#// a story that begged telling { drabble }

[strawnav]

"Hachi —"

"He didn't tell me. Not exactly. But he —" Jinbei's voice falters, and Nami fights to keep her shoulders squared and her expression smooth, when he says, "— he warned me, about the kinds of things I might do that he felt might...be upsetting to you. So that I could avoid those behaviors."

Some part of Nami's heart breaks, and she smiles, faint and almost sharp, at the idea of Hatchan trying to protect her in this small, simple way. It's kind, but it's something else, too. "And based on what he said, you've...guessed."

He doesn't pretend otherwise, and she appreciates it. "Yes. Not the finer details, but...some of it."

She sits, body suddenly feeling heavy, and sinks into one of the room's plush seats. It's quiet, in the library. Just her and their newest crew member, who she does not fear. Who she does not fear. But her body remembers. Suddenly she can do little else. "What did he say?"

Jinbei would clearly rather not say, but he sits, too, and respects her too much to lie or evade. "He said it might make you uncomfortable to see me using a firearm." Her mind fills with images and sounds, the bang of a gunshot / the sight of her mothers skull exploding, viscera falling out like a spilled bowl / Nojiko's scream. "He told me to let you eat first, before myself, if there was ever a situation where we needed to eat in turns." It's been years since she's been forced to skip a meal, either because her captors decided she wasn't worthy of food or because spending even a cent on a meal was selfish, but she remembers the clutching, devouring hunger and the way her ribs felt against her skin nevertheless. "He though it would be best if I avoided waking you at night if there was any other option." His voice twists, and she doesn't have it in her to wonder what he's imagining. The first six months were the hardest, as far as sleep goes, never being allowed more than a few hours at a time because Arlong wanted to break her circadian rhythm, forcing her up at random to redo maps she knew were perfect. The years after, when she'd wake screaming and be beat for causing such a racket, and the way now she can't scream when she wakes up at all.

She swallows thickly, does not try to force the memories away, does try not to let them settle.

"Was that all?" Nami asks, her voice stronger than she feels.

"And he...suggested I shouldn't come near you generally while you're working on maps."

That has her stiffening. A too - large hand against her skull, slamming her face to her work table, smearing wet ink on her cheeks and blooming bruises beneath it. The memories always float closest to the surface when she draws maps, and that makes her so fucking angry she still wants to scream some days, because drawing maps is her passion. She loves little more. And he took it from her, transformed the simple, warm joy into a source of fear and anger. It's hers, now, but it isn't just her body that he left scarred. It's her dream. Every day, the scars fade, and she believes that someday, it'll be all hers again, but that she has a scar to heal at all is all wrong.

"Hah. That was kind of him." Her hand raises, pressing idly to her tattoo and the jagged scar beneath it. "I kind of hate how weak it makes me seem, though. That he thinks you need to walk on eggshells around me, just because Arlong hurt me."

"Not weak," Jinbei says. "I know that you're the farthest thing from weak."

Nami smiles, not looking at him, and tries to remember that he's right. "I want to tell you about it. Everything that happened." Hatchan was being kind, to tell him this. Nojiko was being kind, when she told Sanji and Usopp. She understands. But it's not their story to share. "I want you to know, and I want you to hear it from me."

He stiffens, and she can tell even without looking at him by the way his breath skips. Fishmen and humans breathe differently. She knows that, too. She imagines hearing a fishman's breath at her back while she draws a map, and is forced to consider that at least one piece of Hachi's advisements may be wise. Jinbei nods and says, "Of course."

"I'm not telling you to hurt you. This crew is like a family to me, and that means you, too. I want everything to be out on the table between us." She looks at him, still smiling, tired but not lying. "And I think we both need the reminder that we're strong enough to bear the truth."

Jinbei smiles, too, and nods again. Nami inhales.

"The reason Hachi probably thought it might upset me if I saw you with a gun — the first thing Arlong did to me was invade my village when I was ten. He took it over, and demanded tribute from everyone. My mother, she — she only had enough money for herself or for my sister and I, and she chose to save us. Arlong — he shot her in the head in front of us." She's surprised at how even her voice is, even while he heart breaks at the memory. She'd tried to help Bellemere after; tiny, trembling hands reaching as though she could put her brains back in her skull, and Nojiko had held her back. Jinbei looks, again, like he may cry, and Nami feels herself grow more tired.

He starts, "I'm so —"

"No," she says. "Don't. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. You've apologized already, and I accepted it. You're not your brother, and I know that. Seeing you with a gun wouldn't scare me, because I know you're not like him."

Jinbei nods, lips thin. Nami looks back to the half - finished map resting on her work table. It's nice, that she can take breaks whenever she wants now. She lets her eyes rest there.

"After he killed my mother, he found a map I'd drawn. I don't remember what I said, but I must have gotten mad at him for touching it or something, because he realized I drew it. Even back then, I was good at it, and Arlong took me away. A man in the vilage who cared about me — he's like a father to me — tried to stop him from taking me, and he was...he got hurt, real badly for it. He almost died."

She doesn't look back at Jinbei. She thinks of Genzo's voice, ragged, barely - there, soaked with blood, I'll save you, Nami. She thinks of screaming, begging him to abandon her. It took her so long after to learn that she was allowed to let others protect her, that she doesn't get everyone who loves her hurt.

"Once he took me away, Arlong beat me and made me watch him sink the Navy ships that came close. I didn't understand what he wanted, but...he was just trying to prove to me that I was alone. That help wasn't coming. He said I could join his crew as their cartographer. I —" Her voice breaks, just barely, as she remembers the little girl, so scared, so small, who'd had to be so, so brave. She wishes she could hold her. She wishes she could tell her that it would be okay someday. "I told him I'd only work for him if he'd let me buy the village back from him someday. And he agreed."

"He did?" Jinbei sounds sincerely surprised, and Nami laughs weakly, eyes drifting to her knees.

"He did. I'd just have to earn one hundred million berries for him, and I'd have the town's freedom. And my own."

"One hundred —"

"I was still a little girl, so I — I didn't really understand just how big that number was. But I didn't...there wasn't any choice. I d - didn't see any other choice. No one was coming to save us. Either I protected the village, or...or they'd all die, like my mom did." She inhales raggedly. "It was all I could do."

"I'm sorry," he says again, and her head snaps to him but before she can tell him to stop, he says, "I'm not taking responsibility. But I am sorry that happened. That shouldn't have...no child should ever be put in that position."

He's right. Nami smiles, and allows herself a few tears. All of the others said the same, when she'd told them. It's a good reminder, that her pain was as horrible and wrong as it had felt. As it still feels, on the worst days.

"Anyway, I ended up working for him. It was more like I was his prisoner than a member of the crew. He gave me a tattoo on my arm of his Jolly Roger, like — hah, well. I guess like a brand." Jinbei's face twists, a mixture of guilt and fury, and she thinks of Fisher Tiger's last words and understands, at least a little. "He was...awful to me. Almost the whole crew was. I went without food a lot. I got beat a lot. He didn't let me sleep enough or eat enough, and he almost killed me more times than I can count. I think he expected me to die. I think he wanted me to." It hadn't felt like an option to her. She was all that stood between Arlong and the village. "He let me stop wearing chains when I turned twelve. A birthday present." Jinbei's expression contorts further. She reaches out her free hand, hesitates, and then commits, resting it over his. His eyes widen as his head snaps towards the contact, then towards her face.

She smiles, trying to comfort them both. This aches, but she's told the story to the others enough that at least the wound isn't new. The hurt is like a stone, stuck in the center of her chest — whenever she tells someone, it feels like chipping away at it.

"He was...exacting about his maps. He locked me in a little room for a long time, didn't let me see any other humans for years. It was just work and maps and getting hurt whenever I tried to rest. I couldn't breathe. When he finally started letting me leave the island, I started stealing from — anywhere. Anything I could get my hands, to save the money to buy the island. Eventually, I started stealing from pirates."

Nojiko's horror, the first time she came home, blood dripping from her mouth and wounds across her arms and chest. Who cares that I'm hurt, I got ten thousand berries right here!

It's easier, to tell this part of the story.

"They hurt me, too, but...honestly, it was still better than being at Arlong Park. Nothing that any of them did to me could match what Arlong did." She inhales slow, exhales slower. Jinbei moves his hand beneath hers slowly, so as to not startle her, and flips it so her hand rests in his wide palm. She doesn't flinch, when he curls his hand gently around hers. "That was...my whole life. For eight years."

The number seems to wound him, and his eyes lower. Nami breathes, but does not stop. She must not believe herself fragile. She must not believe him fragile, either. "I had saved a lot over the years. Arlong figured out how close I was, and he had one of the Navy fuckers he was paying off steal my stash, so that I was back to square one. They shot my sister — she lived, thank god." She'd been so scared, mind conjuring images of Belle - mere's blood in the grass, another person dead because of Nami. "I — the villagers were so angry at Arlong, and so angry on my behalf, that they...they decided they'd rather die fighting Arlong and his men than live another day like this. I tried to convince them I could just...earn the money again, but..."

Inhale. Exhale. This part is hard. It had been so strange, to go from universally despised to so, so loved, and all in a matter of hours. To know that she was going to lose the people who loved her again. "The village loved me, even if I didn't know it. They wouldn't let Arlong get away with hurting me like that, and I think they...they thought that if they died, at least I'd finally be able to escape. I wouldn't have anybody left to save except myself." Her smile turns bitter. "Idiots. At that point, I'd have just died, too."

Her hand against her scar finally falls, and Jinbei's eyes fall to the exposed flesh. The scar is audacious and ugly, but it's mostly covered by the pinwheel. He seems to only now realize how extreme the wound is. "I was so angry at him, and so scared for my family, and so sick of — of having his mark on my body, this reminder that it wasn't really my body, just his tool, and I just — I snapped. I basically tried to carve his brand off of me." Jinbei winces, eyes shining, teeth gritting. There is no fear in her that the anger he expresses is aimed at her. "It's a miracle I can still use my arm at all, honestly. Luffy found me like that, and he didn't even know the story, he just...hated seeing me suffering like that. He and the others marched off to Arlong Park. And against all odds...they won. Luffy, he — he destroyed the room Arlong kept me in, destroyed all the maps I'd drawn in captivity. Destroyed everything connected to — what Arlong did to me. After that, after all that pain, I was...finally free."

Jinbei is silent for a long, long time. Nami doesn't rush him. She needs the quiet to swallow her tears, to let the memories wash through her and leave without drowning her. Fishmen hands feel different than human hands, but she's glad that holding Jinbei's hand doesn't chafe. It feels comforting. It feels kind.

Finally, the fishman says, "how long ago were you freed?"

Nami breathes out. "Almost three years ago."

"Three years of freedom after eight years of captivity and abuse from my brother. I don't fault you for being uncomfortable around me."

"Hey, stop that," Nami commands. "Listen. I'm not uncomfortable around you. We're holding hands now, and all that makes me feel is safe." Jinbei's eyes widen, head raising to look at her face. Her lips are set in a stern line, shoulders strong. "I'm not saying that there won't be bad days where I might jump when you greet me or something or feel anxious drawing my maps around you or the memories might make things hard. But it's not about you or about you letting Arlong go. I get that way about Sanji or Brook or the others sometimes, too." He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he squeezes her hand like he wants to be. "It's not about you. It's just the memories. We've both suffered a lot because of each other's people. But I don't blame you, and I know you don't blame me. There's no part of me, not a single one, that believes you'd ever hurt me the way Arlong did." Jinbei's eyes widen and shine and hurt. Softer, she adds, "There's no part of me that believes you'd ever hurt me at all."

The older man's voice trembles, breaking like the tears flowing from his eyes, when he says, "You are — far kinder than I deserve, and unimaginably brave." She smiles again, helpless this time, as she feels her own eyes begin to well again.

