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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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Busting into your ask box to share some...

I forgot what I was saying. Something about “broad.”

Well, my love, I take no responsibilities for my actions here on out—my brain and all sense were destroyed earlier in the day because of this ask.

What did we say Din embodies? Large and in charge? Oh, he most certainly does.

He’s a solitary man, Din—used to being answerable to only himself. It’s not an easy habit to break, living by your own set of rules and not having to consider anyone else. But he tries for you, of course he does. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t slip back into his old ways sometimes…

There was that one time you thought you could bait a quarry...

Din had flatly refused to consider the idea, there was no way—no fucking way he was letting you do it. Not only was Din massively territorial – the mere idea of some lecherous criminal putting his hands anywhere near you setting his blood to boil – but you had been in danger once before because of him, and it still left a bad taste in his mouth whenever he thought about it.

But fuck, this asshole was as slippery as they came. Eyes and ears everywhere—this was the fourth planet Din had chased them to. The piece of bantha shit always had an escape route, always escaped the minute Din entered one of the shady cantinas he favoured. He’d rather break his streak of capturing every bounty though, than put you in his line of sight.

He told you as much, felt a swell of pride at the colour it brought to your cheeks and the speechlessness it inspired.

But he mistook your shocked silence as agreement.

He was wrong.

You were sick of Din being in such a rotten mood because of the wild goose chase this quarry had led him on. You were wasting time parsec-hopping and the sheer price of fuel to fund such a chase was beginning to make this contract onerous. But more than anything, Din Djarin hated losing.

He was crankier, surly in his impatience while you travelled through hyperspace to follow the tracking fob. You were quiet frankly, over it. You knew from the minimal information he had dropped whenever he returned, empty-handed and frustrated—that the quarry had a fondness for women, could be tempted to linger longer than he would usually deem safe if he had the attention of a pretty one.

It was reasonable then that you offered, and Din hadn’t even considered it.

More the fool him, you thought.

So, when he saw you… gorgeous and alone at the bar of the cantina, the very bounty he had spent two months hunting slithering from the shadows to sidle up to you plain as day, his jaw had dropped from his own shadowy cover when he saw the quarry had only come closer because of the delicate crook of your finger.

Din swallowed.

He knew you intimately enough to know what real desire looked like clouding those intelligent eyes, but even still, the sultry droop of your lids—the parting of those lips he dreamt about all over his body, it made red fill his gaze and blood roar in his ears.

You were his.

And when the bastard dared to run an unwelcome hand far too low on your back, he was behind you. He didn’t miss the lack of surprise in your expression, nor the true darkening of your gaze as he towered over you both, his bulk blocking any other view but him.

His helmet was tipped towards you.

He didn’t even look as he pulled his blaster out to shoot the bounty as he retreated, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the cantina. Dead or alive had never been a sweeter deal, even for less pay.

“Man—”

“Anyone touches that body, I’ll know,” he snarled at the barkeep, who startled and was quick to nod despite looking as menacing as any of the clientele the place was known for.

“Mando—”

He didn’t let you finish, again. Instead, he grabbed you by the arm tight and dragged you outside--- the monsoon like rain instantly drenching you and bouncing off Din’s armour, the slight tinkling sound drowned out by the sheer heaviness of the rain itself.

No one sane was out in this weather, holing up inside until it passed as it was wont to do—pouring quick and intense. Only you two.

So when he pulled you off the path into the alley beside the cantina, you were already soaked, the tepid rain cooling you and making you shiver before a thigh slammed between you thighs and unforgiving beskar pressed firm against your core.

“What did I tell you on the ship?” he growled, a hand closing around jaw hard, tipping your head up far enough to look at him, “You’re a smart girl, don’t tell me you forgot?”

Your hands – still mercifully left free – tangled in the cowl of his cape as you fought his dominance, even when you both knew you loved it, “I got results, what does it matter?”

A thrill of arousal soaked your underwear further at the feral noise that bubbled deep in his chest, the sudden sting of his hand coming down on your ass making you gasp before the pleasurable ache that followed had you rocking on his thigh subconsciously,

“You forget who the fucking bounty hunter is here along with your manners, kitten?” he pulled his hand back from where it kneaded your ass to spank you again-- pushing you further up his thigh with the force of it, the sound lost in the roar of rain that still spilled from above. This time, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you.

“On your knees then,” he muttered darkly, releasing your jaw to drag his hand down your throat—pausing, pressing just slightly to feel the swallow you took, “put your mouth to use if you’re not going to answer.”

