#and maybe he's the only one who's allowed to have it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
tap out.
simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.
based on this.
simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.
in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.
but simon is an orphan now.
there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.
over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.
the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.
he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.
maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.
no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.
still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.
then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.
it’s you.
you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.
you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.
—you. you. you.
and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.
he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.
you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.
he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.
and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.
with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.
then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.
in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.
his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.
‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.
his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.
you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’
and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.
. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley blurbs#simon riley headcanons#simon riley x reader#task force 141#simon ghost riley blurbs#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon ghost riley headcanon#angst#simon riley fanfiction#ghost headcanons#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost angst#cod ghost#cod fanfic#simon riley x you#call of duty ghost#simon ghost riley x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil
a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.
You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”
For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.
Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.
You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.
Leona Kingscholar
You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”
After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”
The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.
And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.
He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.
But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.
He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.
“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”
You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”
With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.
All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.
Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.
The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.
Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.
Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”
He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.
You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.
Jamil Viper
Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.
His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.
He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.
You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”
A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.
For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.
With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.
“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”
In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.
Vil Schoenheit
It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"
And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.
He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.
"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.
"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."
Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”
His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.
"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.
“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”
In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.
Idia Shroud
Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.
And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.
“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.
“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”
He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.
Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.
You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.
His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Malleus Draconia
Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.
Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.
The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.
You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."
Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.
He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.
Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."
In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#leona x reader#azul x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#idia shroud x reader#idia x reader#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#jamil viper x reader#jamil x reader
573 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you think you might update the Adopted Son Au soon, maybe ?🤔 i just can't with that cliffhanger, i need to know what happened next.
Plz
Dick trying to figure out how he is going to escape from his cell when the door opens again. This time, it's not Drake but a group of children who walk in without saying a word.
They surround him, and Dick prepares himself for some torture when one of them presses a button on a controller, releasing him from the retrains, keeping him trapped in the chair.
The metal slides off his wrists and ankles, allowing him to flip up from his seat and away from the group. He wobbles a little, having gone a few weeks without much exercise or movement due to his bad mental state.
He can still take them to the ground, but he won't be at his best, which irks him fiercely. It will also make this fight a lot more dangerous. Surprisingly, the children don't react to his flip or fighting stance.
They stare at him with blank expressions, the single light swinging back and forth as Dick had anciently hit the edge of it with his hip. Four of them are cramped into the surprisingly small room, but none look like they are there for a fight.
Dick frowns. "What's going on?"
" You didn't have Danny, "the oldest one, the boy the Parkers had apparently been taking in, says. "We have no reason to keep you."
"What, you going to let me go? Just like that?" The disbelief drips from his words as he tightens his fist, searching for the surprise attack that will surely come.
"Just like that." The boy agrees, clapping his hands. A little girl throws a bag at Dick, who catches it in an instant. The thing is heavy, but it doesn't feel like a weapon. The teenager claps again, and suddenly, the ground underneath him vanishes.
Dick is free-falling before he knows what's happening. The rush of the wind nearly drowns out his screaming as he tumbles downwards. He watches the apparent cargo plan hangar close as the children stare at his descent.
Twisting around and trying to get his wits about him, Dick realizes he doesn't have a lot of time to figure out what to do because he is far above the ground. He will not survive hitting it. The bag in hand beeps before it springs open.
Wire cords warp around his torso, yanking him to the side so the bag can rest on his back. Another beep goes through before a loud whoosh can be heard, and Dick's body jerks again as a parachute bursts to life from the bag.
He gasps as it catches the wind once it fully opens, stopping his free fall into a gentle flouting. Dick's heart is hammering away in his chest, even when he starts the breathing exercises Bruce taught him to keep calm. He glances up at the plane, but it shimmers out of sight once a clocking device is activated.
He can only guess which direction it ran away in. It must be one of Crowne's inventions.
A few minutes go by when he falls some clouds- and it stings to feel the water bit dig into his skin.- before he finally realizes where he is. Drake had him thrown right over Wayne Manor. The little shit.
Carefully testing the turning cords, Dick realizes that they are much simpler to drive and directions his landing towards the ground behind the Manor. He is nearly there when a flash of red races out of the window, aiming right for him.
"Dick!" Kori shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He sighed gratefully and said she was mindful of the parachute. His friend tucks him into her arms, one hand under his knees, the other on his upper back, and flies him safely back down. "You're okay! We were so worried when you vanished."
"How long was I gone?"
"Just one day. What happened?"
Wow, Drake doesn't mess around. It was alarming that he could not only take him from his own room but return him without any of the Bats being the wiser. "Let's get everyone grouped up. This is going to need some explanations."
The two fly through the same window Kori was excited about. The minute Dick's feet touch the floor, the bag beeps and unclips, yanking the fabric up his parachute back into the little bag as it slides off his shoulders.
Crowne would be so excited that it works so smoothly. He thinks almost wistfully.
"Dick!" Jason yells, racing forward to throw his arms around Dick's middle. Not far behind, Damian joins them though he seems more willing to hold onto Jason rather than Dick.
"Hey guys." He mutters, bending down to hug back. "Sorry about the scare."
"Dick," Bruce's baritone voice has him snapping his head up. There, he realizes his family and the teen titans are all sitting around a conference table, papers scattered in front of the relieved people. A large screen was sitting behind Bruce, displaying the latest news in the Crowne trial. "What happened?"
Dick takes a deep breath, locks everything that man him, the fun circus child, in a tight box inside his chest. When he opens his eyes again, all that's left is Nightwing.
"Let me tell you," And he does
A while later, Dick learns that while no one had known where he had gone, they had all been able to find enough proof that Dick was taken. It had left everyone in great unease, especially Bruce, who had always been proud of the Manor's defenses.
They were in the middle of discussing Timothy Drake's new danger level when the noise of the reporting news anchor cut off mid-sentence. The image changes from a business street of Gotham's police headquarters, where Daniel Crowne is said to be held, to a dark room with a person wearing a glowing green skull mask.
The person is sitting at a table, the angle getting them from the chest up. They wear a hood that does not hide their black wavy hair, curling around their ears. As the camera focuses, the figure plays with a piece of it.
Everyone at the table tenses up as the person speaks. They use some voice modifier that disrupts the words, making it sound robotic -it's hard to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. The body shape, however, points to them being young. "People of Gotham. I have taken control of this and every screen within the city to speak to you about Daniel Crowne. Many of you have cheered the last few days over his imprisonment, unaware of the hero he was. Tonight, I wish to enlighten you. Watch and repent."
"Where is this broadcasting from?" Bruece demands at once. Babs is already tapping away on her Crowne laptop, attempting to track down the signal.
"I don't know. It's bouncing from all over the city." She huffs.
On the screen, the stranger continues. Dick thinks he knows who that is. He recognizes the mindless habit of playing with the hair near the right side of his neck. "That's Drake."
At his words, everyone tenses even further.
"It's true Crowne broke the law. He took it into his own hands when CPS failed to protect the children they claimed they worked for, much like a specific group of Bats." Drake continues, tapping one finger on the surface of his table. "Unlike them, Crowne kept a record of everything he's done. I will present it all to you."
The screen changes to show documents, videos of abuse victims, and some testimony of missing children. For an hour, every screen showcases everything Daniel Crowne has done since he appeared from his adoption. The Waynes and the Titians are left in awe by the sheer amount of evidence that showcases.....Crowne saving children.
Dick legs give out under him some time around the proof of the Foster system failing children and how Crowne had personally swooped in to save them. None of it is legal, but no one cares.
Not when Heather Gobb's case is shown that she has been locked up in juvie for years for being a poor orphan. Not when her neighbors' old video of them pleading with the public to find information on her is shown, as they had thought she had gone missing five years ago and were still looking for her today.
Not when Max Smith- the same one that released him- case of being a human traffic victim was rescued and given to the Parkers. The Parkers had been rejected five times as foster parents due to their age. But the Martinez another case shown here- was even after three different girls reported sexual assault.
Every contact. Every move. Every single street kid is given a home. All of it was shown here, even the way he did it. Daniel Crowne was a hero.
"No," Dick gasps, watching the proof of Danny secretly busting trafficking rings and helping the victims find their way home. He had worked on one of those cases. Cindy, a fifteen-year-old girl, had been secretly rescued when a tip came through. Among her bags was a map of the rest of the cages that she claimed she had never before seen.
Crowne- Danny- had planted it.
The tears are rolling down his face, blurring everything in sight, but Dick can't look away. His chest feels like it's caving in as memory after memory plays behind his eyes.
Memories of the man he betrayed.
Drake, in his eerie glowing skull costume, returns. "That was who Daniel Crowne was. I speak in the past tense because his body had been discovered earlier today. He was found stuffed into a waste bin near Gotham's dump. A funeral will be held for the public in a week within Gotham Park at this same time, open casket, and he will be buried with honor somewhere no one can reach him. It will be the only time to say goodbye."
Dick feels like his world has shattered. The room starts to spin; multiple people are speaking, but he can barely hear them over the roaring in his ears.
He can only see Drake's green glow as the boy continues. "Lastly, I have a message for Officer Lucas Black of the 99th. We know what you did, and as much as I want to end you, he wouldn't have wanted that. Instead we will send you a gift. She was found in the last ring Crowne managed to track down. Protect her well this time. And never forgive yourself for what you did to her savior."
The screen cuts. Dick turns to the side, throwing up until nothing but acid comes out. His friends and family gather around him, trying their best to offer him comfort, but they can do nothing.
Danny is dead. He's gone, and he never even knew it was Dick that helped kill him.
_________________________________________________________
Life is a blur, worse than when he had Danny arrested. Dick isn't even sure he's alive. Bruce and the rest of the police have managed to verify all of the presented evidence. Crowne had legally kidnapped children, but no one could claim him a monster.
It was like the city was collectively drowning in guilt and mourning. Not even the rest of the Rouges dared to cause trouble. For the first time in centuries, Gotham was experiencing a cease-fire, and peace fell upon the civilians.
It hadn't stopped raining since Danny's death, almost as if Gotham herself was sobbing for the loss.
Dick had never felt this empty before, not even at the lost of his parents. He had nothing, no one to be angry at as Drake had covered every track of Danny's killer.
A single letter with a glowing green ghost circled around the familiar D arrived at Wayne Manor the day following the broadcast. All it read was You will never find out who took him. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered.
Bruce was working non-stop to bring Danny's killer to justice, but there was even less to go on than the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
Somehow, he finds himself getting dressed for Daniel Crowne's funeral. Jason and Damian help him walk out of his room, wearing black, and into the car. Bruce is riding in the passenger seat while Alfred is driving.
They had forgone the expensive vehicles and instead rode in a small black car. This was not an event that needed a showy entrance.
The drive is long and silent. Pity and pain make him almost choke, as none of the other four seem to know what to say. They only glance at him, looking torn up.
Bruce is the worst. He likely blames himself for the whole honey pot plot, and Dick wants to blame him, wants to lash out and rage against his father, but he can't.
He had agreed to the plan. Dick had been the one who went to Danny's office, the one who held him and spoke to him. The one that stole kisses and whispered sweet nothings.
The one that falls in love with the person he destroyed.
Dick stares out the window, wishing he was sobbing like he had been just a few days ago. He wishes he could feel the headache of dehydration from all the tears he cried. Anything other than this numbing pain that rests on his chest and keeps him from feeling anything.
His eyes have remained dry since he heard the news of Danny's passing. What kind of monster did that make him?
"Dick..." Bruce tries, but his words fall short. With a start, the first Robin realizes they are at the park. The car had been parked, and everyone was outside waiting for him.
He unclips his belt, stepping out and ignoring the hand Bruce offers him. All of Gotham has come for Daniel Crowne. There are so many marching by in black clothing. Some are sobbing, others are whispering, but all Dick sees is a sea of strangers that once cheered for his death.
Who are you? He thinks as his family walks into the park. Did any of you even know him?
A nasty voice sneers in his mind. Did you know him, Grayson?
Jason's warm palm slides into Dick's, helping him to the front where some seats had been put aside for those that were personally saved by Danny. Drake wanted them front and center; he had sent a message with a confused Sparrow.
Damian now seemed to regret presenting the letter as he held Jason with getting Dick to sit.
The coffin was surrounded by flower arrangements and shoes—the ones from the people he had saved. Some adult sizes were mixed in, but the majority were of children—it didn't seem real.
None of this does.
But Danny is gone, and Dick can not cry.
Next to the Waynes sits Officer Black, who is sobbing so hard it sounds like his chest is being cut apart. His sister is holding him, crying into his shoulder and whispering assurances.
The Ghosts- a new group that has risen in place of Crowne's fall- had delivered her home mere minutes after the Broadcast. She had received free treatment in one of Crowne Corp's hospitals outside of Gotham. She, along with seventeen other victims, had been personally rescued by Daniel Crowne only a month before.
Dick was happy for them. After years of being apart, the Blacks were finally whole once more.
Phantom- the head of Ghosts- walks up to a podium. His glowing green skull mask hides his expression from the crowd, but Dick can see how hard it is for Drake to stand there and speak.
"Gotham is no stranger to tragedy. We live with grief and joy. We dine with hope and sorrow. We walk with fate and death. In the five years since his arrival, Daniel Crowne had done everything he could to protect Gotham without asking for anything in return. He was deeply devoted to those he loved, and though not religious, he believed in Gotham." Drake says, addressing the crowd. "He found the flame of hope in the darkness of Gotham's streets. He stood tall when others lay broken by her crushing weight, bearing the burden of her attention. His mind illuminated that darkness, his heart warmed those in the cold wind, and with every fiber of his being, Danny fought for the betterment of mankind. His inventions saved thousands and have carved history with a chisel of his own making. We say goodbye to our cherished brother, friend, and noble son stolen from us far too soon. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered. Daniel Crowne may no longer be able to walk with us, but his spark will forever live within us."
Drake pauses, turns to the coffin, and places a flower inside of it. "May you find the peace you were searching for, Brother."
Dick bows his head feeling tears gather in his eyes, but none spill over as Drake encourages everyone to pray in whatever belief they hold and allows people to go up to offer their own flowers, stones, or gifts. His line is the first to go up, but he can't move. His legs feel like lead, shaking his head when Bruce whispers his name.
Officer Black passes him, clutching his sister's hand as they walk to Danny's coffin. To his body. It's odd.
Danny is of that wooden stature, but nothing is in it—it's just a box. Officer Black placed his badge inside, whispering that he was leaving the force. Dick is close enough that he can hear his sister adding a ring that Danny had given her when he visited her during her recovery and wonders how bright Danny's smile might have been to see the siblings together again.