"Now you know my whole story. Thank you for letting me tell you."

"I'm a part of the crew," he says, still crying, but his voice is steadying. She thinks of the singular time she'd caught Arlong crying. He'd beat her for daring to see his fear and pain, and she knows that Jinbei is much stronger than him in many ways, that he is not afraid to allow himself to feel and cry and grieve. She is, too. "You said it yourself. This crew is like family, and there shouldn't be secrets." He breathes out a stuttering laugh, his tears slowing. "It's a bit strange to adjust to how close you are all."

"Give it a month or two," Nami shoots back, teasing a little now. "Luffy will have you so overwhelmed by how stupid we all are that you'll have no choice but to adjust."

"I hope to learn from all of you," he says, free hand wiping at his eyes. She releases his palm, and the other presses to his chest, and to the symbol that had frightened her in the early days "I hope that someday I may possess a fraction of your strength, Nami."

That draws a laugh from her, startled and shy. "The others on the crew are much strong than me."

"I don't believe that," he says, and he means it. He does. Her heart feels — light and heavy both. Floating on saltwater. She is strong, she knows. "To be strong enough not only to endure that hardship, but to have coped and moved on to the extent that you have...to be honest, I envy you. Arlong hurt you far more than he did me, and yet...the strength you display with regards to him is not something I can ever hope to match."

Her brow furrows. "He was your brother. He is your brother. That doesn't excuse him, and I'll always hate him for what he did to me. But it's a hell of lot easier to move on from a villain you hurt you than from the brother that you love."

Jinbei smiles joylessly. "Strange that the same man can be both, isn't it?"

She doesn't have a reply to that. All she can say, after a long moment of silence, is, "you're strong, too." To take responsibility for what is only barely his fault, to cry to a human even though humans have hurt him, to hold the love and the hate for Arlong together in his heart and not fall apart with it.

Jinbei smiles, not looking convinced, but doesn't argue.

"Do you want to — stay with me?" Nami asks suddenly. "While I finish this map?"

His eyes widen. "Are you sure you'd be comfortable with that?"

His concern isn't unwarranted. This conversation has memories bubbling to the surface, pressing against her head — Belle - mere, pain, years of abuse. The time Arlong drowned her and then crushed her hands. A fishman's breathing near her while she draws maps. It might be hard, but — "I'm strong," she says, because she needs to. "And I think I need..." She exhales, trying to think of how to word it. "I used to be afraid of pirates, you know? Much more than I was afraid of fishmen. When I started traveling with Luffy, I was terrified of him. But every day when none of them hurt me, the fear got...smaller. The memories of my crew being good to me drowned out the memories of the crew that hurt me. And I think...I think I need memories of maps and fishmen that are safe, too. To drown out the memories that aren't." She laughs quietly. "I guess I'm being selfish."

Jinbei smiles, almost paternal, eyes still red from his tears. "I think that makes perfect sense. I'd be happy to keep you company."

Nami grins. She's sure it might ache. But she's sure, too, that he won't hurt her. Even now, years later, what a relief — to know her crew won't ever hurt her.

"Thank you."

[chysalxsm]

Dragon cocks - Neuvilette/Zhongli - drabble + mini story

Kinktober 2023: Dragon cocks - Zhongli/Neuvilette seperate

Reader is always fem aligned!!!

• Sorry for the delay but I wasn't home yesterday after 10 p.m😭🙏

CW: Zhongli is your partner and Neuvilette your boss, Mating session, Non-human body parts (horns, tail and cocks), breeding (Neuvilette mentioned and Zhongli), sexual daydreams of the reader (Neuvilette),a Manhandling (Neuvilette) Cunningulus (Neuvilette), Rough sex (Zhongli), Blowjob (Zhongli), Hair pulling (Zhongli), Double Penetration (Zhongli)

Neuvilette:

Neuvilette that begs you to let him use you... All he wants to do is to fuck that pretty, tight, little pussy of yours till you're full of his cum. His mind is flooded with images of you whining and begging him to slow down, while he's pounding you till tears starts streaming down your cheeks. All of the daydreams he's having of you because of his incoming rut is making him wild with lust.

Neuvilette that can't get enough of your natural scent, smelling you from far away that no human ever could. His eyes narrow with want when you walk over to his office desk wearing that skimpy A-line skirt, the second dots of your blouse unbottoned that he had the perfect view of your cleavage.

You notice his intense gaze on you and your body, his tail swishing behind him hard and thudding against the floor.

,,Monsieur Neuvilette..? Are you feeling alright?"

Not a long moments later, you're pushed against his wooden desk, his soft lips smashing against yours while his big hands roam desperately over your body.

Neuvilette is so needy for you, wanting to make his dirty daydreams about you come true. Having your consent and seeing the blush on your cheeks is enough for Neuvilette to take control and rip your clothes off your body, kissing his way down your body till he reaches your wet pussy.

,,Mmhm god you smell so good..." Neuvilette groans out, pushing your panty to the side to take a whiff of your scent and not a second wasted his lips wrap around your erected clit, sucking and licking it like his life depends on it. He wants you to cream on his face.

Rounds after rounds where he makes you come over and over again, edging himself he finally sinks into your awaiting and overstimulated pussy and at that moment on, he knew that this wouldn't be the last time.

Zhongli:

Zhongli was completely different when it was dragon mating season. He was ruthless, rough and clearly mean.

You were gagging on one of his cock, the almost spiky tip, hitting the back of your throat over and over again while his other cock was rubbing over your face, smearing it with his pre-cum. Zhongli was so mean, calling you degrading names and praising you. Telling you that you're his good little slut and his to breed whenever he wishes.

His hands are wrapped around your hair, guiding your head like he wants to and thrusting his hips into your mouth just to hear your gag and choke around him.

,,Archons.. Enough." His voice was rough, pushing you off him and looking down at your teary eyes, grinning proudly. He wanted to fuck you, now.

Zhongli pushes you against your shared bed, manhandling so you're laying flat on your stomach while he's spreading your ass cheeks to the side to look at your glistening cunt, spitting on it before tapping his cocks against your entrance.

,,Zhongli..out it in already!! A-Anhh!~" *He couldn't hear your whines anymore. He thought he did a good job about shutting you up to not complain anymore but he was wrong. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his cocks as he thrust in one swift motion into your wet heat. You mewl out, the stretch being so good but also so painful yet you cream around him from that alone.

Zhongli promises himself to breed you throughly, so you won't get away from him until your belly can't take much more cum from him...

Tags: @exodiam @cringeycookies @joohoneybeee

[icyminghao]

why didn’t you tell me?

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: (some) angst, fluff, comfort, drabble, idol!minghao, established relationship warning(s): mentions of eating, fainting word count: 0.8k

summary: minghao sends you some alarming texts in the middle of the night, and you’re left to speculate the abundance of reasons why he would have sent them.

a/n: inspired by 21:20 of this video with minghao and park myungsoo! the ‘mala story’ segment really fueled my delusions omg

xu baobei ♡ [21:23]: We need to talk.

xu baobei ♡ [21:24]: Call me when you see this.

Those two text messages glare at you every time you pick up your phone, waves of dread coursing through your body as you start speculating the reason as to why your boyfriend had sent the texts so out of the blue.

Is he angry at you? For what reason? Is he going to break up with you? For what reason? You don’t think you’ve done anything to upset him lately, so what could be the issue?

Countless thoughts are flooding your mind as you pace around the living room of your apartment, debating whether to call him or not. If he really wanted to break up with you, wouldn’t you be sending yourself to death’s door by calling him?

Sighing, you bite your lip and decide to text him instead.

you [22:12]: talk about what?

Almost immediately, your ringtone blares through the speakers of your phone, and you nearly drop the phone in shock. Sure enough, the caller ID reads your boyfriend’s contact name, and you sigh in dread, taking a seat on the couch and mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.

“Hello?” you say as soon as you pick up, your heart rate picking up.

“y/n,” Minghao replies, his voice stern yet soft, like he can’t bring himself to be fully angry at you.

There’s silence for a short while, and you feel like you’re going to explode any second.

“Are you…” you break the silence, nearly trembling, “are you breaking up with me?”

On the other end of the line, you hear something drop. “What? No, y/n, I’m not breaking up with you. What made you think that way?”

“You- you sounded really scary in your texts,” you mumble, internally relieved that your boyfriend isn’t planning on breaking up with you.

“Text messages don’t carry tone in them, silly,” Minghao chuckles.

“I heard you went to the hospital. From Mingyu,” Minghao pipes up after a moment of silence, and everything clicks in your head.

You had indeed been to the hospital the day before upon suddenly passing out while hanging out with Mingyu’s sister, who’d sent you to the emergency room immediately out of fear that something serious had happened to you. Thankfully, the reason why you’d passed out had been due to fatigue, and you subsequently begged her not to tell anyone about it, despite her objections.

You’re guessing that she had told Mingyu about it, which you don’t blame her for, and that’s how you’ve ended up in this situation now.

“I did,” you reply simply, looking down at your feet.

“Are you feeling better now? What happened?” Minghao asks immediately after your reply.

“I’m okay now, it wasn’t serious,” you assure your boyfriend, “The doctor said it was due to fatigue.”

“Are you not eating and sleeping well?” Minghao replies with yet another question, worry laced in his voice. “Should I move back in?”

You start to panic a little at the idea of Minghao coming back to live in your shared home, seeing as to how he had moved to the dorm temporarily to prepare for their upcoming comeback, quickly refuting, “It’s okay, Hao, I’m okay! I think I just skipped a few meals because of work, I’ll make sure to have my meals regularly!”

Minghao pauses, then hums in response, seemingly not satisfied with your answer.

“Why… didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there,” Minghao’s voice becomes softer, and you sense a bit of hurt in his tone, breaking your heart a little.

“I— I didn’t want to worry you, Hao,” you began, eyes downturned, “You have a concert and a comeback coming up that’s more important.”

“Nothing’s more important than you, y/n.” Minghao replies without missing a beat, catching you by surprise. “I’m your boyfriend, y/n, you can talk to me if anything happens. What if- what if something serious had happened, and I wasn’t there?”

Minghao’s vulnerable tone breaks your heart, and you frown at his words. Throughout your relationship, such a situation had never happened before, and thinking in his perspective, you completely understand why he’s upset, making you all the more upset at your actions.

“I know, Hao, I- I would want you to let me know if anything happened to you, too. I’m really sorry.” you apologise, wishing he were physically beside you so you could hug him.

Minghao sighs, clearly not wanting to escalate the issue for no reason. “It’s okay, darling, just let me know in the future, hm? I love you.”

“I will, Hao. I love you too,” you reply like it’s second nature, because it is.

A comfortable silence ensues for a while, the two of you at ease knowing that your hearts beat for each other despite the physical distance.

“Also, I’m moving back in. Comeback preparations are more or less done, anyway, and I believe making sure a certain someone eats regularly is much more important,” Minghao jests, and you hear some rustling in the background. “I’m on the way.”

You chuckle. You really don’t know what you did to deserve this man, but you know you won’t be letting him go anytime soon.

a/n 2: i’ve come to a realisation that i’m an absolute horror at writing endings LOL

taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

masterlist

[xinganhao]

🎱 svt gets jealous ft. producer!reader.

anon → "I always had this idea in my head: seventeen when a fellow female idol under their company is a producer too and is helping to produce their new album, and they start falling for them but get jealous seeing another member and her interacting closely, laughing together etc."

⌗ ┆hyung line ( + a special jihoon chapter! ) ★ ₊ ˚ maknae line.

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: idol/producer!reader, jealousy, svt confesses to reader, svt asks reader out, friends to lovers (implied), [light] angst, fluff -ish, headcanons under the cut. still open to requests!

