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harry-styles-obsessed · 3 months

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We’ll be alright

Requested: yes.

Synopsis: reader is struggling to get out of an abusive relationship, what happens when the two find themselves at a Harry styles concert and are surprisingly interrupted by someone concerned for y/n’s safety.

Trigger warnings: neglect, abuse, bruising, toxic relationships, abusive boyfriend. Please don’t read if you’re sensitive to such topics, take care of yourselves lovelies.

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

“Tom. Not now” you spoke exhaling. The sound of Harry’s voice rang out around the arena— voice loud and clear “yes now.” He spat out before firmly grabbing onto your wrist practically dragging you out, barging past people dancing and past security who really should’ve done something but they barely noticed. Harry’s voice got fainter and fainter— kiwi being blasted, one of your favourite songs, but that soon became the least of your worries your boyfriend of two years dragging you until eventually stopping in an alleyway many cars parked in the alleyway but you didn’t focus on that

“What was that?” Tom growled out and you stared at him confused “what was what?” “You dancing with those pricks! What are you now? A fucking slut? Is that who you’ve turned into? A slut looking for men to fuck huh?” His words were cruel and unnecessary your brows arching “how dare you!” You spoke angrily to him and he shoved you abruptly “how dare I? Y/n how dare you! You’re a slut and a wasteful bitch.” Your eyes searched his face knowing he meant every word but you wished he didn’t. What had changed him? Why had he changed? Why wasn’t he the same loving man you knew before? Kiwi was still playing, the screaming of fans continued echoing around but all you could hear was Tom’s aggressive words “you’re a joke and a slut! No wonder you won’t let me touch you anymore! Too fucking scared because you sleep with too many men!” And before you could even react he had you pinned against the wall, his breath fanning against your face making you squirm “you’re a waste of space y/n. A fucking waste of space. You hear me? You drag me to this stupid fucking concert to stare at yet another man you clearly want to fuck!” “Tom you’re being cra-“ “I am not being crazy y/n! Shut the fuck up!” His voice echoed down the alleyway, angry and abrupt— voice loud enough for members of the public to take notice but they didn’t dare to get involved. “Oh screw you!” You attempted to pull away only for him to abruptly slap you across the face “you’re going to regret that you little b—“

“hey!” A firm voice suddenly spoke toms head moving to look at the stranger who was emerging from the darkness “take a damn walk, man.” The shadowed man spat out Tom glaring right at him. “Or what, man.” He spoke sarcastically “this ain’t none of your business! You take a fucking walk! Let me handle my shit!” Suddenly Tom was gripping onto your hair, but that didn’t last long, the burning on your scalp disappearing— your attention flying to the man who had your boyfriends wrist gripped in his hand, bent slightly at the elbow glaring right at him “want me to call the police or do you want to take a walk?” His voice now that you focused on it was oddly familiar. Scarily familiar… your breath hitched slightly. You watched your boyfriend rip out of the man’s hold before storming off out of the alleyway. You remained tucked in the corner, back pressed tightly against the cold brick wall the darkness surrounding you scared you— but before you could’ve even question anything the familiar stranger could be heard shuffling before a bright torch flashed in your eyes making you squint, realising he had pulled his phone out and was creating light either to bring some form of comfort to you.. or to make sure you didn’t need medical attention. “Are you okay?”

You refused to look at him feeling all shaky and nervous. You knew who it was and to be quite honest you were embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.” Was all your could muster up before finally you looked at him and low and behold it was who you thought it was. Harry fucking styles. The man who had saved your life with his music at the age of 15 and here you were at the age of 20 being saved yet again but in a whole another way. “Don’t apologise.” Was all he said before he glanced around eyes taking a quick look at your outfit which practically screamed ‘love on tour’ and he sighed knowing it was a risk but it was more of a risk leaving you in the hands of a monster,

“Come with me.” He spoke and you were hesitant at first but with his hand on the small of your back he guided you into the backstage area of the arena. You didn’t speak frankly upset and traumatised. Sure it had gotten bad at times but not that bad. Your hands trembled slightly by your side as you were lead into his dressing room “get comfortable. Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” He questioned but you only shook your head. “Well I’m not letting you go back with him.” Was all he said before he exited the room making you panic slightly worried he was going to get someone to take you elsewhere but much to your surprise he returned with a bottle of water, a blanket and a goodie bag which looked to have some sweets and snacks in it. “Here. Stay here as long as you want alright? Just try and.. relax.” You nodded gratefully a silence quickly wrapping around the two of you before you glanced at him “thank you.” Was all you said and he only shook his head, seeming at a loss for words as he sat down opposite you. “What’s your name?” You looked at him “y/n.” He smiled and reached his hand out “nice to meet you y/n. I’m Harry.” You hesitantly shook his hand before retracting your hand looking back down “I’m so sorry you should be celebrating and—“ “don’t apologise. I’m glad I could help.” He spoke and you felt your heart begin to race in your chest feeling his eyes evaluate you.

“You did more than help me.” You murmured honestly and he raised a brow “you saved my life, harry… honest.” He seemed slightly confused and due to your vulnerability and trust in him despite him being a stranger he was your idol. “I’ve been trying to get out of that relationship for two years.” The look on his face was a look of alarm “I think you’ve helped me see that he really is the issue.” Harry nodded clearly fighting the urges to say something about Tom. You and him soon spent a while chatting about everything and anything and eventually you felt like you could head back home now. You of course declined the offer of him driving you home and staying with you until you could file a report against Tom— he had done more than enough already. “Let me call you a taxi at least.” He spoke and you eventually agreed, he called a taxi and paid for all the funds before he walked with you outside his hand ghosting just against your lower back. “You promise not to go back to him?” He spoke and you glanced at him, nodding your head “promise.” You smiled slightly your eyes searching his before you focused on headlights growing closer and closer the ‘taxi’ sign glowing.

“This is my ride I guess…” you murmured before looking at him before quickly without even thinking hugging him tightly, him reciprocating the hug holding onto you securely hand rubbing up and down your back not letting you go until you loosened your grip on him, but you didn’t let go— which he soon noticed hugging you closer again proving exactly what the stories said… he didn’t let go until you let go. “Thank you for everything.” You spoke into his ear quietly before you pulled away not allowing him to ask anything. He opened the door for you before he grabbed your wrist stopping you momentarily “let me know when you get home” was the only thing he said and you nodded smiling slightly. You got into the taxi before the taxi pulled off the curb your stomach fluttering… your idol had saved your life… the drive was fairly quick— yet you were nervous that Tom would be there but he wasn’t. You exhaled thanking the driver before exiting the taxi and making your way towards your apartment sliding the key in and opening the door just as your phone vibrated in your pocket:

H: did you get home safely

A small smile tugged at your lips as you read the message over and over again. It was a simple message but it was so special. Proof that he cared for you.

Y/n: locking the front door now.

H: good. Glad you’re home.

His messages were instant proving that you were on his mind… it made you feel a certain way. You stared at the messages for a while— about fifteen minutes passing. You were grinning at the phone like an idiot yet you were still nervous the psycho would show up… you let out a shaky breath before typing out a quick message

Y/n: harry?

H: y/n

You smiled like an idiot again being able to hear his voice through the phone

Y/n: is that offer still open?

You watched the chat bubble move in the motion for a while— before it abruptly stopped. It made you anxious. Worried. Terrified even. Yet you didn’t spam him with messages you just patiently waited but eventually to your surprise you heard a knock at your front door and you cautiously walked towards it before unlocking the door and pulling it open seeing Harry a small smile playing at his lips as you stared at him in awe… your favourite celebrity literally offering to help you and not hesitating to help.. he was literally perfect.

“I’m flattered, love. But are you going to let me in?” You blushed deeply before moving away from the door letting him in before shutting the door again and locking it. “Why’d you change your mind?” He questioned as you walked with him towards your bedroom, and you paused glancing at him before you smiled “you protected me when no one else did.“ you spoke honestly before you sighed gently “you won’t leave will you?” You asked and he studied you carefully before smiling tattooed arm wrapping around your shoulders “not until you want me gone. No.” He spoke softly as you leaned into his embrace. “I don’t think I ever want you gone.” You murmured honestly a smile tugging on his lips his dimples appearing “the feelings mutual, sweetheart.” You didn’t know what that exactly meant but truly it was multilayered. He didn’t want to leave because he knew Tom could manipulate you again and do much worse and he had to make sure that didn’t happen to you again… he didn’t care what it took.

He was going to keep you afloat in these rough conditions until you learnt how to protect yourself… he was going to be your saviour until you didn’t need him anymore but let’s be honest… you’d always need him no matter what.

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #yn #harry styles x you #harrystyles #x reader #harry x fem reader #harry x yn #harry styles x reader #protective harry #tw triggers #emotional #cute #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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thedoubteriswise · 4 years

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okay so. I am a smart adult with many important responsibilities. I have good taste and care about things that matter. for this reason, I’ve been trying to identify where in cql canon wangxian manage to fuck.

because they definitely do; I like a good post-canon getting together fic as much as the next guy, but it’s just not realistic.

allow them. it’s already been so long.

(just like this goddamn post turned out to be, let’s do a cut)

right. so initially it looks like you could place this right after the time skip in episode 33, because it shows us that wwx is with lwj in cloud recesses. we know that he spent the night in the jingshi because he wakes up there the next morning before he goes for a nostalgic tour of his old school.

and also visits the cold spring, where lwj is mostly naked. nice.

but wait! wwx is surprised by the scars on his back and chest. that seems like something he would have known about if they’d already been naked together the night before, so I’m going to say they did not fuck immediately upon wwx’s return to cloud recesses. okay, fine, they’re taking things slow, that’s cool.

maybe they could work it into the next night, then. oh wait, lqr is injured and... staying in the jingshi? for reasons?

I don’t know why. he must have his own house in cloud recesses, and it’s probably at least as comfortable as lwj’s, but here he is. he lives to stop his nephew from getting laid, I guess.

the next day they do some Q&A with the kids and determine that they need to head to qinghe to figure out what’s going on with this sword thing. great! we love a romantic road trip, plenty of alone time. but they also have to do their jobs, and then jin ling needs to get rescued from a wall of dirt, and jc is unfortunately there being himself, and then they have to grill nhs about his tomb full of angry sabers, etc. etc.

with all that going on, their next obvious chance is at the inn immediately after interviewing nhs. this evening has already included:

wwx gazing lovingly at lwj from afar

lwj carrying wwx on his back

lwj pawing at wwx’s robes trying to deal with his cursed leg

lwj helping wwx up the stairs, serving him wine, fixing his flute, and generally being at his beck and call

a very sexy and homoerotic duet

and now they’re alone and drooling over each other as usual. this seems like a plausible spot, right?

it does! but no. after they go back to the nie basement o’ swords and hear the backstory on nmj’s death, we see them walking in yueyang and lwj asks wwx how the curse mark on his leg is doing. wwx says it’s almost healed, which may or may not be a lie, but his inner monologue says:

he’s more concerned about the wound on his arm from the sacrificing curse, which lwj doesn’t know about, because wwx won’t tell him and they still haven’t been naked together.

also, this silly teenage shit doesn’t make much sense unless they’re still dancing around each other.

you guys love the sound of opportunities as they go flying past, don’t you?

right after this, lwj gets drunk. I’m aware that Stuff Happens in the novel scene that inspired this bit, and they do incorporate some of that into the show by having lwj commit petty larceny and admit that he “likes rabbits” as part of the softest and most loving conversation in human history oh my god

but lwj goes to sleep right on time, and the next morning, wwx is laughing and reassuring him that nothing happened.

after this, it’s time to go on a fucked up field trip with the kids in yi city, so they don’t really have any time alone for a few episodes until they’ve finished that and everyone is back at yet another inn. I wonder if they learned something about wasted chances and poor communication from this miserable songxiao story?

maybe! look, they’re being cute and domestic. there are currently no material barriers preventing them from having sex, nor will there be any specific evidence later on proving that they didn’t.

but they’re still firmly in mystery-solving mode and the juniors and lxc are floating around. the vibe isn’t quite there. if I were to pick the most solid reason why I think they’re saving room for jesus at this point, it would be the tension that happens when wwx again asks how lwj recognized him. lwj asks why his memory is so bad, and wwx replies that he wishes he had a bad memory. even though they’re comfortable and happy being together, there’s still some fundamental distance remaining. there’s no sense of romantic resolution. that was actually a point against all their previous opportunities as well; they’re all very sweet, but none of these feel like the place in a story where the romantic leads Officially Get Together.

okay, off to koi tower! shit is getting extremely real. everyone’s busy insinuating that they recognize wwx, but no one is saying it explicitly. wwx isn’t supposed to be here. the guy he’s pretending to be also isn’t supposed to be here. he and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s brother are trying to figure out if his boyfriend’s brother’s boyfriend is a murderer. no one is comfortable and the political intrigue leaves no time for fucking in front of anyone’s salad.

I guess there’s plenty of time to make dozens of armed guards and like half the people they know wait while they have a romantic moment, though.

could they be more in love? And that sure feels like a romantic resolution that might be followed by narratively-earned sex.

ah. no, unfortunately wwx gets stabbed again. this certainly sucks, but it does have the helpful consequence of making lwj take him back to cloud recesses, where they are mostly alone and as safe as they can be in the circumstances. now there’s even more tenderness and also some plot-justified touching and skin exposure. plus, lwj just made a very public declaration of love.

too bad wwx has probably been unconscious since he started coughing up blood in the forest near lanling. he’s also still visibly in pain. fresh abdominal wounds tend to kill the mood.

but hey, the injuries on this show are only as serious as they need to be to move the plot forward and facilitate gentle h/c scenes, so by evening he’s looking perfectly healthy and walking around under his own steam like nothing’s wrong. I guess that problem can be ignored moving forward.

lxc then offers the the most devastating highlights of lwj’s backstory, like, all at once. it’s nice that he includes a flute solo to give wwx a second to process this mountain of terrible information. what the fuck.

there he is! the most devoted man in the whole world! turns out they can actually be more in love after all.

and then the following scene... look, I’m lazy and I don’t know how to make gifs, but screenshots cannot properly convey how good it is. you all know. the hesitant way wwx approaches, the slow and gentle piano version of wangxian, the two of them watching the snow together, it’s. ugh.

remember how I was talking about how the last scene with no material barriers was an unlikely candidate because of the lack of romantic resolution?

well, here’s wwx still being cagey at the beginning of this conversation.

and here they are in the middle of this conversation, having some epiphanies about the course of wwx’s life - I love this shot for a lot of reasons, but I extra love it because it shows wwx out in the snow, with lwj as the safety and warmth waiting behind him, god this show goes hard, holy shit

they both recall their vow to live with a clean conscience and internally say some very corny things about each other because they are both So Much, and then,

ah, what the hell. he can say it out loud after all. romantic resolution accomplished.

and then the camera slowly pulls away as wuji plays.

a slow zoom out? swelling music? listen, I am a connoisseur, I know a tasteful fade-to-black indicating a sex scene that won’t happen on camera when I see one. at last, we have a winner!

now you may think this post is finally over, but I actually have one more piece of evidence for you - the next scene shows the two of them the morning after, meditating behind a screen in the hanshi while lxc is waiting for jgy to show up.

before wwx got de-cored, he was a pretty powerful cultivator, right? the chances that he’s just bad at meditating or that he can’t stay focused on this task seem slim to me. so why does he keep falling asleep?

well. he had kind of a late night.