You couldn’t have refused him if you tried, the primal urge to roll over—to submit to him overwhelming you along with the strength of his thigh beneath you and the power that radiated from his chest under your hands. Your knees hit the ground easily, eyes hazy with lust as you looked up at him—hands greedy as they made to undo his fly.

But Din wasn’t playing fair today, no--- you had undermined him, gone behind his back, put yourself in danger. And by Malachor, he was going to make sure you never did it again.

He swatted your hands away with a rumbled, “hands behind your back, kitten,” and once they were secure, he undid his fly himself, releasing his painfully hard cock and stroked it in front of your face for a few moments until he heard you whine his name,

“Open.”

You kept your eyes on his visor the entire time, stubbornly trying to maintain the smallest bit of control over the situation even as your lips parted, and your mouth opened for the leaking head to settle heavy on your tongue.

You sucked his cock the way he directed you to, silently thrilled at the commanding tone and immovable control he exerted,

“I said no hands, kitten--- don’t even think about touching yourself…”

“That’s it… that’s it, you can take more---”

“There’s my good girl, it’s not to hard to listen to orders, is it?”

You mewled around the throbbing length of him, nails digging into your palms to control your gag reflex as he pushed against the back of your throat but the unhinged moan he released because of it made every tear that blurred your vision worth it. You swallowed around him and he tightened his hand in your hair,

“Fuck… fuck, so good…” his head fell back on his shoulders, the expanse of his neck seal—fitted tight around the thick tendons and tanned skin you knew was hidden beneath made you whimper and rub your thighs together, desperate for him in a deliciously edged way you hadn’t experienced before.

He was being selfish, to prove a point—but beyond the point he wanted to prove, it was turning you on.

He didn’t warn you when he was about to cum, instead taking you off guard as he filled your mouth with a rasp of your name—your surprised noise smothered by his cock before you greedily swallowed down everything he had, your tongue working over his sensitive head when he withdrew enough to give you air.

You actually whined when he pulled back completely—wanting him back again already.

Din chuckled, husky and low and beautiful in its timbre as he braced his forearm against the wall above you, his free hand cupping the back of your head significantly more gently to coax you up where he pressed his helmet to your forehead, a gloved finger brushing the side of your mouth where some of his release had escaped.

You looked wrecked, and he hadn’t even touched you—that alone satisfied the beast inside him that growled to take you, mark you, conquer you. For now.

“Do not go against my decision again,” he cupped your cheek, infinitely comforting and expressing far more than his words ever could, “not about bounties, understand?”

You didn’t like being told what to do—at least, not always. But you knew he spoke from a place of care, so you nodded, giving in at least about this, everything else? Well, he had known you long enough to know that wasn’t going to happen.

He seemed satisfied nonetheless, “Good. Now, help me drag this piece of bantha shit back to the ship. We have a long night ahead of us, kitten.”

You blinked owlishly at him, and you could hear the smirk in his voice as his hand tightened possessively at the back of your neck,

“I still think you need a few lessons about just who is in charge here.”

#ren the fiend #i blacked out for twenty minutes and this happened #the man has that effect on my #pocket wives assemble #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the-ginger-hedge-witch

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eveninglottie · 6 years

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CAMELLIA + WANDA/VISION MAKE ME CRY!!!

fading, blazing | Wanda x Vision, for the prompt “my destiny is in your hands” | mood music

[A direct continuation of where Civil War ends, no spoilers for Infinity War. @unseeliequeens made me do this and I hate her just a little bit.]

The Raft reminded Wanda of Sokovia.

Not the little apartment she shared with her mama and papa before they were killed by Stark’s bombs, or the many alleys and abandoned buildings she’d hidden in with Pietro before their anger grew into a double-edged knife and they went looking for vengeance.

It reminded her of Strucker’s compound.

It reminded her of the claustrophobia, of the gnawing, crawling energy pulsing under her skin when her true power had been unlocked by that damned stone. Of how trapped she had felt under the earth, under millions of pounds of concrete and steel, of how the electric hum of security had wrapped around her like a vice. Keeping her tame. Keeping her caged.

Of the knowledge that she could tear it all down whenever she wanted, if she wanted.

Even in the middle of the ocean, with miles and miles of nothing around her, she fought that impulse to thread herself into the very fabric of the world, and push.

The steady roar of water did nothing to lull her to sleep. A fitting punishment, for a woman who could sew nightmares into the minds of those around her, to be denied more than a few hours rest at a time. The constant stream of low-frequency humming in her ears disrupted her power, making it harder to concentrate, to feel where the universe held itself together—static. It wasn’t enough to stop her, if she decided she was done with playing the prisoner. She’d started to wonder if there was anything that could stop her.