🎱 headcanons .ᐟ

of course seungcheol is the jealous type. 95z tease him about how visibly pouty he gets when your attention is elsewhere. as petulant as he is, seungcheol has an image to maintain— and, besides, he's always been a bit of a go-getter. he's straightforward enough about his intentions without outwardly exposing his envy. he bides his time, because he's unlikely to initiate anything while you're still producing with the group. but once that passes? you can anticipate a proper invitation to go out on a date.

jeonghan deals with his jealousy by teasing you with the other members, almost even pushing you in their direction. in some way, he's testing you, gauging your reaction. the other half of him really just wants to get a rise out of you. he'll let you know about how he feels in the most casual and cool way, too, like he's just telling you about the weather. afterwards, it's a lot more light teasing— this time, in the form of him poking fun at his own feelings. "yah, you're so lucky to have caught my eye," he'll joke. "what is it with you that has all of us falling over our feet, hm?"

try as he might, joshua can't be chill about the fact that he's feeling something akin to jealousy. he'd be the type to try and evade it, but not in an obvious way. maybe he keeps his distance. maybe he gets a little quiet around you. he's not the pouty type, not the one who will throw a fit; instead, he relegates himself to the sidelines. he'd tell you of his feelings a little later down the line, and only so he can completely get over it.

junhui pins the blame on you. he'll kid around about you cozying up to the other boys in a bid to hide how upset he is that it's not him you're cozying up to. still, there's a smug air to him whenever he confirms that you don't think of them that way. he can be confusing— is he flirting with you? is he just being friendly?— until he finally asks you out. "don't act like you didn't know i liked you," he'll huff, completely oblivious to his mixed signals.

on the flipside of the coin, soonyoung is the complete opposite. he wears his heart on his sleeve, after all. why should this be an exception? he'll whine about not having your attention. he'll fawn over your work until the others are begging him to tone it down. and he'll make it very, very clear that while you're not his (yet), he does not appreciate the other members interacting so closely with you. when it comes to soonyoung, it's really just a matter of when you'll give in to his painfully obvious advances.

this whole situation— falling for someone he's not supposed to, getting jealous of his own members— activates wonwoo's fight or flight response like crazy. it's one thing to accept the fact that, okay, maybe he has a crush on you. but when he has to deal with the fact that he's feeling negatively towards the boys who are as good as his brothers? yeah, wonwoo doesn't like that. in short: he chooses flight. he might freeze you out, might suddenly go from friendly to just cordial enough that it's not mean. the moment he realizes what's happening, wonwoo doesn't hesitate to put his walls up. + a wonwoo drabble!

🎱 the jihoon 'chapter' .ᐟ

author's note: anon, u had no way of knowing this, but i have a brewing jihoon story with a very similar plot as ur request— i absolutely could not resist a quick special (featuring my half-baked thoughts/wip which will hopefully come to life some day lol)

jihoon isn't entirely sure what to make of having a new producer on board, even if it is a temporary arrangement. perhaps it had been his pride. a part of him was happy having BUMZU and PRISMFILTER around, but anything beyond that felt like a challenge. and to have to do this with a fellow idol-producer? it definitely felt like a test of some sorts.

jihoon's hesitance morphs from begrudging respect, to genuine appreciation, to something akin to admiration. he likes your work and your ethic. he sees why you produce for your group; can recognize some of that scrappy, hungry qualities you bring to the studio.

because you run such parallel lines as idols, jihoon ends up exposing to you a habit of his that he tends to only ever show off to his co-producers. he video calls. often.

never mind if it's something that can be resolved over text or audio message. jihoon will video call instead of text because he usually talks in streams of consciousness, because he needs to see your real-time reaction to a lyric or a tune. that's just the type of person that he is, and you quickly get used to it in the months you work together.

honestly, the thoughts of jealousy are secondary to jihoon. if anything, what he's forced to reckon with is a much more foreign feeling. the flutter of his chest when you walk in to his studio. the stutter in his pulse as your fingers lightly brush over his DAW. the hitch of his breath when your head falls, ever so slightly, on to his shoulder, the longer the evening drags on.

jihoon is a man in his late twenties. as he tries to stay absolutely still to keep you from waking, there's only one thing on his mind: wasn't he too old to have a crush?

(when your shared project ends, jihoon goes back and forth before deciding— fuck it. he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.)

(and so he 'confesses' in the most jihoon way he knows: with a song.)

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[pellucid-constellations]

Hello, absolutely love your writing - Drabble

Something based on time traveler’s husband, but the reader is the time traveler and she can end up in bad places or beautiful places (you choose), Azriel all worried maybe, fluff and angst?

Sounds kinda long for a drabble, i don’t know haha 🤍

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst, references to trauma

a/n: Hi! :) I made this sooooo angsty lol oopsie

Masterlist♡

____________________________________________

Never in Azriel’s life did he think it would come to this. 

He held you against his chest as sobs wracked your body, your fingers gripping his leathers with so much force he was surprised the material didn’t rip.

It had been a long one this time. 

Three weeks ago, you were sitting with him on a bench by the Sidra, a small bag of feed in your lap as you spread it out for the animals along the water. He had looked away, only for a moment, but when he turned back the feed was emptying on the ground and your body was gone—lost to a time and place he would not know of until you returned. 

Only, you did not return as you usually did. 

Most of the time, you were gone for a few hours, days at most. Azriel would spend the entire unspecified allotment with a pit in his chest and an inability to swallow, too inundated by preemptive grief and fear that eating and drinking and breathing felt impossible. But slowly, after being mated for some years, the time became more expected, more manageable. You would return exhausted but safe, and Azriel would give you a day before expecting a story. 

But this time, this time, you appeared before him as you always did—your home base, you had called him—and you collapsed into a heap of tears and gasped sobs.

Azriel had tried to parse out what was wrong. He had started with words—simple, easy-to-understand questions, but when it became clear that you weren’t even aware that he was speaking, he moved to touch. He pressed his hands along your back and hair, trailed his lips across your cheeks and dried the dampness there with his fingers. He held you, gods did he hold you, because you were in front of him and alive and every day felt as if that truth would be ripped from him. 

But you still cried. 

You cried to the point that Azriel was sure your head ached. 

“What about Rhysand?” Azirel stressed, eventually resorting to anything else that could help you. “Cassian? Mor? Who would help, angel?” 

Your cries mellowed some, but they were still awful, painful hiccuping breaths that tore a hole in Azriel’s heart. He collected your face in his hands and held you there, a panic in his gaze as he stared at your swollen eyes—at the redness that he had missed when you first fell into his arms. It looked inflicted and unnatural on your face. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Where did you go, my love? Tell me.” 

You turned in his grip, eyes brushing over his fingers as they rubbed soothing lines into your face, and then you cried harder. 

It was all Azriel could do to hold you against him. 

When another sound started to leave your lips, Azriel strained his ears to catch it. Over and over. A repetitive loop that he could not make sense of. He leaned you away from his chest and the words became clear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” 

“My darling, what?” he begged, shaking his head along with his words. “My love, darling, please. What could you possibly be sorry for? Where did you go?”

You took in a harrowing, shaking breath. “It took me there. To that time.” 

It, you always called it, because you never got to choose what point in time you went to. Something else dragged you along at its whim, and that was why the act always filled Azriel with so much dread. He had feared this—whatever you had seen to render you so inconsolable. 

“To where?” he all but whispered, afraid that you would lose yourself again. 

“Your hands, Azriel. For weeks I watched—” Azriel stared back in horror as you clutched at the material of your shirt as if it burned. “I watched and I—I couldn’t do anything. You were so small and I screamed and fought but there was nothing I could do.” 

Something in Azriel fractured that he never thought would heal. 

Before him, his mate grieved a past he hoped would never fully be revealed. You lived through it and were made to watch, whatever power that sent you away cruel and vicious and unrighteous. A lick of anger flamed through him, but something stopped him from feeling it fully. 

“No,” you breathed out, staring down at your arms. “No, Azriel, I can’t go. I can’t—not right now.” 

Your fingers and hands and arms slowly morphed into a hazy glare, and Azriel stared down at them with as much desperation as you did. He reached for you, but his touch went through your limbs and he had to catch himself on the floor beside you. 

There was nothing he could do—absolutely nothing. He and Rhysand had enlisted the help of the Day Court not too long ago, and the entire curse-breaking legion hadn’t found a way to keep you from this fate. 

So, Azriel knew what came next.

He knew that this broken rendition of his mate was fading and he didn’t have the time to pick up the pieces. 

His breath came out in fast puffs as he gathered you into his arms and spoke low by your ear. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be right here when you get back. I’ll wait right here and you’ll be back so soon, okay?” 

You nodded against his shoulder, but Azriel felt the tension in your body as you went to speak. “Okay, yes. You’ll be here.” 

“I’ll be right here, my love. I’m safe here. You’re safe and you’ll come home. I love you. So much. 

“I love you—” 

Azriel’s arms dropped.

You were gone.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The car ride is silent. You don’t mind. You have nothing to say. 

Your thoughts race to a fury. This is it. It’s over. You’re in trouble. Not the sort that would have you sobbing under your blankets. No, it’s the kind you don’t walk away from. 

You replay that night in your head. Why did you do it? There was nothing different about that night. Nothing excessive. No, you were just tired of it.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the solution isn’t getting rid of your father. Maybe it’s you. It’s always been. He always hated you. All of you. 

Shadows flow over the car like waves in the ocean. The sky dims as evening deepens around the city. The wheels roll on with the silence. Tense and wrought. Driver nor passengers make a noise. 

Rogers drives beyond the city limits. You’ve heard your father tell the stories. He laughs with his accomplices about the latest snitch or thief. They die alone and begging. 

The warehouse stands like a skeleton against the moonlit sky. The shattered windows twinkle like the stars and the desolate lot sprawls like a swathe of black satin beneath the tires. The brakes lurch you forward and you catch yourself against the seat. 

“Out.” Rogers says. 

You don’t linger. You undo your seat belt and get out. There’s someone waiting to take care of you. To end it. Your eyes fill with tears. You’re not sad for yourself, you’re sad for your sisters. They’ll miss you. You didn’t tell them you loved them. 

As you stand outside the car, Rogers drives away. You’re left alone in the midst of the cracked pavement. You hug yourself with one arm and look around.

Will it be a quick shot? Will you be tortured? You remember your dad cackling about a man who had his nails removed from his fingers and toes. 

You flinch and whimper as metals rolls on a pulley. You look over as a large door opens upwards on its gears. A dark figure stands before the low glow from within. He signals with a hand. 

You go to them. Your heart pounds as you think of running. Of racing into the nothingness of the land. You won’t fare any better. 

As you near Barnes, he watches you calmly. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t appear as a man about to murder you. He seems entirely unbothered by your misdeed. You went above one of his men. You showed disloyalty. The worse sin among his ilk. 

He touches your arm as if he were welcoming you into a house party, “doll.” 

You look at him in confusion. Your eyes skim away from him. There’s a sheet of plastic hung from the ceiling. Behind it, a light shines although the curtain obscures it like oil in water. There’s a chair on the other side. You notice another sheet on the floor. 

He’s silent as his hand slides down your arm. He squeezes and lets you go. He yanks the chain to lower the door. The squeak is jarring in the silence. There’s something else. Like a hiss and creak. 

You startle again as he places his hand against your lower back. He walks you forward. Your steps are rigid and clunky. He takes you closer to the plastic curtain. 

“Please, my sisters...” 

He hushes you. You sniff back your voice and your tears spill over. He leads you past the curtain. You turn to look at the chair and find more than that. A man sits, bound and gagged. Your father. 

Your heart plummets and your legs shake. Without meaning to, you lean on Barnes. He runs his hand up your back and clutches your shoulder before he draws away. He makes you stand on your own weight. 

He marches toward your father. He squirms in the chair as the boss rounds him and stands behind it. He faces you, his eyes mellow against the fraught scene he presents to you. 

