm so bad at writing smut. This was not proof read so enjoy!

wc: 2,296.

minors dni, 18+ only !!

It was a saturday night when your father randomly asked you to accompany him to one of his work parties. It made sense; your mother was on a trip visiting your grandma, and your dad surely loathed going alone to said gatherings. That did not mean it didn’t take you by surprise—this whole boring ordeal—but you loved your dad and ended up agreeing to be his company for the night.

So this is how you ended up at a party with people clad in work attire; ergo, you felt like you were sticking out like a sore thumb. You innocently picked a flowy white blouse and a black pleated skirt alongside a pair of Mary Jane shoes. Even so, you were not going to feel self-conscious over some stupidly boring outfits that only people who gave up on fun could pick. And also, your outfit was super cute.

“He is my boss, little one. He makes my life miserable.” Your dad whispered to you. You saw a man who could easily be an NPC. You chuckled a little bit, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe that a boring-looking man could make your dad’s life so difficult.

“So sorry to be you, dad.”

And then, in a sea full of grey and monotonous office workers, you saw him. Toned, tall and well-built. A blonde guy who could easily crush you between his fingers. It urged you to know who he was. He was no different than the others, dressed in caqui pants and a blouse that, to your surprise, was blue and not white like the other ones. It urged you to know who he was, as you slightly bit your lip when you analyzed him from top to bottom. The room felt a little bit more hot with him in it.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Linked Universe Links | The Chain/Reader, Four (Linked Universe)/Reader, Four (Linked Universe) & Reader, Linked Universe Links | The Chain & Reader Characters: Four (Linked Universe), Four's Colors (Linked Universe), mentioned - Character Additional Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, no beta we die like twilight, inaccurate descriptions of blacksmithing, four is a simp Summary:

Four has always struggled with communicating how he felt about others, ever since he was young. But now that you've come into his life, he can't let you go without you knowing just how he felt.

With words? Oh goddesses no! No, you're getting a trinket!

"You look like you need that," Charlie said, putting a beer on the bar for Jason and waving his money away.

"Thanks," he said rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn't you. Not really. Compared to some of the horror stories he's heard, you were an angel. A little grumpy, sure. Emotional, sure. But you weren't horrible or anything.

"Want some free advice?" Charlie said, feeling a little sympathetic. You'd had to spend 15 minutes today crying in the back because someone sent you a video of a crow helping a hedgehog across the street.

"Anything," Jason snorted.

"When you go home tonight bring her some curly fries and a soda," he said. "And if you think she'd probably like a snack, just buy two. She'll get a little chubby but you won't have to go get something else at 3am."

"She doesn't ask me to-" "You got a ways to go until she pops," he snorted. "Just keep snacks on hand and bring her flowers every once in a while."

"If that works how come you're divorced?" he asked. It felt kinda mean reducing what you were going through to something he could fix with some chips.

"I'm divorced because I didn't do that," he said rolling his eyes. "And also because my ex wife decided she wasn't cut out for mom life."

Jason snorted, "Thanks."

"Also- if she asks if she's getting fat it's a trap. Just tell her she's beautiful and don't make jokes about getting her work out tapes for Christmas... Our dad did that once and there was a dent in the wall where the frying pan hit it."

"Why would-"

"Listen. Our dad was a weedy little guy that looked like an accountant for a biker gang. Not a brick shit house who could dead lift a volvo."

_____________

Jason let himself into the house, shifting the bag with some curly fries and your drink into one hand so he could hang his jacket up on the hook and smiled a little. Sure. It sounded mean but. Better safe than sorry. And who else was he gonna ask? Damian was a test tube baby and fuck if he was gonna ask Roy. He didn't need detailed diagrams of different ways to fuck.

"Jay?"

"Hey Cutie," he said smiling a little, walking through leaning over the couch to kiss the top of your head.

"Good day?"