The funeral continued, with a long queue of people wishing to say their final goodbyes. Dick sat through the whole thing, aware of time passing but not entirely sure what was happening around him.
All too soon and not fast enough, the service ends. The Phantom claps his hands. A significant plane shifts into view, and its cloaking device falls. It lowers a platform as some Ghosts carefully lift the coffin.
The pallbearers march onto the plane's platform as a haunting melody bleeds into the air. With a start, Dick realizes it's an instrumental cover of their song, the one Danny and he used to dance and sing to. Danny had been playing it the day they were unpacking his home before Dick had found the journals that same night.
Drake really wants him to suffer, doesn't he?
No one speaks as the group rises into the air, taking with them Daniel Crowne. The plane vanishes from sight once more, and slowly, everyone tickles home. Gotham's rain—absent for the funeral—returns just as the Waynes manage to get into their car.
The drive home was even shorter than the one to the event. His family tries to speak to him, but Dick hears nothing. He merely walks up to his room and crashes on his bed.
Exhaustion, one deeper than his very bones, drags him under. He's out before Bruce can find the courage to enter his room.
_________________________________________________________
He's not sure if it's a dream or not, but the next thing Dick knows, he's blinking his eyes open to a soft white glow. His eyes are drawn to the bottom of his bed, where a figure sits on its edge, hunched over and staring at its hands.
His breath caught in his throat, causing the person to turn towards him. He looked different. His green eyes were glowing like a light was lit behind his eyeballs. His hair was snowy white, and his body seemed nearly transparent, but there was no denying who it was.
"Danny" The name is spoken like a gospel.
The love of his life smiles at him in that same adoring way. It feels like a slap and a hug all in one. "Hello Darling"
He stares, unsure of what to do, until he blurts, "You're dead."
Danny throws his head back in a familiar, impish laugh. It's the one, only Dick, had been privy to, as his boyfriend had always been so regal laughing loudly seemed to be against his very image.
Danny crawls from the bottom of the bed, still laughing, until he lays right next to Dick, who can't stop staring at him. Once he settled, the two were mere inches away, staring into each other's eyes as if they could drink each other's features.
"Yes," Danny's voice is soft as freshly fallen snow. "I'm dead. I never thought about that happening. A part of me always hoped I wouldn't form a complete ghost when my time would come. It's rather silly when you consider Dan."
"Ghost?"
Glowing green eyes soften just a bit as a cold- never will it be warm again- hand wraps around his own. Dick can hardly believe he can feel the hold as he continues to stare. "Yes, Darling, I'm a ghost."
"I'm sorry," He whispers, and then a sorrow overcomes him. Dick feels his eyes water faster than anything this past week. Silent tears rolled down his face as he choked, "I'm so fucking sorry."
"Oh, Darling." Danny comes, reaching out to wipe his tears away. "I don't blame you. I love you."
"Danny you can't love me. You don't know what I did."
"I do know. You were a honey pot to find evidence of me trafficking children." Danny says as if though nothing. As if Dick hadn't betrayed him to the very core of their relationship. "I'm hurt by it, but I do not hate you for it. You were doing the same thing I was. Trying to protect children; after all, I did make thousands vanish. It looked suspicious."
"If I had been a better detective, I would have found the truth." Dick insisted, self-hate clouding his words.
Danny sighs, tracing the side of his cheek. "No, you wouldn't. Darling, you and Bruce had spent months investigating me without finding anything that could tie me to the case before you had the idea of the Honey Pot. I ensured no one would have found the truth unless they got close. I didn't even tell Tim. He just found out on his own."
Dick's tears flow faster. "I could have done more."
"I could have told you," Danny counters, smiling sadly. But to do so, I would have to tell you about my Halfa status, and I was never quite brave enough to disclose the subject. We both kept secrets, Darling and are both to blame."
"But you're dead." Dick chokes, reaching out his arm to bring his lover to his chest. He lacks the warmth that he once associated with Daniel Crowne. "My secrets lead to your death."
"Maybe. My secret would have led to me leaving your world anyway." Danny confuses.
"What?"
"Since I became Daniel Crowne, I have been working on a way to travel dimensions. It was my goal to get back to my original home. I became so obsessed with it that I did not weaver even years after landing in a world technically behind my own. Not even my love for you or my care for Tim made me give up on that goal." Danny says, eyes staring into Dick's soul, looking so majestic and sad that, for a moment, Dick wondered if he was a painting.
"I told myself that once I figured out a way to travel home, I could come back here to you and live another double life. But that was a lie. A pretty one but a lie. I had to choose one world or another and I would have chosen the other if I had lived."
Danny rests his forehead against Dick's. "I wanted a life with you, Darling, but fate wouldn't allow it as I have been too selfish. I know it's a lot to ask, but can I be selfish a little longer?"
The Gotham vigilante wraps himself around his dead partner, attempting to bury himself in his essence. "As much as you want Darling. Be as selfish as you want."
Neither speaks for long, allowing themselves to feel around each other.
"Daniel Fenton," Danny says after a long while.
"What?"
"My name. It's Daniel Fenton." Danny pulls back to smile at him. "May I tell his story?"
"Yes."
_____________________________________________________________
Dick wakes again to his room curtains gently blowing in the wind of his open windows. The rain has stopped, and a few birds are chirping in the trees outside the glass. The sun shines on the ring that has his name carved into the band, where it rests on his bedside table.
There is no evidence that Danny had been there the night before.
Dick carefully reaches out for the ring, sliding it onto his finger. It's a perfect fit.
He rolls onto his back, holding his hand up to watch the small stones curling around the band gleam. Somewhere in the afterlife, the Ghost King, rightful ruler of the Beyond, is wearing a similar one, and he may wait for the day the two reunite.
Dick Grayson knows everything about Danny Fenton, of how he arrived here in this world, of the one he lost when he flew aimlessly through the Infinite Realms, and of the life he built himself in his effort to get home.
He knows that Timothy Drake will continue to rule over Gotham's underbelly with his trained Ghosts, who will be far more dangerous than any Talon. He will also buy out Crowne Corp, bringing his brother's once titan of a company under his care to continue his work.
He knows Jason and Damian will grow up well, forging their own identities and teams and working hard to improve the lives of the residents of Crime Alley.
He knows that Bruce will continue his war against the crime of Gotham, and for every mistake and stumble he makes, Bruce will bring hope back to the people who cower in their homes.
He knows Lucas Black did not mean to kill Danny and finds he does not hate the man. Danny does not blame him, so why should Dick? He'll dedicate the rest of his life to working at the bakery his sister had always dreamed of owning.
But above all, Dick Grayson knows Danny Fenton still loves him.
For the first time since Danny's death, Dick allows himself to dissolve into sobs. His cries raise in volume, filling the room with their anguish. His bedroom door is flung open by a distressed-looking Bruce, who gathers him in his arms. His baby brothers are not far behind, and Alfred even puts aside his professionalism to join in on the hug.
One day, the family will be much larger than the five. Somewhere out there, a young girl unable to speak is waiting for them. Her brother, who can see the dance of light, is just a little behind. He likely goes to class with a girl in purple who will become Drake's right hand after one too many pushes from her shitty father.
Danny told him there would be more and that he had seen all of Dick's life. Ultimately, he will wait for them to pick up where they left off. The weight of their shared rings will be a companion for the rest of Dick's life.
Dick sobs and sobs until every nasty emotion is finally out of his body. It feels like relief.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#the adoptive son#The End#Angst#Hurt and Comfort#Bittersweet ending#Danny did honstly die#He was never going to go home#He learned the truth the moment he died#He doesn't hate Dick and is very in love with him#Both will wait a lifetime#Tim and Steph will not join the Batfam#Hope you liked the ending and thank you for sticking around for it!#Part 9
506 notes
·
View notes
Text
bait
SUMMARY: Damian would like to welcome you to the family.
WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.
MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share
Requests are open!
Normally, Damian would hate being babied. He was a trained assassin, the blood of Ra’as Al Ghoul ran through his veins, he was the son of the feared Bat! And yet, here he was, sitting in your kitchen, watching you make him some (vegan) mac n’ cheese.
Originally, Damian did not understand the obsession his family seemed to have with you. He spent days complaining, stomping around the manor, irritated that his family was wasting time with some… weakling. It seemed that every time he walked into a room, the only topic of discussion was you.
As one of the newer additions to the family, and a biological one at that, it seemed he had missed out on something vital to his family. So, he decided to just… ask, as his father would advise, just why they were wasting time on someone who wouldn’t ever be able to adhere to the illustrious standards his family had set.
The person he decided on was Grayson, someone he normally looked up to.
He sat across from his older brother, who was preoccupied with that insipid app that Drake had designed, keeping track of your vitals and ensuring your safety. Finally, fed up with being ignored, Damian cleared his throat to alert his brother of his presence.
Grayson looked up and beamed, bouncing up to flop down next to Damian.
“What’s up, lil’ D?” Grayson asked, voice jovial even as he spared a glance at his screen.
“Tt. Grayson, I must… request your assistance.”
“Anything for you, lil’ D!” Grayson leaned over and rustled Damian’s hair. Damian, annoyed, fixed his hair and leaned away.
“I do not… I do not understand your recent… Preoccupation. It seems the family has decided, rather unanimously, that we will be gaining a new member. I do not understand why we must lower our standards!” He huffed, crossing his arms.
Grayson’s eyes softened. “Oh, lil’ D. It’s alright, you’re new, we should’ve known this would be confusing…” He looked away, staring out the window for a second, letting out a little sigh.
“I’m not really sure how to explain it, but sometimes, sometimes people, especially people like us, get… passionate. Dinah likes to explain it away as the way we… deal with the constant loss, the uncertainty. Vigilantes don’t ever do anything in halves, afterall.”
“But why, but why them? They have nothing to add to our family, Grayson! They cannot fight, they are not trained, they have no extraordinary skills!” Damian huffed.
“Well, it doesn’t always make sense, Damian, and it doesn’t need to. Sometimes, sometimes people just… click, it doesn’t always have to make logical sense. I think if you got to know them, maybe you’d understand it a bit better.”
Grayson smiled, looking back at Damian. Damian looked away, blushing. He didn’t like not getting something; it made him feel vulnerable, weak, like he was missing out on something everyone else just seemed to get.
“And this is, this is… typical, for vigilantes such as our family?” He asked, voice quiet with mortification. Grayson smiled softly.
“Of course, Lil’ D. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, and there’s no way we’re gonna let someone else get hurt. I mean, just think about it; do you think they could defend themselves?”
Damian shook his head.
“And there’s no way they’ll be able to defend themselves. As vigilantes, especially in Gotham, we see the truth, we see how nasty the world can truly be. Most civilians just don’t get it. So, I think we can be forgiven for being a little intense, right?” He laughed, elbowing Damian gently.
“I mean, just think about Jon getting hurt.”
Damian scowled. “I would not allow it. It would never happen.” He said, certainty clear in his voice.
Grayson snorted. “I know, Lil’ D. I’m just using him as an example; now take those feelings, and imagine if Jon couldn’t defend himself. “
“I-I do not know what I would do.”
“And that’s okay, you’ll get it eventually, okay? It’s hard to come to terms with, at first.”
“I still do not understand why you have chosen such an unworthy target for your affections, but I will… try. To understand.” Damian looked down, face tinged slightly red in embarrassment.
Grayson ruffled his hair again, and peeked at his screen. “Maybe ask Cass to take you, or Jason? I have a shift in a little while. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you, Damian. It’s okay to have questions, to not get it. It’ll click eventually.”
So, Damian did.
While embarrassing, the idea of not getting something that was clearly of high importance to his family rankled in his chest. So, he approached Cain and asked for her help.
She was in her studio, as she normally was at noon on the weekends, working on a new routine. Damian paused in the door, waiting for her to finish up. No matter how many times he saw her, especially during her performances, he was always surprised by just how graceful the young woman managed to be.
It was normal for his family to move with a lithe grace, especially Grayson, who seemed to move so fluidly he lacked a skeletal structure, couldn’t compete with the natural poise Cain held herself with.
She finished up her routine with a flourish, then rose to her feet with a sigh. She floated over to her water bottle and took a sip, before turning around to face Damian. She smiled gently, eyes crinkling at the corners, her slightly damp choppy black hair framing her face perfectly.
“Little brother,” she said, delight clear in her voice.
“Cain,” Damian greeted, nodding his head and moving into the room.
Cain sank to the floor, back against the mirrored wall, and patted the wooden floor next to her.
“Sit,” she said.
He did. There was no refusing Cain, after all.
“You seem… confused.” She glanced over at him, taking another small sip.
“Yes. I do not… Understand the new obsession you have all taken with that Civilian.”
Cain nodded. “Yes.”
“Grayson explained the general feelings of protectiveness, but was unable to elaborate; why them?” Damian crinkled his face, nose scrunching.
Cain laughed. “Stubborn, not seeing.” She poked his forehead, startling him. He scowled further, rubbing the spot. It didn’t really hurt, but he was not about to let her get away with poking him like a child!
She snickered at his bewildered expression.
“It is hard to explain… Instinct.” She hummed, looking away in contemplation.
“Innocence. They do not know… the violence, the heartache… they are kind.”
So it was about the contrast, Damian concluded. The difference between a trained vigilante and a weakling.
“They cannot… protect self. Need help. Like baby.” She continued, sighing and leaning a hand against her cheek, propped against her knees.
“Like… Like Titus, or Alfred the cat. Need looking after.”
Just like that, it clicked.
You were utterly defenseless. Completely alone, with no one to prevent you from being hurt, or worse, killed. You were like a young kitten, unable to open their eyes to see their savior, like the one Damian had fostered.
A warmth bloomed in his chest. You would be like the kitten, and he would protect your innocence, no matter the cost.
Cass smiled widely, scrunching her nose.
Just like that, Damian was clamoring to get involved. He could not wait until you were home, and he would be able to ensure your safety, keeping you from losing that childlike innocence, that thin film over your eyes preventing you from seeing the true danger.
It was Drake who had the brilliant idea to place Damian in the field; Damian, for all of his sword-related faults, was still young, after all. Someone as naive as you would be sure to enjoy looking after such a cute child, not being able to see who was truly caring for who.
While both Grayson and Todd had failed to make your acquaintance, it seemed you were too aware of stranger danger to fully fall for the ruse, he knew Cain had made inroads as a member of your book club. Surely, having a young brother by her side would only make it easier to get closer to you.