“I thought on your request. I don’t often linger on things. I...” he pauses and thinks. “I make decisions. Tough ones and I make them quickly, otherwise, people get hurt.” He grips your father’s shoulders and pulls him to sit straight. The bound man grumbles and tries to thrash against the cord wrapped around him. 

“I can’t kill him for you,” Barnes declares. Another tide of confusion swells over you. Why are you here? 

Barnes steps away from the chair, his eyes pinpointed on you. He comes closer as he flips the small strap of his holster open. He slides out his pistol. You brace yourself. It’s a twisted game. 

“Doll, you don’t ask for stuff like that. That’s not how it works,” He lifts the gun, offering it with the muzzle down. “You do that shit yourself.” 

You bat away the tears as they dry up. You stare at him then look down at the gun. The silver but gleams under the glow of the hanging lightbulb above. The metal cage around it casts lines across you like a prison cell. He's dangling the key before you.

Your breath clogs in your throat. 

“I did what I could. He’s right here. You get what you want but I don’t do your dirty work, doll,” he pushes the gun toward you. “You know how to aim?” 

You shake your head and peel your dry lips apart. You look him in the face. You beg him with watery eyes. 

“I can’t-- I’m not--” 

“You came to my office and you said you want him dead. You don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He snarls. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“Ain’t no apologies that can undo that,” he snips. “You get it?” 

Your lip trembles. You don’t know what to do. What to say. It’s you or him. You dreamed of, you wished your father dead for years, but it was never real. Barnes is right though. You don’t say it out loud. You can’t take back those words. 

“I saw what he did to you. It’s still there.” He lifts his free hand and touches the scab on your lip. “And he did the same to your sisters, didn’t he? And your ma before she died.” 

“Stop,” you beg him. 

“You got a choice. He knows what you asked for. He leaves this place and you won’t make it far,” he says. “Think about it. This is what you asked for. It’s what you didn’t say that night. If I do it, you get nothing. No closure. You been through of life of his torture. This is vendetta. He killed your ma. All those years, all those beatings...” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“No? So what happens? You go home to your sisters. I untie him. He’s not far behind. And they suffer too because he’s gonna think you worked together. Because you always do.” He says. “He won’t just get you, he’ll get them too.” 

“No,” you shove his chest without thinking as you shriek. “No!” 

He’s solid, unflinching against your force. You can tell by the grit in his jaw that he’s tolerating it for the sake of the moment. You pull your hands away and look past him. 

You stare at that man. At that monster. Your boogeyman. Your abuser. And you know that Barnes is right. Your mother died a slow death at his hands. You can’t let the same happen to you or your sisters. You prayed for a way out. This is it. One chance. 

One shot. 

“Show me,” you put your hand on the gun, teeth chattering. “I don’t know what to do...” 

He bows his head and pushes the gun against your hand. He looks down and moves your grip around it. “Like this.” He helps you grasp it and he moves around you. “Put your arms up.” He guides your arms up, “You wanna look down your arm, down the barrel.” 

You see your father at the other end of the gun. His eyes are wide and gleaming. He wriggles against the cords. He grunts around the gag. The chair does not move. He’s trapped. Just like the little girls hiding in their closet as he bangs on the outside. 

He’s scared. You’ve never seen him afraid. 

Barnes explains but you barely hear him. Your heart surges with adrenaline and you stiffen with instinct. You’re ready. You’re ready. 

“Then, you pull the trigger...” he says. 

He lets you go and backs up. You sense his shadow behind you, then it fades away with the rest of the place. It’s only you and your father. The end. 

You take a breath and move your finger to the trigger. You steady your hands as you brace the pistol with both, just like Barnes said. And you squeeze. 

The bang is deafening and the force knocks you back. Your father lurches then his head slouches to the side at an unnatural angle. You gape at the sight of the hole beneath his cheek. Your arm drops and the gun hits the floor. 

You stagger as your legs shake then fold beneath you. A new silence surrounds you in the echo of the single shot. The period at the end of the sentence. 

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part two

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: the arrival of the annual ball the gojo's host each year stirs up a lot of emotions for the prince. he's expected to make his first moves of the social season. with all eyes on him, satoru finds himself openly declaring where he stands on the matter. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, hurtful words aimed towards reader regarding her place in society, satoru struggles with adhd

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,411

𝜗𝜚 an: part two is here! this one is a closer to what happened in the drabble i originally wrote. buckle in.

┊p1┊p2┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p3┊

A week passes by quickly after that heart fluttering moment you shared with the Prince, and the dreaded day of the Gojo’s annual ball falls upon the palace. By the time you go to wake up Satoru, he’s already sat up in bed staring at the wall ahead of him. The uneasiness that filters from his body and surrounds the atmosphere is hard to ignore. “The King and Queen are requesting your presence at breakfast,” you tell him, his right eye twitching at your words. You knew what this meant for Satoru better than anyone. It was the first ball where he would be expected to find a royal debutante to court. You fought back a shudder at the thought. After moments of silence he finally gets up, hastily buttoning up a sleep shirt to face his parents before walking down the halls of the estate with you. His already pale face was ghostly white as he walked in step with you. His legs were long, one stride for him being two strides for you - but you've long been used to keeping up with his pace. Finding it as easy as breathing. You reach your pinky out to touch his, trying to subtly offer him your touch as support. His slender pinky feels yours and he quickly intertwines the two digits. He relaxes slightly, allowing the small amount of your skin against his to ease his anxiety. It isn't much longer before you're at the King and Queen’s preferred dining room, feeling Satoru start to stiffen again. “Deep breaths,” you whisper to him before pushing the doors open. His anxiety seems to disappear under the watchful eyes of his parents as he nonchalantly makes his way to his seat. You follow, pulling out his chair for him before making your way to the spot against the wall behind him. When it's just the two of you, Satoru insists you sit across from him and even begs you to break your fast with him. But being in front of the King and Queen, the rules you abided by were no longer Satoru’s but the two people who dictated both of your lives. It irritated Satoru to no end that he couldn’t see you behind him, and instead of eating his food he decided to push the pieces of meat around on his plate. 

“Satoru,” the Queen called out to him, causing him to straighten his back, “Remember your manners. Especially today of all days,” she huffed, taking a sip from her water glass. Upon getting his attention she continues talking to her son, “There will be plenty of high status women vying for your attention tonight. I ask that you entertain at least one,” she says sternly. “That includes participating in at least one dance, Satoru,” her hard face seemingly daring the Prince to ignore her requirements for the night. His own face finds the palm of his hand as he once again slumps in his seat and you feel a bead of sweat run down your back. As his servant, you’re not entirely in charge of getting the Prince to behave, but it doesn’t exactly make you look good either. 

“Prince Gojo, please make sure you are giving your full attention to the Queen,” you remind him and if you were any other person he wouldn’t be capable of biting his tongue at the statement. All though, it didn’t feel good to have you scold him either. He felt betrayed for some reason, and he struggled to keep the hurt from bubbling to the surface. He nodded to his mother regardless, adjusting his posture. 

𝜗𝜚

Upon leaving his parent’s private dining room, you bid goodbye to Satoru for the day. You’re not surprised when he suddenly has a burst of energy, “Wait, what?” he asks you, stopping you in your tracks. 

“I have to help my mother in the kitchens. I’m sorry Satoru,” you tell him, almost whispering when you use his given name so close to where the King and Queen spend their days. He huffs like a child, giving you pleading eyes.

“But who will pick out my attire?” he asks you, finding any reason to excuse you from your responsibilities in the kitchen. 

“Already taken care of,” you pat the top of his head and he groans, “The Queen picked it out anyways,” he goes to open his mouth but you’re already interrupting him, “There are other servants assigned to help you bathe and dress and fix your hair up. I wasn’t going to abandon you without setting you up well today,” you tell him, a small smile spreading across your lips. He still isn’t amused, reaching his pinky out to yours one last time. You can’t help but do a quick scan of the hall before intertwining yours with his, squeezing his in reassurance before turning your back to him and walking down the hall. “I’ll see you tonight, Prince Gojo,” you call out to him and you chuckle when you can hear him whine at the formality. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru’s day dragged on without you in it. His mother had sent one of her own personal servants to walk him through the many guests that would be arriving. He didn’t bother to pay attention as the petite, older woman read out their names and status one by one. The Queen had to be a fool to believe Satoru was going to bother memorizing a single person. 

The servant made note of each available woman of royalty as she read down the impossibly long list and Satoru started to zone out completely at the first mention of a viable woman to court. The details of her political standing, who her father was, how sizable her dowry was… it was all useless information. To hell with it all, Satoru thought. The side of his head rested in his right hand, his eyes scanning the luxurious paintings around him; desperately wishing he was in an open field or the calm waters of the Ocean. Just like the scenes in the gold framed paintings depicted. Anywhere but where he currently was. 

He chose to focus his thoughts on you; lips forming a tight line as he pondered his circumstances. He vividly remembered his childhood with you. Being the only child his mother was able to carry to term, she was entirely devoted to his wellbeing at first. You had been born the same year as him and she saw no better fit for his development than another child. You lived a privileged life compared to other servants born into their servitude. You played in the gardens with Satoru; chasing grasshoppers and trying to catch the colorful fish in one of their many ponds. He still remembers the color of your eyes as you stood under the beating sun, your hair tied up neatly every morning by your mom. Younger you looked so much more alive. He wondered if he also changed like you. Now a hollowed out man with an equally hollow face.

You had even been able to attend some of Satoru’s classes with him as a child, since you were the only person able to get his unwavering attention. No matter what the teacher’s tried, the Prince would only listen to you when you pointed to his books for him to read a passage. The adults in your lives couldn’t understand what there was about you that kept his attention. But for him, it was the only thing in his life he could understand. There was always something about you that commanded his devotion and peaked his interest no matter how many hours in his day he spent with you. You were different from everyone else, and sadly you were different from him too. His head involuntarily shook when his memories went to a less favorable place: the same place that had you in the kitchens and him going over a list of women he would never dream of wanting. 

“Prince Gojo, you’re keeping up, yes?” the older woman asks, her voice sickly sweet but hiding her underlying annoyance with the Prince. Satoru yawns in response, nodding his head but not bothering to verbally answer her. 

𝜗𝜚

Time went on despite the Prince’s wishes and servants came in and out of his quarters. They bathed him, cleaned up his hair, and smoothed out his luxuriously blue waistcoat all despite the swatting of his hands and the roll of his eyes. Satoru had nothing to look forward to in his evening. You would surely be spending your time in the kitchens, assisting your mother in loading up endless drinks and fancy snacks that Satoru could only name because he kept track of every bite-sized morsel that offended his tongue. 

The night arrived and the guests began to pile into the Gojo’s massive ballroom, meaning Satoru had to unfortunately act like a Prince. He smiled at every face that passed his, entertaining those who struck up conversation, and offering drinks to keep people from getting ‘parched’. His princely display was entirely rehearsed, even the part where Satoru pretended that the sound of the live orchestra wasn’t driving him mad underneath the never-ending string of thoughts he always struggled with. 

Unbeknownst to Prince Gojo, his mother sat in the Queen’s seat at the center of the room, eyes glued onto her son’s every move. She silently critiqued him whenever he failed to hide his grimace and clicked her tongue as he avoided meeting a debutante's lingering stare. She leaned into the King’s ear, unable to keep her observations to herself and the King grunted in response, slurping from his chalice. 

The part of Satoru’s night he was most dreading arrived but the Prince was too distracted to hear the sound of the announcement he was anxiously waiting for. The Princess his mother’s servant drilled into his head earlier in the day was loudly greeted by the piercing sound of a trumpet and the roaring claps of the people inhabiting the room - but it was impossible for Satoru to hear when the glow of your face under the bright light sparkled in his line of sight. His breath hitched and he felt the familiar feeling of his throat tightening at the sight of you, his vocal chords tensing from the desire to call out your name. He swiftly made his way to you, hardly acknowledging the people he was pushing past when relief was just in reach.