But with the memory of Vision’s warning in her mind, and the screams of those people she had killed on accident (the fire still flickering over her skin as she felt them die, felt them in her own damn mind as if she herself were being wiped off the face of the earth by a girl who thought she could play god), she let herself believe the lie. That she was someone who could be held by steel and force. She let herself go numb with static.

Not like their old television set when the cable had been knocked out in a bad storm, or if her papa had been unable to make enough money to pay the bill that month. She had spent hours running her fingers over the glass surface, giggling as her hair rose on the back of her neck and over her arms, as her teeth prickled with lightning, as her eyelids grew thick and heavy with the shock flickering over her lashes. As she had revelled in the connection. Felt dwarfed by something bigger than her flesh could comprehend.

Held in another cell with her straight jacket binding her twitching fingers tight across her back, Wanda felt nothing but mute humor at how cyclical her life had become. So many cells, all with different facades. Some were nice with soft beds and wide windows. Some were cold. Some hurt. All she should have seen coming.

A fist pounded against the glass. She jumped, looked up to find one of her guards glaring at her, mouthing something. She frowned, focusing past the hum of her cage, and caught the end of his warning.

“—that grin off your face, witch.”

It took her a moment to feel the strange tilt of her lips, the smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. She had remembered Pietro’s first few days out of Strucker’s control, when he hadn’t been able to stop drumming his fingers on everything. He’d been jumpier than a cricket at dusk, buzzing, jumping, moving so much and so fast that she’d yelled at him more than once for smashing everything not nailed down in their seedy motel rooms.

Wanda blinked, and her smile faded. She stared into the hate-filled eyes of the guard watching her through a foot-thick pane of reinforced glass, watched another guard pull him back with alarm, her eyes darting back and forth, as if she couldn’t bear to let Wanda out of her sight for one moment.

Vision had been right.

She was a monster in their eyes.

Her jaw clenched, and she looked down at the floor. Her own eyes didn’t burn. She was out of tears. The water in her heart had long since turned into ice and sparks and shattered glass.

She couldn’t control their fear. Not while they were awake. Not without delving into the very fabric of their minds and pushing on that which they hid even from themselves. Playing with them. Torturing them. Being exactly what they feared her to be.

But she wanted to. Merciful God forgive her, but she wanted to.

It had to be better than taking it on all herself.

After the eighth day, she stopped counting.

Meals bled one into the next, her sight rippling at the edges like the white pendants outside the chapel on the hill overlooking a small Sokovian town where she and Pietro had stolen a car on their second day of freedom. She couldn’t even remember its name now.

She had waited for Pietro to meet her with food (she had always been better at hot-wiring cars, she had always known, even before her mind had been warped by infinity, how to unwind and reconnect, how to pull apart the fabric of the world and reassemble it to her will), staring up at that little chapel, feeling the places where its white stucco had begun to peel and chip, the small gilded alcove where Mary had rested in a shelter with her newborn son. Waited, and felt like the world had shifted when she wasn’t looking. Like she had truly grown smaller, and the air had awoken, and all that she thought she’d known had been swallowed in one, ultimate, overwhelming truth—that she was not meant for little chapels and white flags. Not anymore. Shelter was for little girls who got crushed by buildings, not witches who dreamed of the endless chaos of the cosmos. Who walked circles around black holes and pondered the nature of the space between synapses where a person hid their deepest fears.

Who killed, without meaning to. Who shattered the buildings herself, rather than run from them.

It had been easier back then, to see the same truth in Pietro’s eyes. To hold onto him as the universe spiralled around her, knowing that he remembered who she had been before. As if that mattered now.

The low current in her brain made it hard to remember anything but the dull roar of the ocean and the tightness wrapped around her chest. It stripped everything else away, made her into little more than an exposed nerve, prodded and poked to make sure she never forgot who she was, and who she could never again be.

The light in her cell brightened, and she shied away. It was too hot, too searing, the buzz of her straight jacket increasing in pitch until it was all she could do not to scream. Voices whipped past her as hands closed around the back of her neck, hauled her up from the floor. Someone was shouting her name—Clint? Sam?

The rain hit her like a slap, and she stumbled, hitting the metal grate under her feet. It shocked her back to herself for one blessed, lovely moment. Power crackled over her skin, beautiful red energy rose up over her eyes—and then something else dragged her under. Something mundane. Something familiar. A prick in her neck. A drug to dull her senses. Strucker had used something similar when he wanted to test her power in a controlled environment.

It made sense that Ross would do the same.

As if conjured from the fog of her mind, his face appeared before her, grimacing in the grey rain. Behind him roiled storm clouds, and the choppy ocean stretched on into the horizon.