And just like that, the trap was set, and Damian was ready to act.
The next week, your book club would be meeting to discuss the selected offerings. You had wisely offered up Pride and Prejudice. Damian could still hear the muffled curses Todd had let out; you had no clue the extent to which you had so thoroughly endeared yourself to him, just by picking an Austen novel. Damian could not help but be amused, Todd was easy to enthrall despite his tough exterior; it was almost comical.
Cain had brought him with, dressed in clothes he was told were appropriate for his age (Grayson had laughed and forced him to stand for pictures. He would secure his revenge, and make sure to talk badly about him. He would be victorious in the so-called prank war, after all, and you would stand at his side, unscathed.).
You opened the door, smiling and bringing Cain in for a hug. Even from his position, he could see Cain melt into the hug, smiling and bringing an arm up to pat your back gently.
“Hello,” she sighed as you pulled back, looking her over.
“Oh, Hello!” you said, looking down at Damian.
He sighed internally. It would take everything he had, but the thoughts of showing you Bat-Cow would get him through the evening. He smiled brightly, artificially pitching his voice up slightly.
“Hi!” He said, stepping forward and shaking your hand with vigor. “I’m Cass’s brother, Damian!”
“Oh, so you have a brother?” You said, smiling even brighter. It almost hurt Damian’s face in sympathy, how widely you were able to smile. Was it due to your innocence?
You ushered the two of them inside.
“Yes, Our father forgot Damian would be home tonight, and did not arrange for a babysitter.”
“Oh, that’s more than alright! Here, are you hungry, kiddo? I’ll make you something to snack on while the book club gets going! Cass, you can take a seat if you want.”
Damian watched as you puttered around the kitchen, enamored with the way you seemed completely oblivious to the danger present in your home. You were lucky he was there to protect you; what if Cass hadn’t been a kind person? You would’ve had no idea you were letting a threat into your house, and into your life! Luckily for you, Cass would never harm a hair on your head, let alone let you get hurt.
“Milk okay for the Mac n’ cheese, kiddo?” You asked, not bothering to turn around as you pulled down a box.
He informed you he was vegan.
You took it in stride, pulling out some soy milk. He was almost surprised you would have some, but your clear kindness would never allow you to potentially offend a guest. Damian could feel a bout of cuteness aggression overtaking him, and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood under the lip of the counter.
The rest of the night passed without incident, though you seemed particularly interested in Damian’s contributions to the conversation about Austen’s works. He could not help but be satisfied at the impression he had made; it was not his fault the majority of the people you surrounded with could not understand basic literary analysis, after all.
Every week for the next few months, Damian would tag along to book club; he eventually managed to become your favorite conversational partner, though Cain was a close second, as you slowly began to ignore the others in the club. It was better this way, after all; they could not protect you.
However, Damian soon became frustrated by the lack of progress. They were talking to you regularly, yes, but he wanted you safe at home! He could tell the others were building in frustration as well, and yet the consensus remained; they would need to take more time.
So, he approached Todd.
And Todd agreed.
The plan was set.
Damian waited breathlessly in the alley by your workplace. It would be easy, after all, to get you to follow him down into the dark.
The second he saw you, he took a few wide steps back, and began to scream.
“Help!” He shouted, crumpling to the floor. He let his voice take on a tinge of desperation, pitching slightly higher to exaggerate his innocence and hopefully trigger your panic so you would approach without a second thought.
It worked, and your pounding footsteps soon approached.
“Hello?!” You called, frantically dropping to your knees in front of his crumpled form.
“D-Damian?” You cried, searching desperately for the injury.
Behind you, he could see Todd approach, syringe in hand.
He let out a groan and rolled over, head in your lap. As you ran your hands over his back, looking for something, he surreptitiously grabbed your waist, hoping to prevent you from running, just in case.
Finally, Todd was in range. He stuck the syringe into your neck without a second thought, and you were out like a light.
Damian was just glad your hand had landed in his hair.
#yandere batfam#yandere cassandra cain#yandere tim drake#yandere bruce wayne#yandere jason todd#yandere dick grayson#yandere damian wayne#lethwrites#platonic yandere
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
megumi x reader | warnings: making out | wc: 687
—
you and megumi decided to keep your relationship a secret. for reasons quite obvious to the two of you, for the current predicament you find yourselves in being one of the main ones.
with the two to of you both being students at jujutsu high, you're with each other more often than not. because of this, you two try to keep your feelings for each other at a minimum and keep anything away to the nosy people around you who would love to tease you about your relationship.
and megumi feels strongly about preventing that from ever happening.
well, that didn't last that long.
It was currently 1am, everyone was sleeping, and you were on your way to megumi's room.
you two did this often, finding the only moment of privacy with one another being in the middle of the night, where no one could interrupt the time you spend together. this was your time to be able to talk to him freely, without worrying about someone else interrupting your conversation or saying something about you two being a bit too close.
so, when you arrive and softly knocked on the door, you felt the relief you always feel when he opens the door, and allow yourself to throw your arms around him.
"missed you."
"you saw me today."
you pull away, pouting at him, "you know what I mean."
"I know, missed you too," he leans down and gives you a quick peck, before you two make your way to his bed to cuddle.
a daily routine at this point.
you lay with your head on his chest, his arm secured around you as you two talk mindlessly about anything and everything.
you end up perching your chin on his chest to look up at him, and before you know it, you lips are on his.
It starts off slow, gentle even, like every other kiss you two share. soon, you place your palm on his chest for leverage as you lift yourself up more in order to deepen the kiss.
megumi sits up slightly, bringing his back to rest on the headboard behind him as your lips move in sync, slowly deepening with each kiss.
you allow your hand that was previously situated on his chest to wander up and over his shoulder, as he takes one hand and place it on your waist.
he brings his other hand to the other side of your waist and moves you to straddle his lap properly now.
the kiss deepens in his new position, allowing yourself to hook your arms around his neck, while his one hand stays on your waist, the other slowly moving up and down your back.
all that is consuming your mind and body is megumi and you don't think of anything else, mind completely taken over by the feeling of his lips against yours.
and he is in the exact same way, hence the reason neither of you heard the door to megumi's room creak open.
and you didn't stop until you hear the crash of something hitting the floor.
you gasp as you part from megumi, throwing yourself off of him as fast as humanly possible and creating as much distance between you two as you could on his small bed.
you turn to look at the source of the sound to see yuji standing at megumi's doorway, whatever in his hand now on the floor, along with his jaw wide open.
the awkward silence between you three lasts for what feels like forever, before megumi finally speaks up.
"don't you know how to knock? what are you doing here."
"I did knock! you didn't reply so I just let myself in..." yuji replies looking between you and megumi, "maybe I shouldn't have..."
"It's not what it looks like," you try to explain weakly.
"I'll just leave you two alone."
yuji runs out of the room, and you look at megumi, the two of you knowing you're going to hear an earful tomorrow from both nobara and gojo, who yuji is definitely telling right now.
so much for keeping your relationship a secret.
—
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#megumi fluff#megumi imagine#jjk imagines
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
School Vigilante Pt. 1 | Oscar Piastri
WC: 5.2K
Oscar x childhood!friend!reader
Summery:(REQUESTED) Oscar is back from a weekend of racing. On the way back, he's stopped by jealous guys.
Warning: fighting, injuries, maybe cursing?
A/N: This request is one of my absolute favourite, so fun to write and once I started it was easy. I'm not linking the request until I post the second part
@ausie-brit this one is for you ❤️
Masterlist
Oscar Masterlist
When Oscar decided to take karting seriously, telling his parents that he wants to be an F1 driver, they told him that their condition is for him to finish at least school. So, when he moved to Europe to compete there, they enrolled him into private school. And when he wasn’t racing or training, he was there. Oscar didn’t mind his time at school. But since he missed so many days, he mostly only made friends with people in karting.
Oscar’s family agreed with the school to let him come and go, if he got good grades and they paid all his tuition, which they did. The school didn’t allow their students out of campus most weeks, including weekends, but every once and a while the students will have a weekend in town, depending on their ages.
Even though Oscar didn’t spend as much time in school as other did, but he’s one of the popular ones. It’s known that he isn’t there on scholarship like some of the students are. And everyone has seen the places he goes to due to racing. He’s known as the racer kid in school, people like to talk about him and speculate a lot.
You of course knew who Oscar was, like everyone in school, you also heard the girls talk about how goodlooking he is. Thankfully your parents had you in a single bedroom, so you had no roommates, it helped you study and focus on your extracurricular activities. Being top of your year and the smartest student in years, made it easy for you to do those extracurriculars you liked. Teachers and students often didn’t pay attention to what you were doing and didn’t check on you.
It was one evening, Oscar was returning from a formula 3 race. The sun has sat since he arrived back in the UK, Oscar only had a backpack with him. He was close to the school gate; the campus was huge and surrounded by high brick fence. The streets weren’t that well light, but there was enough light for Oscar to see around him.
Oscar heard them before he saw them, the sound of drunken guys being rowdy. He hoped that they wouldn’t cross his path, he wasn’t feeling up to having to talk to anyone, all he wanted is to shower and go to bed.
But it looks like luck wasn’t in his favour because they soon rounded a corner and saw him instantly. He couldn’t see their face, but he was walking towards a streetlight, so they clearly saw them.
“W-wait, is that? What’s his name?” The shorter one said and pointed at Oscar. “The driver!”
“Ooh, you’re right.” The taller squinted his eyes. “Oscar or something.”
“Yes! Oscar.” His friend said and they looked at Oscar, he was moving closer to them. “Looks like he’s coming back from a race.”
“I don’t get how he gets to leave most weekends, and we’re stuck here, every day.” The taller one complained. Oscar doesn’t know if it’s their drunken mind or if it’s just how they are. But they walked up to him and blocked his way. No Oscar isn’t a small kid, he’s not short, and he works out every day, but the guys looked both taller and bigger than him, it was intimidating, he was intimidated even if he didn’t show it.
“You’re Oscar, right?” The shorter one asked buffing his chest.
“Yes.” Oscar answered one of his hands gripping his bag’s strap tighter.
“So what you’re back from a race?” The shorter asked smirking, Oscar could smell the alcohol on them from where he stood.
“Yeah.” Oscar tensed up, he was simply hoping they’d leave him alone.
“Why do you get to do as you please and the rest of us are stuck?” The taller asked and leaned closer to Oscar crossing his arms in front of him.
“My parents made a dea-“
“Oh parents! Yes, forgot you come for money, doing rich people sports and all that.” The taller cut him off and he pushed Oscar’s shoulder back, making the Australian stumble back a step. “You know, it’s not fair, they can’t just allow you to come and go as you please and the rest of us are stuck because you have more money than we do, the system is messed up, and you just think you’re too good for a regular life just because you race and…”
You heard them before you saw them, they were loud, you could hear them from down the street, leaning over the edge you saw them come closer and closer before they passed you, you followed them around the corner and saw them look at another guy walking by the school fence. You saw those two sneaking out a lot, not only them, but they also usually had a couple more people with them. You usually come here for the open space to train, you can only do so much in your dorm room. They were still being so loud, you heard every word they said to Oscar, the guy the girls liked to fawn over. You adjusted the black face mask on your face and put your cap back on before you pulled your hoodie over it, the hoodie had the school crest on it, but you couldn’t risk wearing anything else in case you got caught after getting back on campus.
You saw how the guys moved, and from their stances you knew this was about to get ugly, and two against one is bad in your book. Getting to the pipe running down the side of the two story building, you swung yourself over the edge and held onto the pipe, placing your feet on the metal parts attaching the pipe to the wall. Moving swiftly you climbed down the pipe and moving in the shadows you got closer to the trio.
Thankfully you were close enough to them, because the moment the shorter one moved over his friend with his hand raised in the air you bounced. You ran over and pushed his harm to the side by his forearm, and sliding yourself in front of Oscar, the guy stumbled but regained his balance quickly.
“What the heck? Who are you?” The taller one asked taking half a step back, but not backing away. You tilted your head to the side but didn’t answer.
“What are you doing, hit him!” His friend pushed him closer to you and it took him a moment before he tried to attack you. Maybe it was the alcohol or they’re just stupid but it was obvious when he leaned to the right he was going to swing. You once more dodged, he didn’t stumble like his friend, just swung and swung the last one he stumbled. You’ve been backing up, making Oscar also back up. Oscar could only see your back, hew knew you were from his school but other than that he had no idea who you were.
The guys both shared a look and then came at you.
“Step back.” You told Oscar and he then realised you’re a girl, his eyes went wide but he did as you said. Clearly you knew what you were doing.
Your training kicked in as you swing under a hand flying your way before punching one of the guys in the stomach. Before turning in a spinning roundhouse kick that caught the first guy square in the jae, he stumbled back, shocked that soon turned into anger as he crashed to the ground. Your hood slipped off showing your hair under the hat.
“Whoa.” The second guy exclaimed, momentarily stunned, his drunkenness failing him. “Is that a girl?”
You didn’t give him time to process, you darted forward, closing the gap he made between the two of you. in a swift motion you dropped low, your knee shooting into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath and you followed up with a precise elbow to his back, he hit the ground sprawling.
The moment they were both on the ground you turned to Oscar. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yes.” Oscar looked at you confused by the whole thing, this is all happening too fast. Oscar tried to look at your face, but with the hat leaving a dark shadow on the little that was visible from your face he was unable to. But his eyes flickered down to the glinting of a necklace around your neck, his eyes flicker to your hands, and he sees a scar over your knuckles. There wasn’t time for him to say anything else, as the first guy scrambled to his feet, rage all over his expression. He charged at you, fist swinging wildly, you dodged easily. Your body is moving like water around him. in a seamless move, you sidestepped and swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing down once more.
The second guy staggered to his feet, his expression shifting from shock to fury. “You’ll pay for that!” He slurred, launching another awkward punch.
You sidestepped again, your training kicking in as you countered with a swift jab to his ribs, then pivoted behind him, locking your arm around his neck. With a quick twist, you sent him tumbling to the ground, gasping.
Breathing heavily, you looked back at Oscar, who was now staring in awe.
“Get out of here before they decide to get back up.” Oscar hesitated, he didn’t want to leave you alone with the guys, even if you took them on by yourself. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” Oscar turned and ran down the street to the gate, he heard you follow him. However, by the time he reached the gate, there’s no one behind him when he looked back.
The next morning, Oscar couldn’t get you out of his head. As he walked to the administrative office, every detail from the previous night replayed in his head: the swiftness of your strikes, the way you moved with precise control, you’re trained he knows that for a fact.