He was directly in front of you when your eyes finally snapped up to his, the lines of your face smoothing out from the relief of seeing him. He breathed out your name and you smiled earnestly at him. “Prince Gojo,” you said, equally as breathy as you let a wave of ease crash upon your previous misery. It was your first time being on the ballroom floor during one of the Gojo’s regal events and you sweated at the intensity of it all. If you had it your way, you would never be subjected to the blinding lights and the heat caused by so many bodies in a single room; but one of the girls who would usually be holding your plate of hor d'oeuvres got sick moments before the first guests arrived. So here you were, standing around like a fool as you offered rich people mushy bites of whatever the royal court deemed popular that season. They didn’t even bother to look at you as they all grabbed the food off the tray you were holding, and you were reminded how these people saw you; not even worth the seconds it would take to meet your eyes.

Satoru was overwhelmed in a whole new way upon seeing you in attendance. It didn’t even cross his mind that you were doing a job; to him you were more important than every person standing in the room. None of their job descriptions or royal titles were even close to importance once you walked in. Satoru studied your figure, noticing the servant's uniform reserved for special occasions hugging your curves and your delicate lips colored with rogue. “You’re sparkling,” he says, not realizing it was out loud and you giggle awkwardly, unsure what he meant by that - but in his eyes you shone brighter than the heavens under the light given by a nearby chandelier. His hand comes up to the side of your head, and before you can even think of pulling away he’s twirling a single strand of hair that came loose from your ponytail around his slender finger. You hiccup at the action, seeing how enthralled he was to touch you in a room full of people. 

“Satoru-” you say, your voice barely above a whisper; the deep blush you now sported heating up your face worse than the lights. “You should really get back to the guests,” you tell him. He pays no mind to your words, his electric blue eyes entranced as he watches the strands of your hair lace around his digit.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the King and Queen see everything. They see their son choosing the company of a servant rather than their important guest - their son ignoring the Princess that just arrived despite the Queen making it clear he was to greet her. They watched as their son twirled your hair around his pathetic finger and smiled down at you like you were his world. It was making the Queen sick as she fanned herself, unable to look away from the disturbing scene unfolding in front of her. 

Satoru was insatiable. He tried to make conversation with the other royals roaming the ballroom but he stood no chance knowing you were just at the other end of the room. He gravitated to you, no matter where in the room you ended up in. He didn’t even bother to take the food off your plate to make it maybe even a little less obvious what he was doing. When it got closer and closer to the end of the night and Satoru still hadn’t asked someone for a dance, you pleaded with him to do as he was instructed. It was expected for the Prince to have a dance at every one of their annual balls; and this year it was anticipated that he would choose an available woman close in age to show his interest to everyone attending. Satoru only chuckled when you took an exasperated tone with him, insisting he hurry up and choose a dance partner. He does his signature eye roll, full of amusement and teasing before his face finally loses its humor. His lips part as he moves in close, his large hand coming up to grip your shoulder as he leans closer and closer into you, “Alright, I’ll dance. But you're still the only girl I want to hold in my arms,” he leans away just as fast as he had entered your personal space - giving you a cheeky smile before asking the first random woman he sees among the crowd of people. She’s a round woman, obviously out of his age range and sporting a wedding ring, but that doesn’t matter to Satoru. The crowd of people whisper amongst each other at what the Prince could possibly mean by picking her. Your stomach drops at the realization Satoru wasn’t even going to try and play by the King and Queen’s rules. His eyes were glued to yours the entire dance, releasing the once hidden defiance that always swirled under his skin for the entire room to finally see. Satoru wasn’t going to adhere to what society expected of him.

That terrified you. 

𝜗𝜚

You barely finished cleaning up the kitchen when the Queen’s most favored servant made an appearance, your father alongside her with a pale face. “The Queen is requesting your family’s attendance in her study,” she simply states before turning around and making her way down the hall, expecting you all to follow her. Your mother sets down the towel she was drying dishes with and hurries along, calling out your name when you fail to move with her. 

The long walk to the King and Queen’s quarters does little to steady your beating heart. It felt as though it was trying to jump out of your chest, abandoning you to deal with the consequences it caused. 

You knew this meeting had something to do with the Prince which made every step feel heavier and heavier, your feet practically dragging across the marble floors. The look on the Queen’s face as she sat primly on her chaise lounge sent your stomach into a series of flips. She was alone surprisingly, the King obviously tucked away in bed to leave his wife to unleash the storm of words she readied for you. Upon entering, your family got onto their knees, bowing low to the white haired woman with cold eyes. “Our Queen,” your father spoke first, adjusting his tone to sound like a child who was caught stealing a cookie; a tone that was laced with guilt and begged for forgiveness. 

“No more,” she says, her voice in direct contrast to your fathers: loud and shrill. “You will be the Prince’s personal servant no more,” she aims her rage towards you and you jump, your body beginning to shake when your brain finally processes the words she used. “Tonight was an embarrassment. Positively humiliating!” she grips the tea cup in her hand, knuckles turning white, “the King and I will stand for this no longer. You are to be moved to kitchen duty immediately! All contact with Satoru will cease tonight. I forbid you from ever being alone with him,” you’re shaking as she describes to you your new reality, unable to dodge the venomous sting of her words. “Disobey my orders child,” she insults you, attempting to put you down regardless of the fact you are just as old as her adult son, “-and you and your family will find yourselves on the streets, shunned by the people who are loyal to this kingdom,” You don’t look up, your eyes fixed on the plush rug of her study to hide the tears cascading down your cheeks, but you can feel both your parents tense at her words. She huffs, taking a pause to sip from her cup before continuing her speech. 

“I trust you aren’t so foolish as to think this little crush was going to become something more. The Prince may be infatuated now - but once his responsibilities sink in you will be nothing but his property. Forced to raise his children and scrub the forks that touch his lips,” You choke back a sob, desperately trying to hold it in until you make it back to the servant’s quarters. “You may be what he wants but you could never be what he needs. Your place in life ensures such. Satoru needs a wife of high status to continue our legacy. Your blood would just smear it,” she sighs, almost like the conversation was starting to bore her. “I trust you understand the words I am telling you. It’s your responsibility to ensure Satoru wants nothing to do with you. I don’t care how you do it, but this silly little infatuation he has must come to an end,” she says before she dismisses the three of you with a wave of her hand, turning her attention back to her book that rested in her lap as you sauntered off. 

You meet your parent’s eyes once you leave her study, their faces sunken in from stress. Looking at the both of them, it is obvious the sacrifices they made for you. Their hands were rough from decades of labor, their eyes dark from sleepless nights, and their clothes worn down from years of wear. You don’t give them the opportunity to speak, too scared of what they could say. “I’m sorry for the worry I have caused the both of you. I-,” your voice breaks but you steel yourself as best as you can, “I promise I won’t do anything more that may jeopardize our family’s honor.” You leave it at that, turning your back to them and heading to your room.

That night you cry enough tears to fill all of the Gojo’s ponds - and maybe even enough to water their gardens too before your exhaustion outweighs your pain and you drift off to sleep. 

taglist: @bubera974 𐙚 @dahliawarner 𐙚 @phoenixisdabest 𐙚 @designerpvssy 𐙚 @leaderwon 𐙚 @elilovesall 𐙚 @alicebleu 𐙚 @sleepykittycx 𐙚 @abcdbleh 𐙚 @waka-babe 𐙚

┊p1┊p2┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p3┊

(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[xsleepinggoodx]

Mikey x reader short drabble!

timeskip: 19 year old Mikey. Yknow that one Mikey before manila? The one with the short blond hair? That one!🥰

Slight NSFW warning!

………………………………………………………………………………

You and Mikey were in the most heated make out sessions you ever been in. In his garage room, in his bed, on his lap, and door locked. The tension was real. His shirt was off and his veiny arms were around your waist, squeezing every so often. Your hand cupping his cheeks as you both fought for dominance—he wins every time though.

You letting out whimpers every so often as unravels you. Your hips grinding from time to time. You guys done it before, but not really often. You’re busy with college as he is he. He spends time hanging out with Toman, you’re there too ofc, but every so often, you two share intimate stares. He’s drilling his eyes on you when you’re laughing with Baji or Mitsuya. You’re admiring him as he tells a funny story. Again, the tension is there but you guys simply didn’t have alone time together, especially not sexually.

Now you guys finally were able to hang out, alone. Telling him stories from your college as he listens, replying with similar stories, him telling you crazy moments from his fights with Toman. Playing games with him, reading together. But it just got so heated, his loving gaze on you as you read the book and when you finally looked at him back, he pounced.

That’s how it led you guys here, tongues wrapping around each other as saliva drips down your lips. When you final let go for air, panting heavily with your lovesick eyes, he smiles lovingly as he catches his own breath.

“You said you had a bad day?” You asked, tracing his collarbone.

“I already told you about it, I really don’t wanna think about it.” He pouts, already rolling his eyes.

He told you about how annoying this one gang was, the leader trashed his bike terribly. Now it was in Draken’s motor shop in repair, he couldn’t ride it for a week.

“How bout I help you relieve some stress?” You asked innocently. “You always help me…I wanna make you feel good..” you said, your eyes resting. He

He looked confused but then it finally clicked.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“ he started before he got interrupted.

“But I want to, I wanna make you feel good..please~?” You stared at him, with your begging eyes. Oh your eyes, only if you knew how much he adored and admired you.

He nodded slowly. “Please baby, I need you.”

You giggled as you got on top of him, your hips sitting on his. His head looking up at you as you captured his lips again, before trailing your soft lips down his chin, neck, finally his chest. You sat up and clutched the hem of your shirt.

“Do you want me to take it off?” You said, teasingly.

“You really don’t have to.” He said hesitantly.

“Mikey~~” you teased as you giggled.

“Yes please” he begged shamefully. You knew Mikey was good with his words, getting him to beg was always tough, but you knew how to melt him. That’s why he loved you so much, you always challenged him. Which is not something he received often. You smiled as you chucked taking your shirt off, revealing your baby pink bra. The bra stap perfectly falling off your left shoulder.

You smiled as he admired your face, then his eyes traveled down, admiring your goddess-like body. He always knew he hit the jackpot, but now it’s official. He couldn’t help himself as he rose up and kissed you, trailing down your chin, then to your neck. Leaving hickies behind. You let out a soft hum as he continues, nipping your sweet spot, his hands where they were once on your waist were now softly cupping your breast.

He grinds his hips on yours, earning whimpers from you.

“Fuck, I love you so much, baby” he said, his voice muffled from his attacks on your cleavage. You softly scratched your fingers through his messy golden hair. Rewarding yourself with his kisses.

“I l-love you too~” you said. Love honeyed your voice. You were definitely down bad for him. The best part is that so was he….

…………………………………………………………………………….

Enjoy everyone, sorry I didn’t go all the way. I’m not confident in my NSFW writing skills🫣

[dollwrites]

plsplspls teacher!gojo anal or something noncon anythingg

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

gojo had been planning since the day he started mentoring you, for the exact moment that he would take your anal virginity. he knew you must never have taken it in the ass— you were far too sweet and subservient, abiding by all of the extra rules he put in place for you alone ( he did so to test your obedience and choose the best way to have you all to himself, of course ).

he decides to wait until the exchange event before he makes his move; during one of the group battles, when you’re separated from your peers, he pounces.

gojo had fantasized about this very moment so many times.

the moment where you squirmed beneath him, pushed with your upper body smushed against the rough bark of a large tree, as he held handfuls of your ass cheeks, teasing himself and you by spreading them wide, scraping at your clenching ring with the very tip of his thumb.

he loves the way you whimper ‘no’ as his thumb pushes in raw, and your fingers grip the bark tighter. you couldn’t fight him; that was your teacher, after all.