"Stopped by to shoot the shit with Charlie for a minute- he thought you might want this." He proffered the snacks and walked around to flop on the sofa, putting your feet in his lap.

"Bless," you tell him. "This was all I could think about for like the last 2 hours of my shift."

"Getting Peanut started on fine dining early, huh?" he said.

"If it's not curly fries it's fucking cereal. Like why? Why can't it be not junk food?"

"Sometimes it's pickles. That's technically a vegetable."

"Ugh."

He took the hand you held out to help you sit up a little and smiled. Idly rubbing one of your ankles and waving away the container you offered to share with him. "That's all you, Cutie. You're eating for two."

"Not really-"

"Hush," he said, leaning over and rubbing your stomach affectionately. "Gotta make sure my girls get-" And he stopped. Blinking for a second. You'd been telling him you could feel the baby starting to move around. Little skitters of motion. But- he hadn't felt anything yet. Until now. "Hey, Peanut," he murmured after a second.

"Jay?"

"I guess she got tired of hiding from me," he said, grinning. "Either that or she really, really likes curly fries."

"Or some combination of the two."

A Triple Frontier Story (18+ ONLY) COMPLETED!!

When a mission goes wrong and you find yourself being held at gun point, your groups biggest secret is about to come to light.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2

phainon x gn!reader wc: 3.47k tw: angst, death, martyrdom, apocalypse, hope v despair, trauma Story Elements taken from Punishing: Gray Raven, The Surviving Lucem Masterlist ☲IN which you are not a Chrysos Heir or a Titan, but a human being who struggles and shall bring the story of the Flame Chasers the grand and spectacular ending it deserves. Previous Chapter

── .✦·········────

Upon the next day, Phainon takes the initiative to learn more about the people that have set this place as their temporary home. Thus, he asks Lamia to introduce him to more of the people living here. He doesn’t ask to learn about their stories out of respect, but it seemed that Lamia understood the unsaid request nonetheless.

“We’re here at the medical tents,” Lamia informs Phainon. They approach a tent, stark against the brown and black, with a tarp pale like the white ash from a fire. “Medea is in charge of running them.”

Arf! 

Phainon blinks and is immediately enraptured by a small Border Collie that jumps out from the folds of the tent. Its tongue lolls and its tail wags a mile a minute. How can Phainon resist?

He grins, dumb and dopey, as he kneels down and rubs his hands all over the dog’s fur. “Aww, who’s a good boy? You are! Hahaha! You’re so soft too!”

“Hector! Don’t go running off like that!”

A teenage boy leaning on a cane saunters out a few seconds later. He pauses when he sees Phainon kneeling in front of his dog. “Uh…”

The boy whips to Lamia in fright. “Is that the Chrysos Heir?!”

“Ah,” Phainon cuts in before the boy devolves into any more fright. “There’s no need! You can just call me Phainon.”

“Oh…alright,” the boy answers with great hesitance. He looks down where Hector is lavishing in Phainon’s attention and his expression twists into something akin to grief and regret. He pats his hand against his thigh audibly and repeatedly. “C’mon Hector! C’mon boy!”

Hector perks up at his name and whips around to bound up to his owner and twist in between his legs.

“This is Patroclus,” Lamia introduces him. “He was one of the refugees with me when we came here from Ladon.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Phainon introduces. He rises from his kneel and offers a hand.

“Erm…the pleasure’s all mine?” Patroclus replies, words pitching in confusion. Fortunately, he still takes Phainon’s hand and shakes it once. 

“Your dog’s really nice!” Phainon compliments.

“My dog?” Patroclus blinks and looks down at Hector who’s rubbing his face into Patroclus’s good leg. Patroclus doesn’t say anything else and turns to Lamia instead. “What are you doing with Lord Phainon, Auntie?”

“Lord Phainon asked me to introduce him to and teach more of what’s going on here,” Lamia answers. Patroclus turns back to Phainon, expression creased in scrutinization.