Oscar recounted everything that happened to the headmaster, he could tell that they didn’t believe him a 100%, he asked if there’s CCTV, and then the headmaster and the vice-headmaster all went to the security room. Pulling up the footage from the day before, they skipped to the time Oscar told them the altercation happen, and sure enough they saw the guys walk to Oscar. The looks on their faces turned from doubtful, to concern, the school was ‘good’ with security, parents leave children in their care but here they are drunk and out when they shouldn’t.
There was no sound, but everything was clear, the principle knew who they were, even though the quality wasn’t the best, both guys were in trouble a while ago. When you appeared on screen, everyone leaned forward to try and see who you were, but even when your hood fell, they couldn’t pinpoint who you were.
“Do you recognise her?” They asked him.
“No, but she’s from our school, had the jacket and everything.”
Now in a school that doesn’t have any gossip besides who dated who and who cheated on who, the news spread like wildfire around school. The teachers told the students that they wanted to know who the girl was, and for her to step forward and nothing would happen to her, no punishment or anything.
By lunchtime, nearly everyone had heard about the mystery student who had supposedly rescued Oscar from an attack.
It took three days before a girl stepped up and said that it was her. She showed the teachers where she sneaks out from, and you couldn’t help but snort when you heard. You usually jump the wall where no cameras are positioned, you don’t sneak out when the guards change shifts or wait for them to go on a bathroom break. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t bother saying anything, let them believe what they wanted.
She cornered him after going to the teachers.
“I heard what happened.” She said flipping her hair back. “Crazy night, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” Oscar replied trying to keep the conversation short. He wasn’t really a big fan of all the attention now on him because of the incident.
“Well.” Saddie continued, leaning a little closer. “I think I know what you’re wondering… it was me who saved you.”
Oscar blinked, taken a back, he didn’t expect that. “You?”
She grinned nodding.
“Yep. I was out that night too, you know, I sometimes sneak out.” She smirked as if revealing some thrilling secret. “I saw you in trouble and couldn’t just stand by.”
Oscar frowned; not sure he believed her. The girl who saved him moved with a lot of grace and confidence, he’s not convinced Saddie was that person. But she kept talking, adding more details to the attack. She knew the number of people, where they came from, and even some of the things they said. The footage wasn’t released, something only those who were there or watched the videos will know. But he still was sceptical, her build was different from the one he saw fighting, especially the height. He wasn’t that tired to forget or get confused. But she did know about the fight.
To you it was obvious why the girl lied, it was in the way she tried to stick to Oscar’s side, trying to touch him and laughs at everything he says, even when they’re not jokes. It was also obvious to you how uncomfortable it made Oscar; he’d cringe or roll his eyes, and Saddie still wouldn’t care or notice.
Even so, the news spread, and everyone was calling her a hero. Saddie went around saying what happened, exaggerating her story with each time she’s asked about it, embellishing details and playing up her bravery as though she fought off an army And everyone just started shipping them together, to no avail it seems because Oscar isn’t the type to be pressured into anything.
Oscar was back from another weekend of racing; he found himself at the nurses office because his side was hurting from a crash on track that he was involved in.
Oscar walked in and didn’t see the nurse, but he saw you. You looked up at him before you went back to what you’re doing. You had sustained a few scrabs and cuts while you were doing parkour and fell. It wasn’t big or deep, all superficial.
“Uh, do you know where the nurse is?” Oscar asked closing the door behind him.
“She went to the toilet, will be back in a bit.” Oscar takes a look at you, while you paid him no mind, he knows you’re in his class, but he doesn’t know your name.
“I’m sorry, I forgot your name.” You looked up and drowned, no one ever asks you for your name or anything for that mattered. You were invisible to a lot of people in the school, and you didn’t really mind.
“y/n.” You tell him and finish putting the bandages on your hand. You turned to face Oscar fully, and something caught the light making him look down. His eyes went wide in recognition, you looked at where he was staring and saw your necklace. You pushed it under your shirt and sighed, but that gave him a view to your uncovered hand. A scar.
“You’re her.” Oscar said and you sighed, moving to get out of the nurse’s room. Oscar stepped back blocking the door. You stopped and glared at him, there’s a stiffness to your shoulders.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say through gritted teeth, getting annoyed with him. He’s always gone, which you don’t care about, and no one has figured or had any inkling to what you do during the weekend. Everyone just assumes you spend your time studying.
“You saved me two weeks ago.” Oscar crosses his arms in a challenge.
“No! what are you talking about? That was Saddie.” You shrug, and if Oscar didn’t know better, he would’ve believed you.
“I saw the necklace when you were fighting, it’s you.” Your hands went to where the necklace rested under your shirt. “Same height, same build, same hair and same scar.”
“That means nothing, it could be anyone with my hair colour or something.” You weren’t welling to back down, you were scared of getting exposed and then suffering the consequences, you’ve worked too hard for that to happen.
“y/n, it’s you.” Oscar was firm, and you knew there was no changing his mind.
“You can’t prove it.” Was all you said as you looked away, trying to come up with what to say to the headmaster. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, it is you then. You’re the mysterious saviour, the one that jumped in even though you don’t know each other.
“I’m not going to tell anyone.” Oscar said softly noticing what’s bothering you.
“You’re not?” your head snapped to look at him.
“I’m not.” He gave you a smile and you slowly returned it. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Oh… you don’t have to.” You shrug not seeing it as a big deal. “They were too drunk to do anything, anyways.”
It surprised him how different your reaction is from Saddie, you don’t want the recognition, he understands your reasons. You want to keep to yourself.
“Maybe not to someone who trains like you, but my training is completely different.” Oscar said and you hummed.
“I hear Formula 1 drivers have great reflexes.” You tile your head slightly to the side.
“I’m not a Formula 1 driver.” Oscar counters.
“Yet.” That gets a smile out of him.
“Yet.”
The nurse comes in before you could talk more, you thank her for letting you use the bandages, and leave.
Oscar later finds you in an empty classroom, with a book of advance calculus in front of you, your eyes were focused on the pages lost in your own world. And Oscar understood how no one would suspect you of saving him or of sneaking out. The smartest student in class, no friends, parties, didn’t even indulge in idle chatter.
“That’s the ghost.” Oscar looked to his friend; he had leaned over Oscar’s shoulder to see who he’s looking at. Oscar was confused, and it showed because his friend went on to then say. “She’s always there in class, knows everything before the teachers even explain, and disappears as soon as the class ends.”
It seemed to both you and Oscar that you were both everywhere. When you’re studying in the library, he’s there escaping from Saddie and her entourage. Oscar would pull up the chair across from you and sit down to study, you’d glance up before going back to your books. And then one day he had a question he couldn’t answer so then you started explaining it to him, that turned to you always helping him in all the things he either missed or just didn’t get.
You’ve never done that with anyone before, but unlike most if not all your classmates, Oscar is calm and collected. Something you didn’t expect from him at first. But other than the library you didn’t spend time together, you just met there and after your study session both would go their own ways. Oscar would go to the gym and you’d sneak out to train or train in your room. There was never any further talk about the night you met, and you were thankful for that.
Whenever Oscar spotted you around campus he tried not to stare, not to bring any unwanted attention towards you. He knew that you liked to stay as far away from the spotlight as you could. And he respected that about you, unlike many in school you loved to keep to yourself.
One evening Oscar was walking around campus, he walked in a section that rarely anyone went towards, he wanted to have time to think to himself. The night was silent, and calm, the weather was nice. It was only because it was so silent that Oscar heard it the sound of soft grunting and movement. Feeling compelled to follow the sound he walked around the storage shed. And there he saw you, you were focused, your movement fluid and precise as you practiced a series of strikes and kicks. Each punch, each kick seemed to release stress and energy, that you kept hidden the rest of the time.
Oscar started to feel awkward from just standing there for a few minutes, he took a step closer hoping not to startle you. You noticed him immediately, lowering your fists and meeting his gaze, clearly surprised.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, breathing heavily.
“I... I was just walking around.” Oscar tried to smile and seem as un-creepy as he could. “And then I heard you, and I got curious.”
“Oh, didn’t realise I was being loud.” You said and pushed your hair out of your face. “Are you still curious?”
“I am.” Oscar chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean you did save me, and that made me curious to see how good you are.”
You thought about his words, he already knows what you do, and he’s seen you out of school. After a moment you gestured for him to a few boxes nearby.
“Well, if you’re going to watch, you might as well sit down.” Oscar follows your orders and sits down; you return to practicing. Oscar being a detail-oriented person started to notice all the small things. He noticed how you balanced on your toes before delivering a powerful kick, how each moved was delivered with precision. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re skilled, it’s clear to him that you’re not an amateur, this isn’t just for fun.
After a while you took your water bottle and went and sat next to Oscar. “So, do you think it’s weird or strange?”
“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “It’s impressive, I didn’t know you could do all that.”
“It just… helps me clear my head.” You said and took a sip from your water. “Plus it helps me save guys coming back from racing.”
Oscar smiles and lets out a chuckle. “But you have training, like with a coach and everything, right?”
“Yeah, I have two actually, since I do both Parkour and Muayi Thai.” You tell him and he looks impressed. “Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Future Formula 1 driver.”
“It’s not for certain.” Oscar shrugged; you bump your shoulder with his.
“I’m a 100% sure you will.” Oscar saw you smile for the first time, and he has to admit that he liked it. You continued talking for a bit before you had to go back to your dorms.
And so after that it was either the library or the spot behind the storage shed where you’d meet up with Oscar. You may have liked him, and he may have liked you. Yet neither of you made a move or said anything.
As the semester came to an end you both didn’t know this will be the last time you met each other. And it’s your timidness that you both didn’t ask each other for the other’s phone number. You had a competition during the summer that you came first then, and so your parents and you both felt like you needed to go to another school, where you’d be closer to where your new coaches are if you want to go pro in the future.
That’s how you lost contact with Oscar. You thought of him often as did he, but the chance has passed you both by. You’d look him up and see him winning races and championships climbing the ranks and getting closer and closer to reach Formula 1.
Oscar too decided to look you up one day after Hattie (his sister) insisted he do so, saying he won’t lose anything anyways, and Oscar saw that Red Bull signed you. You’ve gone pro, he followed you on Instagram and you did too, however you both had a lot of followers to check who followed you and who didn’t.
Even though time went on and years passed, you remember the best time at school being the year that you and Oscar became friends. He’s been your only friend from school, you had many others from training but he’s the one through school. You always cheered him on, and when you saw him get the McLaren seat, you DM-ed him a congrats, but never got an answer back, knowing he probably got flooded with messages.
Oscar kept up with your career, he saw you win a world title in parkour and almost win one in Muay Thai, it was close, you came in second. He was proud of you either way, he knew for certain you’d win one day.
When your manager contacted you and told you Red Bull were doing some promotions, and you’d get to see the team in another sport, you jumped at the chance to go to a Formula 1 race. And luck would have it that they agreed. So here you are in Japan invited to the paddock for a weekend of racing. You were introduced to Max and Checho and you were set to film some things with them on Media Day.
And that’s how you ended up in a car with the 3 times world champion on a hot lap. Did you scream? Define screaming. You squealed and you gasped, that was a fact, but I mean Max didn’t really have to break so late. He also didn’t have to laugh at you.
“I’d like to see you laughing in a ring.” You told him after he stopped the car and laughed at your hand clutching the seats.
“Is it bad I think I’ll be able to hold my own?” Max asked and you laughed, patting his shoulder.
“It’s like me saying I can hold my own racing you.” You tell him and he nods along.
It isn’t long before you’re out of the car and filming a challenge, let’s say the Red Bull boys aren’t really that flexible. It was a lot of fun you have to admit, and yet you didn’t get a single glance of the papaya driver.
Practice day came and you had more time to wonder around and do your own thing. The good thing is you weren’t a well-known sportswoman, so you weren’t bothered by anyone. Walking around you saw someone you knew, which was a surprise to you.
“Lilly!” You called to the golfer; she turned and saw you. She smiled and waved at you, walking closer you both shared a hug in greeting. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What are you doing here?” She asked with a laugh, you both met at a sporting even a year or so back and spent a lot of time talking. “My boyfriend Alex is driving for Williams.”
“Oh shoot, right, you told me.” You felt stupid for forgetting, but to be fair you had been super busy.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, Red Bull invited me, some promotion for the team’s different sports.” You told her, and she aah-ed, it made sense. “But we filmed everything yesterday, so I have time to do as I like today.”
“Good, stick with me then.” She locked your hands together and you followed her down the paddock to a café or sorts, where she greeted two other girls. “Girls this is y/n, a Red Bull Parkour champion and a Muay Thai runner up. y/n, this is Rebecca and Carmen.”
You all greet each other before they invite you to sit down, you learn who they’re dating, they ask you about the sports you do. The girls were all nice and welcoming, they found that you already have knowledge of Formula 1 and weren’t just invited here for the heck of it, even if it didn’t matter when you were asked to attend.
After a while Carlos dressed in his Ferrari team kit came by and following him was a man dressed in Papaya. Your heart skipped a beat before you realised it’s not the person you were hoping to see. Lilly saw the look on your face and nudged you slightly.
“Are you okay?” She lowered her voice; you nodded with a smile.
“Yeah just…” You didn’t know if you should tell her or not. It’s been years since you saw Oscar last, you don’t know if he even remembers you or not. Would it seem childish? “I went to school with Oscar and-“
“You went to school with Oscar!” Lilly exclaimed and you stared at her wide eyed, she places her hand on mouth shocked at her own reaction. It was too late though because the other people at the table heard her.
“You went to school with Oscar?” Lando asked interested, you nodded. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“y/n y/l/n, I do Parkour and Muay Thai.” You say with a smile and put your hand out for him to shake, he does and Carlos as well.
“A Red Bull world champion.” Lilly adds, Lando looks at the pass around your neck seeing it’s from Red Bull.
“Huh, another Red bull champion.” He commented.
“How well did you know Oscar?” Carmen asked curiously.
“Well, we were friends for a year, but we were very close until I changed schools, and we lost contact.” You told the group, the girls all felt bad for you.
“I’m sure Lando can help you.” Carlos said turning to his friend. You all looked at Lando, he looked at all of you before sighing.
“Fine, but if this is a plot from Red Bull to steal information, I’m blaming you all.” Lando pointed at his friend and the girlfriends, the girls were just amused, and Carlos rolled his eyes. Lando turned to you. “Come on, before he hops in the car.” Lando gestures for you to follow him which you do.