#yes I do have a lot of time on my hands #the untamed #cql #wangxian #meta #my meta

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deluluass · 3 years

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all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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wwilloww · 3 years

Text

the bodyguard | ksj

pairing: bodyguard!jin x reader

genre: smut, fluff

rating: explicit

wc: 5k

summary: As your bodyguard, keeping you safe from the world comes with rules for Kim Seokjin. But you’re used to getting what you want, and you want him.

warnings: nudity. pining. makeout. YN always gets what they want. no pronouns used to address reader. public sex. exhibitionism. unprotected sex (pls be smarter than these fictional characters). creampie. fingering. oral sex. multiple orgasms. fluff. oh my god so much fluff.

AN: The first part of this fic was written entirely wined up with the INTENTION OF IT BEING A DRABBLE. The second part of this fic was written with the intention of showing all the love to Jin, but then came the idea of smut and bam here we are. 1 million thank yous to @jin-fizz, who beta’d this at the very last moment and helped me rearrange some things. SMOOCHES to you, you lovely!

The Bodyguard

“Help! Someone, please, Help!”

The cry rings through the rooms, splitting through walls, through the heavy wooden doors of the almost-empty city manor.

Jin’s footsteps echo from what sound like too far away, climbing the stairs, sprinting down the creaking wooden boards. He bursts through the door to find you, crouched and hunched over your leg on the floor.

“What! What’s wrong?” he almost yells.

His gaze flicks around the room, taking in every detail possible. The unmade bed, the open perfume bottle on your vanity, the doors open to the balcony, curtains fluttering in the late-night breeze.

“My leg!”

In a split second the man your father has hired to be your bodyguard is on his hands and knees next to you, large hands reaching for your palm, gripping it tight.

She had shown you exactly how to do it. Mixing the expression of pain and beauty so expertly on your face. Your mother, despite all the awards and golden trophies she had won for her Hollywood success, had always been the best kind of actress at home.

His eyes light with the slightest amount of relief as he scans your face.

Alright. She’s alright.

“Where?”

Before you can even say anything, he’s gripping your ankles, pulling you to him, looking for any sign of injury.

“Higher.” You lace the pain so particularly into your voice.

His deft fingers kneed into the flesh of your calf, searching for the cause of your cries.

“I don’t see-”

“Higher,” you insist.

His fingers trace so delicately, so carefully, over your knee, pressing into your thigh, higher, higher, until he’s brushing back the silken fabric of your nightgown.

And then, breath drawn so quickly through his nose, fingers digging into you, holding you tight.

“Oops,” you breath. “I must have completely forgotten.”

“To put panties on?”

“Mhmm. Exactly.”

With a quick movement, he’s wrapped both of his hands around your calves and tugs you forward to him.

“You’re a liar,” he drones, your legs nearly wrapped around his waist.

“I am.”

“And a cheat.”

“Of course.” You grin. “You know more than anyone that I don’t like to play these kinds of games by other people’s rules. And I know that you love it.”

He doesn’t respond. Just closes his eyes, takes a long controlled breath. When he exhales it brushes so teasingly across your face.

“I might be a liar, but I know you’re not.” You reach for his cheek, and you think you see his eyelids flutter at the touch. His hands are still wrapped around your leg, the warmth of his palms seeping through into you. “So tell me you haven’t been thinking about this,” you whisper.

He growls softly, his eyes flashing bright and conscious towards you.

“You know I can’t.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me?” You draw on your prettiest of pouts.

“I can’t.”

You just blink back at him, letting your eyelashes brush against the warming rise of your cheeks.

“That’s not a no.”

“Your father would kill me.”

“Father’s not home.”

“He’ll be back by morning. And he’ll take pleasure in killing me if he were to know,” Jin asserts, running a hand through the falling wave of his sky-dark hair.

“You’re avoiding the question. Why do you always avoid my questions?” You push yourself closer to him, coming to wrap your hands around his neck and tug on the fresh pressed angle of his white dress shirt collar. He looks away from you.

“Because you always ask all the wrong questions.”

“I do not. In fact, I’d argue I’m asking all the right ones.” You glance up at him. The look in his eyes is unmistakable. Desire. Mixed with restraint. You know which one he’ll let win out over the other, and within a second he’s proving you right.

“I should go.”

He begins to pull away from you.

“You should stay.” You push yourself forward, wrapping your legs around his torso and slinging your arms around his neck. Impulsively, his hands press against your lower back, supporting you. So when he stands, you’re face to face. He blinks, taking a second to realize your position.

“Stay. Please,” you whisper.

He continues to stare at you, eyes tracing the shadow of your brow, the press of your lips, the mound of your warm cheeks. Your confidence crumbles in his silence.

“At least tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not making it up. Tell me I’m not alone in this.”

Finally, his eyes flick up to yours. It’s there. The answer. But he remains silent, his breath moving through his chest, and then through you. The stillness of the moment — being held by the man you can’t get out of your mind — mixed with the bitter taste of a lingering question. You can’t. You can’t hold it all, not in one body: the tenderness of his being and the acrid promise of his rejection.

And so you release your arms from around his neck. Unhook your legs. When your body drops softly to the floor he lets you go.

“It’s okay,” you say. “If you want to go, you can go.”

Without looking at him, you pad silently to the cracked open french doors. With a light push, they swing open before you and the crisp of the night air ruffles through your hair and the thin fabric of the night gown you’re wearing.

Silly. Silly. Silly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the breeze swirl around you and prickle with ice against your skin. If only you might lose yourself in it. If you could lift yourself up off the stone balcony to fly through the city streets, feeling nothing but the brush of strangers against you.

Had you mistaken it all? The lingering gazes. The tightened grip on your waist when your father introduced you to potential suitors — all of whom you’d quickly turned away in front of Jin, by the way. Did you misread the way that his gaze had begun to latch onto you to trace not just your safety, but your sense of being in a way that surpassed his usual loyalty? And most important to you, the way he’d begun smiling around you for the first time. Letting cracks show in his usually pristine professional behavior.

You wait for the sound of the doors to your bedroom slamming shut and Jin leaving, but you must be so lost in yourself that the sound never comes. It’s just the wind, howling. The beating of your heart in your chest. The bite of something that tastes like regret nibbling at your throat.

“How could you think I didn’t want you?” It’s so soft you can barely hear it. But you do.

Spin back towards the room.

Jin stands between the doors, his broad frame flickering gold in the soft light behind him. His face is shadowed in blue as he faces out into the night, out towards you, but his eyes shine with a warm light.

“How dare you?” he says softly with a smile playing against his lips. He steps towards you. Before the smile can fully take position on your lips, he’s so close to you you can feel the warmth of his large body radiating out towards you. “How dare you think I don’t want you.” A long pause. And then, as softly as if the words might break him: “You’re all I can think about.” Tentatively, he reaches out towards you.

And then he stops, just as his hand is about to touch your burning cheek.

You do the rest, stepping back into your usual tradition of goading him on. With a soft movement, you reach for him, interlacing your fingers with his and letting his touch fall across your face. You sigh into it. His thumb strokes slowly over your cheek bone.

“How dare I?” you say. “How dare you make me wait this long.”

He just smiles back, his dark eyes reflecting the streetlights back to you.

“Will you let me kiss you, now? Finally?”

“Finally, yes,” he says.

You reach up, pressing your fingers to the back of his neck where his hair has grown long in the past months, tangling your fingers into them before his lips have even reached yours.

None of your other first kisses have been like this. Sure, you’ve kissed other people. Other men. But you’ve never kissed Kim Seokjin before.

Your lips meet like wings brushing against each other: soft and fluttering, finding a path through the air with ten thousand questions etched into each feather. He wraps one of his long arms around your back, spreading his fingers wide and pressing you lightly into his chest, all the while his opposite hand brushes so lightly and tenderly against your cheek, guiding you ever closer, ever deeper into his affections.

“You,” he whispers against your lips, “are an absolute gift.”

“I don’t know how you did it,” you whisper back.

“What?”

“Resisted me for so long.” He snorts against you and you can’t help but giggle. “I swear to god I’ve been trying for so long to let you know how I’ve felt,” you explain, leaning your forehead against his.

“I’m a dumbass, baby.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Please,” you look up at him. “Kiss me again.”

For a split second he hesitates.

“What?” you ask. The silence that opens between you two opens up something else inside of you.

“If…” He wets his lips. “If I kiss you again, I won’t want to let go.”

“Then don’t.”

The smile that spreads across his pretty face is wide and splitting, but it is only a half second before he is recapturing you in his hold, pushing you back against the stone railing of the balcony as his lips meet yours a second time.

Whereas his first kiss was like a ring of petals opening slowly to the dawning sun, this kiss is midday heat. It is searing, pressing through you like a flash, lighting every nerve within you on fire. It is red and pink and all the warm colors on the spectrum of life. It burns you tender with its quickness, but all you want is more.

As if he is feeling exactly as you, his kiss quickens. He bites your lower lip and greedily swallows the moan that slips out of your mouth. When you tangle your fingers in his long hair, he hisses back at you and you can feel the curl of his smile against you.

“You like that,” you note quietly when he moves to nip at the cut of your jaw.

“I like you.”

With a graceful move, Jin twirls you around, slamming your back against the open door, effectively slamming it shut and leaving you in privacy on the balcony. Your breath rushes out of your lungs in a gasp.

“Jin?”

“Darling?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get as close to you as possible.”

“Then, goddamnit, get closer.”

He grins, takes your begging, and runs with it.

With the kind of grace and speed you were so used to seeing abound in him while he was working, he dives for your neck, intertwining the pillowed press of his lips with sharp nibbles against the sensitive skin.

“Closer.”

He chuckles and does as you bid. With his awkward strength, he lifts you, balancing your weight on his hips as you wrap your hands around his neck for balance. An unfortunate time to remember your current situation: entirely unclothed except the thin slip you donned just at Jin was sprinting up the stairs.

He adjusts you and your bare cunt brushes against the silky smooth fabric of his dress pants. But that’s not what makes you gasp. It’s the bulge that nestles hard and hot against you as he dives back in for your neck.

One hand tangled in his thick locks, you can’t help but grind your hips down on him. The sound that spills from his lips is needy, desperate, and it reverberates straight through you.

“I want you,” you whine as his hand graces up your torso. He pulls back. Cocks his head to the side ever so slightly.

“You want me?”

“As if having me half naked and wrapped around you isn’t enough to convince you of that?”

“Isn’t that a little… fast?”

“Is waiting four years a little too fast for you?”

“Good point.”

And he’s diving back in, nipping at the already blossoming marks on your neck. Throw your head back, relishing in his every touch and the even more divine gift: his entire attention focused on you.

“Please, Jin, I don’t want to wait anymore. I mean it.”

“What do you wan—”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh.”

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Mhmm.”

“On the balcony? Where everyone can see?”

You kiss him then, taking his lower lip between your teeth and relishing in the gasp that you pull from him.

“No one will see. And if they do, then they’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m yours.”

He grins back at you. “Mine?”

“If you want me.”

“Of course I want you. Don’t you know what you do to me?”

“You could tell me about it.”

“I could, but then I’d miss out all on this.”

Gently he lets you down, but his lips never leave yours as his hands come to meet your hips and guide you where he wants. You let one of your hands drift down from where you’ve kept them locked around his neck. Kissing him still, you pluck open the first two buttons of his dress shirt and trace your hands down the burning skin.

If you’re known for anything, you’re known for your impatience. So you don’t linger long on the smooth planes of his chest, and instead glide your hand down his torso until you reach his belt buckle. You make as if to dip underneath his pants, but at the last moment you pull away and cup the impressive bulge he’s already sporting.

“Shit,” he hisses as you trace a manicured nail around the shape of his cock. But all sound chokes in his throat as you grip his erection through the fabric of his pants and begin to stroke him. “Need you. Now.”

“Good.”

You begin to turn, to pull your nightgown up over your bottom, but he’s tugging you back towards him and spinning you around so you’re pressed to his chest.

“I want to see your face.”

It’s hasty work, him pulling himself out of his pants, wrapping his veiny hand around his throbbing cock and notching the head of it against your dripping folds. But you’re no more patient, hopping up so you’re seated precariously on the balcony railing and kissing at his neck steadily and reaching down to part your lips just for him.

He only teases you for a moment, stepping between your legs and dragging the head of his cock against your clit. He wraps one hand around your waist, securing you tightly to him.

“Please,” you breathe against his chest and he pushes into you in one swift thrust. The sensation of him filling you is everything. It clouds your vision. It resets your senses till all you can think of, can feel is this man’s existence, beating so close to yours.

“Fuck—” he hisses as his cock settles inside you, as you adjust around his thick girth.

“You’re so—” you pant against him.

“Is it too much?”

“Big. Just give me a moment.”

He does, reaching to cup the back of your neck and press a kiss to your forehead. It’s almost too intimate, the way he holds you so softly, so tenderly, all while his cock throbs within you. It’s in that moment that the discomfort of the stretch shifts to pleasure. Warmth, spreading from your abdomen outwards. You relax in his hold, hands falling from his neck to the strong muscles of his arms.

“Please,” you murmur. “Need you.”

His hips rut against yours as if he’s never had anything as good as you before.

“Want you to feel good,” he tells you. “Tell me—”

“Just need you—closer.”

You weren’t sure that he could get closer but it’s what your body craves and it’s what he serves. He wraps his arms around you, hands spreading wide and pressing you impossibly close. In the moment, you wish you two were bare as your bodies move against each other as if they’d known the shared rhythm all along.