“Oh…” Patroclus presses his lips together. “Well, I’m Patroclus. I help Medea out sometimes with the medical tents, but I’m mostly in charge of growing herbs and flowers that we need for medicine.”

Patroclus quietens, shifting on his good leg before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “Medea’s inside if you want to meet her but…it’s not going to be a pretty sight going inside just so you know. People inside have been touched by the Black Tide so they’re still in the middle of treatment.”

“My thanks for the warning,” Phainon nods slowly but gratefully. 

“Well, I’ll be going to the gardens,” Patroclus informs, nodding to Lamia. “Auntie will probably show you there later but uh…good luck going around the place? I guess?”

With that, Patroclus turns, beckoning Hector along, as he limps in the direction to his aforementioned garden. Lamia takes the lead, stepping forward to open the entrance to the medical tents.

Phainon follows her inside and is immediately hit in the face with the stench of pestilence and encroaching death . There are hoarse moans of pain that intermittently linger in the atmosphere and they go deeper into the medical tent until they see a lady who stands over a young adult and is slathering some sort of salve over his scratches.

“Medea—!” the man whines, bottom lip curling as he hisses in pain, orange hair bouncing every time he tries to lean away from Medea’s touch. However, Medea is not having any of it and grasps her patient firmly to be able to put on the medicine.

“Jason, hold still,” Medea speaks low but firm. “You wouldn’t be in these tents if you weren’t so damn reckless all the time!”

“But I’ve gotta be!” Jason protests. “You heard from Helena how supplies are growing scarce. Even though Hestia managed to bring back some farmers with their animals and seeds, it’ll take some time before they can actually grow anything. And we’ve been hearing nothing from Okhema either.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Medea shoots back. “ But , carelessly and recklessly risking your life is not something you should be doing! If you go out there and die someone else is going to have to take the same dangerous risks.”

“Ah…,” Jason trails off. “Right…”

Then he notices Lamia and Phainon and perks up. “Ah! Lamia! You’re here! Is there something you need?”

Medea turns around, indigo eyes softening when she looks at Lamia. “Are your scars feeling tight? Anything you need?”

“I’m alright, Medea,” Lamia waves her off gently. “The salve that you gave me last week is more than enough for the month. Instead, I’m giving a tour to Lord Phainon here.”

The two look at Phainon, and Phainon’s been getting the hang of not shifting or stiffening under the abrupt attention of these refugees.

“Ah, the Chrysos Heir,” Medea speaks, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “My apologies for not being able to stand on ceremony, Lord Phainon. But I don’t think that the medical tents here is something that someone of your stature should be visiting.”

“Ah, you really don’t need to stand on ceremony,” Phainon waves. He’s a little overwhelmed by how many times he has been met with suspicion and wariness from the refugees here. But he hopes that going out like this will warm them up to him. “And I just wanted to go around and learn about what’s been going around in this camp.”

Medea makes a soft hum in interest. She turns to Jason who is absolutely beaming. “ Jason .”

“I can help!” Jason volunteers. “If you’re here, then that means that you can get the gates of Okhema to open and let us in!”

Phainon purses his lips in a hesitant unsure smile. “I can certainly talk to Aglaea. But I’m not sure how much I can do…”

The tent falls into a disappointed silence. Medea scoffs before she pats a cotton swab onto a cut on Jason’s cheek with a bit more force than before. It makes Jason lean away with a squeak.

“You’re already doing more than anyone else has for the past few years,” Medea shrugs. “It’s gotten to the point that we’re not hoping that Okhema opens their gate to accept us. We just need it to open because there’s too many people out there who are struggling to survive. And our camp won’t be enough to sustain everyone.”

“Patroclus has been growing as many herbs as he can with the help of others,” Lamia supplies gently and helpfully. “But we consume more than we can produce. And the soil at the base of the mountain is not good for growing those kinds of herbs and flowers.”