“Take a video!” Rebecca shouted and Lando rolled his eyes but raised a thumps up.
“I’m really not a Red Bull spy, if that’s what you’re scared of.” You tried to reassure the McLaren driver, who after a moment of silence spoke.
“I know, sorry, just a tense season.” You nodded in understanding.
“It’s all right, I know what you mean. Balancing rivalries while you’re competing and not is hard.” You smile at Lando to show him you didn’t take offence to what he said or his attitude.
“I’m starting to believe you’re friends with Oscar more.” You let out a laugh at that.
You silently followed Lando through the paddock and to the McLaren garage. He asked a few people for Oscar’s location, and you still just followed. Turning a corner you saw an orange 81 on a broad back, the fireproofs sticking to his body.
“Hey Osc, there’s someone here to see you.” Lando had his phone opened to video, it was aimed at Oscar.
Oscar turned and saw Lando, his brow furrowed, before he turned to look at you. There was a moment of silence, Oscar just took you in.
“y/n.” He said simply and you smiled, he recognised you, didn’t forget who you were.
“Hey, Oscar.”
Taglist:
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life .
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1#oscar x reader#oscar imagine#oscar fic#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81#formula1#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic
263 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Lucky Injury - Law
Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff
CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)
Word Count: 643
———
It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health.
It was a lucky injury.
“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic.
“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment.
“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work.
“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic.
“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.”
“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you.
“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk.
It was a lucky injury.
“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.”
“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him.
“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-”
“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.”
“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?”
“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help.
You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on.
“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.”
“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin.
It was a lucky injury.
———
Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!
#one piece#one piece fluff#one piece x reader#law x reader#law one piece#trafalgar law#law#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law x reader#heart pirates
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
( drabble ) ̨ give me a chance ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞
⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hyunjin is tired of you not giving him a chance ヾ
bestfriend!hyunjin・ reader g ・ smut cw ・ mean dom hyune, unprotected sex, degradation wc ・ 0.8k | click to library
request. can i rq mean dom hyune x his slutty best friend reader idk the plot but ... yeah smut 😃
「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!
hyunjin supported everything you did; of course, as his best friend of many years, he supported all your doings. even if that meant listening to you go on and on about your latest fuck with a random dude in a bar — or the random man from tinder that you invited back to your home to fuck , or any of the random men you fuck weekly … yeah he listened to all of it — even if he dreamed of being one of the guys you fucked, maybe being the only guy you fucked.
“when i tell you he was big, hyunjin he was huge.” he sat barely listening to you talk as you laid on his bed , legs swinging off the side of his bed. “i feel like there’s a but to this?” he heard you sigh. “he couldn’t for the life of me make me cum.” you had no problem getting the guy; you just had trouble finding the right guy, a guy who get you there. “it’s like if you’re gonna have a big dick at least use it right, i thought all guys with big dicks knew to use them.”
maybe it was the slight buzz he had from the soju that was sitting on the nightstand; or maybe it was because your boobs we’re about to slip from your tank top, but it was like his mouth moved before his brain could even register what to say. “just because a guy has a big dick doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.” he said. “you’ve fucked about 10 guys with quote big dicks and none of them made you cum, i thought you would’ve figured it out already.”
“you’re saying that like you know someone with a big dick and can use it.” your tank top strap falling down your shoulders, you smirked. “oh i do.” he said, hand coming up to your shoulder strap — the tension in the room suddenly changing and his eyes darkening as he grabbed the strap. “but you’re too busy slutting yourself out to random dudes to notice.” he yanked down the strap, your boobs finally free from the shirt. “hyune!”
you tried to cover your bust, but he was quick to slap your hands away. “finally get to see those tits you love showing other dudes.” you should've pushed him away, you were his best friend, it was highly inappropriate. but as he pushed you back , climbing on top of you and you actually got a feel of his hard cock — you quickly forgot about that and allowed him to pull all your clothes off.
“giving your body to just anyone who looks your way.” he slapped your bare cunt. “not even looking my way once.” he growled, grabbing the base of his cock, stroking himself. “messy fucking pussy, you just get wet for any guy don’t you?” you moaned as he used the pad of his thumb rubbing little circles on your bud. “ju-just you.”
“just me?” he smirked, rubbing his cock up and down your slit. “you mean you weren’t even wet when you were fucking them?” he teased you by pushing his tip into your hole. “just left them use you as a cum dump?” he pushed the rest of his cock inside you. “fuck!” both of you moaned out. “fuck you’re tight , clearly they weren’t that big , your little pussy is quivering right now, struggling to take my fat cock.” he groaned , slowly moving his hips. “this is what a real big cock is supposed to feel like.”
you weren’t gonna lie, he definitely was the biggest yet, his cock was stretching you out. “s-so big.” he chuckled condescendingly. “i know.” he cursed as he pulled out. “im about to ruin this pussy for anyone else.” he slammed back inside forcing his cock all the way in. “fucking slut.” he hissed , moving his hips , pulling your shirt down letting your boobs bounce freely. “tired of listening to how you slut yourself out.” he groaned. “you wanna be a slut , gonna fuck you like one.”
his hand coming up to your throat, squeezing as his cock bullied your sweet spot. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed. “to-too much hyune.” he didn’t slow down though, his thrust were relentless. “take it slut.” he cursed. “if you can take all those random dudes' cocks you can take mine.”
you were a mess; tears streaming down your face, the way his hips snapped against yours, his hands slapping your clit. “you’re crying? my dick is making you go dumb?” babbling nonsense as you felt your orgasm approaching. “fuck your pussy is squeezing me, you gonna cum slut?” you nodded. “cum. cum all over my cock.” your legs shook as you came, but he didn’t stop. “im not done.” he groaned. “you came but i didn't and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
“gonna use this pussy as my own personal cumdump.”
©️LUVYENI
#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz hard hours#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard thoughts#skz drabbles#skz scenarios#hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x female reader#hyunjin hard thoughts#hyunjin hard hours#hwang hyunjin x reader
200 notes
·
View notes
Text
♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule
MINORS DNI!
・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader
・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you
・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers
・❥・ word count: 1.9k
✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place
WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist
a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.
another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.
without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.
after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”
“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.
“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.
“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”
finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”
“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.
“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.
“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.
“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.
“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.
“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.
“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”
“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.
“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.
“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.
“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.
“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.
“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.
ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.
you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.
Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.
she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.
“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.
Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”
goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.
her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.
“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.
“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.
“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.
#vi arcane#vi#vi from arcane#vi fanfic#vi arcane x reader#vi x reader#vi smut#ride on me#vi arcane smut#vi arcane x reader smut
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
No One But You
Food for the @pixelcafe-network
Sylus lay in a pool of his own blood, clutching the gunshot wound you had carved into his heart, muttering about betrayal and deceit in his final moments.
You rolled your eyes.
“Yesterday’s death was a hell of a lot more creative, Sylus.”
He sat up straight, scoffing. “Can’t help if the source material is unoriginal to start with. The best you could do was a gunshot wound today? Really?”
“That’s because I wasn’t trying to kill you, stupid.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what do you call plowing a bullet through my chest?”
You crossed your arms. “I call that trying to shut you up. Although, I suppose that didn’t work so well either, because then you prattled on about what a traitor I was and how you never saw this coming. Which, in my humble opinion, was laying it on too thick. You always see everything coming, don’t act like a victim.”
He chuckled and with a snap of his fingers, any trace of his blood or his wound had vanished. “What can I say, I like theatrics.”
“And I like my bosses to be less dramatic and less alive.”
He stood to meet your gaze, tsking at you as he tucked a finger under your chin. “Now, now, kitten. We’ve been having such a grand time together the last few months.”
You waved his hand away but he caught your wrist. You knew once he had you in his grasp, you weren’t getting out until he chose to let you go so you stopped resisting. He smirked, pleased at your submission.
Sighing, you grumbled, “Sy- you’ve got a 1 o clock meeting and I’ve yet to thoroughly vet them, so eventually you’ll have to let me go.”
He yanked you closer to him. “I highly doubt my favorite assassin would forget to vet anybody. I’m sure you already had him in your sights long before I made the meeting, am I correct?”
You met his brazen gaze with a fierce look of your own. “I suppose now that you know all my secrets, I really will have to kill you.”
He chuckled and kissed your knuckles. “Looking forward to it.”
Asshole.
He knew that you knew you couldn’t kill him if you tried, because you’d already tried. Many, many times.
You’d met him months back when you’d attempted to snipe him from a rooftop. You were the best in the assassination business, but something about this cheeky bastard who had the nerve to grin into your oculars right as you pulled the trigger had you feeling like an amateur again. And when he materialized beside you right after you’d supposedly shot him, offering employment rather than retaliation, you knew he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. How could the head of Onychinus allow an assassin to walk right into his headquarters, to eat and drink beside him, to sleep in the room next door, knowing he had a hefty bounty on his head that she intended to collect, and not bat an eye? He was some other beast entirely and you weren’t sure how to react.
Of course it made you feel valued to know that he only entrusted his most important missions to you -he’d say something along the lines of “there’s no one else who can do the job but you” and you’d roll your eyes but oblige him- but he must’ve still thought you were somewhat incompetent if he willingly allowed you to take a shot at trying to kill him everyday. And then there was the matter of his obvious flirting.
The way he always had your favorite wine laid out for you after a mission -you weren’t sure who he’d tortured for this information- or the way he always made sure to take you on missions with him that involved dressing up so he could admire your figure -not like he wasn’t already admiring it on a daily basis in your usual getup- or even the way he purred his little pet names in your ear, pet names that he didn’t seem to give to anyone else but you.
Some small part of you even wondered if maybe he loved you. But the rest of you knew that he probably didn’t even know what love was. The rest of you knew that he was probably toying with you. But what was he waiting for? For you to no longer be useful? For you to fall for him? For you to give up on killing him? What did he want?
The man had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen but you would never know what was going on behind them.
And it killed you to admit that he was beautiful. Rule number one of assassination was to not get attached to your target, but here you were, toasting him over dinner every night, admiring the curve of his lips, admiring the broadness of his shoulders, admiring the way his fingers held a wine glass, like you hadn’t spent decades training to be the monster you were known to be, like you were just some school girl hanging onto some jock’s every word.
He probably knew it too.
He liked to tease you; it was like his own personal form of entertainment.
He liked to intertwine his fingers in between yours like you hadn’t just used those very same fingers to try and strangle him only moments before. He liked to tuck your hair behind your ear, pinch your sides, pin down your wrists, tilt up your chin, anything so he could touch you. He liked to murmur your name, your real name, the name you hadn’t been called in years, the name you weren’t sure how he’d uncovered, over and over like a prayer, until you had to excuse yourself from dinner because you weren’t used to the gentleness in his voice. And then he liked to repeat the cycle over and over again, until you weren’t sure how you felt anymore, until you weren’t sure who you were anymore.
“Bastard.” You muttered under your breath.
“Trying to hurt my feelings?” Sylus snaked his arms around your waist.
“It was never my intention to hurt you, dear Sylus, only kill you.” You responded innocently.
He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. “That’s my girl.”
God, he couldn’t keep saying this shit to you.
“Not your girl, Sy.” You retorted, shaking him off of you.
“And why not? You could be.” His eyes gleamed mischievously.
In an instant you had a knife pinned to his throat. “Because of this. Because you’re nothing more to me than a target and I’m nothing more to you than a toy.”
He leaned in closer to you, allowing the metal to pierce his skin, drawing blood. “Well if it makes you feel better, there’s no one I’d rather have kill me but you.”
You laughed at that, withdrawing your knife. “Should I feel honored? And how does one even respond to that- there’s no one I’d rather have toy with me but you? God, work on your lines Sylus, you’re so cliche. You have a 2 o clock meeting, so get to it.” You shoved him off of you.
Grinning, he sauntered off to his next meeting with you guarding his back like you always did. And when his 2 o clock tried to kill him, he kept that same stupid grin on his face as he watched you pin the man underneath you in a matter of seconds, cuffing his hands together so tightly they bruised.
“Is it appropriate to say I’m feeling jealous right now, kitten?” He chuckled.
You scoffed. “No, Sylus, it is not.”
“And what if I said there’s no one I’d rather have pin me down than you?”
“Still not appropriate.”
The man underneath you groaned. “If you two are going to keep flirting or bickering or whatever this is, could you kill me already?”
You smacked his head with the butt of your gun. “Shut up, we’re trying to talk here.”
“Feisty. I love it when you talk like that, kitten.” Sylus ran his hand through your hair, the way he always did, admiring the way the strands felt in between his fingers.
“Funny, I love when you stop talking, Sy.”
The man squirmed beneath you again. “I’m serious, please just kill me already.”
“I said shut up, my god.” You tightened his cuffs.
But this time the man was annoyed. “He’s toying with you, you’re toying with him, we get it already. A man like Sylus is never gonna truly love you so can you please quit flirting an ki-”
You shot him in the head. “Did I not say to shut up?”
You had intended to keep him alive for information, but you had to admit his comment hit a little too close to home. You already knew Sylus was never going to love you, but was it that obvious to a random bystander? The thought pissed you off.
Sylus sighed. “And now I’m going to have to get the carpet cleaners in here.”
“You really should keep the company of quieter people.”
“And you should know when a man is baiting you.”
You scoffed, standing to leave. “And what’s that supposed to mean? I know when I’m being played, you do it all the time.”
“You’re so gullible sometimes, kitten. You’d really believe what a random hitman says?” He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you closer, and tucked one hand underneath your chin, drawing your gaze to him.
“I don’t believe what anyone says.”
“Yet you’d kill him for saying I could never love you? Interesting way of showing you don’t believe him.”
You glared at him, anger flaring in your gut. You attempted to wrench yourself away from him but he only pulled you tighter against him. “Sylus, let go already. Enough of this. I’m tired.” You snapped.
“Haven’t I already told you? There’s no one else for me but you.”
“Sylus, quit saying shit like that.”
“Right, you don’t like when I talk. Well then, how about this?” In a matter of seconds, his lips had found their way to yours, molding his passion and persistence into you.
You bit his lip in annoyance but it only fueled him more.
He chuckled against your mouth and claimed your tongue with his. His hands rested on the small of your back, possessively holding you in place against him. After properly swallowing down your moans and devouring all your desire, he finally pulled away to allow you some breath.
“Fine.” You whispered, still dizzy from his kiss.
He smirked, nuzzling up against your ear, as he murmured, “Fine what?”