He fucks you like that, like you’re suspended in air. The warmth of his body keeps you grounded as the height that hangs behind you reels through you, adding a giddy, heady feeling to it all. Or maybe the giddiness comes from the way you relish in the quick pants and desperate grunts that fall from his lips and to your shoulder. Or the way he gasps your name like a monk’s chant into your ear, the sound of it like nothing you’ve ever heard before. You don’t want to hear it any other way either.

When he comes, spilling deep inside you, it’s your name on his lips. When you come, it’s his name splitting through the silent sky.

Jin holds you there, pressed still against his chest for a long moment as you both catch your breath. It’s only when he feels the slight shiver of your body that he pulls back.

“You’re cold?” You nod. “Let’s get you inside.”

He helps you down carefully from the balcony banister before tucking himself away and grabbing your hands in one of his large ones.

“Come, I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t help but let the joy show on your face as he leads you forward.

He reaches behind him, opening the balcony doors. The light curtains wash out into the room with the cold air, brushing around Jin like some kind of ethereal welcome.

Welcome back to my world, you think. But the thought of reality, of the conversations, the negotiations, the reality that will await you in the morning slips out of your mind as Jin twirls you into his arms and suddenly your whole world is warm again. Suddenly your world is Jin again.

He peppers your whole face with kisses as he walks you backwards, loud smooching sounds echoing through the large room coupled with your giggles that turn into full blown laughter.

“Hey hey hey!” you chide, grabbing onto the loose collar that now teases the delicious arch of his collar bones and neck. “You can’t do that!”

“What!” he snaps between kisses. “I can’t kiss you!”

“Not if you’re going to be that ridiculous!”

At that moment you feel the soft edge of the bed hit the back of your knees and you are tumbling backwards, eyes widening with shock. At the last second he’s reaching behind you, catching you and lowering you slowly to the soft mattress. You reach for him, but he kneels at the edge of the bed, just far enough that your grabbing hands only find empty air.

“So then tell me, if I can’t drown you in kisses, can I at least do this?” His hand teases the hem of your slip, tracing circles on your upper thigh. The touch is simple, but it raises goosebumps all over your body. He slaps away your reaching hands.

“Or this?” His fingers dip beneath the fabric, tracing up your thigh to dance around your hip. “What about this?” He pulls the fabric all the way up to your waist. With the quickness of a fox, he’s bending down and licking one long line up the slick folds of your cunt.

“Fuck!”

His tongue swirls around your clit, still bathing in soft sensitivity from your most recent orgasm. He seems to sense this as he blows lightly against your lips, forcing your back to arch into the mattress, your hand reaching out instinctively to tangle in his hair.

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

“What, you act like it’s some kind of punishment.”

“It is, when it means you’re not up here, fucking me.” He blinks, still not quite used to your explicit language. “And anyways,” you pant, “doesn’t this kind of foreplay usually come before the mindblowing sex?”

“And who’s rules are you playing by now?”

You grin, giddy at the cleverness of your own words turned back on you.

“No one’s.” You push up to your elbows, taking in the beautiful man above you. “But if I’m making the rules, then I need you inside me, now.”

“Patience, darling,” Jin smiles, sitting up.

“No,” you say, reaching for him. “I will not be patient. Not for you, anyways.”

“No?”

“No.” You’re moving to unbutton his shirt, and he lets you, but doesn’t do much else to help you along. “Off, off, off,” you grumble, tugging on the collar of his now wrinkled shirt, but he stands there like a limp fish. You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “Please?”

Jin throws his head back and laughs that full-belly laugh. “Will I ever be able to say no to you? To this?”

“No,” you smile. “You won’t. And I won’t have it any other way.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips, one that lingers long and sweet. Sweet enough that when he pulls back, you miss the taste of him. But he’s doing as you’ve asked and quickly tugs his shirt over his head and drops his pants to the floor.

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen something as beautiful.

Jin had always had the power to command a room with his large but quiet presence, but seeing him like this, bare and breathing hard for you is something entirely different. There is both something soft and sweet about the tenderness of him, and something sharp about the desire he lets swirl through his body. You want it all.

“Your turn?” he asks softly, reaching for the slip that pools around your hips. “I want to see you.”

You nod and he pulls the light fabric up over your head with an unspoken gentleness.

“Look at you,” he breathes, but his gaze doesn’t linger long on your body. Instead, it’s latched onto your gaze, watching for every thought that will flicker across your expression.

“Come here.” You open your arms wide and he is tumbling into your embrace, pushing you back into the bed. You’re both giggling in the sensation of falling, giggling at each other's laughter, giggling because, really, what else is there to do when you’re finally wrapped up in the person you adore?

And then you take a breath. Let the silence of the room, the old, ticking clock in the hallway, the sweeping sounds off the streets filter through both of you. For a moment both of you become everything around you. For a moment, both of you are only the sensation of looking at another and wondering.

It doesn’t last.

It’s too difficult to resist reaching up for him, pressing your fingers lightly against the arc of his neck and drawing his lips back to where they belong: against yours. You’re not sure how, but each time he kisses you it’s a whole new world. This time, it’s spring. Ice melting against the promise of warmth. He melts against your touch and you wrap your legs around his waist.

He pushes into you without resistance. This time, your body welcomes him with ease, wrapping warmly around his throbbing length. He reaches so far into you.

When he begins to move, it’s too much. The spear of pleasure shoots through your abdomen and you arch your back. He stills immediately.

“Look at me,” Jin says. “I want to see your eyes when you come around my cock.”

You smile. Nip at whatever skin is accessible to you. Press yourself as close to him as you possibly can and chase the pleasure of having him, finally, in your bed.

When you grind your hips against his, he grunts and thrusts deeper.

When he lowers his weight down on you, he does it at an angle, one hand near your chest, the other one coming down on your hips. His fingers wrap around your waist and he begins to move you in time to his thrusts. It’s with even more power that he enters you now, but his pace has slowed just enough that your own orgasm dangles in front of you like he’s teasing you with sweetness.

He’s always teasing you, isn’t he.

Pleasure ripples across his face, marking his brow, dancing across his lips like a fleeting ghost. You want to memorize the way his delight radiates out into the world, want to return to it everyday like a favorite book.

He holds you like he has so many times before, but this time there’s a new edge to his gaze. Trust. He knows you’re his. Knows that the blossoming purple on your neck and the breath coming quickly from your lungs are marks of him. That even if the red blessing of dawn tears him from your bed and your arms that this moment is marked, is held, by him.

For now that will be enough.

He has you wrapped up in his arms, your gaze fluttering between pleasure and weariness.

“You’re a gift.”

You don’t know what it is about that phrasing. If it’s the way the words take shape on his pink lips, if it’s the deep sound of his voice flooding through you. If it’s the devotion swimming in his eyes. Either way, your cheeks flood with warmth and you cut back: “You said that already.”

“And I meant it both times.”

He notices your flickering gaze and the heat painting your cheeks and reaches for you, stroking his thumb against the burning flesh.

“You’re so warm.”

“I’m embarrassed,” you say softly.

“What?” He leans in. “The crown jewel of the city embarrassed? By a measly little affection?”

“You’d be surprised at the list of things you do that can bring a blush to my cheeks,” you cut back too quickly — only to realize it’s not as much of a cut as you thought it was.

“Oh?” He rolls closer. So his chest is once more pressed to yours. He lets his hand drift up to tug on a loose strand of hair that falls into your face. “Tell me more.”

“Really?”

“Give me the juicy details.”

“No!”

“Give them to me,” he grins. “I want to know exactly why the hell you’ve fallen for me, me of all people.”

“Fine — that, uh—” Suddenly you are overwhelmed with all of the moments and instances that this dear man inspired you with. Where to begin? “I can’t get you out of my head.”

“I know. You’ve made that quite clear.” He punctuates his meaning by flicking his gaze towards the discarded nightgown at the foot of the bed. “But why?”

Moment after moment flies through your brain and before you can think of censoring yourself, you’re grabbing on to the first one that sparks your attention. “That thing you do when you throw me over your shoulder and run. It’s a little excessive but I promise you it gives me plenty of time to admire your broad shoulders.”

That crinkling scrutiny in his eye glimmers again.

“It’s just my body. Hm.”

“No! No…” You correct him, bringing your hands up to his cheeks and tugging his face closer to you to make sure he is listening.

“Your kindness.”

“Sure. My job is to beat people up for you and you fell for my kindness?” You see the flash of shyness in his expression and suddenly you’re devoted to making him understand. He doesn’t see it.

“Really.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know… when you aren’t out there performing you’re actually quite riddled with kindness and… intricacies.”

He laughs. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Like… that one time you woke me up at 3am because it was our only night at the beach and you weren’t going to pass up the chance to go fishing — and refused to leave me alone just to do something you loved — and how you sat there with your little frown and waited for hours only to realize that we were in the completely wrong spot to be fishing in the first place. You love it. And you’re horrible at it. And in this stupid world where everything either has to be for perfection or for money — that’s so fucking refreshing.”

His laughter echoes through the room, bouncing off of the cold stone and landing warmly in your chest. “That-that’s it? My horrible fishing skills. What about the time-”

“At the gallery?”

“Where I literally-”

“Took a bullet-”

“To my shoulder!”

“Your prized possessions,” you wink.

“Yes, the time I saved your life. That’s not it?”

“Sure, sure,” you flap your hand. “I can find a man to take a bullet for me on any street corner, any day of the week.”

“Sure, sure!” Jin scoffs back at you, but he’s smiling. Watching the way his plump lips stretch towards his cheeks, you realize you could list the reasons you can’t let him go until the sun bridges her gaze over the horizon of city buildings — and still not be finished. And yet, you continue.

“Here’s one: The way you listen. You take things in and notice — but, no, it’s not just noticing. You process them and turn them quietly into something deep and beautiful and meaningful and it never fails to surprise me. And! And the way that sometimes when you laugh it sounds like something horribly squeaky and delightful.”

His jaw drops.

“Something squeaky!”

“Like windshield wipers… Sometimes! Only sometimes! And it’s delightful!”

His brow narrows.

“I’m going to kiss you now to shut you up before you say something even worse than that.” Your eyes widen. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes-yes, god, I’ll have you.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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#jin smut #bts #jin #jin fic #ficswithluv #bts smut #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btscreatorscorner #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #hyunglinenetwork #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #jin x reader #smut #fluff #bodyguard!au #nonidol!au

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Rescue Mission – Suicide Mission.

Part 1 - Destroy the family.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Brainy x Reader.

Word count: 2160.

Warning: Angst. Injuries. Kidnappings.

It’s by the tone that you know something is wrong. When the principal knocks on your classroom door, and you hear your name being called out, you know it. Just by her tone.

“Something is wrong.” You say to Jamie, before getting up. “You know what to do.”

“Good luck.” It’s what she answers, and you’re not sure why, but you know you will need it.

She knows what to do. Situations like this have happened before, where you leave your classroom and don’t come back for the rest of the day, or even for the rest of the week. You usually leave everything behind, and what Jamie needs to do it’s put them away in your locker in between classes, and hope you’ll come back in one piece.

Maya looks at you, with furrowed brows, like asking what’s going on, and you nod at her while biting your lower lip. Jamie will also fill her in with whatever lie she can think of that day.

You’re out of the classroom and looking around to see any of your moms there, but it is aunt Alex who shows up. This fact alone is more than proof that all hell is breaking loose somewhere outside the safety of your school.

“Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin. I’ll take her from here.” Alex says, taking her hand out of her jacket’s pocket and putting it on your shoulder. You walk a little down the hallway knowing the matter is important and secret. What other reason would bring Alex to your school to see you and not her own daughter?

“Well?” You ask because you can’t wait much longer. The principal is far enough so she can’t hear you, and there’s no one outside the classrooms.

“I shouldn’t have this conversation here nor-” Alex says, opening the front door and you don’t see her motorcycle anywhere. “Let’s just fly to the DEO. It's an urgent matter.”

She doesn’t have to say twice. You’re curious about what could be so urgent, and to figure out why your heart is beating almost out of your chest when she hasn’t even said anything yet, but if it's an urgent matter, you know she won’t discuss them in public. You pick her up and fly to the DEO in a blur, getting there faster than anyone can say ‘what the fuck is that in the sky?’.

“There was an emergency elsewhere.” Alex starts, marching down the DEO with you right behind her. Brainy silently joins her on the other side. “We sent Supergirl to look at this situation hours ago.” She makes sure to emphasize the word hours so you know it’s serious. “It could’ve been a diversion though, because a while later this happened.”

You look at the tablet that was shoved in front of your face by Brainy. ‘This’ is an image of L-Corp being invaded by what looks like a whole army of men.

“What did they take?” You ask, pushing the tablet out of your face, and back to Brainy.

“Only one thing.” It’s Brainy who answers, and Alex stops walking, turning to you with a serious expression.

“Lena.”

Your heart stops for a second, your stomach drops, and your breath gets stuck in your lungs. You expected her to say anything, anything in the universe, except that. You fight the tears forming on your eyes. You can’t cry, you don’t have time for that. You must save her. You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, or for this sick feeling coming from your stomach up your throat. You stop it right there. You don’t even have time to throw up.

“Supergirl?” You ask as soon as you manage to. Alex’s hands go to your shoulders, and she gives both a light squeeze.

“No response for longer than what is expected.” You feel your stomach dropping again. No response is not good, and you know that. It’s no trouble speaking to the comm, so if she is not responding, it is because she can’t do so.

Your mind travels fast to all the worst scenarios you can imagine. Kara not responding being Rao knows where, and Lena being kidnapped is the definition of all the things that could go wrong in your life. You can’t fight the urge of throwing up anymore. You run to a trash can, sticking your head inside, and you feel your throat burning when the food comes back. You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and raise your head again.

You’re suddenly filled with a lot of energy and a sense of responsibility. It’s all in your hands, you’re the one who needs to save them. That’s the reason why you’re here. You turn around looking at both agents with a serious expression.

“What do we do? Where do I go? How-How can we get them both?” You ask your aunt, waiting for a clear direction. She’s been doing this for years; she’ll know what to do.

“Lena is human, she is in more dangerous conditions.” Alex says and you agree with your head.

“Supergirl, on the other hand, might be able to help if she is here.” Brainy adds and you agree again. Only to realize nothing has been decided.

“I-I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, we’re with you.” Alex comes forward, giving your shoulder another reassuring squeeze. “If you go for Kara, we’ll go for Lena and vice-versa. It’s your call.”

Oh great, yes. Put this enormous responsibility on a kid’s shoulders. How’s that even fair?

“Get Supergirl’s last location. Find out who the fuck got Lena, and where she might be.” You ask Brainy who quickly shows you Kara’s last location on the screen. “I’ll go get Supergirl.”