“Oh…,” Phainon sighs. He looks over the many people suspended in cots and mattresses in the tent. They’re in all forms of hurt and healing, but there is a constant undercurrent of struggling to survive in these conditions.

Life down here at the refugee camps is so different from the lives lived in Okhema. Even though Amphoreus faces the imminent threat of oblivion, people in Okhema are still able to live a life of luxury. They don’t struggle, protected by Kephale and the Chrysos Heirs. And how is it fair to exclude all of these refugees and survivors from being able to at least not fear for their own survival? To not fear where their next meal will come from? To not fear if their struggle to survive throughout the days will only result in their end?

“I’m sorry.” Because what else is Phainon supposed to say?

“We don’t need your apologies,” Medea immediately shoots back.

“Medea!” Jason gasps appalled. He turns an apologetic but nervous smile to Phainon. “Sorry, Medea’s a bit prickly, but we appreciate the sentiment. It’s just that…for people like us, apologies won’t really do anything.”

Phainon dims. 

Medea pauses and puts down her cotton swab and sighs audibly. “...I guess you’re not all that bad.”

Phainon pauses before his lips curve into a soft small smile. Yet he gazes into the distance because that feeling in his heart grows a little stronger, flares a little brighter. It’s so familiar, yet he can’t put a finger on it.

── .✦·········────

“Ah! So you’re the Chrysos Heir that everyone has been talking about! Nice to meet you, Lord Phainon!”

“Nice to meet you too!” Phainon nods and shakes the man’s hand. The man, Aristaeus, grins widely as he grasps Phainon’s arm firmly before motioning out to the small clearing that was made for his animals: a singular cow, half a dozen chickens, and two goats.

“Might not be much but at least it’s better than nothing,” Aristaeus tells Phainon. Despite the dismal content of his words, his voice is peppy and optimistic. “Hestia was really helpful in managing to get this over to this camp. Heard that you were going around to see how it’s like before asking Okhema to open the gates?”

“That’s hopefully the plan,” Phainon replies. Aristaeus beams and pats Phainon’s back.

“Good man,” Aristeaus nods. “The people here need all the help they can get. But as much as I love these animals here, they’re nothing compared to my actual treasure.”

“Hm?”

“Lemme show you.”

Aristaeus waddles over to a box that’s near Patroclus’s gardens and pulls out a slot, revealing deep amber honeycombs and the rich oozing honey that drips out. 

“Managed to bring my bees with me,” Aristeaus explains. “These babies make a lot of rich and sweet honey. It was a good thing that they had flowers here, and it’ll be a good win-win situation here.”

And Phainon’s a bit taken aback because the way Aristeaus addresses him is so casual and carefree unlike the others in the refugee camp. Why? Why is he so comfortable around Phainon where everyone else isn’t?

“Why…,” Phainon hesitates. “Are you alright with me here?”

“Hm?” Aristaeus blinks as he dips a finger into the honeycomb and licks the honey off. “...Ah.”

His smile grows less bright, but no less genuine. “The people I came here with kept on telling me that I should’ve abandoned my animals here. That they were too much trouble than they worth. But Hestia believed in the value of these animals and still did their best to make sure all of us got here safely.”

“You’re a Chrysos Heir, eh?”

Phainon nods silently.

“The fact that you’re here listening to all of us is already more than enough for me,” Aristaeus replies. “Haven’t been here for long, but I can understand the people here. Even though they look like they don’t like you being here, even though they swear up and down that they don’t believe in Okhema, you’ve already fanned the flames of hope that Hestia ignited.”

“If you see, hear, and understand us, then you can’t easily turn us away. And I don’t think you’re that type of person. Beyond that, I still believe in the Titans and the Chrysos Heirs. I believe that just like how Hestia was a hero who brought us here, you’ll also become a hero that’ll protect us.”

Aristaeus turns a sad look to the multitude of people huddled amongst each other in the refugee camp. “I just hope that things won’t be too late for us.”