“Fine. There’s no one else for me but you. Happy?”
“Immensely.”
He kissed you again and didn’t stop kissing you all night.
Taglist: @tbaluver
#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace#sylus x reader#sylus lads#sylus love and deepspace#lads
159 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mit2uba's Trauma: An Analogy
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●
Tw: I will be discussing the abuse Mitsuba has suffered from his environment, nothing that isn't in the manga, but I want to give a heads up. Additionally, I'm fortunate to have not gone though any severe traumatic experience myself, and am instead using my general knowledge, meaning if anything is incorrect here, please point it out!
(Also manga spoilers obviously)
I'm not pretending this hasn't ever been discussed, however I have yet to see an analogy of the consequences of Mitsuba's creation and (practically nonexistent) upbringing.
I'm going to divide this post into sections, but they won't really be organized, maybe chapters is a better definition. This thing is l o n g, so without further ado:
1: Mitsuba being paralleled to a puppet:
This is done quite often, although not in the same ways. Besides the psychological aspects of being Tsukasa's "puppet", as in being forced to do as he says and overall being under his control, but there are physical correlations too.
Tsukasa referring to Mitsuba as a "Thing"
Mitsuba lets Tsukasa hold him. This is much more then a surface-level fact considering Mitsuba usually rejects contact/uses it as an excuse to blame others. This is easily explained by "Mitsuba is simply scared of Tsukasa, he can't tell him no", except Mitsuba doesn't look scared when being held, he just looks, expressionless.
More then that, he completely trusts Tsukasa with his body weight, leaning into his touch and allowing himself to be comforted by it. This obviously occasionally backfires horribly
While Mitsuba being punched is framed in a humorous manner, the implications and weight of it are very heavy. It's all fun and games until you remember this is how Mitsuba is being raised, and it's all he's ever known. If Mitsuba doesn't want to do what Tsukasa tells him too, he gets punched. If he talks back, he gets kicked out of the broadcasting room (we'll get back to this later). If he asks to be Tsukasa's friend, he gets fireworks shoved down his mouth.
And the results of this... well:
This one in particular is interesting to me:
"It's just Mitsuba being surprised because Kou suddenly raised his voice". But that's not what's being illustrated. Upon hearing "brace yourself" even from someone like Kou, who wasn't planning on actively trying to hurt Mitsuba, he literally stiffens, pales, and begins to tremble and sweat, dropping the piece of chalk he was holding (those things break way to easily, yk he was serious). It's not shock or surprise being drawn, it's just genuine fear.
This could very well be me overthinking, but Mitsuba falls in what is almost a doll-like manner, arms and legs completely stiff.
2: Social rejection and trivial treatment:
The Mitsuba chapter (ch. 40) was worse then I remembered.
Mitsuba runs away from the broadcasting room in search of a better, safer place to stay. Only to understand he has none.
What's worse is that these are the characters we see being far kinder to the rest of the cast. We see Yako, Hanako and weirdo super-natural teacher together in his living quarters, watching tv together, but when Mitsuba approaches them...
(Tsuchigomori eventually does stay with him, but his opinion of him doesn't really change.)
"This guy's a pain, I'm out of here"
Tsuchigomori doesn't know Mitsuba, the only time we see them meet was when Tsuchigomori refers to him as emergency rations (above), and when he answered Mitsuba who asked him a question (answer starting with "You seriously don't know?" (YES SIR HOW WOULD HE KNOW HE'S LIKE ONE MONTH OLD)).
He probably heard he's a prankster from Hanako, which is why he wants nothing to do with him.
The point is despite Mitsuba needing to run from the closest thing he considers a "home", not a single supernatural actually understands his situation. Hanako borderline hates him, Nene barley understands he's a different Mitsuba, and Kou tends to accidently frame it as Mitsuba's CHOICE to stay with Tsukasa in the broadcasting room.
This is sadly something that can happen in reality, children trying to escape their less-desirable homes can often find themselves, sickeningly, returning after not finding somewhere or someone to take them seriously.
The most deranged part of this is that as a result of nobody properly digesting that he needs help, Mitsuba himself frequently convinces himself that everything is normal.
The implication that every time Mitsuba fights with Tsukasa he needs to just fend for himself until enough time has passed for Tsukasa to forget is sad. He's an outcast between the wonders for replacing the old No.3, despite his only other choice being death, which they don't know.
Sakura is probably the closest thing Mitsuba has to family, being in a similar situation to him, but it's incorrect to say she truly deeply cares about him. She's fond of Mitsuba, but never goes out of her way to help him when Tsukasa hurts him, and seems to have put her personal safety and goals as a higher priority then him (this isn't Sakura slander, I love my queen).
Natsuhiko treats him like a pet more then a human, and sometimes hits on him, which is just gross. Despite this Mitsuba genuinely appreciates him and sees him as an older brother. It's cruel to see this one-sided ordeal.
We don't actually know Mitsuba's true opinion of Tsukasa. In an almost realistic manner, his opinion is constantly contradictory. Mitsuba is scared of Tsukasa, but at the same time he only feels 'safe' when he's around.
Also, contrary to Sousuke, Mitsuba is more scared of Tsukasa then thunder, which could either mean that Sousuke's phobia of thunder was memory-correlated, or that Mitsuba is SO scared of Tsukasa that thunder is nothing in comparison.
Mitsuba freezing after hearing Tsukasa's voice
vs:
We know Mitsuba is aware that Tsukasa is not treating him okay, but by the time we learn this (pp arc), Mitsuba has half convinced himself that Tsukasa is doing everything he's doing to help him, and that "nobody else can help him anyways". Genuinely Mitsuba is one of the most subtle-yet-obvious victims portrayed in media I've even seen.
3: Ok-yeah-that's-not-okay moments
Do I really need to add anything.
I will anyways. Mitsuba is a dramatic by nature, unrelated to any of the emotional damage he's suffered. The fact that Tsukasa can make him stop crying just by demanding it really shows how bad he messed up Mitsuba. The ability to stop crying on command out of fear..... somebody save him.
Stay away!
Can't add to many pictures because of the tumbler limitations, but in every one of these scenes Mitsuba totally freezes, only regaining control and suddenly snapping once someone (aka Kou) does anything intimidating to him.
Going in-depth about the similarities between Kou and Tsukasa is an entirely different ordeal, but in short summery:
There's a carefully built connection between Tsukasa and Kou, that deserves a post of it's own.
4: Symptoms of trauma:
Trust issues are heavily associated with a problematic childhood, so it's not very surprising that Mitsuba struggles to trust anyone besides Tsukasa, even if he doesn't want to.
Very commonly appearing alongside trauma, self destructive behaviors are a tragically common coping habit. I don't think I need to add any pictures for this one, as practically every other sentence Mitsuba says have some 'Just let me pass away' coding to it.
Lack of memories is a symptom that appears in very severe cases, and while it isn't completely accurate to Mitsuba it's an interesting addition considering Mitsuba has no memories.
5: Character design:
Mitsuba has lots of chains and locks in his wonder form, a lock on his neck (which has multiple interpretations), one preventing his heart from beating, which could be a clever metaphor for Mitsuba further constricting his humanity by "choosing" to become a wonder, but most interesting:
What looks to be the remains of a leg shackle.
Mitsuba in a box labeled as fragile.
6: This definitely isn't a metaphor for an eating disorder:
"I'm always hungry, no matter how much I eat" -M
"You starved yourself from all this moping around, just because you didn't want to eat something different?" -K
Can we talk about how the fandom collectively just skipped over the huge reveal that Mitsuba STARVES HIMSELF. Because I feel like that really wasn't talked about. As if this guy doesn't have enough going on, he now has to deal with constant starvation, dehumanization at new never-seen-before-pace, and the loss of his will to exist in the first place.
He is both metaphorically and physically falling apart, constantly in physical pain. When he isn't in physical pain it's because he's experiencing gut-wrenching psychological torment as he can't stop eating live beings. I don't blame this guy.
The only person who knew of this was Tsukasa, until he "told" Kou. Told is in quotation marks because it was never really Mitsuba trusting Kou enough to open up about the hell he's enduring, as mentioned before Mitsuba doesn't exactly know how to trust. The fact was forced out of him due to a dire situation, but Kou could not have reacted in a worse way:
Pro tip: If your reaction to learning that your best buddy is suffering from a complicated relationship with food, is shoving said food into their mouth violently, you might need therapy just as much as they do.
Kou is still unaware that Mitsuba's diet contains living things too, but if we're being honest that doesn't really put Kou in the right here. Like, man, I know you're freaking out because your friend just asked you to end him, but please take out your anger on something that isn't him.
And don't act surprised when this is his reaction:
This is arguably the a result of post traumatic stress disorder. Mitsuba didn't just escape, he hid in the nearest corner, making himself as small as possible, hid his head and trembled. The reason I'm calling this out as PTSD is because the only other time he panicked like this was right after Tsukasa shoved the bird heart down his throat.
So for both situations it's:
Tsukasa force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba loses control (starts attacking everything)
Kou force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba bites Kou
And the results are the same. He reacted the same way because mentally it was the same situation to him, It doesn't matter what the intentions were, Kou triggered an event(s (considering he's eaten multiple supernatural and is absolutely repulsed by it)) that Mitsuba had no intention of revisiting.
Summery:
Mitsuba's trauma is often overshadowed by more obvious displays of mental scarring, like with the Yugi twins and Kou, and is often represented with irony or humor, including by the creators themselves.
Even without everything he's gone though, Mitsuba was always a hopeless character. He just existed one day. He doesn't have anything, anyone. He's never been told he's loved, he's never felt sunlight, he never got to play, he's never had anyone tuck him into bed, or read him a story. He was robbed of his childhood, and any connections besides the few who remember him for someone that he isn't.
He doesn't even know what snow is, yet he knows how blood tastes like
This entire post wasn't even scratching the tip of the iceberg in terms of how much grave emotional turmoil Mitsuba has faced. And will face. Yeah I don't know how well his trust issues will cope with Natsuhiko leaving him to die. If he lives.
The idea of this long rant was to point out that Mitsuba's trauma and mental struggles are just as, if not more, relevant then his physical ones. And they do affect him, and they do have consequences. And they will most certainly come back 20x worse later on in the plot. I would say to prepare mentally, but I know tbhk fans can handle just about anything.
Thank you for reading!
ヾ(≧▽≦*)
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●
172 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello 👋 if requests are open do you think we can get another of The Summoned Demon? I've never seen a take on Danny being misunderstood and speaking a different language after a summoning and I'm really excited to see where you wanna take this. If not don't worry about it I have a vivid imagination hahaha
Take care of yourself man, this is also your mandatory water and food break ❤️
Danny runs for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes, attempting to find the exit of the caves. This would be easier if he could go ghost, but for some reason, his powers were disrupted when he tried to change into Phantom back in the cell.
He didn't know how, but the weird lights had messed with his core. It was almost like an invisible hook had attached itself to his navel. The thing yanked his power into the floor and walls, causing them to explode.
Thankfully, when the strange writing had vanished, a bit of his strength had returned, allowing him to tear through the stone bars. He couldn't go ghost, but at least some of his powers were accessible.
He had super strength, night vision (which would have been really helpful the day he was kidnapped!), and a few energy beams. It could be a better skill set, but if needs must. If only his Phantom stamina could transfer over.
Right now, he was using Fenton Stamina. There was a reason he was failing P.E. It showed how he was gasping for air, kneeling by one of the stone walls.
"Must...huff...find...exit....huff huff....escape!" Danny pants, attempting to crawl forward. "Must....check with a doctor about possible asthma...leg cramp! leg cramp!"
It wasn't going well.
Danny grips the meat of his calf, curling into a tight ball and silently screaming at it. The pain is annoyingly rippling across his whole body, causing his muscles to tense to the point he can only sit there and wait for it to go away.
All the while, he was mentally swearing up a storm.
After a few minutes, the muscles relax enough for him to feel some relief. Slowly unclenching his hands- afraid that if he got too quickly, the pain would return- Danny stretches out his leg. The ache is a distant echo as he slumps against the stone.
"I'm going to die in here," He whimpers. "I'm going to die from a kidnapping cult that thought it was a great idea to wait after my math test to take me."
While Danny wallows in misery, two glowing figures flout out of a nearby wall. A woman who looks to be wearing an outfit straight from the pilgrim's age and a man who may have once been a gentleman in the early ninety-thousands.
Danny's eyes widen at the blood staining the woman's head and dress. It's evident from the crack that runs along the right side of her skull. The man, meanwhile, looks more normal if it is not for the way one of his legs is twisted sickeningly.
"This one is young, " says the woman, shaking her head in pity. "It looks like he hurt his leg."
"I know how that feels," the man sighs, flouting until he is mere inches from Danny's face. "It doesn't seem he's been down here for long. Maybe there is hope someone will find him before the starvation hits."
"What do you mean starvation!?" Danny yelps. The two glowing people flinch.
The man gapes at Danny. "You can see us!?"
"Yeah? You're ghosts, right? I'm part ghost on my mother's side." Danny jokes, only seeing the woman cross herself before doing a slight hop and pointing at him with clear disgust.
"Witch!" She stretches, dragging out the syllables. He a bit impressed by how she puts her whole chest into that yell. Hell, he's even a little envious with how low she got her voice too.
"Not now, Mary," The man hisses at her. He reaches to touch Danny, but the boy avoids the contact, afraid of being overshadowed. That earns him a smile that seems oddly approving. "It's nice to meet you, lad. My name is Harold McConnell; I was an explorer attempting to map out Gotham's caves when I was separated from my crew. I broke my leg in the dark and starved to death. This is Mary, no last name. She and her family were moving from different American colonies when they passed over Gotham, and their carriage fell when the ground gave way. She died upon impact."
Dang, okay. Harold is oddly forward. Danny knows most ghosts are well aware of the specter's unwritten rules: Never bring up another death or share yours until a deep bond has been made.
A bit flustered Danny placed a hand on his chest, ensuring his fingers were spread so that they know he was a friendly ghost. He was not after their haunt or territory. "I'm Danny Fenton. Yesterday I was kidnapped by a cult from my classroom. They had me in warehouse then in a stone cell in a near by cave I escaped them but ended up gettng lost."
Marry lowered her hand, eyes wide. "A cult brought you down here?"
"Yeah, and I'm afraid they will find me," Danny mutters, looking over his shoulder. He can't see or hear anyone, but that does little to reassure him.
Harold's face tightens. "There are many monsters in this city."