“don’t you worry, princess, i’m not going to hurt ya.” the way he croons it is so flippant that it is obviously a lie. at the very least, he leans forward and allows spit to drizzle from his lips and glob between your cheeks, which he rubs against your hole with his thumb, before pushing it inside again. “such a tight fit, i’ll have to tease you a bit to open you up before you’d be able to take my cock.” as he says this, his free hand hooks under your midriff, his fingers rubbing at your cunt, feeling around in rough circles until he finds your bud. though you sniffle and beg him to stop, he works your clit until it’s swollen, and you’re dripping slick, clenching around nothing— all the while, he’s pumping his thumb in and out of your ass, getting you used to the feeling of taking something in this uncharted territory.

it’s a totally different story when gojo forces his cock in, instead. your eyes go wide as your brain is flooded with the sensations of this invasion. you were way too tight to accommodate something as big and gojo’s cock, and you pushed yourself on to your tiptoes, pulling with your nails dug deep into the wood to escape him, but he merely takes a couple of steps forward and smashes his body against your back. you’re trapped, with his weight shoving you into the tree, and you can do nothing to stop his conquest. “now, now, i wanted to be as gentle as possible, but if you insist on fighting me,” gojo smacks his finger pads against your button roughly, his mouth right up against your ear, “i’ll have to subdue you and take it by force. you don’t want that, right? for your friends to find you tied up, unconscious, dripping cum from a sore, little asshole?” when you sniff and shake your head, he pouts, mocking you. “no? good girl, that’s exactly right.” planting a sloppy kiss on your ear, he ruts into you, fucking you deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch, bottoming out hard to hear your voice break as you plead with him to just stop. he’s breaking you, that’s what you keep telling him, but he just grins and even laughs a breathy, grunting laugh at your desperation. “if you just stand there and let me have it, i might even make you feel good once i’ve cum in your ass. whattya say, sweetheart? when i’ve gaped you out, i’ll lick that warm pussy as a way to say thank you for letting me rape your ass.”

[little-diable]

DIABLE. I feel your lack of inspiration deep within my soul as I, too, have been struggling.

That being said, I'm back on my Cillian Murphy bullshit and would love to see some domestic Tommy, maybe after a really long day of blood and gore he comes home to a plush world of softness and love and consideration and he can turn it all off.

My darling, thank you for sending this in, it definitely inspired me! I hope you enjoy this little drabble. <3

Summary: Tommy will always do what his wife asks of him, especially when he needs a few calm moments himself.

Warnings: nothing, just nudity, full on fluff and fun

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 800 words)

Somewhat of a follow up Drabble

It was a mild August evening, a day that had been too hot for (y/n)’s liking which had passed all too slowly. Perhaps it had been the fault of all the running around she had done – whatever it was, the second the kids had been put to sleep, she had told their staff to leave for the night, desperate for a few hours of silence.

The second she had been left alone, (y/n) had hurried outside, shoes long forgotten as she dragged the old, ceramic tub through the garden. Sweat had pooled on her forehead, forming pearly drops that dripped down to the ground, but she had been determined, set on cooling off while watching the sunset.

She had run back and forth to fill the tub, arms and legs begging her to slow down and rest for a minute or two. But (y/n) hadn’t stopped moving until the tub had been filled to her liking. And with a satisfied grin glued to her lips, she had shuffled out of her dress, underwear following moments later.

Her squeals had echoed through the evening as she had sunken into the cold water, unable to stop her laughter from clawing through her. She had been grateful that nobody else was around, they surely would have called her a hysteric madwoman, calling the doctors on her for the childish glee the cold water had shot through her veins.

(Y/n) was too focused on the sunset to hear the call of her name, she was also too distracted to pick up on the confused expression tugging on Tommy’s features as he spotted her through the windows. With a cigarette between his lips, he slowly stepped outside, undoing the buttons of his jacket as he moved closer.

“What a nice view to come home to, eh?” She jerked in surprise as Tommy spoke up, forcing her wide eyes towards her grinning husband. Tommy’s gaze wandered down her throat, watching the water drops stick to her soft skin. The water was clear enough to expose every inch of her body, leaving Tommy groaning as he dipped his head down to kiss her. “Tell me, how did that tub end up right here?”

“Well, what do you think? I doubt the faeries miraculously carried it over here.” A deep rumble of laughter vibrated through Tommy, momentarily reminded of the stories he had read to their children the night prior, feeding their obsession with faeries and mystical creatures. “Will you just stand there or join me like a good husband would?”

Tommy watched her for another moment before he threw his cigarette to the ground and began to shrug out of his clothes, exposing his body inch by inch. (Y/n) pulled her knees to her chest to make room behind herself, grinning in excitement as he began to step into the tub.

“Fucking hell, do you want me to freeze my cock off?” His curses left her giggling, eyes sparkling with mischief. But Tommy kept on moving with curses rolling off his tongue, till he finally got into a seated position. He pulled her against his chest with a hum, pressing a kiss to her cold cheek. 

“How was your day?” (Y/n) murmured her words, eyes closed, head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. He interlaced his fingers with hers, letting his thumb run over the back of her hand with slow movements. 

“Exhausting, sometimes I wonder if I’m still made for this life. I’m getting old, eh?” She froze in his grasp, let her eyes shoot open and slowly turned towards him. Her eyes wandered over Tommy’s exhausted features, instantly able to pick up on the hurt flushing through him, the anger he couldn’t shake, and the greedy desperation he had never been able to feed well enough. 

(Y/n) cupped his cheek, she pressed a kiss to his lips before she began to speak up, “You’re anything but old, dear husband of mine. And trust me, if I’d feel like you’re getting old, I’d instantly sell you to the faeries.” 

Loud laughter rumbled through him, a sound so carefree, (y/n) hadn’t heard it in a long time. And with a widening grin stuck to her lips, (y/n) pressed another kiss to Tommy's lips, knowing that their evening together was just about to get exciting.

[leclarifies]

mon ange (CL16)

✰ charles leclerc x !childhoodbestfriend !raceengineer reader ✰

summary: you've been there for charles since day one, even when you think he doesn't notice it, you're always there. supporting him from the sidelines.

wc: 1.6k

genre: lots of angst, drabble

aria's note: short but angsty draft i've had since last year. only gotten around to editing and posting now. not sure if i'll ever extend this or do a part 2, HAHAH. this is also written in third person bc it was from so long ago. no mentions of y/n either. enjoy the angst masochists <3 (also mon ange means my angel)

“are you ready?”

she stopped staring out into the open and finally looked at her colleague, head was elsewhere.

she gave a brief smile, and a nod and the race commenced.

race engineer, not a bad title right?

her mind wanders off a tiny bit to the past as the cars raced off into the distance.

“when i’m old enough, i’m going to race for the top teams in the world!” she could hear charles’ big laugh as she was sitting on the grass.

transported back in time, they were spending time with each other, just the two of them. it was a normal occasion for them to just sit in the dark, together sharing laughs and stories after a karting race.

she just looked over fondly at charles as he zoomed around, pretending he was in his kart, “did you see me, mon ange? i was zooming like this— and WHOOSH, i was like this!”

she cocked an eyebrow, “are you sure? i thought you crashed into a wall,” she joked, pretending she wasn’t there but she was there for every moment of the race. not wanting to miss her best friend’s races.

she was his biggest supporter and he knew it.

time flashes again as you two have your first big argument.

“you don’t get it!” charles yelled as he turned his back to her, “you will never get the pressure of any of this! you just tell me what’s good for me and you never understand! you’re not my anything! you don’t mean anything to me!” as those words left his lips, he instantly regretted it.

he turned around to face her.

the look of hurt on her as she began to turn around and walk off without a singular word, “i didn’t mean it! i didn’t mean it!” charles follows her, tears start streaming down her face. she only wanted what was good for him, racing was taking a toll on him and he didn’t realize it but the more she cared, the more she felt like he pushed her away.“i swear, i didn’t mean it. please-!” he begged as he grabbed her wrist, finally turning her around to see her tear-streaked face, flushed with hurt and anger, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he repeated again and again as he took her into his arms, patting her head as they embraced each other.

“racing has changed you, charles…” she mumbles, sniffling.

“ever since ferrari took you under their wing…”

“i-i haven’t changed… it’s just the stress from all these people and all these investors wanting to see me win-“

“and it’s changed you,” she had said, eyes still red from the crying, speaking the term of endearment softly, “you are no longer the soft and kind-hearted charles i knew before all of this happened.”

“maybe it’s best if i stayed away.”

and as her flashback ended, she heard charles speak on the radio, “radio check,” he mutters, trying to focus on his race but still wanting to hear her voice after what happened earlier between the two of them.

“loud and clear,” she replied back as she monitored the first few laps of his race, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander off again towards their childhood.

after their big argument, she did distance herself away from charles but never missing his races. always there, even though she didn’t make it obvious or even told him that she was coming.

she was still his #1 biggest supporter, he just didn’t know it anymore.

podium after podium turned into win after win and she was there to witness it all.

she distanced herself from charles and he didn’t even try to stop it. it was like he meant what he said when they last spoke to each other.

she didn’t mean anything to him.

but god, did he mean something to her.

her mom had told her countless of times to just go up and talk to him after his race win but she knew to keep her distance. it had been a few months since she had last talked to him, it’d be useless to come up to him now but she made it her life’s mission to continue supporting him from the sidelines. she had dedicated her life to become a ferrari race engineer, one day be his race engineer.

she didn’t notice it either, but charles knew. he knew she was always there to support him, he knew she cared.

he would give anything to just come up to her and just hug her, apologizing a million times but he didn’t want to force her to talk to him when she wasn’t ready.

“hello? is everything alright there?” charles’ voice comes through the radio, she snaps out of it before replying, “yeah sorry…” she silently cursed herself before paying attention to the monitor, realizing what he had asked, for positions and plans, “sainz is behind you. try to keep pace and defend each other,” she had spoke softly as charles listened closely.

following her orders, and finally focusing on the rest of the race, she helped them win a double podium.

she was so proud of the two drivers, she watched from the garage as they celebrated at the stage with the rest of the ferrari crew.

her mind wandered off to their earlier argument.

“all i’m saying is that you have to take care of yourself, get yourself a new hobby,” she had started, “circulating your whole life around racing isn’t healthy—“

“i am nothing without racing!”

“yes, you are a beautiful person without racing, you just have to realize that.”

“no one will love me without racing!”

“i have always loved you even before racing…”

“you know nothing! you have always been like this! since we were kids,” charles threw words at her, eyes sharp, unforgiving, “you always tell me what’s best for me like you know me so well— we haven’t talked to each other in years! what do you know what’s good for me???” he growled as she stayed silent, she shouldn’t have opened her mouth in the first place.

she felt defeated and just sighed and muttered out, “i’m sorry, okay? it won’t happen again,” quietly as she left the hotheaded charles, he always regretted what he said when he was mad to her, ever since he started racing, the anger was uncontrollable. the amount of hurtful words he’s thrown at her was unforgivable at that point.

she was snapped back into reality as she realized that the interview session was over and everyone was retreating for the night, the event was finally over.

her brain was on autopilot the entire day, not being able to focus properly and she wanted to be the first one out of there, she packed her things as she saw the others coming over from their celebration as they talked about going to the party being held by ferrari in a club reserved just for them.

she she was grabbing her things to go, she felt a hand on her shoulder, charles.

“hey,” charles smiled apologetically at her as she packed her stuff, she only glanced at him for a little bit before continuing to gather her stuff, “do you want to come to the celebration with me?”

she shakes her head, “i’m quite tired,” she says simply before finally having all of her stuff and walking away, but charles caught up towards her, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, i forgive you,” she says quietly as she continues walking, she was used to it at this point, charles getting mad at her because she said something that he didn't like and she just took it, but he didn’t want her to go away.

he wanted to talk to her.