“Congratulations, Maximoff,” he said, his voice grating as she fought to stay awake. “You’ve been upgraded.”

By some strange surge of loathing, she spat in his face, and in the tongue of her mother country, she choked, “Bathe in your own shit, pig.”

Ross stumbled back, cursing as he waved her away.

As she was dragged on wooden legs into a helicopter, she felt herself grin her brother’s best grin, the one that always made their mama shriek in frustration and her papa hide his smile.

Careful, Wanda, Pietro’s voice whispered to her from across the cosmos, from that little node of matter inside her heart that still belonged to him, and would always belong to him, or people are going to start thinking you’ve got a sense of humor.

Wanda awoke to screaming.

It took her a moment to realize the noise was not coming from her own mind, that she was not reliving the horror of throwing a bomb into a building and watching human ash drift down around her like snow.

No, the people around her were screaming—people in uniforms, wearing the red, white, and blue of American brutality on their arms. The world tilted to the side. Her head slammed against something hard. Pain flared in her mouth, and then blood coated her tongue.

And then, like the first breath of fresh air in weeks, she felt him.

The inside of the helicopter went soft with a lovely amber glow. The shadows parted, pulled back like a veil of silk. The shouting dimmed. Time seemed to stand still as Vision drifted up through the metal frame. His eyes spun in concentric blue circles, pupils dilating, as they always did, when they found her. The shuddering wrench of the helicopter went still though the storm outside continued to rage. She felt him directing its path, holding it steady, even as he dodged punches and tasers and people who thought they might be able to stop him.

He only had eyes for her.

Once, she had thought she might love those eyes.

Now, she felt…conflicted.

He glided toward her, snapping the tethers on her straight jacket with a flick of his fingers. She thought she saw something like anger flash behind those whirring irises, but it was gone again just as fast. Like a window shade drawn at the first sign of sunlight. Serenity descended over his expression, and she closed her eyes to it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice low and resonating in the back of her mind, as if the stone in his forehead were able to reach into the heart of her. “I have you.”

His arms came around her as he picked her up effortlessly off the floor of the helicopter. She huddled into him out of instinct, the little girl inside her still seeking that fleeting shelter, and murmured, “These people—”

“Will be fine,” he finished, the sound of metal tearing over her head, the rain pounding on the helicopter’s shell. “They are close to shore. They will make their landing.”

As he whisked her off into the storm, she didn’t correct his assumption that she was worried about their safety. He still thought she was something worth saving. Something these people mistakenly feared.

She would not tell him that she wanted to break their helicopter, rip it into shreds of metal, and damn them all to the ocean’s depths.

Not yet.

They flew long enough for Wanda to get her bearings. Long enough for her to remind herself that this warm embrace was a lie, and that she was not safe. She was not home. She had no home. Not in Stark’s tower. Not in Vision’s arms. Not since Pietro’s death. And, if she were being honest, not since the bombs had shattered her world when she was only ten.

“Put me down,” she whispered over the cold winds. She realized with a frown that she did not feel the chill. That he must be protecting her from the worst of it, somehow.

“Wanda—”

“Now, Vision.”

He drifted down at once, the clouds parting to reveal a sprawling city with ambling alleys and old-fashioned buildings made of brick and stone, not metal, and set her on a park bench. The anonymous street was empty, the lights reflecting off puddles in the creasing of its cobbles. She tried to stand, but her legs shook, needles of pain pricking at the bottom of her feet. She was still wearing the American army’s damn prison scrubs.

“You need to rest.”

She looked at Vision, haloed in the street lamp, his face in shadow but for the amber bead in his forehead. It made his eyes look black, and lifeless.

“I need to get something to eat.”

A moment’s pause. “Ah. Of course. I will find you—”

“Nothing. You will find me nothing.” She took a deep breath, adjusting to the silence in her mind. After so long sitting in static, the night felt alarming empty. But her limbs thrummed with energy, and her fingers twitched with chaos. Soon, she would relish this momentary calm. “Where am I?”

“Edinburgh.”

She blinked, startled. “Scotland? You flew me to Scotland?”

“The prison Secretary Ross held you in was located in the Northern Atlantic Ocean.” Another pause, this one more jarring than the last. Something quaked in his voice. Something she hadn’t heard before. “I believe he intended to transport you to a facility in Switzerland. Mr. Stark’s records indicate that there was once a SHIELD base in the mountains there. One where he might—”

Wanda laughed, only to devolve into a cough at once. She felt Vision approach, and held up her hand. Red threads of energy danced over her fingers as she struggled to control herself. “Ross wanted to pick me apart, I bet. Hydra knew more about human genetics than they ever let SHIELD figure out. Probably wants to try and replicate this,” she waved her hand, watching the light dance through the darkness, “for his soldiers.”

