#and was told it was a mistake and exiled | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noira-l · 6 months ago

Text

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You were a prodigy, destined for greatness, until one mistake cost you everything- your powers, your legacy, and your father’s pride. Now, powerless and adrift, you wait for your father's decision on your fate, unsure if you’ll face exile, servitude, or something worse. A shadow of who you once were, you push everyone away, drowning in the weight of your own failure. Then there’s Gojo Satoru. Your rival, your tormentor, and the last person you expect to care about your fall. But instead of mockery, his gaze carries something else - something you can’t bring yourself to believe.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teen!gojo satoru x f!reader

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — mdni, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, prodigy!reader, reader is from clan, rivals with benefits, mention of sexual intercourse, hate sex, depiction of complicated relationship, loss of technique, hurt, mourning (pain, grief, regret), depression, self-doubt, changing body, depiction of loneliness, reader pushes everyone away, jjk clans are shit, family abuse, long term manipulation, smoking, drowning, failed attempt of self-destruction (gojo saves reader), reader goes no contact, reader becomes maiko/geiko later on.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 11 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — this is the longest list of warnings I have ever written, congrats to me (kidding). I don't know if anyone will like it. I know it's dark, very unhealthy and absolutely depressing. It's not good, and I don't recommend anyone to act in the way depicted in this fic. It is possible that I will remove it in the future. If you are struggling with such issues, I would highly encourage you to talk to someone you trust about it. However, I want to thank everyone who chooses to read this.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

It really wasn't difficult to avoid.

You could've waited literally two seconds.

You could've let the assistant check the area as he should after the mission.

You could've not searched the area yourself.

You could've notified the assistant that you had found a cursed object, in the shrine debris.

You could've waited for the assistant to come up to check with you.

You could've not approached the cursed object.

You could've not picked it up. You could've been smarter.

Maybe if you were - you would still have your powers.

Your technique had been everything they claimed it to be. Rare, devastating, invaluable. It wasn’t just a skill - it was a mark of distinction, the proof of your place in a centuries-old legacy. The elders whispered of its rarity, marveling at the precision and control with which you teach yourself to wielded it.

They called you a prodigy, the one destined to elevate the clan to greater heights.

The weight of those expectations had always been crushing, but you bore it with a silent, unyielding resolve. You had to. You had no choice.

But there was another side to this. You wanted to bore it. You wanted to shush all the gossip, all the rumours that might suggest that you can't do something. Besides you found yourself enjoying this kind of powers

The whispers about your gender - about how being a woman might complicate your ability to lead, to fulfill the role they expected of you - only hardened your resolve.

You would prove them wrong, all of them, you told yourself.

But you also wanted your father's approval.

Your father was the only thing close to you. Your mother died in childbirth or left with a lover, you never knew which version was the truth. As a child, you never thought about it, the truth is, everyone around you only mentioned your father, how you should be his pride, his tribute and how you should do everything to make him feel content about you.

This propaganda worked.

And this mindset became an integral part of you.

His approval wasn’t just your goal - it was your oxygen, your sustenance. His rare moments of pride were your reward, and his disappointment - your greatest fear.

You could hear his voice in your mind, the way it would brighten ever so slightly when you succeeded "Good. This is good. Keep this up." those words had kept you going through grueling hours of training, through sleepless nights spent honing your skills to perfection. The bruises, the pain, the exhaustion - they were nothing compared to the glow of his approval, the fleeting light that told you you were enough, if only for a moment.

But his eyes also dulled with such terrifying speed when you stumbled, even slightly. A poorly executed maneuver, a delay in judgment during a sparring session, a lapse in control, all of it was met with silence, with the cold weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a vice. It was in those moments that you became acutely aware of your imperfection, of how fragile his pride in you truly was.

This however had shaped you into a perfectionist, a creature of cold calculation.

Training became part of your life, your identity. You lived for the applause of the elders, for the murmured praise of the clan, but above all, for the fleeting flicker of pride in your father’s eyes.

He had once told you, long ago, when you were too young to fully understand his words, that you were his gift "Special, rare." he had said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it since "A gift I received at your birth."

You had clung to those words, replaying them in your mind whenever the pressure became unbearable. They were your anchor, your proof that you mattered, that you were loved - not as a daughter, perhaps, but as something far more valuable, something exceptional.

But in a perspective - you weren't the only exceptional thing in this world.

Even before you understood what rivalry meant, you had been told, over and over, how your birth ranked second in significance.

The second most talked thing.

The first? Him.

You had grown up under the long shadow of a name: Gojo Satoru.

A boy born with unparalleled power, eyes as vivid as the summer sky, whos very existence shaked the foundations of the jujutsu world. While your family whispered of your technique with cautious pride, his family declared him the strongest before he could even speak.

Comparison was inevitable. You were prodigies, both of you, but where your brilliance was honed through discipline, his was uncontainable, raw, and overwhelming. You were rare - he was the one.