It was not a decision, if you were being honest. It was a cry for help. If Kara can help, then you’re going to need it. You got one of your moms location, it’s a no brainer. Kara can help, Lena needs help. Two Kryptonians are better than one, should you think so.

You fly to wherever Kara was pinpointed last. You see destruction everywhere. Old -and luckily- abandoned buildings lay wrecked on the ground. Dust and havoc are seen throughout the place, and there’s no one in sight. No one, except. Except one hand coming off from a wreckage pile.

You fly down, easily removing blocks of concrete, steel frames and other indistinguishable wreckage, to find Kara trapped under them. Face all bloody, completely bruised. You feel light-headed at the sight of your wounded and bloody mommy. You drop on your knees next to her, tears blurring your eyes.

“Momma! Hey, hey, can you hear me?” You hold her in your arms, cleaning her face from the blood. She can’t hear you, you know that for sure. She is blacked out, her body feels limp in your arms, like a rag doll. “Momma, please. Please. Don’t do this to me.” There’s a burning feeling on your chest, like you might just explode and take this whole place down with you. But no matter how much you call, and yell, and beg, Kara doesn’t answer.

Kara’s hands are also bloody and bruised, like she’s been fighting for dear life, and you look around trying to find out what could’ve caused such damage to her. Her breath is weak, and her heart is beating slowly. You hold her tight, seeing your tears falling on her face.

“I’ve got Supergirl.” You press your comm, calling Alex. “She won’t be able to help. I’m bringing her over; get the infirmary ready.” You try to even your voice. “She’s beaten down heavily.”

“We’ll be ready for both of you.” Alex’s voice comes in your ear, and you pick up Kara’s limp body in bridal style.

“I’ve got you, mommy.” You kiss her forehead, tasting blood and dirt on the process. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except Kara, right now. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Your heart is beating fast all the way back to the DEO. It’s more than painful, it’s a word you’ve never even heard before, a totally new kind of hurt. Having your momma so weak and injured in your arms. It doesn’t matter that you can still see her slowly breathing and hear her weak heartbeat, it doesn’t matter that you know that she is alive, because seeing her like this has made a part of you die.

You land inside the DEO, and Alex is indeed ready for both of you. You lay Kara on a stretcher, and some agents roll her out of your sight and off to the infirmary she goes. You know the process, yellow sunlight, blah-blah-blah. Your heart still aches, regardless.

“Lena?” You ask your aunt that is still next to you, hands on her waist with a serious expression.

“Come see something.” Alex asks, making her way to the big screen in front of you. And Brainy, coming out of nowhere, appears with a tablet next to you.

“It’s an encrypted message.” He says, and the message appears on the big screen soon after.

We will destroy the entire family.

“I’m working on finding the source of the message, but for now that’s all we have.” Brainy says and you look at aunt Alex, biting the inside of your mouth. The entire family is what the message says. You know what she’s thinking. You’re thinking about it too.

“They wouldn’t.” You say, shaking your head. But your heart is beating fast, like it’s telling you that they -whoever they may be- would.

“I have to be sure.” Alex says, and you sigh, aware of that too.

“I’ll go get Jamie; you get Kelly.” Alex is out of the room before you’re half finished. And you’re almost flying away when you look back at Brainy. “Find Lena.”

“Working on it.” He says, running to his workstation and you fly away to the school.

You don’t have time to clean yourself and look presentable. You are aware there’s blood and dirt on your super suit. You don’t care. You fly inside of your school, causing a big commotion with the students. Most of them get out of their classrooms and go into the hallway, when you land and start walking to where you think Jamie might be.

“It’s Superkid!” They all say, while taking pictures of you, and all the flashes distract you from using your x-ray vision well.

The teachers also look impressed, coming out of their classrooms to see you. You feel like a circus freak, with all these people shouting and cheering you, like you’re supposed to be doing tricks for them. It’s ironic to think that if you had your glasses on, you would be invisible to them.

You look around, feeling lost. The cameras are blinding, the cheering is deafening, and the more you look around and don’t see the face you’re looking for, the more desperate you get. You clench your fist, trying to regain focus, and look around the crowd when your eyes land on Maya.

You manage to speak, out of gritted teeth. “Ms. Olsen-Danvers.” You look around searching for Jamie. “Where is she?”

“She left.” Maya says, and you look back at her. Eyes zooming in and you notice her shaky breath. You step in closer, trying to even your own breath.

“Where?” You spit. Maya shakes her head in denial.

“Both of the Danvers have left with Jamie’s mother.” The teacher says and you blink at the realization you’re the other Danvers, and that Jamie didn’t leave with you.

You look back at Maya one last time, blinking a sense of calmness -you don’t really feel- into her, before using your super speed out of the school. “Alex, did you pick Jamie up?”

“I thought you were going to.” You hear on your comm, and you drop your head low. You were too late. “I came to pick up Kelly.”

“And?”

“We’re on our way to the DEO. Should I go to your school?” Alex asks, and your eyes are filled with tears. No. You can’t tell her that. You can’t say the words. They’re stuck inside you, like the hardest truth you’ve ever spoken. You feel like a nightmare is filling your surroundings, and you’re totally alone. You fall on your knees, vision blurry, heart squeezing on your chest. “Superkid? Should I go pick her up? Please come in.”

Say it! Go on, tell her! Tell her you were too late. Tell her they’ve got Jamie. Tell her they have Lena, and that they’ve beaten Kara to the point of unconsciousness. Tell her they have your entire life in their hands.

“Can you hear me? Superkid, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Don’t.” You manage to say woefully, minutes after the first question was asked. “Don’t come.” You breathe out. “She is not here.”

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #reader insert #superkid

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #Nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #needles tw #noncon drugging tw #ill upload to ao3 with an edited link in the morning

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le0watch · 3 years

Text

reki grins at himself in the mirror, smoothing out the crinkles in his dress, before reaching for his nearby brush. he doesn't usually do much to his hair, and he's not about to now, but he does run the brush through his red hair a few times, anyway. he doesn't brush it often because brushes hurt and usually gets stuck in his unruly hair, making it a horribly painful experience.

but, he does get his hair to smooth back a little. once finished, he steps back to get a good look at himself, taking in the red and gold dress he'd chosen for today. he does a small twirl, and giggles to himself. then, he heads into the living room, ready to show his sisters some more skateboarding tricks.

he doesn't wear dresses often. when he does, it's onl in the safety of his home. the one he's wearing now is a short sun dress, since it was a tad warmer today, with spaghetti straps that reki would totally get made of wearing outside of home. his mom and sisters never make fun of him, instead complimenting and supporting his dress choices. his mom sometimes even buys him new dresses when she sees one she thinks he'll like, which he appreciates immensely.

this dress was mainly red, with a few, swirling lines of gold and yellow in the chest area. this has to be one of his favorites, and his sisters agree with him.

"i love that dress on you, onichan!" the twins exclaimed in unison, to which kiyoko hums begrudging agreement.

"thanks, you two," reki said with a slight laugh. he then guides them outside, grabbing the small boards he'd made for them to learn on.

they all laugh as reki continues their lessons, the twins only falling off of the boards a few times throughout it. theyre an hour in when kiyoko seems to spot something behind reki, a grin breaking across her face.

"langa-kun!" kiyoko exclaimed, and reki jolts to a stop, his heart stuttering. he suddenly can't breathe, his entire face bursting into heat.

langa was here? why was langa here?! he said he had to help his mom today!

and he's not supposed to see reki in a dress! thats emberassing!

"hello," langa said in greeting, and reki could already hear the smile in his voice. he hasn't turned around yet, because maybe, if reki doesn't see him, langa won't be able to his dress. but then he feels the blue eyed gaze on his back, and he knows he's been caught. "oh, reki-"

reki darts to the house, shouting incomprehensible phrases behind him, along lines of, "be right back!" "left the oven on!" and "need to change!"

as soon as he's in the safety of his room, he collapses to his knees, face still burning with his embarrassment. he grabs fistfuls of the dress at the bottom, swallowing heavily against the clump in his throat. langa had definitely seen him. how could he not have? reki was wearing his brightest dress today, and he was in a dress, how could anyone miss that! a guy in a dress- langa was probably going to make fun of him to no end after this.

he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. who was he kidding? langa wouldn't make fun of him, the guy was too nice for that. but that doesn't mean he wouldn't throw weird looks reki's way, his eyes confused and his eyebrows tightly knitted together. he wouldn't say anything, but he would definitely think of how weird reki was.

because what man wears dresses? even if they are extremely comfortable, pretty and make him feel good while wearing them.

there's a knock on his door, and his body stiffens. "reki? why'd you run off?" langa's voice filters through the door, uncertainty lacing his tone. "are you mad at me again?"

reki swallows thickly, guilt setting over him. of course langa would take his fleeing badly- he'd already ran away from langa once before with no explination. to langa, this could be exactly the same.

"no, no!" reki shouted back, emberessmant and guilt mixing into an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. which shouldn't be happening, since seeing langa and wearing dresses always made him extremely comfortable. he lets out another sigh, and steels himself. he can't run away from this conversation. "you uh.... you saw what i was wearing, didn't you?"

silence follows his words, and he's about ready to rip his own hair out. of course langa had seen! he was probably judging reki to no end!

"uh, yeah?" langa replied, and he still sounds extremely confused. "a pretty dress, right?"

reki blinks at his response, only growing confused as well, now. why did langa sound like that? he didn't sound disgusted or uncomfortable, just confused. he pushes to his feet, and slowly slides his door open to a crack.

langa is on the other side, and as soon as he sees reki again, his eyes look the redhead from head to toe, a slight blush hiding just beneath his bangs. was he embarrassed for reki? no, that doesn't sound right... he seems to have... enjoyment, in his gaze? was he enjoying seeing reki dressed like this?

"pretty?" reki repeated, dumbly. langa stares at him for a moment longer, his blush deepening. reki wasn't used to langa being the flustered on- langa was always making reki flustered, not the other way around. was it the dress? reki grabs one of the edges of his dress, shifting it a little.

langa nods shyly, his fingers twitching from their places at his sides. "y- yeah," he stammered, and his blush is covering his cheeks now. "and i... i think you look.... really pretty in it, too."

it's reki's turn to blush now, his face turning a deep crimson. both of his hands fly to his face to hide it, flustered. "th- thank you..." he muttered, looking down at the floor.

"yeah.. i didn't know you liked to wear dresses," langa said, and reki lets him come into his room. he goes straight to the bed, sitting on the edge. he watches reki move around the room, before deciding to sit on the desk chair. he keeps his legs crossed, dress falling over his knees. langa is looking at him with adoration in his gaze, completely in love. "you look... really good in one."

reki's blush deepens even worse, and he ducks his head. "we- well, thats because most people find it weird," he replied shyly, twisting the fabric of his dress with his nerves. "i only wear them at home because of that."

"does anyone make fun of you?" langa asked, his gaze darkening into one of anger. reki's eyes widen.

"i- i mean when i first started the- they did," he answered hesitantly, tugging at the fabric now. this look on langa's face always... does something to reki. he's not entirely sure what, but he usually only has that expression solely for reki, when he thinks someone is hurting or being rude to him. it must be that it makes reki feel special, feel protected. no ones really wanted to protect him before, after all. "but since i only wear th-them at home now, they don't really know..."

langa frowns at him, eyebrows furrowing. "but you look so good," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. reki's breath stutters in his chest, and he wets his lips nervously. langa was always laying the praise on, and he was horrible at accepting. "if you want to wear them more in public, i'll make sure they leave you alone." he smiles warmly at reki, and suddenly reki can't breathe again. "i'll protect you."

and that's how reki starts wearing dresses when they go skateboarding together, fear of judgement thrown to the wind. with langa beside him, he could do anything, including wearing dresses in public.

#langa starts to buy him dresses after this :)#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #my writing #drabble #renga #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #snowgear

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 26.

The Darkling x Reader

You didn't speak a word, didn't move a muscle. The anger raged inside of you like a storm, tearing every rational thought down on its path. it didn't help that even though he lied to you, your love for him never dwindled. You might as well have been back at Kribirsk, for you were so in your head you didn't pay attention to anything going on around you. The only thing that broke your trance was the unmistakable sound of volcra closing in. You listened to their shrill cries, the wails reverberating across the Fold.

'I should just tear this down' You heard Alina urge, desperation seeping into her words. She was powerless, only her words had any effect. You longed to help them too, to end the volcra's suffering but that couldn't happen without you sacrificing yourself in the process. Alina had her heart set in the right place, but you wouldn't ever let the Fold fall.

'And what can you really do on your own?.....besides, it would be a monumental waste of power.' Aleksander was quick to shut her down, his own reasons for keeping the Fold standing up against hers.

They swopped lower and lower, their black wings visible from beneath the shadows. You peered closer to the edge of the skiff, looking out for more of the poor creatures and spotting one right above the skiff.

Reaching your hands out in an attempt to move the volcra, a bright flash of light beat you to it, the rays burning your skin like nothing you'd ever felt in your life. Your knees hit the deck before you could register what was happening as your hands gripped the edge of the skiff. It hurts. A silent groan left your lips, too quiet for anyone to notice. The burning continued, this time in your mind. It left a buzzing sound behind so loud it echoed along the walls of your mind, deafening you in the process. The pounding was paralyzing.

Nobody on the deck noticed the Deputy General kneeling in pain, they were all too fixated on the Sun-Summoner and the Darkling to glance an eye in your direction. Alina's light had hurt you, hurt the child of Merzost as if you were a volcra.

Even in the depths of the Fold and in your home, you were too weak to spare a look at what was going on at the front of the deck. The skiff was approaching Novokribirsk now, the natural light from the other side filtering through Alina's tunnel. You had been bent over in pain for majority of the trip and still, nobody noticed.

You felt a lull in the skiff's movement, but the pain in your head was still too much. It stung and pulsed, dulling every single sense in your body. There was nothing else you could concentrate on but the pain, this horrid debilitating pain. You grasped at your power, trying to calm your spiraling heart rate, trying to stop the blood from rushing so quickly but you were stumped; helpless. Your eyes had long shut tightly, seeing only a pure white sight. Not even your mind spared you the safety blanket of darkness.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly snapped you out of it, grounding you back to the deck of the skiff but its touch disappeared almost as soon as you'd felt it. The buzzing was still deep within your skull, playing like an out-of-tune violin. You snapped your head up, meeting the eyes of none other than Ivan. His expression read one of fear and utter terror and you didn't understand why.