── .✦·········────

What stands out to Phainon, meeting all of these people gathered together at the base to Okhema’s mountain is a story of resilience and perseverance. But it is a tale that blooms from an undercurrent anthem of grief, mourning, loss, and suffering.

With every person he met, that feeling in his heart grew stronger and stronger until Phainon remembered what it was. 

Anger. 

An anger for the world. An anger for the injustice of it all. An anger for all the people that were lost. An anger for the people who suffered. An anger for Aedes Elysiae…for Cyrene .

When he cried out to the heavens, no one answered. There was not even a sliver of salvation or acknowledgement from the gods that they heard his prayers for Aedes Elysiae. But the gods above could not acknowledge their prayers, unable to move from their pedestals or save anyone from the Black Tide’s corruption.

So he became a Chrysos Heir, to become the god that would protect the people.

And even though he has not yet ascended to become a demigod, that purpose to become a aegis, a guardian, a hero pushed him forward. Year by year, that anger he held in his heart for everything was set aside and nearly forgotten.

But being here amongst the refugees, Phainon cannot help the frustrated rage and helpless anger at the world for these people.

“Mr. Phainon?”

“Hm?” Phainon looks down when Phoebe reaches up and curls her hand around Phainon’s finger. “Is there something wrong?”

Phoebe shakes her head. The two of them watch as people come together to place all sorts of wood together: logs, branches, twigs, and more. 

Helena stands in the front. Even though her eyes are fixed upon the pile of wood, Phainon receives the impression that she’s lost in her own world. She procures a matchbox from her cloak and strikes a match. She holds up that small flame, just to observe it for a moment. Then, with a graceful flick her wrist, the match twirls thrice in the air before joining the pile of wood.

Slowly but surely, the flames grow in size and heat. They trail lazily through the gaps, ebbing over the logs until the entire hill is gently set ablaze.

“Here you go,” Lamia speaks gently. She kneels to hand two imitation small flowers woven from mismatched fabrics. 

“What are these for?” Phainon asks quietly.

“A memoir,” Lamia replies simply. “A way to remember the people we’ve lost.”

Phoebe holds the two flowers close and looks down on them. The usual happy smile on her lips has faded away to a somber expression. “...Mr. Phainon? Can you go with me?”

Phainon purses his lips together in uncertainty. He looks to Lamia for help. Lamia’s lips curl into a small smile and offers Phainon another one of her imitation flowers. Phainon stares at it before he gratefully takes it.

Uncharacteristically, Phoebe silently tugs on Phainon’s finger and he lets her pull him to the bonfire. Phoebe is quiet as she holds these two flowers to her chest, staring at the flames. Perhaps she’s thinking about her parents she never knew? Phainon can’t quite say for sure.

He holds this procured flower for him. He thinks of his parents he once knew. He thinks of his once-home, Aedis Elysiae. He thinks of Cyrene and all of her whimsy and care.

“May this world never have need for a Deliverer.” 

Well I’m here now, Cyrene , Phainon thinks as he stares into the dancing edges of the blaze. He is one of the Chrysos Heirs, but maybe in another world he would know nothing but bliss amid the fields of Aedis Elysiae. However, this is not that word. So here Phainon is standing amongst the many that have lost.

He watches Phoebe let go of her flowers and release them into the fire. Phainon follows suit a moment later, one last prayer and thought for a dear friend he would never see again.

The two of them return to Lamia and Phoebe lets go of Phainon’s finger to bury her face into Lamia’s skirts. What catches Phainon’s attention, however, is the percussive sound of delicate notes trailing in the air.

The origin? A band of people sitting in a semicircle with different instruments. One of them holds a small piano over their lap, gingerly pressing the keys and eliciting a sweet but sorrowful sound. The melody dims until a flute sustains the song, undertoned with delicate plucking strings.

“Who are they?” Phainon asks quietly.