When Vision spoke, his voice was soft, almost—frayed at the edges. “It is more likely he intended to neutralize you.”

She waited for the truth to sink in, for her fear to rise up and overtake her.

But it didn’t. Instead she welcomed it like an old friend taking its place at her dusty dinner table—with a reprimand for bad behavior, and acceptance.

“That makes more sense.” She grimaced as she looked up and down the alley, trying to determine how late it was, and where she might be able to steal some clothes.

“Does that not—startle you?”

It was so rare to hear him stumble over his words, always so precise, like a fondly-wound wrist watch whose caretaker never wavered in their maintenance, that she turned back to him. His cape billowed slightly around his legs, his body still and unmoving. No energy misplaced or wasted, no errant twitch of human weakness. He was enduring. Immobile. Fixed.

Born of the same slice of the infinite, and yet so vastly different it was laughable. He was order. She chaos.

It was no wonder she wanted to burst apart when he looked at her.

“Are you asking me if I’m afraid to die, Vision?”

His head didn’t move, but she swore she felt something tug at the back of her mind—the place where she imagined his amber stone had lodged itself into her irrevocably.

“The thought would distress most humans.”

“As I distress most humans, perhaps I’m immune to its effects.” She bit off anything more, her words swarming and tangling up together, making it hard to think. She wanted to thank him, to scream at him, to beg him to take her back to that tower where she had pretended to be normal. Where he had been kind, and attentive, and did not look upon her with fear in his eyes. Where she had wondered if her life had not ended the day she lost the other half of her heart to a flurry of bullets in a war they should not have been fighting.

But if she said anything, she would say everything, and he didn’t deserve that. In his incomprehensible mind, he believed he had been right to stop her, to detain her, to fight against her.

After all, she had struck first. She would always strike first.

“Are the others all right?” she asked instead. “Clint, Sam…the other one?”

“I believe there was a mass break out from the Raft a few hours after you were taken.”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Good.”

He stepped forward in a movement almost—desperate, hands lifting as if to take her in his arms again.

Only to close around the air when she jerked back.

“It does not have to be this way, Wanda,” he murmured, the threads of his voice unraveling even more. “You can return to Stark tower. You can come home. With me.”

The last pricked into her chest, welling up some half-imagined dream she’d once held for herself, a dream of a man borne of metal and magic, a man who resonated in the deep marrow of her bones. A man who understood her. And did not fear her. A man whose heart she had felt even in the moments before his uncanny birth, whose heart she had loved.

But there was no home for her there. There never had been.

“No, Vision,” she said harshly. “I won’t go back. You said yourself that they would never be able to accept me. Why should I inflict myself upon them? Do you think I enjoy seeing their hatred? Seeing them flinch when they see me so much as lift my hands? Do you think I want that?”

He gave her no answer, and his hands dropped slowly to his sides. Still he watched her, the depths of his eyes more black than she had ever seen them. It made no sense. She could feel him, like another sense, like an extension of her own body. She had wondered, once, if he felt her too.

She’d been too much of a coward to ask before, and she was too hurt to ask now.

“Why did you save me?”

Why then. Why now. Would he, again, even after she pushed him away.

His head turned ever so slightly to the side, as if he were listening to something she could not hear. “I…” he hesitated, lips open on an unvoiced thought, “I lost control.”

Anger surged up finally to replace her conflict. “I see.” She took another step away from him. One more. She could keep going. “Perhaps I should remove the distraction for you. So you can go back to Stark with your mind clear. I’m sure he misses you more than I ever will.”

Her thin shoes grew damp at once. Mist soaked through her thin shirt. She wrapped her arms around her chest, held tight, as if to convince herself that she needed no one else’s embrace. That she could live on her own.

“Wanda, wait.”

She stopped without thought and cursed under her breath. Keep going. One more step. “Let me go, Vision.”

“I didn’t mean—I don’t want…”

Turning around, she found him where she’d left him, but this time the light washed over his face. Skin glistening slightly with moisture, richly purple under the faint electric bulb, he looked—frightened. Eyes wide and blue and staring at her as if she were the only thing he could see.

She moistened her lips, trying to fight the conflicting urge in her chest to go back to him, to let him help her, to let him keep her safe. To let him try, at least. “What do you want?”

Again, his head tilted, listening to something she could not hear. Could he hear her heavy heart? Could he hear the twitch in her fingers? The urge to touch him? To never stop touching him because he was the only thing her new body of chaos seemed to understand?