You stood up wearily, coming face to face with the heartrenderer, and watched as he took measured steps away from you before coming to Aleksander's right hand yet again. You looked to Aleksander, though your eyes were still squinted in pain, you could make out his unforgettable stature.

'And I shall do mine.' His arms were outstretched- ready to pounce

You turned your attention to the skyline and watched as the light from Novokribirsk mellowed and the view of the port diminished. In horror, you watched as the Fold expanded, as directed by Aleksander, and destroyed the lives of many in the process. You could hear their screams and shouts; the pain.

But you also felt a surge of strength and of power. It fought the buzzing sound idly as you watched the shadows bleed into the air.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!' You ran up to the front of the deck, shoving him aside and watching with wide eyes the damage that had been done. His hand came to entangle around your arm but you shoved him away, both with your strength and a gust of wind.

You turned your head to look at him but instead found your eyes looking to Alina, who took it as her queue to further project the tunnel of light into the docks. A volcra flew by, disintegrating into the wrecked town and its surroundings. Novokribirsk was gone. Zoya looked at it with pure terror and dread and an earlier conversation came back to you, one where she spoke of her family. Oh Saints.

'No you don't' He took hold of Alina's hands and brought back the shadows already pooling at light's edge. The screams ripped through the air once more, the volcra cries stabbing at your heart again. You turned your head to look back to Zoya when a strand of your hair caught your attention. It no longer contrasted the black kefta at all. You ran to the small mirror on the deck and stilled at the reflection.

The person staring back at you in the plane was not you. The girl in the mirror donned black hair. Hair so dark it left no traces of other pigments. Her eyes were a glittering onyx with small black capillaries shooting through the whites of her eyes. Black veins poked out from under her kefta collar, and upon further inspection, the same black veins traveled down to her hands, curling around her wrists like a bracelet. The running of the veins was like a design, it flowed like a pen on paper drawn by an artist. They were Merzost.

You stared at yourself in shock. This was not you; it couldn't be. But the girl in the mirror said otherwise.

A scream broke you out of your trance, the familiar name snapping your neck to its origin. Mal.

Mal lay splayed out on the ground with blood pooling out of his mouth and Alina perched next to him, reaching for his hand. The foreign dignitaries stood frozen as they watched the scene play out, their fear filling the atmosphere pungently. The skiff abruptly moved, its sails once again filling with air. Zoya stood at the top, hands outstretched and eager.

'General Kirigan, this will only turn the world against you and all Grisha. You’ll be seen not as a savior, but a heretic.' The irony.

In a swift motion, Ivan takes control of all their hearts and one by one they drop dead-like lifeless dolls. A gasp escaped your lips as your position is once again known and Aleksander's eyes land on you, all of you. His brows raise at your appearance.

'I’ll have to give that speech again now, Y/N, won't I? Or will you have the decency to join me next time?' He directs your way.

'Me? Are you insane?' Your anger could no longer contain itself as you launch the Cut his way knowing well he would dodge it. He moved to the side, launching one your way too. Instead of dodging it, you split it right down the middle, sending it over the rails. The skiff picked up its speed, making you slightly lose your footing and Aleksander noticed too.

'ZOYA' He roared up to her in warning, but you willed her not to listen. Instead, she egged the skiff forward.

'You promised me!' Two slivers of shadows crept up your legs and wrapped themselves around your wrists, pulling your hands away from each other and rendering you useless.

'That was before you murdered a whole town!' You strained your arms, trying your hardest to loosen the grip of his shadows. 'You took her light, General. If you wanted to be like me you could have just asked' Even in the face of his betrayal, you still couldn't bring yourself to say his name in public. His name was sacred, it was your secret.

'I don't want to hurt you Y/N' He took calculated steps toward you, eyes flooded with despair. His hand came up to your hair, taking a piece and inspecting it carefully 'What happened?'

'I came onto this skiff, that's what happened.' you spit. 'How are you alright with what you've just done?' Your own previous experience haunts your mind for a brief second, the occurrence still a trauma. He on the other hand looks unbothered. Another day at work.

'I did what I had to -' His words get interrupted by the sound of gunshots, ones you can feel zip by your ear and head his way. He sends the cut flying behind you and the shadows at your wrists let up just as a knife embeds itself in his chest. You watch as the same veins on your body crawl up his neck. His are more abundant, nothing like yours in appearance, but they are there.

'It will take more than THIS' he rips the knife out and folds his hands in front of him and the shadows race forward 'You stay in the dark' The back of the skiff now settled itself into the Fold, the volcra flying above like the predators they are.

Zoya. You take a look at Aleksander whose eyes are closely watching you along with Ivan's.

'Don't.' His words are clear but you don't care. Zoya is back there. You listen to his steady heartbeat and feel the air in his lungs. The Fold's nothingness swims in his lungs, swirling from each breath he takes. Without thinking, you knock the air out of him and slam his body against the rail of the skiff, running to the back of the skiff to help Zoya. Just as you clamber up the stairs, you see her blue kefta dropping to the ground and a volcra swarming toward her.

'NO' You knock it out of the way and cushion her fall with a gust. A Suli girl runs over, checking on Zoya briefly but turns to you. The volcra circle over the skiff.

'Ready?' You nod. The young girl nods back and clutches knives to her chest. You count the number of pulses on this side of the skiff, too many to risk.

You start by sending out your flames and then the shadows, filling the volcra's lungs with the tendrils while she attacks it with her knives. Its shrills are pitiful but you block them out. It doesn't seem to give up as it flies closer to her, completely ignoring you. The wind blows it away briefly before a man with a cane goes toward the volcra mercilessly. You curse out loudly, knowing that the noise attracts others, you can feel them coming.

'Alina, for Saints sake!' You shout as you watch her from your position laying on the ground, not even trying. You run back down to the deck, only one thing on your mind. If she can't light it up then I will, but as you run, his strong hands come to lock yours behind your back and one comes to your throat.

'Was this the plan all along? He says in your ear and his hold tightens, slowly blocking off your air. His voice is strained and you could swear he sounds hurt.

'I came back for you, it's always been you.' you plead. You still love him, you do. But my morals and my love are two different things.

'I really thought I could trust you again. But you only ever want what is mine.' Your vision turns blurry as you feel your chest contract. Ivan. 'If you love something let it go, isn't that the saying?' Your head bops forward slightly which seems to be enough for him to let your drop to your knees in front of him, right next to a dying Mal.

As you try to regain your awareness, the sounds of volcra in your head become too much to bear. They drown out everything as they approach the skiff, silently letting you know they will kill everything on the other side of the light. You struggle to get up, hands clawing at your throat as air enters your lungs again. As if that wasn't enough for your already frail body, another flash of light expels from Alina. The burning sensation overwhelms you again, dwindling your will to live. It burns worse this time, singeing you all over. A scream of pain erupts from your lips as you watch the veins on your hand become darker and darker.

A hand around your waist surprised you as it helps you get up from the ground. 'It's okay, It's okay' Aleksander. His forehead is pressed up against your temple as you continue to cry out in pain. You open your eyes briefly and look at the hand holding your waist- void of a Stag bone. The shock is barely enough to let you forget the pain though.

'It hurts' Your own tears burn as they roll down your face.

'I know' He leaves a kiss to your temple before leaning down to your ear 'I love you, you can still keep the promise Y/N. Please' His arms tighten one last time before leaving you feeling cold in the absence of the Fold.

Slowly, the reality of the situation settles in your stomach. He just said his goodbye, and I never told him I loved him too. Everything stills again and nothing seems to process in your mind. Maybe I'm dying, maybe Alina killed me.

You can hear her shout for Mal as he and Aleksander battle it out on the unlit sands. You can hear her struggling as Ivan collapses her blood vessels. You can hear Ivan's lifeless body drop to the ground. But your mind refuses to cooperate.

Even as a volcra sweeps down and grabs Aleksander mercilessly, you push your body past the limit and jump overboard, letting out pathetic shouts of plea to the volcra, bring him back to me, please. Your powers don't rise to your call, your mind won't listen.

The light shoots out again from a now awake Alina, but your numb now, the pain had reached its limit.

Zoya begs for you to come back to safety, Mal grabs your limp body and tugs you back but you shove him off with the last of your strength. The Crows stand by on the deck and listen to your heartbreaking sobs. Nobody misses the way the atmosphere in the Fold shifts with every cry, how the usually empty place emanates one single emotion; anguish.

They sit and watch in fear and astonishment as volcra fly above you, never once attacking. They watch as they settle on the sands, heads cowering to your shaken body, and they listen to the cries, ones very alike in pain to yours.

They watched as the Little Witch loses her soulmate, in the one place she ever knew as home.

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

Epilogue.

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif

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mustardyellowsunshine · 3 years

Text

When the End Comes, II

(Chapter 1)

A/N: I was going to wait to post this until next weekend, but y'know what? Consider it a holiday special. Happy Labor Day.

_______________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Exeunt

The hell I am!

Kagome rammed her knee at the man’s groin. He blocked it by swiftly maneuvering his thigh. She swung her elbow up between their bodies, aiming for his face. His hand left her shoulder, darting sideways to seize her elbow midswing. His hand was so big his fingers circled all the way around her arm, squeezing in a painful grip.

She reared her head back, fully intending to bash her forehead into his nose—but he yanked hard on her elbow and she lost her footing, falling forward into his body. She felt the hand covering her mouth glide purposefully across her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair and cupping her skull just behind her ear. His thumb was poised at the side of her neck, sharp claw digging into the skin over her jugular vein.

To anyone else on the street it probably looked like a lover’s embrace: their chests pressed together, his hand around her arm as though drawing her closer, the side of his face resting against her temple, mouth near her ear.

They wouldn’t, of course, see his claw breaking the skin of her neck, a streak of blood trickling down past her shirt collar.

“Listen,” he growled, breath gusting over her ear as he pressed his claw that much harder into her skin. “How about you don’t make a scene, and I don’t slice your jugular where you stand. Sound fair?”

She froze against him.

He twitched his thumb, widening the cut. It stung like hell. She could feel the warmth of her own blood rolling sluggishly down her collar bone.

“You gonna be reasonable, or does this have to get messy?”

He sounded almost bored as he said it, as though he didn’t care one way or the other. It sent chills down Kagome’s spine.

She risked a tiny turn of her chin, just enough so she could sweep her gaze up and down the street. None of the people bustling by paid them any attention. In fact, it almost seemed as if people tried to avoid looking at them, turning their gazes away and hurrying past.

No one liked watching PDA, after all.

That’s why he’d done it, Kagome realized. Yanked her against him like that. He’d tried to make them as invisible as he could in the middle of a city street.

So he probably wasn’t an idiot. Dammit.

Kagome slowly exhaled. “And you think killing me here won’t make a scene?” she asked in an undertone.

He twitched his thumb again. She winced at the tearing sensation.

“Heh,” he husked against her ear, “I’d be blocks away before your body even hit the ground.”

He didn’t say the rest, but Kagome heard the subtext loud and clear: he was going to avoid a scene—it was up to her whether she was alive or dead to help him do it.

So much for the safety of being in public.

Her brain ran some rapidfire calculus. Setting aside whether he might be bluffing, Kagome was certain at least that he was capable of doing what he threatened. He clearly had yōkai speed and strength. As quickly as she could draw in the breath needed to shout for help, he could plunge that claw into her jugular, slit her throat wide open. She had no way of knowing if he would: all she knew was that he could.

Grinding her molars together until they hurt, Kagome hissed, “Fine. I’ll do as you say.”

The stinging pain in her neck eased away, sharp claw replaced by the pad of his thumb resting against her bloodied skin. “At least you’re not completely stupid.” The fingers in her hair squeezed against her scalp as he said gruffly, “Listen good. You and I are about to be a couple strolling the town. You’re gonna put your arm around me, nice and easy, and you’re going to smile and put that pretty face to good use. Make a nice show for the people, understand?” She felt the barest prick of claws against her scalp as he added, “You even think about screaming, or running, and it won’t go well for you.”

She couldn’t manage to push words out of her throat, so she just nodded once.

“Good. Now—start acting the part.”

Keeping his grip around her elbow, he took a step back. Gold eyes glinted at her in the afternoon light, hard and unyielding.

Taking in a shaky breath, Kagome forced her lips up into a wooden smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

His arm snaked around her waist, tugging her against his side. Then he forced her into an about-face and practically frogmarched her down the street.

She felt the tips of those yōkai nails through her shirt, just above and to the side of her navel. Someone passing by would have thought he was caressing her, perhaps. But Kagome couldn’t help thinking about the vital internal organs in that area of the body, and gulped.

She was staring straight ahead of her, neck and shoulders rigid as cement, her steps jerky and fumbling as his arm forced her forward. She tried to think. What could she use, what distraction or blind spot could she exploit? He wasn’t the first of Naraku’s hunters to find her. She’d gotten away from them before. She just needed to capitalize on the right opportunity.

Suddenly he growled under his breath, “This how you think couples act, sweetheart?” He injected an acerbic bite into the last word. “Get your shoulders down from around your ears and act fucking normal.”

She glared at him from the corner of her eye. His jaw was clenched, his mouth twisted in irritation, revealing an inhumanly sharp canine. “Maybe,” she said, “acting normal would be easier for me if I wasn’t being abducted.”

Suddenly his nails were digging into her stomach, slicing through the fabric of her shirt to scratch at the skin beneath. They didn’t cut — yet.

“Dammit,” she hissed, trying to jerk away from his fingers, which only brought her into closer contact with his body, “don’t—”

“I already told you how this was going down,” he replied, lip lifting in a snarl, “so get with the program or I can end you right here.”

His tone was so biting, edged with a genuine fury—yet there was an undertone of something else in it, too. Something Kagome couldn’t place.

“Now fucking smile and act like you’re having a good time,” he said, arm heavy around her waist.

Even while Kagome did as she was told—stiffly sliding her hand across his back as she’d seen couples do before, slinging her arm loosely around his hips—something in the back of her mind clicked into place.

That undertone in his voice. It was fear. Thoroughly buried beneath anger and volatility, maybe, but fear nonetheless. She should know: she’d heard it in her own voice for years.

He didn’t actually care about convincing random strangers that they were a happy couple. Why should he? It didn’t make sense. Most people weren’t paying attention to them, anyway. He didn’t have to work this hard to fly under their radar. And though she hated to admit it, he’d said it himself: he could have either slaughtered her or made off with her in a heartbeat if he’d wanted, and likely no one on the street would’ve been the wiser. So if he wasn’t avoiding a scene for the sake of fooling bystanders, why was he?