"We can show you the way out," Mary offers, flying closer. Danny does his best not to stare at her gruesome features. It would be vulgar. "Does being half ghost- or a witch- make it possible for us to carry you?"
Danny blinks. "I think so, but I can walk-"
"Nonsense," Harold grunts, reaching out and lifting Danny from the floor. He throws him over his shoulder like he was picking up a flour sack. Danny squeaks. "Goodness, I forgot how it felt to hold something. I miss this."
Danny starts to protest, but Harold merely bounces him with a laugh, twisting around where Mary is flouting. "Onward!"
Mary smiles, floating alongside them. "We can go through the west caves to where my skeleton is. There is an opening that should lead to the center of Gotham's suburbs."
"Good idea, Mary," Harold compliments, flying right behind her at a much faster speed than Danny's running. "Listen, lad, we can't leave the blasted caves, but we can stare through openings. The suburbs are the safest place for you to pop out of."
Considering that his only other option is a mad group of cultists, a kiddy pool of blood, or a full ghost status from being lost in the caves, Danny doesn't mind.
He is saddened that they are anchor ghosts, though he suspected as much from the way neither had noticed his Infinite Realms mannerism. It means they are doomed to only wander the areas of their death, forever trapped in their sudden and abrupt demise.
"Thank you for helping me," He says, staring down at his hands. He can see the ground past him back, aware of the way Harold's muscular arms wrap around him without any warmth but not lacking in kindness. "I wish I could take you with me."
"That's a sweet thought, little one witch, but it's alright." Mary says, "We've come to terms with our fate. We even found love."
Danny peaks at her, noticing how adoring she is regarding the ghost, and she can't help but smile. "You two are together?"
"Aye. Mary comforted me in my final hours." Harold responds in a voice as fond and adoring as Mary's: "She was my reward for how I perished."
How romantic.
"I hope I find love like yours," Danny tells them just as they round a few corners and come to a deep drop. The remains of a carriage and five skeletons rest at the very bottom, making him heartache for the fact she had likely been alone with their bodies for centuries.
Mentally, he makes a pack to come back for the bodies and give them a proper burial—once he has his powers, of course.
"I pray that you do," Mary says, keeping her gaze away from the pit. She points upwards to a whole in the cave's ceiling, a few streaks of light peaking through. "Up there, my love."
Harold obediently flies upwards, twisting Danny so the boy's back is to his chest and his hands are supporting him on his bum. Danny's face turns red. "Sorry, lad, but something is covering the exit. I can not touch it, but you should be able to. Kick it until it breaks. It should only be a few layers of grass."
Danny coughs. "I'll try my best."
He kicks upwards, pressing himself into Harold so he has more leverage for throwing his legs upwards. They make contact with a heavy thump, his super strength giving him an edge.
"Donkey kicks, lad!" Harold shouts, "Both legs, nice and even."
He pulls his legs back again, putting more strength into his second kick. It shakes the ground above him as bits of dirt fall through, and the light streaks grow. Danny's legs go through once, twice, and on the third kick.
Danny cheers as the ground above him collapses, falling into the pit below. It's a reasonable-sized hole, just big enough that he will be able to squeeze through, but thankfully, the rest of the ceiling seems sturdy enough that he won't accidentally cause a sinkhole.
"Good job!" Mary cheers, clapping her hands. Harold lets out a deep and joyish laugh, helping Danny straight up by holding his waist and lifting him up through the hole.
He struggles to keep Danny upright when Mary swoops in, lacing her fingers and supporting Danny's feet. Her added assistance allows the ghosts to push him upwards, away from the darkness and into the light.
Danny rises from the ground with a laugh so cheerful he doesn't think he's ever been this happy to see sunlight, even when it blinds him.
It takes a couple moments to adjust his eyesight, stepping out of the ghosts' hold onto solid ground, but he can smell the sweet grass below his feet. He hears the tender psss of a meat on a girl. The alluring aroma of hotdogs-
Wait a minute.
Danny's eyes finally come into focus, and he stares into the faces of a surprise family just about to sit down for a BBQ. His eyes find the face of a very familiar teenage boy looking increasingly horrified by the second.
"Hey, you're the cult pants guy!" Danny shouts at him, twisting around to look down at Harold and Mary. "One of the cult sacrifices is here! I think he escaped, too!"
"Solitary!" Harold yells back, "You have more strength in numbers!"
"I don't know how he can help me since last time I couldn't understand his language- oh! Er, hello?" Danny looks down to where the teenager is once again, clinging to his feet, babbling in his fast-paced language. He presses his face against Danny's leg, rubbing himself there, and the Halfa is quick to try to push him away. "Dude! Dude! Personal space!"
"My word!" Mary calls up, scandalized. "Danny, will you force this young one into being your bride?"
"What!? No! Wait—" Danny looks back at the scene where Mary is once again making that same disgusted face while Harold is offering him a thumbs up and an eyebrow wiggle. "You can understand him!?"
"Yes, can you not?" Harold responds.
"Not even a single word. Would you mind translating for me?"
"I can let you know what he is saying, but I'm afraid the living won't be able to hear us." Marry cautions, sounding strangely apologetic and relieved in the same tone. "He's attempting to bargain for his family's lives in exchange for being your bride."
"Why would he assume I even want their lives or him!?" Danny yelps, finally untangling himself from the teenager and putting in some much-needed details. He makes a x with his arms, hissing when the other guy makes a move to follow him.
"Hard to say. He's not making a lot of sense- it's just pleas for a bargain.," Harold shouts, speaking louder now that Danny has moved away from the hole's edge. "It is best to put some distance between you and him."
"But what about you?"
"Don't worry about us; we've been here long enough. Escape while you can and be safe!" Mary yells over the cries of the rest of the family, who seem to have finally snapped out of their daze.
Danny looked at the two adults, the one pre-teen and a crying five-year-old, and decided he did not want to stick around for more screaming in a language he could not understand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Harold, Mary!"
"You're welcome!"
"It was a pleasure lad!"
Quick as a whip, Danny twists on his heel, racing for the fence and leaping over it. He's suddenly grateful for all the times he would sneak into Tucker's house as he clears over the wood in one smooth tug up and over, hitting the ground running.
He ignores the cries of the other humans behind him as he sprints down the surprisingly lovely suburban street.
___________________________________________________________
Jack Roux's hands shake as the demon disappears from view. He thought Batman had a handle on the cult and was free. But obviously, that wasn't the case.
When the ground first started to thump, he thought their garden had a mole or something, only to have his blood turn to ice when the ground gave way. Rising from the ground was the very demon that he had seen only two days ago.
His mother quickly ran to his side, wrapping Jack in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. His dad stood in front of him, likely wanting to be a shield between Jack and the demon. His little siblings crowed around crying in fright.
It had come back for him, even though he had assumed it was kind and likely was going to go after the others.
If I had been alone, Jack thinks, thankfully his father's quick thinking and fast-paced prayers had scared the thing away in time, I would have been taken again.
It's a bone-chilling thought.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#The Summoned demon#Part 3#Danny accidentally making himself look worse#Harold and Mary speak about Danny for years after#They are not aware the “cult” Danny was running from was sweet little Bruce and his kin#Ghost culture#misunderstandings
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
I actually realized this after JC crossed what I believed was the line of no return- in the Burial Mound. Before that point, I didn't actually loathe him, I genuinely thought that it's possible he had his tender moments, it's possible he wasn't always like that, it's possible... blah blah blah.
But when that moment came for me, I realized that I was just deluding myself into trying to like all the characters who WWX was so attached towards. Just because WWX genuinely loves JC doesn't mean JC is a good person in any way. Or that he returns those sentiments.
It was after that I saw all the way JC constantly abused WWX, kept him separated from people who cared about him, tried (and failed) to manipulate WWX into only needing his acknowledgement.
I think the only reason WWX turned actually against LWJ in the first life is because of JC. At first WWX genuinely wanted to stay away from LWJ because he thought LWJ would figure him out in some way or maybe he'd give in and tell him, so he used JC as a crutch to stay away from him. Then, when LWJ came to Yunmeng why did WWX go to JC and say "someone who wants to lock me up?" when it sounded like such an odd and jealous thought?
It was JC. It had to be. He was always scared someone would take WWX away from him and the one who persisted even with WWX wielding demonic cultivation, was LWJ. He used whatever he could to convince WWX that LWJ did not have his best interests at heart.
Was it possible that JC actually believed that? No. Why not? Because I'm pretty sure we and JC saw the exact same thing in the retaking the swords scene of the indoctrination camp. And JC saw it even closer. He accompanied LWJ for 3 whole months while LWJ thought WWX was dead. There's no way LWJ managed to have a hold of his emotions or composure the entire time.
So JC was threatened by how invested LWJ was in WWX. In fact, I think LWJ also saw too much into what JC felt for WWX. The jealousy and anger and inferiority...All of it. So the first opportunity JC got to separate the two- to not allow LWJ to reconnect, to express his intense need to protect WWX- he used it. He was the one who started accusing LWJ first. He was the one who said he hated WWX and he wanted to take him away to Gusu to exorcise him.
LWJ didn't say shit. JC said all that. And WWX was already really exhausted and he really did trust JC. He trusted JC right up until the siege, where his weakness of trusting JC, of letting him and only him, enter the Burial Mounds got everyone under his protection killed.
You know, now that I look back on it, that scene where JC and WWX are running away after the massacre of the Jiang Clan, and then JC strangles WWX in his grief and rage, was one of the first scenes in which we were shown that this guy is...a pretty major red flag.
That's definitely a scene that, reading after knowing everything that happened, made me go yikes, this guy needs help.
Now before anyone comes at me, yes I know perfectly well that he was grief stricken and not in his right mind, and that he and the readers (which is one of the reasons I suppose why the fandom just skips over this) were still reeling from the shock and horror of what had just happened, but still. It's interesting, and a revealing scene (because people are more likely to show their true nature when experiencing intense emotions), and he chose to use WWX as an outlet and strangle him, irrationally blaming him for the tragedy, even though he knew it wasn't really his fault. And I had looked over this because it could be excused as a one time thing, before reading the rest of the novel and realising that he never really grows out of this behaviour. In fact, he grows into it, wields it as a weapon and makes his anger and resentment such an integral part of himself that others define him by it, and stay away from him for exactly this reason.
Just a small scene, but a very good way of showing that when JC experiences any negative emotions, his first instinct is to lash out at others about it, not caring how it hurts them. And this is just one of many other scenes showing the same.
401 notes
·
View notes
Text
CW 𓂃 Yandere!Mr. Silvair, loss of limbs, loss of limbs, general violence, confinement
Mr. Silvair is very interesting to me because he rejects you, but I can definitely see him eventually adoring you like a cute little unruly pet that doesn't know any better.
What made you so interesting to him in the first place is your desperate struggle to hold on to your humanity. Out of all of the unfortunate idiots who made their way here, you survived the longest with your sanity in tact. It's so impressive that Mr. Silvair actually thinks you have a chance of making it back with your mind in one piece.
A part of him wished you had stayed in his lab for longer so he could pick you apart in closer detail, but he knew that would lead him nowhere. What Mr. Silvair needed was progress— for your sanity to deteriorate.
And the change is drastic. You were once a trembling good-for-nothing that would have likely died in two days without Mr. Crawling's help, but now you bite. Now you can twist limbs and tear torsos apart with your bare hands. Now you roam these hallways as the predator searching for prey, and, soon, you'll become another one of the many bloodthirsty residents here.
Not that Mr. Silvair would allow it to get to that point, though, as he proceeds to restrain and detain you in one of his many cells. Why would he allow the perfect test subject to slip away from his fingers so easily? As a token of your short-lived friendship, he even went out of his way and gave you a clean cell! He also arranged occasional visits from Mr. Chopped (but never Mr. Crawling) whenever you stayed docile long enough on the operating table. Nevermind your many escape attempts and increasing hostility, you'll understand soon enough.
In there, you're safe and that's all that matters. It's your temporary abode away while you 'rehabilitate', a safe space where you can't hurt anyone or yourself. You used to be so bothered by the lack of limbs, but you've stopped resisting. He thinks you're starting to learn how inconvenient it is to be in this helpless state— how futile resistance is. You're starting to behave.
Mr. Silvair observes that you now like getting headpats these days. Maybe a few kisses here and there to remind you of your long lost affection for him. Mr. Silvair can't accurately assess whether you hate it or not, though. What happened to the good old days when you used to run to his door for safety whenever you got chased down by something much larger than you? Now you hate this place when it used to be your only space of rest and respite.
As a special treat, he brings you interesting knick knacks that should remind you of your human life. But really, it's a special treat for him because he enjoys watching you pretend it's not making you miserable to be reminded of your past life. Either way, you'll take any positive attention you get from him, no matter how condescending, over the long hours on that wretched table. You can bark and hiss all you want but it doesn't change the fact that you crave any sense of normalcy, even if it comes in the form of his twisted affection for you.
It's cute, almost. Mr. Silvair enjoys being relied upon by something that was once so terrifying. He enjoys reducing you and chipping away at your autonomy, from the physical to the mental. He's at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that it's no longer a research project to him, but a perverse achievement to have you like this.
As interesting as it was to watch your descent into madness, Mr. Silvair wants to break you apart and be the one who puts you back together. It really doesn't matter how many times he has to break your limbs until you've learnt your lesson.
#guys don't forget mc can regenerate their limbs theyll be fiiiine#homicipher#yandere!mr. silvair#mr. silvaid#mr. silvair x reader#homicipher x reader#yandere x reader
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Masquerade: you can fool any friend who ever knew you. [Fred Weasley]
**This is part 2 to a request you can find HERE**
Title: Masquerade, you can fool any friend who ever knew you.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x SarcasticHufflepuff!Reader {Idiots in love}
Timeline: Non-specified/ non-canon event.
Summary: Following Hogwarts’ anniversary masquerade ball, will Fred ever find the mystery woman he’s longing for, and can you, his best friend with a light crush on him, survive it?
*Updated Warnings: Unrequited love, idiots in love, friends to lovers all the usual divine tropes. Happy ending I promise. Minor sexual references, 1 mention of masturbation, George fancies Angelina. Slight angst? We have a massive crush on Freddie. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title is from. Kissing, love confessions. Did I just write 5k words and none of it was smut?! There’s a mention of Paedophilia in the form of a passing age related joke*
Word count: 1.8k
Thank you to my wonderful Anon who inspired this two part fic with their brilliant request. This story flowed out of me and I was unable to stop writing. Did I cry writing this? Definitely Maybe 🖤
It was mid-afternoon and you were walking from charms when you felt a paper bird fly into your shoulder, confusing you as there was virtually no one around. You'd stayed behind after class with Flitwick to go over some extra work you'd asked for to boost your grade and became throughout confused at the random paper. Opening it, you couldn't help but smile, seeing Fred awful handwriting littering the inside.