“I don’t know.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tasted the dried blood on her lips. “I guess that’s one more thing we share, then.”

Wanda tore her eyes from the desperation writ plain in the vibranium lines of his face, and walked into the dark night. Alone, truly alone, for the first time in her life.

And when the fear finally came, she was ready.

#wanda x vision #scarlet vision #scarlet witch #vision #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff #oh god i have no idea how to tag new fandoms #unseeliequeens

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kdenbibi · 7 years

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Endless Chapter 1 Damian Wayne x Reader ( x various)

Summary: Gotham wildin’, you wildin’ and there’s definitely something off about that Damian kid.

Warnings : Cursing and relentless sarcasm.

Authors note: Guy’s!!! This story is my brand new baby, if you enjoy it please let me know!!! Okay i’ll shut up please enjoy. :’) -Admin A

Little known fact, the best time of day in Gotham was before the sun rose, people were asleep, too busy dreaming to make noise and cause problems.

I can’t tell you how much of my life I’ve spent up here watching the day roll by me. Watching the sky change into different shades of grays, I sighed watching the puff of air escape my lips with a lazy smile. This was my happy place as cheesy as it sounded, no matter how crazy life got or if some weirdo with a god complex held the city hostage, I could always crawl up here and let go of it all for awhile. I closed my eyes leaning against the cold metal railing, trying to relax my mind, distract myself from the bubbling pot of anxiety in my stomach, I tapped my nails in anticipation, ever since I woke up this morning I’d been waiting for something to happen, I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, I just knew it was big, life altering big. Usually I could tell what would happen but but not today, something was coming, and I knew I had to prepare myself for it. Why am I not brushing this off as a simple case of hebijebis? Well that’s because I know better than to ignore my gut.

Ever since I can remember I’ve had some kind of help whenever something bad would happen, now I can see how it be confusing so let me elaborate as best as I can. The earliest memory I have of this ‘Helper’ if you will, was when I was five, it was actually my birthday and at my party these little assholes (who I was forced to invite mind you) decided they wanted to play a little trick on me, they put firecrackers in my cake disguised as candles, and as soon as my mom went to light them a haze of golden yellow light enveloped a glass of water next to me, it was like time slowed down and in that moment I somehow knew what to do, like a bat outta hell I dumped the water all over my cake much to the shock of everyone, as my mother lectured me I pulled out the fake candles and handed them to her. After that it kept happening, I used to call 'it’ Nadi for some reason, my child brain saw it as a helpful friend and it deservend a name. As I got older I learned it wasn’t some imaginary friend, it was some otherworldly force at bay keeping me out of trouble, and for a while only I knew about it, I figured I was one of those anime protagonists who get chosen to be special for no particular reason, it excited me, I had no idea the risks it came with.

I found out though.

Picture a tiny me, my hair in puffy buns sitting on my head, an avenger backpack on and not a care in the world, ah yes middle school when my biggest worry was making it to the lunch line early before the other Gremlins could get all the good food. Now usually after my classes let out I’d walk the short journey to my house, stopping for hot coco on the way at this little hole in the wall restaurant if it was particularly cold, and be on my merry way but this afternoon, something wasn’t sitting well with me, all day long I had the looming feeling of danger hanging over my head like a over filled balloon waiting to burst, I tried to ignore it, I really did, but it lingered in my mind, once I stepped foot out of my last class the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, goosebumps rose to my arms, I felt eyes lurking in every dark corner, my knuckles were white with how hard I gripped the straps of my backpack, the yellow light appear as it always did when I was in need, it swirled and pulled me back to the school but it was like my feet were glued to the ground, I looked up to see a man, just a few yards away, not moving, but staring, something told me he was responsible for my inability to move, just as a full blown panic attack began to appear, out walked my English teacher, her warm hand gently shaking my shoulder brought me back to reality, “(Y/n) honey, what’s wrong? You gotta talk to me sweetheart.” “I-I there’s a man and- ” I began to hyperventilate, unable to finish my sentence, I tried to point out where he was but he was gone, and so was the unnerving hold he had on me. “Hey- listen you can’t walk home like this how bout’ I give you a ride?” I nodded nearly snapping my neck with the force, I just needed to get away from there. As soon as I got home my teacher insisted on calling my mom, I didn’t want to worry her but I figured I owed her that much, ten minutes after the call was made and the situation was explained my mom burst through the door, her eyes wide with worry. After checking over me for injury’s she asked me what happened. “I dunno’ things were super weird all day, then some creepy guy showed up and then poof! He was gone and so was the bad feeling I’m okay Mama.” She chewed at her finger, nervously pacing around our small living room. “And you’re okay now?” “Mhm” I nodded half listening, most of my attention was on the TV. Unlike most kids my age the news caught my interest, there would always be some crazy story on. My mom quickly stepped in front blocking my view. “(Y/n) (L/N) you listen to me when I talk to you.” Oh god not the mom voice, she had all my attention now, she never used that voice on me, on my siblings sure but me? I was the good kid. She got down to eye level, laying her hands on my shoulders, “Listen to me baby, if this ever happens again you call me right away.” “Mama it’s okay, I talked to my teacher about it on the way home it was just an anxiety attack.” She sighed rising to sit next to me on the couch, “Tell me exactly what you were feeling.” I racked my brain trying to put it into words “I just.. I don’t know it felt on edge all day, like it was building up and then the lighting tried to take me inside but-” “A light? What light.” My throat instantly dried up, how could I tell her? She’s put me in Arkham if I told her the truth.“ "Is…is it a yellow light?” I snapped my head from the floor to meet her eye. “How’d- no way how’d you know?” She sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess I never thought I’d have to go through this with you.” Before I could question her she rose, then offered me her hand. “Well? Come on we have a lot to cover.” “Where are we going?” “Grandma’s.” A blaring alarm from my phone quickly snatched me from my memories. I checked the time, “Shit already?.” It was time to get ready, time to leave my little bubble of comfort and face reality. I shook a curl out of my face with a puff of frustration leaving my lips, of course I wasted my alone time going down memory lane, I rolled my eyes at myself, turning away from the city just now starting to wake itself up, after jiggling the door open I took one more glance at my safe place before rushing inside, I had a feeling this would be my last time up here for a while.