Maybe he was worried about avoiding someone else. A specific someone.

A chill rippled through her body at the thought, but in the same moment, Kagome knew she had her opportunity. Time to make hay with it.

Kagome casually angled her head towards him, so he could get a good view of her face. She directed her gaze over his shoulder, as though she was observing the storefronts across the street. After a few moments of this, she deliberately widened her eyes, dropping her jaw open in a quiet gasp.

He took the bait. His head whipped around in the direction she was looking.

She dropped down, twisted her body, and slammed her fist into his kidney.

His body flinched hard, and she heard him groan, but by then she’d already spun out of his hold.

Turning in the direction of her car, she ran like her life depended on it.

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha AU #InuKag #Inuyasha fanfic #my writing #When the End Comes

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janghoefett · 3 years

Text

Jango Fett Fluff Alphabet

The answers aren’t toooooo long, but it’s just a little somethin’ since we are starving for Jango. No reader gender is specified.

There are mentions of sex and some not-so-wholesome things he does on the job. Overall, it is very tame and fluffy!

I like to consider all my work 18+ so please respect that!

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Jango likes anything that’s on the down low. Very, very domestic activities like staying in, listening to the rain beating down on the windows on Kamino. He also enjoys sharing a good meal. Basically, anything that involves the two of you getting alone time. He also likes to get physical.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Jango loves your smile. It sounds cheesy, but he fell in love with your aura and that smile that made him feel so welcomed. He has the very special ability of being able to read people and you passed the test with flying colors.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Jango doesn’t let you lift a finger. He gets worried when things are out of his control, but if there’s something that can be done he’s doing it. He’ll definitely make time for a little cuddle, remind you to breathe, make sure you’re hydrated.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Kids. Peace. A home far away from the cloners. Perhaps he can finally retire and live that life with you.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Jango definitely enjoys control in his life where he can have it, but he’s always making big decisions with you. There is by no means a power imbalance and he likes you to hold your own. There is a give and take like every relationship.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Jango’s trust is not easily earned, but it is easily broken. The first time you got in a fight, Jango was harshly scolding you about safety. You cried at the sound of his voice and the look on his face. He felt awful later that night and apologized, hitting you with some of that slow and desperate I-almost-lost-you sex.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Jango always expects something to go wrong. He couldn’t be more grateful to have you in his life, but half of him thinks he’s going to wake up and it will all be a dream.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Jango is mysterious. It’s not that he’s being dishonest, it just takes him a really long time to open up. He won’t open up to you about the stresses of the job. He bottles things.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Jango went through a period of time where he hesitated to pull that trigger. You inspire him to be better and although he would not like to admit it, he’s become softer than he was in the past.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh yes. Jango doesn’t think you’re going to cheat on him per say, but he will come up and assert himself if a guy is getting too friendly. It just makes him anxious.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Jango is a little too good. He initiated your first kiss, inching closer and closer so subtly as you were talking until finally he closed the gap. The first thing you noticed was how strong his hands were as they wrapped around your body. His mouth was firm, his skin was so warm, and his aftershave smelled crisp.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Jango struggled for a very long time to realize how much he cared for you. Your relationship started out very physical and very casual, and eventually he every so subtly asked you if you wanted to be exclusive. He told you he loved you in bed. In the middle of sex. In the dark. It just slipped out.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

While some wouldn’t peg him for the type, marriage is huge for Jango. You’re his ride-or-die and he’s going to marry you the Mandalorian way. Just like the way he told you he loved you, he brings up the idea of marriage casually in bed. Your relationship doesn’t change much after you are married since Jango waited until your relationship was very secure and comfortable.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

There’s a slew of nicknames in Mando’a that seem to roll off his tongue, but you love when he opts for something simple like “my love”. He sometimes calls you “angel”, and while that could have fallen flat coming from anyone else, you found it quite endearing coming from Jango. You are truly his angel.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Jango has an outstanding pokerface. All the affection you receive is in private or very, very coded in public.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Jango keeps you hidden like treasure. This is for safety reasons, mostly, as others could exploit your relationship. But Jango is territorial. He wants others to know you’re his.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Jango allocates his time wisely and tries to leave his work at the door. When he’s with you, that’s where his mind is. He’ll come home, hop in the fresher, and then he’s all yours.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

There is nothing usual about your relationship and Jango is not very good at “traditional”. But, he is very much a gentleman and will pull out all the stops to make you feel special.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Jango is nurturing, which comes as a surprise to most who meet him. He helps you wherever he can. He thinks the world of you and believes you can do anything. When you are surprised that were successful, he is not surprised in the slightest.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Jango does not like surprises. But, he does love to make you happy. He’ll try most things at least once.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Sometimes Jango can be a bit thick in the relationship department and doesn’t understand why certain things upset you so much, but he is respectful. If you say you are upset he believes you. Once you tell him something, he never forgets it, and he knows you way more than you realize at times.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Family is everything to Jango. Boba of course is also his priority, and he’d do anything to keep the two of you safe. His job, his life on Kamino, all that comes last.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

The man loves a cuddle. Period. He doesn’t even talk. He just likes to feel you on his lap, he loves to feel your hands dusting over him, he loves a good makeout session. He is truly touch starved and he loves that he can be vulnerable and comfortable with you like this.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Oops.

Well to add to the above, the kisses and cuddles come when you have full privacy. You can always tell when Jango is desperate by the way he pulls you aside and can’t get enough of you.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Oh he yearns. He yearns big time.

Jango doesn’t like to be away from you for too long. The nights are the hardest of course, when he realizes that he’s finally become unaccustomed to sleeping alone after such a long existence of solitude.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Jango would quite literally commit murder for you. Don’t try him.

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

Tags: @clanoffetts @escapedthesarlacc @thundersheild @onabouteverything @tacticalsparkles @keeper-of-the-sarlacc-pit @thefact0rygirl @sarahjkl82-blog @secretsidereblog @darthmama1618 @terrormonster55 @fuckyeahbeskar @phoenixhalliwell @fiend-friend @kyberdreams (please let me know if you would like to be removed or added!)

#jango fett #jango fett x reader #star wars #jango fett x you #fluff alphabet #fan fiction

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Glass Shatters || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader, also kinda Blaise x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxicity, ANGST, just pure fucking angst and asshole!draco, oh and swearing lol Summary: You realise that it’s time to end things with Draco when he hurts you one last time. AU with no Voldemort - 7th Year.

WORDS : 2294

Lyrics taken from ‘What Do I Tell My Friends’ by Bree Runway (the loml)

~~~

Hold me, don't let me go I'm fragile, I'm gonna fall right into you Catch time that I have lost Fly high, free fall, ooh

There’s always been something so beautiful about the way that glass shatters, loud and chaotic, scattering shards of itself everywhere and lodging itself in places that it doesn’t belong. It’s poetically exquisite, to just come apart and spread into tinier pieces of what you were once before, but it’s grossly painful to wear oneself out like that.

Sometimes, though not often enough, there is someone there to catch the glass before it hits the ground and scatters into a million pieces. A safety net, perhaps is the right word, there to protect those lattices from coming into contact with the hard surface that awaits them. Something to keep them from separating like the tangled limbs of playful children on a trampoline when they come back down to land against the woven polypropylene. But there’s not often a safety net waiting for you to fall.

And maybe that’s why people typically shatter like glass.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-huh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

You catch a glimpse of Draco across the room. He’s doing it again. He’s got one arm around Cho Chang’s shoulder and another around Millicent Bullstrode’s, and not a single sliver of attention is being directed toward you.

You’re not fragile. No. You never have been.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve prided yourself on being strong, on being able to protect yourself. What most people see when they look at you is power and ferocity- you're made of what Gods are made of and almost everyone knows it. You are not fragile.

But when it comes to Draco, you are like a frail baby bird that's always being nursed back to health. That was what a routine like the two of you had demanded. Submission, protection, but most would call it toxicity. You are putty in his hands and he knows it- every wall that you’ve ever built to protect yourself is nothing more than a child’s play pen when Draco is involved.

You catch his eye and scowl at the mischievous grin that he’s got on his face. He knows how much you despise his flirtatious nature, and it’s exactly that reason that encourages him to keep it up. You’re a beast that’s not to be messed with, like a tiger lodged in a cage, and he’s the only one that knows how to tame you. It always goes down the same way; he insists that the two of you need to keep it on the down-low, he then proceeds to flirt with everyone, you get upset, the two of you get in an argument and well... he always wins.

You're not fragile yet he always gets a reaction out of you.

But not tonight, no. Tonight it’ll be different.

Tonight you’re going to have a good time, with or without that snow-flake haired prick. You turn beside you where Neville, your best friend, is seated and smile at him.

“Neville, want to get smashed with me?”

“Always, Y/N.” Neville responds with a grin and you excitedly get up to get you both some drinks.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Draco catches a glimpse of you leaving the couch where Neville, Blaise and Hannah are sitting, and decides to follow you toward the drinks table.

“Whoring around are we?” He asks with his eyebrows raised and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you’re one to talk.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”He tugs on your chin and brings you up to face him.

“First of all,” You start as you softly remove his hand from your chin and lower it to his side, “You heard me. Second of all,” You put a hand to his chest and gently shove him backwards, “Back up please, I can smell your breakfast from here.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Y/N, this bratty behaviour-“

“Call me a brat, ever again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever call me.” You smile, “I have a name, stick to it.”

This is very new for Draco, he’s never seen you speak so calmly in the heat of an argument. He’s seen you rage at him, yell until your lungs are sore and throat is raw, clench your fists so tight that crescent moons form in your palm. But he’s never seen you like this, never so collected. If he’s being completely honest, your level-headed appearance is throwing him off.

“Whatever pothead Neville’s given you is clearly fucking with your head, let’s go back to my dorm-“ He starts as he inches closer and grabs your wrist.

You yank yourself out of his grip and take a few steps away from him, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I’m good thanks.” When you notice the look of confusion painting across his features you smile awkwardly, “I know how this always ends so I’d much rather be alone.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait until you don’t want to be alone anymore?” He asks with a scoff.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that for you.” You accuse and watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration, a sign that his patience for you is wearing thin. “And that’s not what I meant. I want to be alone, indefinitely.”

“What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you, “Is over. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh my fuck, do what Y/N?”

“All of it. I can’t keep sneaking around anymore like some kind of dirty secret. I can’t keep watching you flirt with everyone that’s within a 5km radius, and I can’t keep lying to my friends. What am I meant to tell them when I go disappearing for hours at a time and come back, covered in hickeys?”

“Nothing. It's no one's business.” He grits out angrily and you scoff with a small laugh.

“You’re pathetic. We’re done.” You utter before walking away from him, and his little corner, and go back to join Blaise, Hannah and Neville on the dance floor.

In the mirror like you're tough, right? I shoulda known once when you bit twice Drip drop both my , yeah I been nice Vodka overdose but no ice I'm done catching feelings, I catch flights Was in the dark but I got bright Not crawling back to you tonight Not crawling back to you tonight, tonight

“Shots, now.” You mumble once you get back to your friends and they waste no time obliging.

Draco’s had the pleasure of picking you apart like a worn out doll for too long, you won’t tolerate it anymore. He calls, you run. He warns, you heed. He scolds, you leave. Whatever he wants, you do without a moment of hesitation. When had you become so easily prey to his antics? You steal a glance of him checking himself out in a nearby mirror and feel your throat close up in disgust. How can someone so gorgeous be so horrible?

Deep down, beneath all that beauty and cockiness, is a vulnerable, scared and loveless little boy who didn’t learn to outgrow his insecurities. He can pretend all he wants that he’s a diamond but you’ll always know, he’s dark and desolate like a stone of coal. Something inside of him is fractured beyond repair and now he’s just remnants of disintegrated life. And try as hard as you might, you can’t fix whatever’s broken inside him. It’s not your job to anyway.

You always run back to him, in hopes of finally curing the malaise that torments his soul, but not tonight. No. Tonight will be different.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-uh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

“Is this a party or a funeral? For fucks sake, turn it up Ginny!” You shout as you turn behind you to face the beautiful ginger that’s controlling the music.

“Anything for you Y/N.” She responds flirtatiously as she sends you a wink and proceeds to turn up the volume to the music. You look away from her with a dopey smile, trying to pretend that her wink hadn’t made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Oh Ginny. If you hadn’t wasted so much time pining after that blond prat then maybe you’d have gotten to her before Harry had.

“Come dance with me!” Blaise yells over the music and you happily agree as you let him take your hand and move you toward the makeshift dancefloor.

Any other time, you would have refused. It’s no secret that, despite being best friends, Blaise and Draco can be very competitive. Blaise had always been your friend and Draco, had not. But it was quite obvious to anyone who had eyes that the two of them both took quite a liking to you, and while your relationship with Draco isn’t public, it’s still never a good idea to get too close to Blaise. But fuck good ideas, tonight none of it matters.

If Draco likes to see you angry then today he’ll see you seething. Every unspoken rule that’s ever sat between the two of you will now be broken so harshly that it’ll shake him to his core.

You wait until you’ve spotted him in the room, then you hook your arms around Blaise’s neck and allow his hands to fall on your waist as a measure to guide you along with him. It’s not long until Draco sees you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you know that he’s positively enraged. If this is a game, today you are winning.

He’s almost always got the upper hand. But not tonight. No. Tonight is different.

Before you know it Draco is crossing the room and yanking you away from Blaise by the arm, dragging you to an abandoned section of the room.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you hovering so close to me?” You ask in frustration as you step back from him. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh? Sheesh?” He repeats in disbelief and you have to resist the urge to laugh. “Y/N, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough apparently, considering I’m standing here with you and not grinding against your better looking counterpart.” You mumble and Draco scoffs.

“Blaise is not better looking than me-“

“Okay Romeo, whatever you say.” You cut him off with a giggle, “Are we done here or was there more?”

“Was there more?” He repeats in a mocking tone, like a child making fun of their childhood friend. “Of course there was bloody more!”

His outburst has you laughing, genuinely laughing, and for a second you see the Draco Malfoy that got you into this mess in the first place. Your funny, good-looking, charming classmate that you accidentally allowed to creep into your heart. But he’s not the real Draco, no, that Draco doesn’t actually exist.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and, without even thinking, say “I wish that this was the real you.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, clearly confused, but you continue nonetheless. “I can’t keep doing this Draco, I love you but I love myself more and I can’t allow you to get in the way of my wellbeing any longer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “How am I getting in the way of your wellbeing?”

“Tell me that you love me too, right now, say it.” You shrug.

“Y/N, you can’t jus-“

“Okay, tell me that we can go public.” You revert and he swallows.

“Why are you-“

“Fuck, I’ll make it easy for you.” You interrupt him once again and give him a thin smile, “Tell me that what we have is real and that we’re in a relationship.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out and you nod your head awkwardly in understanding.

“Y/N, it’s not that-“

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief, “Your chest is hollow and yet you still have no space for me.”

“No-“

You blink back tears as you continue, “You push away everyone that cares about you and then you turn around and complain about the fact that there’s no one left to root for you. How can I possibly be in your corner when you’re continuously trying to shove me out of it?”

There are tears welling in your eyes but you don’t let them fall, no, he doesn’t deserve to make you cry.

He looks at you in shock and you know that you’re not getting any kind of closure from him. Despite how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had always been nothing more than a warm bed that he could settle into when he was lonely. The fire in you that he’s always admired seems to dwindle whenever you’re beneath his gaze, and now you realise that it’s not fair for you to die out for him.

“I hope you learn to start letting people in.” You whisper before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking back toward your friends.

He watches you walk away from him and struggles to sort through his thoughts. No, no, no. You can’t leave him, everyone else has already left him. You’re safe, you’re warm, you’re you, and Draco knows that he has feelings for you but how can he possibly convey that when words always get trapped in his throat like a cricket in a shoebox?

He knows what he wants to say to you, the words are scraping against the belt of his mouth like knives ripping through tape on a cardboard box, but how does he get them out, how does he make you understand?

Maybe that’s just it, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t make you understand. He doesn’t get you. He breaks, little by little, with every step you take away from him.

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

“What was that about?” Blaise asks in your ear and you roll your eyes as you pull back to look at him.

“Draco being immature, nothing important.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Blaise smiles sheepishly. “I was worried that maybe something was going on between you two.”

You smile brightly at the boy as you bring his hands down to your waist and sway to the music. “Why would that worry you Zabini?”

“I’m kind of into you.” Blaise whispers before bringing his lips down to connect with yours.

You don’t notice, too engulfed in the feeling of Blaise’s lips against yours, but across the room Draco’s eyes are focused quite intently on you and Blaise. When the two of you kiss Draco drops the glass that he had been holding, and he thinks that maybe he’s that glass; being smashed to smithereens.