'Little Badger- My dorm, 8pm?'
You knocked on the door, waiting for his signal for you to enter and walked into the dorm with a smile on your face, pausing once you noticed that George wasn't there.
"Where George?"
"Well I'm offended," Fred says, giving you blank look, "where's bloody George, am I not good enough now? Also hello."
"Hello trouble," you say, walking over to hop onto Fred's bed, instantly lying down on the surprisingly comfy and tidy bed. You squeal as you feel him jump in beside you, the tiny beds making you think that Fred would be jumping on you but he surprises you by scooting over to allow you to just lay beside him.
"What did you want to do?" You ask, turning your head towards him.
"Hmm?" He asks, half as if he's not listening and the other half as if he doesn't understand.
"You asked me here, what have you got planned?"
"Nothing really, just wanted to see you. It's not a crime is it?" He smirks, eyes soft.
"Only if you're a paedophile," you say bluntly, watching with glee as his eyes bulge and he bursts out a laugh at the dark joke.
"Rotten woman," he mumbles, earning a half-arsed shove on the shoulder as you smile at him.
"Fancy a nap?" You say, eyes closing as you find a comfy spot on the bed.
"How old are you?" He asks tauntingly, preparing to tease you over the need for a little sleep.
You open one eye, looking straight towards him with a smirk on your face, "do you really want me to make the paedo joke again?"
His hands instantly come out to tickle your sides and you beg for mercy as you squirm, almost falling off the bed in the close quarters a few times before he relents.
"Let's go to the kitchens," he suggests.
"Or.. let's take a nap."
"Astronomy tower?"
"Orrrrr a nap?"
"Bloody hell woman how tired are you? I'm offering a romantic date with food and a view, not to mention the giant squid, and all you want to do is to sleep!"
Despite your eyes remaining closed, you'd never felt more awake at the word 'date' so casually slipping from his mouth, a fire in your tummy beginning to ignite the very thought. You try to think of something to say, anything, in reply but you can't, all words failing you completely until you bring up the one topic you didn't want to talk about.
"Not sure your mystery woman would approve," you joke, though there's no real humour in your words. Fred snorts and you open your eyes to see him frowning off into the distance.
"Given up on her already?" You say, digging a little deeper, intrigued by his curious reaction. You watch as he frowns, turning his head slowly to look at you, eyes softening slightly the longer that he stares.
"Let's go to the black lake."
"Are you going to drown me?"
"What? No," he says in concern at your words.
"Alright, lead the way then Weasley."
It's bloody freezing when you reach the edge of the lake, the wind whipping through the trees like it's trapped between the tree line and the school, making you fight off a chill.
"Here, have my robes," Fred offers, his fingers reaching for the fastening.
"No Freddie I'm fine, you'll be freezing," you say, reaching up for his hand to stop him untying it.
He pauses, your hand still resting on his as he looks into your eyes, a soft smile ghosting his face.
"You haven't called me Freddie in ages."
"Sorry," you say, averting your gaze and pulling your hand away but he stops you, grabbing your hand and holding it in his. You see how his gaze diverts to your entwined fingers but you don't say anything, opting instead to take a deep, steadying breath.
"Your hands are freezing," he observes, his fingers squeezing yours gently.
"Yours are warm," you hum in return.
Suddenly, he looks up at you again with a questioning gaze, like he's looking into your soul.
"I want to try something," he says, not glancing away. You simply nod, hardly trusting your voice in the moment as you let him adjust you however he wants.
His right hand slips around your waist, the heat from his skin penetrating yours immediately, warming your side and yourself. You can barely breathe, you're certain he's never been this close to you before. You watch as he follows his hand with his eyes, gripping your waist with his long fingers before trailing his eyes up to your entwined hands. His gaze then trails up to your face and you look at him with an expression that you hope is neutral but is probably very far from it.
He starts to spin you on the rocky shoreline of the black lake, the two of you dancing under the moonlight without any music. It's beautiful and bittersweet all at the same time.
“It was you.”
"It was you," he repeats, sounding breathless, slowing his footwork only slightly. You frown, brows knitting together at his words, completely lost at what he was accusing you of.
"That night, at the ball, it was you."
"Freddie it wasn't me," you say quietly, your emotions bubbling to the surface, finding it too hard to deny any longer under his gaze. "I wanted it to be you that I danced with, I wanted it to be me that you wanted. I looked for you but... it wasn't me Fred."
Tears begin to well up in your eyes but you don't feel upset anymore; you think this is the last step in your grief, the acceptance. You knew that with one simple lie you could have Fred Weasley for yourself, that everything you'd ever wanted was right at your fingertips but you couldn't do it. Not to yourself and especially not to Fred.
"But you were there, it could have been you," he says with determination. Did he want it to be you? You reluctantly shake your head, wishing more than anything that it was.
"The guy I danced with had black hair," you say, wanting to break the gaze but finding it impossible. You feel a pang of sadness when he chuckles, head thrown back with a humourless laugh that makes your stomach lurch. He'd realised that it wasn't you after all. He pulls away from you and your heart breaks just a little bit more.
"You mean like this?" He asks, pulling out his wand and pointing it directly at his head. You scramble to get him to stop whatever he's doing but you're rendered completely silent when you watch with wide eyes and mouth agape as he casts a spell you don't know that immediately turns his fiery locks pitch black.
A sob escapes you as you look at him, hardly recognising the boy you'd loved forever seeing him with black hair, realising that it must have been him.
It really was him.
"There's about 6 people in this school with red hair and 4 of them are Weasleys, kind of defeats the point of being anonymous doesn't it," he says with a smirk. You're gobsmacked, still doubting what's in front of you.
"It really was you? The orange waistcoat with the gold stars?" You say, trying to pull the memory of the mystery man as clearly as you can.
"If you look in my wardrobe right now I can promise you it's hanging there," he says, pocketing his wand, the boyish smile returning to his lips.
"And my dress?" You ask, waiting for the moment he'd describe it wrong and this whole dream would slip away from you.
"Could kill a man," he says with a smirk, trying to calm your apparent nerves and denial. He describes it in near perfect detail, including your mask. You're breathless, lip quivering as you realise that it's really real.
"You believe me?" He asks, slowly moving forward. You nod, unable to find your voice.
"You trust me?"
You nod with more enthusiasm, never doubting your trust in him for a second.
He smirks, moving forward and you reluctantly hold out for hand to stop him, his smirk fading from his face instantly.
"Whatever happens next isn't happening until you look like you again," you say through a laugh, your eyes lighting up as he laughs too having forgotten about the black hair. He pulls out his wand and with a single effortless flick, he's Fred again.
This time he doesn't ask for permission, it's all in your eyes, the welcoming, the love. His hand grabs yours and he slowly pulls you into him, his right hand sliding onto your waist whilst his left hand tucks it self under your chin. There's a moment that passes as you look into each other's eyes where nothing else exists outside of the two of you. His eyes flick down to your lips as his fingers lift your chin ever so slightly whilst he begins to lean down.
His lips feel like pure magic against yours. It's like finding that perfect wand at Ollivanders that has chosen you, completely in sync and connected through a force invisible to the human eye. You give in to the kiss without a second thought, allowing him to dominate the kiss, his tongue sliding deliciously against your own, the comfort of his pillowy soft lips nearly taking your breath away. It's everything you could have ever imagined and you can't imagine for a single moment from here that you could ever be without it again.
He pulls away eventually and you look up at him with shining eyes, tears of happiness welled up in your eyes at the years of torment finally absolved. He looks at you like he never has before, it's full of love, full of adoration.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he admits with a chuckle that makes you snort at his stupid words.
"I'd wager that I have some idea."
#emeritusemeritus#emeritusemerituswrites#harry potter#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x you#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley masterlist#requests completed#fred weasley request#requests#hp fic#weasley twins x reader#weasley twins#weasley twins masterlist#fanfic#Harry Potter fanfic#hp fanfic#hp imagine#Fred Weasley drabble#fred weasley fluff
95 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I request an instance where jjk men have been busy lately and y/n sees jjk men out with another woman (she doesn't know the woman is a relative or coworker) and y/n shoots at them and just barely misses. 😂😂😂 preferably Toji, Sukuna and Shiu? I feel like those men would be the only ones that would be secretly turned on by their girl shooting at them
╰┈➤ JJK Men haven’t spent time with you and suddenly you see them with another woman.
୨ৎContent: suggestive, jealousy, toxic behavior, Female!Reader,
୨ৎAn: omgomgomg, this is my first request EVER and it’s from my twiniii <3! I am very happy about this and I really hope you like it and I just hope this is the beginning for a long a cool internet friendship <3 <3 btw, the end of Gojo's was inspired from a parks&recs blooper (Gojo has Andy Dwyer energy). I have to say that writing Toji and Sukuna was really hard, i hope I did justice to all of them.
୨ৎIncl: Toji, Sukuna, Gojo, Nanami
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚
It’s been almost two weeks without a hug or a kiss from your boyfriend. Although you’ve kept in touch daily through texts and calls, intrusive thoughts won’t stop tying a knot in your stomach. While walking down empty streets, you finally decide to focus on what your student Mai is telling you, hoping to clear your mind. But it’s impossible. Your anxious mind keeps conjuring up clichéd scenes: "What if he’s cheating on me?"
As if fate wanted to mock you, a few meters ahead, you see your boyfriend escorting an attractive woman to a taxi. You freeze in place, and Mai asks if everything’s alright. You watch the taxi drive away, while the knot in your stomach ignites, ready to make you explode. Without a second thought, you grab Mai's gun, not giving her a chance to react, and shoot at your dear — and potentially unfaithful — boyfriend. You miss.
ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!
Toji
Toji is surprised, but he’s having the time of his life. He doesn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. He stares at you, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile.
“Seriously? Jealous of my coworker?” he asks, trying to embarrass you.
"Coworker, my ass!" you yell, your face completely flushed.
Toji laughs, and although he’d never admit it, he feels flattered by your jealousy. He slowly steps closer to you.
“If you wanted to practice your aim, at least do it right” he says, spinning you around to embrace you from behind. With a provocative smile, he guides your hand to press the gun against his temple “I think this is the only way you’d ever hit your target.”
His taunting only fuels your anger.
“Relax, you have no competition” he whispers playfully in your ear, tightening his hold on you, pressing you against him. You can immediately feel his boner, which shocks you enough to drop the gun. He laughs wholeheartedly and let go of you as if nothing had happened.
Sukuna
Though he’s irritated, Sukuna is thoroughly entertained. He gives you that intense look you know well, one that shows he doesn’t like being challenged.
“Did you try to hurt me? How adorable” he says, his tone dry and dangerous “Are you insane?”
“You bastard! You’re the one who drives me insane with your stupid antics. Now, who the hell is she?” you scream as loud as your lungs allow.
Sukuna lets out a mocking, sarcastic laugh, enjoying the scene. Deep down, he feels flattered by your intensity, though he’d never admit it. He steps closer, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Jealous? Really? I don’t have time for this nonsense” he says, pulling back with a sinister smile. Turning his back on you, he dares you to react again. He glances over his shoulder, throwing you a challenging look “Maybe you do have reasons to be jealous, who knows?”
Each word only makes your blood boil more. You approach him with clenched fists.
“Maybe you should be more worried. Maybe she really was someone special” he says, provoking you even further.
You can’t take it anymore and throw a punch at him, which he catches easily. With his other hand, he entangles his fingers in your hair, tugging gently but firmly, tilting your face toward his.
“Calm down, darling. No one else compares to you” he whispers, with that blend of mockery and defiance.
Gojo
Although he saw the shot coming (I mean with the six eyes… duh), the sound of the gunfire still startles Gojo.
“Wow, that was a refreshing scare!” he says with a grin, treating it as a joke.
“I’m only going to ask you once: who is she?” your voice comes out louder than expected.
Gojo is thrilled, loving the spectacle of seeing you angry and jealous. Using his cursed energy, he makes the bullet float in front of you, mocking you.
“Babe, the bullet didn’t even come close enough to activate my Infinity” he jokes, trying to lighten the moment “Good thing hand-to-hand combat is your strength because your aim is terrible”
You shoot him a death glare, and that hits its mark. Gojo smiles, approaching playfully. He deactivates his technique and wraps you in a hug to calm you down.
“Come on, you know I only have eyes for you” he assures, hoping to see you smile before letting go.
Although you do smile, the irritation lingers. Taking advantage of his deactivated technique, you slap him.
“Do it again” he says, totally captivated, and you oblige with another slap. He writhes in sinuous movements, as if his entire body is struggling to escape an invisible hold.
“Do you have a… boner?” you ask, noticing his reaction.
He doesn’t respond, but it’s obvious. You smile, incredulous.
"Duuuuuuuuuuuude!" you shout, turning around and walking away
"No one has slapped me before" he stands there, beaming stupidly.
Nanami
Nanami sighs, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with disapproval.
"You shot at me? Seriously?" he says calmly.
Without losing his composure, he steps closer as a few tears roll down your cheeks.
"If you have something to say, I’d rather you say it than shoot at me" he says, surprised but trying to understand.
"I haven’t seen you in two weeks! And when I finally do, it’s by chance…" you shout, not caring if anyone hears. "And with another woman! What the hell, Kento?"
"I don’t think a scene is necessary. That woman is my cousin" he replies, not trying to invalidate your feelings, only to clarify. "You know I’d never do anything to make you doubt me."
He steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’ve missed him so much that you throw yourself into his arms as if you’ll never let go. In that embrace, Nanami realizes just how much his absence has affected you.
"I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. I’m sorry for not being there" he hugs you back, kissing the top of your head and gently running his fingers through your hair "You’re important to me, and if you want more time together, that’s exactly what we’ll have."
≽^- ˕ -^≼
Mai sighs in exasperation, watching the scene while retrieving her gun.
"And I’m supposed to look up to this person?"
#jjk nanami#jjk#nanami kento#nanami#kento nanami#funny#lol#fanfic#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk fanfiction#gojo x reader#gojo x you#request#ask#request open#x yn#nanami x you#satoru x you#gojo satoru x you#nanami kento x you#they all need therapy#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x yn#toji x reader#toji x yn#toji x you#toji fushigro x reader
88 notes
·
View notes