“The Tempest Troupe,” Lamia answers easily. There is something sad and nostalgic in her body posture. 

“Is that the song that Iris wrote?” Phoebe looks up at Lamia. Lamia, in turn, pats her head gently, but her eyes are still trained upon the musicians. 

“...Yes. It is. ‘Dreaming to the Glowing Place’.”

An accordion joins the ensemble, adding an element of whimsy to the measured melody. Phainon watches as the music begins to swell, each note imbued with emotion and an unheard story. And then all the instruments join to crescendo into a melody that climbs so high in the air: a unified but lonely song of sorrowful reminiscence.

“Lord Phainon?”

“Yes?”

Lamia reaches out, taking Phainon’s hand in both of hers so gently it feels like something in Phainon’s heart is bleeding. “Please…save our people. I know it’s not my place to as you this but…our people have already lost so much. I don’t want to see them losing anymore.”

Phainon gazes at her hands, and that anger within his heart seems to grow even brighter and hotter. An anger extending on behalf of the people here in this camp. Because everyone had lost something. It leads Phainon to wonder about the story behind Hestia. What propels them to work tirelessly to guide more survivors to sanctuary?

But is learning about Hestia matter? No. It shouldn’t. Whether or not these people should be allowed entry to Okhema shouldn’t be predicated on the characteristics of their common savior. They should be allowed entry because they’re seeking safety. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’ll do my best,” Phainon replies. It’s not a promise. Phainon doesn’t know if he’ll be able to convince Aglaea and he isn’t going to give these people empty promises. Instead, he’ll give them his effort.

── .✦·········────

It’s late at night, long after the grand bonfire has faded to a smoldering heap of white-gray ash and glowing embers. 

Helena sits alone, gaze sitting distantly upon the flame’s remains. Phainon doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t. He approaches the leader of the refugee camp and, once gauging that she won’t lash out against his mere presence, sits close but not beside her.

They quietly sit together, cradled in the warmth of the hearth’s afterglow. 

“So, Lord Phainon,” Helena breaks the silence first. “What do you think about all of us?”

Phainon exhales softly. He doesn’t answer Helena’s question, but returns a question of his own. “What do your people need in Okhema?”

Helena pauses, slowly turning to Phainon. For a second, her face flickers with a raw expression of hope and disbelief, but she quickly masks it with narrowed suspicion. “Did you not say your lot needed to meet Hestia before making a decision?”

“But you don’t know when they’re coming back, do you?” Phainon returns. “And I understand how everyone here can’t afford to sit around and wait anymore. Entrance to Okhema shouldn’t be determined by meeting one person.”

Helena quietens before she returns her eyes to the smoking hearth. “...Have you lost someone before?”

Phainon thinks of days of laughter, of fingers brushing through his hair, and of a smile crowned in pastel pink and offered him happiness.

“...Yes.”

Helena nods once. “This godforsaken world takes too much away from us.”

Phainon lets out something between a surprised laugh and a tired sigh. He doesn’t know whether it’s one or the other, both, or neither. However, it makes Helena relax just the tiniest bit around him.

“I’ve been hearing about how you’re going around to learn about the people who live here,” Helena continues. “But I can’t trust you or your words. No hard feelings. I’m in charge of too much people here and too many people depend on me to trust you.”

“I can respect that,” Phainon offers.

Helena turns to nail Phainon with an intense look. But there’s no hostility, just a pure sheer conviction that burns in her eyes. A determination that Phainon has seen in the eyes of all the people living here.

“I’m not going to believe your words just because you said them,” Helena declares. “I won’t set my people up for hope and then have them face disappointment and despair. But…for what it’s worth. Thanks.”

Phainon smiles, soft and genuine. He can only remember that time when Cyrene drew a card for him and told him that he was to be a hero loved by all. Phainon had never wanted to be a hero but…he hopes that he doesn’t Cyrene or any of these people down.