~~~

Okay, I’ll stop with angst now... (maybe) I have the sudden desire to write fluff so the sequel to ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ will definitely be wholesome and fluffy.

I’m probably not going to post again for a few days, I’m a bit worn out rn, but I’ll be back to writing soon!

anyway, love you all

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

The Annapolis Grant, part 3/?

Despite being in first class and further away from the engine noise at the wings, the throttle up when the engines went to full on the runway never failed to wig her out. She gripped the armrests and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to go down. She repeated safety statistics silently in an attempt to remind herself that flying was still the safest way to travel, but it did little to assuage what she fully admitted was an irrational fear.

“Are you a nervous flyer?” Mulder’s voice rumbled at her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he was leaning toward her, a look of concern in his eyes. She wanted to ease her grip on the armrests and give him a reassuring smile, but found she couldn’t. She nodded at him, pulling her lips into her mouth on a breath.

“Would it help to hold my hand?” he asked, rather sweetly holding out the palm of his hand toward her. She was about to refuse when the plane tilted sharply left. They’d opted to fly out of National rather than Dulles, which meant the aircraft had to bank more steeply at takeoff to avoid the no-fly airspace of the Capitol. Before it had even leveled out, Scully found she was gripping Mulder’s hand tightly, which he squeezed and pulled to rest gently on his knee.

His hand was warm, dry and soft, and he twisted it to interlace their fingers, his own long and elegant. Piano-playing fingers, her mother would call them.

“I’m not sure how much of a touchy-feely person you are,” he said after a couple of minutes, “but this is probably good.” He nodded toward their interlaced fingers. “How much public affection are you comfortable with?”

“Honestly?” Scully said, “Not much. But… I think I need to get over that for the purposes of this week. If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be convincing.” Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not saying we need to lay it on thick,” she went on, “but, you should feel free to put your arm around me or hold my hand, or…” her voice trailed off as her thoughts spun.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said, then lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on it.

She felt her stomach dip. What was going on with her?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” he said, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Good idea,” she said, and leaned back in the plush comfort of the first class seat, telling him everything she could think of about herself, starting at the beginning of her life and going onward. He was attentive, occasionally asking questions, and several times made comments that made her outright laugh. “And that’s… me.” She finished, “I work long hours, I practically live in my lab-”

“-and you recently acquired a devoted and loving fiance,” he finished for her.

She chuckled. “Yes,” she said, “and that.”

She looked down at their laced fingers, realizing that somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten to be scared of flying.

“So what about you?” she asked him. “What should I know about you for this week? What will we tell McKay?”

“I’m going to pivot a bit here,” he said, “go with it?”

“Okay...” she was curious.

“Do you have a ring?” he asked her. “An engagement ring?”

“You know, I’d thought about that,” she said. She remembered the first thing McKay had done when she’d mentioned a fiancé, was glance at her ring finger. “I told McKay that the engagement was new and that we were having the ring sized. I went to a couple pawn shops and an antique store this weekend, but I couldn’t find anything that would really work.”

“I may be able to help with that,” he said, letting go of her hand so that he could reach into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch. He set it on the tray table in front of her.

She reached forward and pulled open the drawstring, shaking out its contents onto her palm. She gasped quietly. The ring was gold with an aged patina, a large diamond solitaire sat in the middle, flanked by two emerald cut sapphires.

“Mulder…” she said, looking up at him.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “I find in these… situations, that sticking as closely to the truth as possible can help, well… sell the story. I’ll obviously need the ring back at the end of our arrangement, but little details might help this McKay to…”

“Believe the lie?” Scully offered.

“If you like,” Mulder said kindly.

Scully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

“Good fit,” he said.

She smiled at him and met his eye. “So stick as closely to the truth as possible?”

“Whenever you can,” he said, tucking the empty pouch back into the inner pocket of his linen suit. “So. I’m going to tell you about myself -- things you should be comfortable sharing with McKay -- that way we won’t talk ourselves into any corners.”

“That sounds sensible,” she said, “one thing though.” He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “What should we tell him you… do. For a living.”

He shrugged. “The truth.” It was her turn to raise eyebrows. “I’m pursuing my PhD,” he clarified. Her eyebrows went up even higher. “I was midway through my degree when my parents were killed in an accident. My sister was badly injured. She was in the hospital for months. I had to sell my parents house, move back… It cost a lot of money to get her where she is today. I do this job to finance my degree and to take care of her.”

Scully’s heart went out to him. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“Is she okay, your sister?” she asked him.

“Samantha,” he said. “She has good days and bad. We’re getting through it.”

For the first time he seemed to clam up and his openness closed off a bit. She wouldn’t pry.

“What degree are you pursuing?” she asked him.

“Psychology,” he answered.

“Where?”

“Oxford, until the accident,” he said, “now Georgetown.”

Scully looked at him. He was absolutely full of surprises. She looked down at the ring on her finger. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have picked out for herself.

“I’m… I was not expecting…” she started to say before she was aware she’d even opened her mouth, she stopped herself before she insulted him, “this level of service,” she finished lamely.

Mulder stared at her baldly. “We’re a full-service boutique, Dr. Scully,” he said.

Scully felt her face flush.

The flight attendant came by then with hot towels, and Mulder turned from her to politely thank the attendant.

“Mind the prongs on the sapphires,” he said as Scully shook a little heat out of her own before using it, “they have a tendency to catch on sweaters and towels.” She looked over at him and he gave her a quiet smile.

They were the first off the plane, out of the jetway and snaking into the masses -- LAX was absolutely packed, filled with travelers either coming or going for the Independence Day holiday. As they passed a gate that was about to board, a man wearing a huge backpack turned around, not paying attention to the added bulk strapped to his shoulders and bumped roughly into Scully, who stumbled. Mulder smoothly grabbed her elbow, righting her. From that point on, he led her gently through the busy terminal, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other held out to keep people out of her space.

He collected their luggage as it came off of the carousel, taking her suitcase and his own garment bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He then nodded toward an area near the exit doors.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand, “I think that’s our driver.” There was an impeccably liveried older gentleman standing with a sign reading “SCULLY.” When she looked up at him, his eyes were bright and focused on her.

It was odd. She'd dated men who'd been sweet and conscientious. She'd had boyfriends that made her feel safe and taken care of. She'd met men (and a few women) who made her feel wanted -- who looked at her with a hunger that made her skin feel tight around her bones. But she'd never experienced all of those things at once, all from the same person. An odd feeling that crept up her spine, but she shook it off, following the driver McKay had sent to their waiting limousine.

XxX

She had forgotten about the traffic in LA. Despite the fact that the airport was very near where McKay’s yacht was docked in Marina del Rey, it still took forty five minutes to get to the marina, enough time for Scully to have second thoughts. And third. And fourth. By the time the limo crawled to a stop in a narrow parking lot adjacent to the docks, Scully was as tense as a tightrope, ready to snap.

The driver opened the door nearest Mulder, who rose confidently onto the hot asphalt and held out a hand to help her out.

“This way, please,” the driver said, turning on his heel to lead them toward the docks. Scully turned back to the car to inquire about their luggage, but there were already two -- what Scully assumed to be dockhands or porters, pulling their baggage out of the trunk -- they were dressed alike, each in navy shorts with a walkie talkie clipped to their waist, and a crisp white polo shirt with the name “Dominus” embroidered on the front.

When the driver led them to the plank leading to the boat, she heard Mulder’s small intake of breath. She was bowled over, herself. She’d expected it to be big, but the Dominus was massive. She could see various crew members darting about on the various decks, and there, standing at the top of the teak and chrome boarding plank was Alexander McKay himself. She took a deep, steadying breath.

A man and woman dressed in the crew uniform met them at the bottom of the plank.

“Hello,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Greg, I’m the head steward for the Dominus. This is Krista,” he gestured to the woman, who smiled at them warmly, “she’ll be your personal steward. Anything at all you need, find one of us. We’ll be sure your baggage gets to your stateroom. Welcome aboard.” He gestured them toward the ship.

Mulder and Scully both gave them their thanks and then turned to… well, to walk the plank, thought Scully. Into the depths we go.

Just as she was about to take a step, Mulder put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to place a kiss into her hairline. She looked up to see McKay watching, a smile she couldn’t read playing about his lips.

With Mulder close behind her, she stepped aboard.

#fanfic #msr #my fic #the x-files #au #prompts #don’t get used to daily updates #😅

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Text

This must be the first time that I managed to finish an Anime in only five days. My favs are Misa, L and Near.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, manipulation, stalking, sabotage, Yandere being mean, clinginess, gaslighting, blackmailing, kidnapping, death

Yandere Death Note Hc’s

Light Yagami

✍️I have so much to say! The first and most outshining trait should be very obvious. Manipulative to the point where he’ll break you if he has too. He’s very charming so it won’t be hard for him to quickly get close to you and your parents. A good relationship with you starts with a good relationship with your parents. He’ll have everything perfectly planned to make sure that his darling falls for him. Also a very controlling one. He will control a lot of things in your life, probably not all, unless you force him too. It will feel like you have some power in this relationship, but you don’t. He can also be a really cruel one. It might happen often that he is one day all over you and the next he is completely ignoring you just to have you begging for his attention. He loves it when you rely on him and submit to him. He has one of the most unhealthy obsessions with his darling and with his intelligence and charm it won’t be hard for him to get his s/o telling him everything he wants to know.

✍️Also a very possessive one. No one can have his darling since they are going to be his god/goddess which will rule on his side over the world. His delusions are a whole chapter for itself, but his delusions will decide how good he’ll treat the s/o. He believes he’s a god and he expects them to treat him like one. Better worship him or else he’ll get mad. But the more I thought about it, the more I can see him as someone who’s delusions will from time to time take a complete 180 degree flip and in this moments he’ll be an absolute worshipper for his darling, being blinded from their perfection. Enjoy these moments when you have them.

✍️Light is surprisingly okay with the s/o meeting their family and friends, but only when they don’t start spending more time with them than with him. But these are the only exceptions because if it’s anyone else who isn’t a family member of yours, his or one of your friends then he’ll get jealous quickly. But he’s so good to overplay it and with his charm it honestly won’t be hard for him to quickly get his darling away from them.

✍️Normally he only kills criminals or people who are a threat to Kira, but isn’t trying to take his darling away from him a crime too? If not, the worst crime? You should be careful with how affectionate you are with someone if you don’t want them to die on a heart attack, accident, suicide or whatever Light can think off. Everyone who dares to make a move on his darling or even looks at them in the wrong way will drop like a dead fly.

✍️He can fool everyone with his act and charm and I think he might be able to make it look like a ‘normal’ relationship where he’ll pull the strings behind every action you make and will make you spend every free minute with him, having wrapped you up so much in lies that you want to spend ‘willingly’ every minute with him. If his darling should ever start try to break up with him or suspecting he’s Kira and isn’t a supporter of him then things will get really swiftly really bad and he’ll threaten his darling to kill their family and friends, forcing them to spend time with him if they don’t want to feel responsible for someone’s death.

✍️As long as you love him and don’t suspect him of being Kira, only if you don’t support him that is, then Light can be the perfect boyfriend for you, charming, handsome, intelligent. But if you’ll ever try to leave him or are against Kira and find somehow out that he’s Kira then he’ll peel his ‘perfect boyfriend’ image off and will show you his real face. He’ll threaten everyone you love to keep you by his side. Stay better in your line or else he’ll punish you and/or kill someone you’re close to so you can learn your lesson. Your opinion is important to him, after all you’ll rule the world with him, but he also wants you to accept his opinion.

L Lawliet

🍰I was beyond mad when he died. L is a stalker and an obsessive one. He has cameras and wires placed everywhere in his darling’s house, observing their every word and movement. He has some connections and will use them to get every file about them. It won’t take long for him to know everything there is to know there about the s/o. Family, friends, favorites, fears, hobbies. Everything! And the more he finds out the more he gets obsessed. Just in case he might create some dirty secrets about his darling’s family if they should try to leave. He’s also really manipulative. He knows his darling’s thoughts from the way they’re acting and moving and can estimate what they’ll do next and will take advantage of it if it’s necessary.