“stop walking away, let’s talk, please,” he pleaded as she stopped walking, back still facing towards him, she just couldn’t when it came to him, “what is there to talk about, leclerc?” she asked as she turned around, “you said sorry, and i said i forgive you. there’s nothing to talk about.”

charles felt guilty, she just looked so defeated. so different to the person he knew before shit happened between them.

“i’m sorry for everything, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, he was holding his breath? was he nervous?

“it’s okay, leclerc,” she nods as she tries to walk away again before being held back again by the wrist from a clearly emotional charles.

“it hurts when you do that,” he had a hurt tone to his voice, tears threatening to fall from his pretty green eyes, “when you call me by my last name.”

“everyone calls you that.”

“you’re not just anyone.”

“i feel like just everyone.”

“what happened to nounours?”

“we’re not kids anymore.”

“but you are still mon ange.”

she couldn’t reply back, she hasn’t heard that nickname in so long.

“i love you.”

he choked up, he let his tears out. she didn’t say a peep.

“please say something.”

“what is there to say?” she looked at the ground, away from his eyes. she knew she loved him, more than anything ever since they were kids.

she just didn’t know if she could forgive him even though she had said it earlier.

“tell me you love me,” charles was almost begging, holding onto her hands, “even if you’re lying, just say it back.”

“i love you too,” she knew better than anyone that it wasn’t a lie, it was the furthest thing from a lie, but she didn’t want to appear weak, “is that all? can i go now?”

with those four last words, charles’ heart broke into tiny little pieces.

[feitanzi]

Husband Miguel Headcanons

no warnings all sfw

Husband!miguel who is basically ur shadow atp. Everywhere you go he follows you like a lovesick teen begging to constantly be in your presence

Husband!miguel who is a lot sweeter than he would like for people to know. When he first told people he had a wife everyone felt bad for you and wondered if you were insane! But they don’t know miggy the way you do 😉

Husband!miguel who never fails to tell you how much he loves you on a daily basis. He basically smothers you with love whether u want to accept it or not.

He spoils you rotten! Saw you staring at a purse in the mall? you wake up to it on your nightstand. Buying your own stuff? hell nah! what he look like letting you pay!

Husband!miguel who gets jealous and can be a lil possessive but not to the point where it’s toxic. Whenever he sees a man getting a little to close to you he’ll be quick to pull u in by the waist to show him that your his immediately scaring to other man off. (he was just asking for directions gah damn 😭)

He gives dad vibes.

He never lets you guys go to sleep on bad terms. If you had a petty argument he’s the first to try and talk the situation out to avoid future conflicts.

Overall he’s just the perfect man!

________________________________________________

Hahhhhh i haven’t wrote in so long. lil drabble bc im omw to the airport because im going back to my country to see my family. hope u enjoy tho

outtieee!

none of the characters in this story are owned by me . reblogs appreciated but refrain from copying or translating my work pls .

[xinganhao]

🌱 wonwoo x producer!reader.

the five times wonwoo swears he's over you (and the one time that he decides he isn't) ★ see also: main post, drabble

♫ maybe i'm just not better than this, i haven't tried / 'cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time.

🌱 the five times.

when he sees you for the first time in over a year.

he believes it's the nice thing to do, treating you out to dinner. he froze you out, after all, because he was stupid and he didn't know how to handle his crush on you. he likes to think that the past fourteen months have made him better. wiser. so, that night, he makes it up to you. he also makes up a dozen different excuses. do his eyes linger on you a little too long as you happily drink your yogurt drink? he's just making sure you like what he chose for you. does he walk a little closer when he notices you're shivering from the evening cold? he's just concerned you might get sick. he doesn't like you anymore. he's better now, wiser now. he has to be.

when your second studio choom video comes out.

it's not the same as the first time, where he'd smiled to himself while watching you perform your latest comeback in STUDIO CHOOM's crisp, 4k quality. back then, that's how he had known he was done for. this time, he watches it purely out of curiosity. to add to the millions of views that the video is already raking up. he keeps a straight face the whole time. just watches with a perfectly neutral expression. he's just a guy supporting a friend, isn't he? when he gets through the entire video without smiling, he counts that as a win. if his heart— the bloody traitor— had stuttered at your ending fairy, well. that's an entirely different story.

on a random tuesday, just because.

he's never really seen the appeal in games like stardew valley; they were always a little too slow for his taste. but you'd absolutely begged, and so he begrudgingly bought the game for ₩20,600 just to shut you up. he still doesn't care much for it, to be quite honest. there's a lot of slow, lazy days where he just dicks around in-game. he bears with it anyway since you're always so happy when you beat him at fishing, or when you get to steal away the bachelorette he was going after. your voice is a low buzz in his ear as the two of you play until the sun has risen, until he's cussing you out for keeping him up so late when he has a schedule to go to. you let him complain all he wants because he'll still back online for co-op later that night.

when you're back in the same recording studio as him.

this one is the hardest, because this is where he fell for you in the first place. you, with your head bent as you fiddle with jihoon's digital audio workstation. you, with your usually friendly demeanor shuttered behind something so cool and collected. the pencil tucked behind your ear. the way you worry your lower lip as the boys croon. he wants to scream, wants to test just how soundproof this damn studio is. instead, he sings his lines. he makes adjustments as necessary. he watches you do your thing, even jokes to you here and there. it's all he can do to keep his mind away from what it wants so badly to stray back to. in the end, he doesn't scream. but when you smile at him and tease him that he did a good job— he wishes he had.

when he drives you home after you've had one too many to drink.

you're half-asleep in his passenger seat, all soft edges and incoherent mumbles. he tries to be cross with you, tries to tell you off for not knowing your limits and ending up like this. there's an unmistakable softness in his gaze, though, as he makes sure the seatbelt isn't too tight around your frame. he avoids all the potholes and goes extra careful over the speed bumps. by the time he makes it to your dorm, you're already passed out with your cheek pressed against the window. he decides to let you sleep for only thirty seconds more. as he mentally counts down— thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight— he tries to convince himself that it won't sting when he gets to one. (it still does.)

🌸 the one time.

on another random tuesday.

in the end, it's not an evening of stardew valley that gets him. it's not one of your fancams, not your warm presence in his shotgun. no, it's something much more stupid. something much more small. it's the way he looks for his phone when it pings. he doesn't even know if it's you who's texting him. but it could be, and that's enough to have him fishing through his bag hastily. he catches himself one afternoon, notices the way he's just a touch too excited to check the newest notification. he's not any wiser or better, it seems. he doesn't know if he can be. he's still the same jeon wonwoo with a hopeless crush on you.

[amsgrey]

Jumped

Request: I would love to see something Like IT’s Career day at school and Jay and Will come to teach about their jobs along with others. And Halstead's sister gets bullied. During the break of moving in between careers someone comes and beats her up in like the bathroom and leaves her there and no one notices her being gone untill the end of the day. (I kinda want like Fire, Med, and Pd to find her)

sorry if it doesn’t make much sense you can choose how to end it and stuff

I also LOVE your fics I can’t wait to see more❤️

Authors Note; Y’all really love the angst huh, gotta deliver,, and hopefully you enjoy this little drabble. Also, part of me really wanted to title this, 'big sister hugs' because I think that Hailey would be the best big sister and also give the best big sister advice.

warnings: private girls school (yes that's a warning), bullying, getting jumped (i guess?), hospital and injuries,, Jay and Will not knowing girl bullying and being stubborn, a very poorly written plot

High school was not always easy, but you were comfortable at your school with your friends. That was until there was a security issue and Jay’s information got leaked. Your apartment, school, Jay’s license plate, everything that could be used to track him ended up in the hands of the ‘bad guys’. Jay and Will had broken the news to you that they were pulling you from your current school, and moving to another school closer to Will’s. A private girls school, the ones with the fancy uniforms and stuck-up kids who thought the law didn’t apply to them because they had money. You hated it. You had begged Jay and Will to let you stay, but there was no changing their mind. 

The first week was hell, you knew no one. Starting in the middle of the year meant that everyone knew you were the new girl. You were enrolled under your mother's maiden name, for extra safety. It was weird not hearing your name followed by ‘Halstead’. After the first week was gone, you decided to stick it out until the problem with Jay blew over, by then, you could probably convince them to let you go back to your other school. Three weeks passed by and intelligence solved Jay’s leak. 

“So,” You began on Sunday family dinner, “Now that the whole leak in PD is over…” 

Jay and Will shared a look from across the table. 

You narrowed your eyes, “What?” 

Will ran a hand down his face, “Listen…” 

“You won't let me go back.” 

“It’s a better school-”

“Better?” You spat, “How is it better? I hate it there!”

“It’ll get better,” Jay said, “You just need more time to adjust.” 

“I don’t want to adjust-” 

“We’re not pulling you out,” Jay said, “I know you're struggling right now, but you’ll make some friends and-” 

“I can’t believe you.” You pulled away from the table, leaving your half-eaten dinner where it was and stomping off to your room. Jay stood to follow, ready to scold you for storming away and having such an attitude. 

“Jay,” Hailey grabbed his arm, “Let her cool down.” 

Jay and Will didn’t budge on your school. You had gone from begging to bargaining with no success. Now you were giving them both the silent treatment. You knew it was immature and frankly ridiculous, but you were too mad to think clearly. Jay had already scolded you for not talking to him for the last week. You had ignored him. 

Hailey was the only one you spoke too, because it wasn’t her fault that Jay was being stubborn. Even so, you didn’t tell her everything when she stopped by your room. Namely, the career day that was coming up. You knew telling her meant she would tell Jay. And Jay and Will had a terrible habit of embarrassing you at school. At your last school's career day, Will and Jay had come and talked for hours about their funniest stories. You knew if they came this time, your peers wouldn’t be as amused. 

When career day did roll around, your dean stood in front of the school in the auditorium, introducing students and their parents. Your school was much smaller than your last one - something about smaller class sizes being better for learning - so the auditorium wasn’t fully packed. 

Not everyone brought their parents, but the popular kids with parents who had good jobs came. Like the group of girls who hated you, who all brought at least one parent. Your dean invited students to the stage by class and then had the student introduce their parents. Your class was last, the biggest number of parents who had come. You were sat at the end of your class, mostly because you didn't have anyone to bring. Not that it bothered you.

“Next up, we have Olivia and her mom, Jen.” 

Jen was a dentist, she spent 10 minutes explaining how her job worked and then opened for questions. There weren’t many, mostly a few questions from seniors about collages and other stuff. 

Then it was Sophie, with her dad the Banker. 

By the time the girls who hated you were called up, you were ready to fall asleep. No one here had an interesting job, most of the jobs were boring well playing jobs that you could never see yourself doing. 

The main girl who didn’t like you was Madison. She wasn’t fond of how the teachers asked you for answers in class, not that you could do anything about that. Her friend group was made up of 5 or 6 girls who were seemingly lovely. All smiles and compliments around teachers but spread vicious rumors and lies when adults couldn’t hear. You had heard them speaking about you a few times, not that you cared. It wasn’t great to be the new girl with all the rumors, but you had banked on leaving the school before for long. Which, you knew now, wasn’t an option. So now you were stuck with the girls who all hated you for rumors or lies that you didn’t even know. 

Madison brought her mum and dad with her, real estate agents who worked together selling multi-billion dollar houses. The whole time she had a smug look on her face. When she sat back down in her row, she turned in her seat, looking back at you. 

“Didn’t bring anyone?” She asked. 

You didn’t bother replying. 

“Is it because your parents are coke addicts?” Her friend beside her pressed. 

How that rumor even started you didn’t know, it was so absurd.