I flicked a stray french fry between my hands, my lunch lost its appeal long ago, at this point I was waiting for my friends to wrap it up, half the day had gone by and I still had no clue what was coming, if only I could- “(Y/n) are you even listening to me?” “Huh-what yes, of course I am mhm.” I quickly rested my hand in my head with a smile. Dana squinted at me, “Oh yeah so what was I talking about?” I shrugged my shoulders, “Knowing you it was probably something about that Wayne kid and how he makes your heart flutter.” I finished with a laugh and a dramatic bat of my lashes. Her face flushed as our other friends laughed in agreement before going back to their conversations. She reached over and smacked my hand. “Shut the hell up he’s at the table behind you.” I snorted at her whisper yelling before clearing my throat “What? Who’s behind me?” I yelled earning another smack from the girl. “I’ll never understand why you’re so hung up on a guy like that.” She sighed tossing a braid behind her shoulder. “You wouldn’t get it, he’s got that mysterious bad boy who’s secretly a good boy with a heart of gold thing going on.” I snorted a laugh before turning around to look at said 'heartthrob’ Heavy on the quotations. He sat at the table next to his only, not to mention loud, friend, arms crossed, face locked in a perpetual 'Fuck off’ expression. His eye snapped up meeting mine , I turned around quickly after. “Sure he’s a pretty boy but if the insides ugly why bother?” She smacked her lips in shock “How do you know he’s not a nice guy?” I scoffed, raising my brow “Do you not recall any interaction anyone’s ever had with him? You’re the one who had to be his lab partner, and what did he say when you sat down to work?” She grumbled “He refused to work together and told me 'Let me do it, I’ve seen your grades.’.” “Exactly! nah man fuck outta here with that that 'holier than thou’ attitude.” I finished my rant with and angry bite from the French fry “Okay I don’t know why you’re gassing me like that, I just think he’s fine is all.” I nodded cleaning my hands on my uniform skirt. “Yeah, sure alright.” She threw a balled up napkin at my head, having saw it coming I grabbed it mid air. Dana pouted “I can never catch you off guard can I.” “The day you do that is the day Damian gets the stick out his ass.” We shared a laugh before the ringing bell demanded us back to our individual classes, as I rose I felt a wave of fear crash over me. I felt the familiar tug pulling my body, something was about to happen ,here at school. With all these people. Shit. I closed my eyes and let the sensation pull me towards the back of the cafeteria, 'yikes alright (y/n) think, how to get these kids outta here fast, can’t exactly explain yourself so think quick.’ my eyes scanned the room before a glimmer of yellow pulled my focus, perched on the wall in the corner of the room was the bright red fire alarm, the yellow glimmer pulled me in like a magnet and I could tell by the rising panic in my chest I needed them out of here quick, there no way I can get there in time with all these kids in the way. A bright idea popped in my head and before I could consider the embarrassment I was gonna face once this was over, I jumped on the nearest table. I heard Dana call out over the chatter of voices. “(Y/n) what the hell are you doing up there?!” I ignored her and made a break for the alarm, I hopped from table to table side stepping leftovers and garbage before finally reaching out and slamming down on the lever, instantly the sprinkler system poured down upon us. “Everyone run!” I screamed causing a chain reaction of panicked shouting, everybody in the room squirmed to get out over the blaring alarm and screams, all but me and Damian, who now stood on a table glaring at me through the water. He stormed over grabbing my arm and pulling me down from the table, nearly making me bust my ass on the slippery bench. “What the hell was that?” He yelled over the noise, trying to pull me back towards the doors leading back inside. “Listen to me we need to leave!” I yelled trying to tear my arm away from his iron grip. “You’re going straight to the principal’s office, you think you can get away with this?” He snarled down at me, I finally managed to rip myself away “I’m trying to help you asshole, if we don’t leave we could seriously get hurt- or die!” He rolled his eyes, the green really contrasted really nicely with the dark of his lashes - noW’S NOT THE TIME (Y/N)