🍰He’s smart enough to know that his feelings aren’t normal, but for some reason he can’t stop. There are times where he can’t concentrate when his darling isn’t near him and where he’ll feel highly frustrated without them. He’s a desperate and touchy one. He might not look like it, but he just really wants his darling’s love and since he’s most of the time just alone in a room filled with computers and TV’s, isolating himself most of the time he’s beyond touchstarved and there will always be some physical contact. If his darling rejects that he might just handcuff them to him. At least like this they can’t try to get away from him when he wants another hug. He’s also overprotective. He deals with a lot of dangerous cases and knows that if someone finds out how special his darling to him is they will be targeted so he’ll ensure their safety.

🍰He watches his darling all the time and knows their schedules and who they meet during the day. He’s just so good in analyzing people and knows exactly from what he sees if someone likes his darling or the other way around. He won’t mind if they spend time with other people, but that’s only when the s/o doesn’t get to friendly with them or they don’t get too friendly with them. If that’s case then he’ll start feeling sour.

🍰If someone gets too close to his darling or if he notices that someone in his darling’s surroundings plans to harm them he’ll quickly dig some dirty secret about them up or will simply create one and will make sure that everyone will hear about it. He won’t kill, he’ll rely more on manipulations to simply dirty that person’s name.

🍰He will try to make you come willingly to him. He’ll create scenarios where you’ll get in a tricky situation and have no choice, but to rely on him and of course he’ll be there for you. If that doesn’t work then he’ll resort to blackmailing and will tell you about something that happened in your parent’s or friend’s past you don’t want people to find out or he’ll use the false rumors created and will spread them. Then you’ll have no choice, but to ask the famous L for help. If all this doesn’t work then he’ll be willing to kidnap his darling. But then he has everything planned perfectly. An excuse to why you suddenly disappeared and an excuse to why you most likely won’t be seen for a while.

🍰He knows everything about you and that’s just terrifying. There will be times where you’ll wake up at night just to find him staring at you intensely. Escaping won’t be from any use because L has the plan already figured out before the thought has even started to form in your mind. Trying to ask Watari won’t be useful either since he’s loyal to L. He has every possible reaction from you already planned out and a way to handle it. Get used to sweets because he’ll feed you a lot of them. Get used to him being a huge cuddle bear around you. He’s very blunt with you and his emotions for you. If you want to get out of this room filled with sweets, monitors and files then proof to him that you don’t leave him. He knows if you lie or not, but if he’s convinced that you are genuine then he might let you out, but not without a tracker and some wires on you. Just for safety.

Misa Amane

💄Misa is the obsessive and possessive type of Yandere. She will be very obvious with her obsession for her darling and is for sure someone who will take their things, letting them know that she’ll borrow their sweater for a while, but she’ll never give it back to them. Won’t allow anyone to take her sweet little darling away from her. No one should dare. She’ll kill anyone who tries to.

💄Also lovestruck, desperate, delusional and clingy. She believes in love at first sight as well as that you’ll love her just as much as she does. This girl here is all over you and will be highly affectionate with you, especially in public since she never got the chance to do that with Light. She’s honestly such a sweetheart for her darling and will do anything to make them love her even more. She’s so needy for her darling’s love and affection and she can’t endure her day without this.

💄Misa gets jealous as soon as her darling starts talking about someone else in a bit too affectionate and adoring way, at least in her opinion, and she’ll instantly become more clingy to her darling.

💄Don’t waste your time with other people or she’ll get rid of them. She won’t go as far as killing her darling’s family, but it’s a constant fight between her and her s/o’s family. But her darling might be able to convince her to not kill people who made her jealous. But in order to do that they need to show her that they only love her and no one else. If they succeed in doing that then Misa will be walking on clouds and will forget about the person.

💄Kidnapping isn’t needed. She’s popular and everyone knows that the both of you are together so the question here is if you are stupid enough to break up with her and deal with the rage of her fans. The darling also needs to prevent Misa from killing everyone who even dares to look at them so they won’t be able to leave her side. She also wants to go out with her darling to do couple moments so that everyone can see that the both of you are together.

💄Misa wants just to be loved by you and will do anything to make you satisfied with her. She has money and fame to get you everything you could possibly want. She’ll shower you in affection and is a total angel for you. She’s so cheesy with her love confessions and will do everything with you that she couldn’t do with Light. Pyjama parties, wearing couple outfits, feeding each other. She’ll do everything. Luckily you are able to talk her out of killing if you just start being affectionate to her. She just wants love.

Mello

🍫Mello is the overprotective Yandere. He is part of the mafia and that is already enough to increase his protectiveness over his darling. He’s also the harsh and gentle one at the same time. He is really impulsive from time to time and can say the one or another mean word to the s/o, but he can also be very gentle if he wants to.

🍫He’s also the possessive, desperate and touchstarved Yandere. He’s always constantly battling with Near about who’s the better one and constantly lands in second place so now that he has his darling he’ll make sure that he gets to have them for himself. But that also leads him to be surprisingly needy for his darling’s praises and love since he hates to admit it, but he often feels secretly insecure about many things so to know that his darling loves him would help him to feel more confident.

🍫Mello gets so quickly jealous, it’s ridiculous and will most likely cause a scene, yelling at anyone who even just briefly glances in his darling’s direction. Better pull him quickly away because if the person dares to speak back he’ll get violent. If you don’t want him to punch every single person better stay away from other human beings except him.

🍫He gets jealous fastly and is ready to go very violent. Different from Near and L he’s much more willing to kill and if someone even dares to flirt with you that person will have to deal with a broken nose and the loss of a few teeth. It will end in a carnage if someone dares to hurt his darling.

🍫He’s overprotective and possessive, both traits which are bound to lead him to kidnapping his darling quickly. He does feel guilty to take them away from everyone they’ve ever loved, but he’ll try to convince himself that he just does it to protect them. Good luck trying to escape him and the mafia.

🍫Mello will never admit how much he yearns for your praises and touches, he does have some pride and it’s interesting how he often pretends to not care, but his hugs and kisses are always so passionate. His words and actions don’t always match, but please remember that you’re his everything. If he gets in his softer mood he’ll spoil you with presents he knows you’ll love.

Near

🎲Near is very similar to L. He’s the obsessive and stalker kind of Yandere. Just like L he has cameras and wires in every corner of his darling’s house to watch them, taking notice of everything they do. He has some connections to get every information that has ever existed about them, but even after knowing them better than they probably do therself his curiosity is still not satisfied, that’s how deeply he’s obsessed. Also the type to steal things that belong to the s/o. Pictures, toys, letters. He has a whole drawer only for this purpose. He treasures all these things very much so no one is allowed to touch them. Just like L the aware type who knows that this is actually wrong.

🎲Desperate and touchstarved for his darling. He has troubles admitting when he wants his darling to touch him and would try to be subtle with it at first by looking intensely at them. If they don’t get the hint he’ll just tell them very bluntly what he wants from them. He wants the s/o’s attention on only him and will feel sour if he doesn’t get it. He’s like a child, needy for your love and attention. I can also see him as a possessive and lovestruck one. He might be really smart, but when it comes to the human being and emotions he’s clueless, he has never experienced love before, but he knows for sure that he likes the feeling that the s/o stirs up in his chest. Absolutely infatuated with his darling to the point where he at one point thinks he needs them.

🎲Near is like a child and as mentioned feels sour when the s/o gives their attention to someone else, but he has problems with expressing his feelings so his s/o will never notice, but the other person will notice how his gaze feels like it’s going to burn holes into them.

🎲He relies more on the influence and connections he has. This guy who always flirts with them in class? Suddenly they are accused of drug dealing. The person who you seem to like a bit too much? Suddenly heavy evidence appears that they have been meeting up with a few not very trustable guys.

🎲It is bound to happen sooner or later and it will happen without a warning or signs that something is wrong. Near tries at first to get a spot in his darling’s heart by using all the knowledge he has to become a friend of them and they won’t suspect anything. It’s scary how carefully he has planned all this. He’ll most likely drug his darling and makes sure to leave no clue. It will be like they’ve just vanished into thin air and it’s very unlikely that they’ll ever be found again. He has most likely some house build up just for the reason so the s/o can live there from now on.

🎲Near is honestly similar to a child. He wants to be taken care of and wants to be loved. But he also understands that after kidnapping you, you need some time and he’s willing to wait for you. He really likes touching you, tracing his finger over your skin or touching your hair. He’s completely enraptured with you. If you act up too much he’ll lock you up in an empty and dark room until you’ve learned your lesson. You will love him. It’s only a question of time.

#yandere death note #yandere light yagami #yandere light #yandere l #yandere l lawliet #yandere misa #yandere misa asame #yandere mello #yandere near

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

��Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D

#RR writing #leverage #leverage tv #eliot spencer #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker #leverage parker #alec hardison

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

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What's your favorite character from the golden trio era?

Oooh idk possibly this is an unpopular opinion - at least it was when I was like, properly in the fandom rather than where I am now which is firmly on the sidelines with my hands over my ears and ignoring everything that I don't like - but Cho Chang. This is probably in part because she got so much undeserved hatred (thank u fandom and author racism) and I am predisposed to like characters that people don't like.

I find her character so heartbreakingly real in a way that I think is entirely accidental on JKR's part. I don't think JK can write women. (Plz don't hate me for that, but like, it's true.) Everything interesting about the characters we are meant to like gets sanded down and ignored in the later books - Hermione's whole thing is like, book smart but not emotionally intelligent, she wants to be right and have people know she's right more than she cares about their feelings. She thinks rules are important until they apply to her. She is ruthless and vindictive and petty. These are interesting character traits that just get completely dropped in the later books. By the time book 6 ends and book 7 starts Hermione is 'wife' and 'mother' and it's kinda sad.

I digress.

Cho's boyfriend is murdered. Cho is understandably upset and heartbroken and sad af. She tries to find comfort in Harry because Harry was there, Harry must understand. Harry can help her process. Their ways of dealing with trauma are completely opposite to each other. Cho seeks emotional vulnerability and closeness from the boy who, of all people, will understand. Harry's way of processing trauma is to ignore it. It happened, it sucks, I will never speak of it again (until all my unprocessed emotions come spilling out and I end up lashing out and getting angry). Those two ways of dealing with trauma are not going to work well together. Harry is honestly a dick towards her - she's his fantasy. She's not a real person to him. When that fantasy comes crashing down he behaves pretty awfully towards her. And if you're reading critically, you come away thinking yeah, Cho's a whiny crybaby who doesn't get Harry at all. What a bitch. When in reality, it's more like - Cho is seriously fucked up and is trying to come to terms with her grief and seek comfort in someone who she thought would get it.

Imagine being like, 16 and being isolated and sad and so fundamentally misunderstood. Imagine being 18 and your friends are dead and the boy you liked is still dead and the other boy you thought you might like is a hero and the only thing you're really known for is the mess that is your grief. Imagine that the popular consensus is that your grief is something to be ridiculed.

I tend to pick and chose which parts of the extended canon I believe in, but I believe in Cho moving to America and getting hitched to an American muggle dude. (Moving to America is probably my own headcanon actually). What would motivate her to move across the world? Grief? Wonderlust? Anger? I imagine it's all three. Idk if this is a relatable feeling to a lot of people, but I get it. I have a constant itch under my skin that tells me to move on whenever a place starts to feel too much like home. To leave. To escape. Nowhere feels like home because home is a collection of broken things. It's a hall of funhouse mirrors - the wires in your brain get mixed up. Comfort and safety become synonymous with 'i will fuck this up' and 'i don't deserve this' and 'everyone will leave'.

I want so many things for Cho. I want her name to make sense. I want her to be seen as something other than 'pretty' and 'sad'. I want her in Boston slamming Sam Adams by Sam Adams grave because she finds it funny. I want her in Boston, learning to drive a car (stick-shift because the driving instructor had made a comment about how automatics are easier to learn and she is tired of people seeing her as something weak and unable). I want her road-raging and I want her to drive across the country because why the fuck not. I want her in New York and the city is so frantic and no one looks at her and she feels so small and the lights are so bright and she thinks maybe she could disappear here and no one would ever know. I want her to find a group of women rollerskating and maybe they invite her to their roller derby group. It isn't flying, but it's fast and aggressive and she's never allowed herself to be aggressive like this before. She's not allowed herself to be angry like this before. No one else has allowed her to be angry like this before.

I want her to go to California and to go to Angel Island and I want her to understand that there have been people like her before. That she is not alone in this feeling. I want her to meet a dude who's studying for an MBA - he doesn't know who she is. Doesn't know what she is. She's just this cute girl who drinks Sam Adams even tho that's a Boston thing and they're in San Diego. He's probably a frat boy. I want him to be a frat boy who takes his degree too seriously and wakes up at like 5 because he's also a gym rat. He takes her to his boxing class. She probably cries during and hey that's okay - she has a lot of shit to work through, he can tell. He doesn't ask about it. Just says her accent is cute. Maybe she starts taking night classes, maybe she doesn't. She's weirdly technologically illiterate - she sends him postcards even though they live in the same city. She says its because her school didn't let them have phones. She's never seen a Tarintino film and that's just like... not cool. They watch True Romance on his shitty box TV in his room in his frat house and she laughs (she laughs like the violence is cathartic) when Alabama completely destroys Virgil. He looks at her and she shrugs and says 'I get it.'

She says that's she's leaving soon - doesn't know where. Probably isn't coming back and again that's... not cool. She's weird about some stuff. Won't talk about home - won't say where she's from. He should be fine with it because like, it's not as if this is anything serious and his life is pretty clearly planned out. Get an MBA, work in some start-up tech company - the internet is a thing now and god, there's money to be made. He thinks maybe that she should like, stay but she also seems like the kind of person who doesn't know how to stop running. And look, he's doing an MBA. He rushed his frat. He goes to boxing every morning without fail. He's determined. He's not good at letting the things he wants go. But he lets her go because she doesn't want to stay. One night afterwards, his frat bro says, philosophical because they're crossfaded, that maybe she can't stay. Maybe she won't let herself stay. And that... That sounds about right.

So he waits. He waits and he gets postcards with no return address - in Seattle, she tries ice hockey. In Miami, she tries surfing. He almost gets on a plane to Cincinnati because she got into a fight with some dude who made his girlfriend cry in public. Apparently, she knocked him out with a punch just the way he showed her to. It feels weirdly romantic.

I want her to write a postcard to him when she's sitting in a bar in Las Vegas and I want her to include a return address. I want him on the first flight out, because fuck his classes? She included a return address. He asks her if she's ever going to go home and she looks at him and says, 'What? To San Diego?'

#cho chang #meta #oh god i wrote meta #this isn't even meta tbh - this is basically a fic #this very much got away from me #can u tell i have feelings about women being angry?#grief and anger taste the same #harry potter #asks #anon #she speaks

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