“Or is it because they’re dead?” Madison pressed.

You gave her a bored look, “I’ll take my family over your fraud family any day.” 

Madison opened her mouth to bark something back, but was shushed by your teacher. She turned back to face the front, arms crossed over her chest. No doubt stewing in your words. 

“We now have some guests to speak to you,” The Dean said through the microphone, “We reached out to some of our first responders and invited them to come speak to you too. Everyone please welcome Dr Asher and Dr Halstead from Gaffney Chicago Med.”

Will and Hannah walked to the stage, both in their Med scrubs with doctors coats on. Will was looking for you, you could tell from the way his eyes scanned the faces in the audience. You slumped in your chair, avoiding looking at him at all. 

How did he find out? Did he and Jay find out somehow? Did your school contact them? 

You really wanted to disappear now, your face was no doubt bright red by how much it was burning. You prayed silently that Will hadn’t told Jay, but you knew it was a useless prayer. If Will was here Jay would be too. 

You got your answer when the dean explained that there were more guests outside on the fields. She ordered everyone to head that way, ushering students with promises of something ‘exciting’. 

Outside, firehouse 51 had parked their rigs on the grass. 51 had their ladder extended, Mouch standing at the controls grinning like a champion. Not far from Mouch was Trudy, flanked by two patrol cars and their officers. Looking across the gathered first responders it didn’t take long to spot Jay and Intelligence. Their own cars were parked on the grass, the lights on. Everyone but Voight had their vests on, adding to the dramatic atmosphere already created. 

Students huddled around, entranced by the cars and rigs which you had seen plenty of times. You tried to hide towards the back, but Kelly had spotted you and tried to usher you closer. You shrugged back at him, trying to make it look like you were stuck within the crowd. 

“Firstly, we would like to thank Sergeant Trudy Platt and Sergeant Hank Voight, as well as Chief Wallace Boden for coming today. We are hugely appreciative to hear from you,” The dean spoke into a microphone, “Secondly, I want to ask students to be respectful, as these hard working men and women have taken time out of their busy days to come and speak to us. So we are going to listen and show respect. There will be time for questions and demonstrations at the end. Please Welcome Sergeant Trudy Platt.” 

The crowd clapped as Trudy took the mic, but it wasn’t too enthusiastic. Trudy gave a similar speech to last year. Along the lines of what made district 21 special, intelligence and the hardworking patrol officers. She talked about fake calls and how breaking the law would wind you up in her cells etc. It was funny, a few quips earning laughs from teachers and parents. But you had heard it all before. You were dreading what the others would say. You didn’t want everyone knowing your brother was a cop, that would cause way too many issues. 

So instead, you slipped away from the crowd, heading back towards the school building to hide in the bathroom. 

You didn’t think anyone would notice, most people were paying attention to the speakers or interested in the rigs. You were wrong, of course, being followed almost immediately by Madison and a couple of her friends. 

You got to the lockers before they announced themselves. 

“What did you mean my parents were frauds, bitch?” 

You turned around in fright, not even hearing them sneak up on you.

“I didn’t mean it,” You replied, “I’m sorry.” 

You were, kind of. Mostly you were sorry that you had said it, because she genuinely seemed shocked. But this was Chicago, anyone with any money committed fraud, it was kind of the standard. 

“I don’t care if you're sorry,” Madison snarled, she was taller than you so when she stepped closer you couldn’t help feeling intimidated. “What did you mean?” 

“Madison-” 

One of her friends pushed you hard against the lockers with a forearm over your collar, “Answer the question.” 

You were by no means a confrontational person. Growing up, Jay always tried to teach you to talk out your issues, violence or fighting wasn’t a good solution. Will was the same, although both of them weren’t always the best at doing as they counseled. 

“I just meant that,” You were panicking under the glare of all three girls, “You know, this is chicago and-”

“And what? Everyone is a criminal like your addict parents?” Madison got in your face again. 

“My parents weren’t addicts,” You scoffed, now annoyed that she wouldn’t let that go. 

“No?” The girl who was holding you back moved her arm further up your neck, pressing against your throat, “Then where are they?” 

“If my parents were addicts, would you really think I'd be in a private school?” You pressed, “Use your brain for once, please.” 

You should have known that would piss Madison off. She let out an annoyed scoff then pulled back her fist and punched your square in the nose. The force slammed your head back into the lockers, the sound echoing through the empty halls. The punch wasn’t hard enough to break your nose, but you would feel the blood start to drip down your lip. Madison shook her hand like she had taken more damage than you had. 

“Want to say that again?” The third girl finally spoke up. 

It was like they were all gaining confidence in the security of the three of them. When one of them said something the others would laugh and smirk. 

“I don’t like bullies, you know,” Madison said. 

God, the irony. 

This time the punch came from the third girl, landing in your stomach. You didn't know her name, but she was on the volleyball team, so her punch was much stronger. Your body doubled over, arms crossing over your stomach as your lungs tried to fight your diaphragm for air. The arm holding you up was dropped, and your body fell to the ground as you tried to force yourself to take some deep breaths. 

“This is what you deserve,” A girl said, before another blow landed on your ribs. The wind was knocked out of you again, causing you to cough and choke. 

Madison crouched down to your level, “Bullies like you deserve to be put in their place.” 

You didn’t have time to appreciate the irony this time, because she was kicking your head, hard. 

Your body reacted on instinct, curling into itself to try to protect you from another blow that was sure to come. 

“Hey!” 

The three girls sprinted at the voice, running away from their actions. 

“Hey, kid,” A hand on your shoulder made you flinch, when your vision cleared you realized it was just Kelly. He held his hands out to show you he meant no harm, then gently helped you sit up. 

“You’re alright,” He said softly, steading you sitting against the lockers. You couldn’t even reply, focused solely on breathing through the pain in your head and side. 

“I found her,” Kelly said into his radio, “North Hallway, bring a jump bag.” 

Kelly gently touched the side of your face, tilting your head to look at the side you had been kicked. 

“You still got that med kit in your bag?” He asked, knowing Kidd had taught you that in girls on fire. 

“Yeah,” You said softly, your voice above a whisper. 

Kelly ripped open your bag, rummaging through it until he found the small first aid kit. He was only after gauze, once he secured it, he ripped the package open and pressed the gauze to your head. 

You winced, instinctively pulling away from him. 

“I know,” He said, sitting down next to you so he could hold the gauze in place, “Sorry kid. 

You both looked up as the sound of footsteps came running towards you. You might as well have been on fire, the entire house was rushing towards you. Jay and Intelligence were there too, Will and Asher running along beside everyone. 

“This is overkill,” You said to no one in particular. 

Kelly chuckled, shuffling so that Will could take his place next to you, “We’re all here for you, kid.” 

Will replaced Kelly’s hand with his own, when Kelly pulled away you could see blood on his hand. 

Jay croached on your other side, letting Will, Hannah and Brett take care of you. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking over your bloody nose, head injury and the way you were holding your side. 

You didn’t want to be known as a snitch, one glance behind your brother and you could see students being held back by teachers and 51. The school day was almost over, everyone would be gathering their things to leave. You hoped you weren’t in front of someone's locker who hated you, this would definitely make them hate you more. 

You looked back at Jay, his eyes filled with worry, “What happened, squirt?” 

“I, uh.. I fell.”

Will scoffed, “You fell?” 

“Yeah, I’m clumsy,” You said.

“You fell and hit your nose and the side of your head?” Hannah asked, voice soft, “Are you sure that's the story you want to tell?” 

Over her shoulder, Kelly was talking to Voight and Hailey. Hailey was pointing something out, a camera that was positioned above one of the classroom doors. 

“Yeah,” You didn’t sound confident at all. But right now, you wanted to be anywhere but here.

Jay looked pissed, but he didn’t say anything. He got to his feet and stood out of the way as Hannah and Will helped you stand. They lead you over to the stair chair, despite your very vocal argument that you were fine. 

Being wheeled through the crowd of students and their parents was the most embarrassing thing you had ever experienced. You passed by Madison at one point, who was leaning against her locker talking to her parents like nothing ever happened. You avoided looking her way, instead focusing on what Brett was saying about getting to the rig. 

Outside the building things were less stressful and crowded. You managed to convince the four hovering adults that you could stand on your own to get into the back of the ambulance, even if you didn’t really think you needed one. 

“I’m really fine,” You argued for probably the fifth time, “I think you're overreacting.” 

Will sighed, running a hand down his face, “You are too stubborn for your own good,” He muttered. 

Violet chuckled, “Just lay back, alright? You aren’t getting out of this, no matter how much you complain.” 

She was right, but that didn’t stop you from pouting the whole way to Med. 

At Med, Will hovered as Hannah stapled the laceration on your head. You weren’t too happy about the idea of being stabled back together, but Will had taken a photo of the laceration to prove you needed it. 

“That’s so gross,” You said, pushing the phone away from you. 

“That’s why you need staples,” Will explained, rolling his eyes.

Not long after Hannah had treated you and left you to rest, Jay, Hailey and Voight walked in. 

“Are you doing alright?” Jay asked, hesitant to start another argument. 

“I’m fine,” You repeated, “I don’t know why everyones making such a big deal.” 

“You were attacked at-” 

“I fell.” You interrupted. 

“Y/N-” 

“Jay.” You echoed in the same tone.

Jay's face flashed with irritation, he looked to Will for help. 

“We know that’s not true,” Will said, giving you his best parental disappointed look. 

“The whole thing was caught by the security cameras,” Hailey spoke softly, she was the only person in the room who knew what it was like to be a teenage girl in high school, “We just want to know what they said.” 

You tried to come up with some kind of explanation that wouldn’t get anyone in trouble, but you came up short. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with all of them. 

Will leaned forward, he looked wary, “Listen, squirt, we want to help, but we can’t unless you tell us the truth.” 

“That is the truth,” You argued back, crossing your arms definitely, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re in the hospital!” Jay gestured around, “What about this is ‘not a big deal’.” 

You scowled, refusing to say anything else and just sitting silently. 

Voight squeezed Jay's shoulder, “We’ll let her rest, come back later?” 

Jay nodded, not bidding you goodbye as he stomped out of the room. You hadn’t seen him this mad in forever, you weren’t sure if this would blow over as easily as your other fights. Voight followed after Jay, he told you to get some rest then followed his detective to try to calm him down. 

Will got up to leave too, he told you to rest and said he would come back soon. When the three left, it was only Hailey who stayed behind. 

“I know you’ve been struggling at school,” She took a seat on the bed next to you, “I know what that’s like.” 

You fiddled with your fingers, not wanting to admit she was right. 

“You know what happened today wasn’t right,” Hailey continued, “Jay wants to press charges.” 

“What? No! That’ll just make it wor…” You stopped yourself.

“Make what worse?” Hailey pressed. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to get upset. 

“Whatever is going on, I can help,” Hailey promised. 

“You can’t get me out of that school,” You scowled. 

“I think after today, that might be possible.” 

You leaned back into the pillows. Dr Asher had given you some pain meds for your head, they removed the sharp pain and replaced it with a dull throb. You could feel it more as you got more upset. 

“There’s this stupid rumor that my parents are addicts,” you explained, “Madison is always taunting me with it, saying that's why no one ever comes to parent evenings or teacher interviews…” 

Hailey didn’t say anything, she just sat listening patiently. 

“Before you guys came, she asked why my parents weren’t here and I said that I would rather have my family over her fraud one.” 

Hailey nodded as she listened. 

“It was stupid and as soon as I said it, I regretted it. When we were outside I went inside to go to the bathroom and Madison and her friends followed me… They, uh… Madison wanted to know why I said it and I apologized but she didn’t- she, she didn’t care and…” 

Hailey got the cue, “Okay. It’s alright.” She pulled you into a gentle hug. “Everything’s going to be alright.”