“How would you know that?” He questioned, still trying to yell over the blaring alarm, by now the entire cafeteria was empty except for us. “You wouldn’t believe me of I told you.” “Try me.” I opened my mouth to answer when the doors we were headed to were kicked open. Faster than I thought humanly possible we were on the floor behind a pillar, our bodies we’re squashed together, his pressing mine against the wall, his finger silently pressed against his mouth, I nodded, to busy trying to remember how to breathe to talk.

In flooded a group of three men, all armed with something, all wearing cheap party city masks. “We have arrived!- wait where are the brats?” The one in the middle asked, “Fuck if I know it’s a Monday, they should be here.” The first guy stomped his foot in anger. “How are we supposed to get J’s attention if there’s no hostages to take eh?” He sounded like a toddler throwing a fit at Walmart, difference is usually Walmart toddlers don’t have guns. Damian drew my attention by bending down to whisper in my ear. “How many of them?” It took me a moment to respond, my throat had gone dry. Damn fear, damn pretty boy all close to my face.

“Three.” “Do they have weapons?” “Yes one has a gun the other two have bats.” “Where are they, be specific.” “Uh- uhm two by the snack bar and the gun guy is by the door.” He nodded eyes serious and calculating, to be honest it was kinda freaky how he was acting. “Stay here, no matter what you see.” Before I could voice my confusion he rolled his eyes “I’m serious, (y/n). Stay. Here.” His voice was too authoritative to argue with so I put my hand up in surrender. He nodded before. Crouching down and rolling off toward the guy with a gun, his back was facing me but the other two idiots were trying to figure out the vending machine. “Fuck this.” Thing 1 said taking his bat to the glass, all the while being cheered on by thing 2. This sudden distraction is what Damian was waiting for because like a bullet he launched his body at the man holding the gun, a swift punch to the neck send the guy down, his gun skirted away as he hit the ground. A cringe worthy battle cry left the throats of thing 1 and 2 as they charged Damian, I nearly ran out there before remembering his very strict warning. I watched Damian block and deflect their hits all while trying to stay balenced in the drenched room, my eyes frantically followed the fight trying to wrap my head around how this asshole rich kid could fight off three fully grown men and do it well. The yellow glow caught my eye directing me to the gun and the figure slowly crawling toward it. Without much consideration I leaped over a table grabbing a disregarded lunch tray along the way, as the man shakily raised his hand to aim at Damian I managed to whack down on his hand with the metal tray as hard as I could, his hand squeezed the trigger regardless of my hit but he managed to knock his buddy in the arm. I quickly brought the tray down on his head before he could rise up, then again for good measure. And once more for fun. When I looked up both goons were knocked unconscious, Damian stood above them, a cut in his cheek and a slightly busted lip but all in all he seemed okay. “What happened to staying still?” He panted out “Oh so your mad I saved you from a bullet hole, by all means next time I’ll let it happen if you so desire.” The corner of his mouth rose slightly before falling back down to it’s natural state. “How’d you know to pull the alarm.” I rubbed my arm quickly getting cold, my wet uniform clinging to my body providing no help there. “It’s hard to explain.” “I’ve got time.” “How about this, you tell me where you learned to fight like that and I’ll tell you how I know what I know.” He pursed his lips, letting his mind chew on my offer. “How about this, I don’t tell anyone about you, and you don’t tell anyone about me?” I snorted at his obvious avoiding of the question but stuck my hand out regardless.

“You got yourself a deal pretty boy.”

#dc #dc imagine #dc reader insert #damian wayne x reader #poc reader #poc imagine #various x reader #x reader #robin #endless

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