You still remembered the first time you saw him. You couldn’t have been more than six, dressed in formal robes too heavy for your small frame, the silk scratchy against soft skin. The clan meeting was dull, filled with stiff adults exchanging words that meant nothing to you. But then, in the corner of the room, you felt a presence - bright, piercing, impossible to ignore.

When you turned, his eyes met yours.

Wide, unblinking, and startlingly blue, they stared at you like they could see through your skin, through your bones, through everything that made you, you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile or nod - just stared, like he was trying to decide if you were worth noticing at all.

Even then, something about him annoyed you.

As you grew older, the comparisons became sharper, louder. Clan sparring matches became a regular event, a spectacle for the elders to evaluate their bloodlines. You, Gojo, Kamo, that Zen’in heir, and a handful of others were pitted against one another under the guise of "training." But you all knew the truth. It was a game of dominance, of proving which clan held the strongest future.

Gojo made it a point to be insufferable.

"Chicken fights." he had once sneered, grinning as he sat perched on a rock like a king addressing his subjects. You had just beaten one of the Zen’in cousins, a victory that had left your father smiling faintly in the audience. But Gojo’s voice cut through the cheers "That’s all this is. You flap your wings, you strut around, but it doesn’t matter. None of you will ever beat me."

The others ignored him, too smart - or too scared - to engage. But not you.

"I’d rather be a chicken than a brat with a big mouth." you’d shot back, your voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest.

His grin widened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously. But then he laughed - a loud, obnoxious sound that echoed through the sparring grounds "Cute." he said, hopping off his perch and walking past you like you weren’t even worth his time "Let me know when you’re ready to play with the big kids."

Now, years later, the rivalry had followed you into Jujutsu High, where it seemed impossible to escape him. The same classes, the same missions, the same suffocating aura of superiority that surrounded him wherever he went.

He was a little different. Not in the way you’d imagined someone "different" might be - quiet, mysterious, unassuming. No, he was loud, arrogant, and so assured in his strength that it bordered on unbearable.

The fire you’d felt as a child, that relentless desire to outdo him, to prove yourself, had cooled over the years. But it hadn’t gone out. Instead, it had transformed into something sharper, something a little colder - a blade honed not just to cut him down but to carve out your own space in a world that refused to see you as anything more than a shadow cast by his brilliance. It wasn’t just about beating him anymore. It was about standing on equal ground, forcing him - and everyone else - to recognize you as something other than second best.

You tried to take it slow, to ingore him.

Gojo didn’t make it easy.

He had a way of getting under your skin that no one else could. Just a glance from him could set your teeth on edge, that wide, knowing smirk playing on his lips like he was already ten steps ahead of you. He mocked you constantly, his words sharp and teasing, always laced with that infuriating arrogance that only he could pull off.

Every encounter was a contest, every conversation a challenge, every moment spent in his presence a battle for dominance.

You danced around each other endlessly, an intricate, unspoken rhythm that neither of you could break. One moment, he’d set the direction, leading with a cocky ease that seemed unshakable - the next, you’d outpace him, forcing him to catch up, to adjust to your steps.

The dance extended into every aspect of your lives. Missions became opportunities to one-up each other, to prove who was faster, sharper, more capable. Training sessions were wars of endurance, each of you pushing harder, refusing to yield until exhaustion forced a truce. Even on days off, when most people would relax or recover, you found ways to compete - whether it was sparring, aruging or something as mundane as seeing who could stack the most chairs before they toppled over.

His attention was relentless, his focus always sharp and unyielding. He discounted you with every other word, mocking your efforts, analyzing your achievements as if he were the ultimate judge of your worth. His words - arrogant and biting - were no better.

"Trying to catch up to me again? Good luck with that, shortcake."

"Don’t trip over your own shadow while you’re chasing me."

"Nice job today, small fry. Almost makes me feel like you’re worth competing with."

Each message was a spark, igniting the fire that drove you to prove him wrong, to show him - and yourself - that you were more than capable of matching him. To the point of beating him.

Neither of you ever held the upper hand for long - one day his victory, the next yours. The score didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that the fire between you never burned out, keeping you locked in this endless, maddening dance.

And maddening was pace of his hips that were thrusting into you every other day. The old floor, even with a layer of training mat, would creak under his powerful movements.

Both of you decided after some time that your dispute had to be settled by other means, so you challenged each other to a duel where there were no rules and all moves were allowed. It usually ended with the two of you meeting in the old training room after class, to resolve a conflict you were currently having. The winner was the one who first knocked his opponent finally to the ground.

Differently these encounters ended, sometimes he was the unbeatable winner, pounding you into the floor, bending you at every possible angle, whispering sweet nothingess and words of mocking encouragement to your ear, making tears drip down your flushed cheeks. Sometimes it was you who won, pinning him to the floor, bouncing off his hips in a frenzy, one in which you commented on how loud he was, how crying and pathetic he looked - words that were meant to degrade him, were just making his glimmering eyes roll back. Eyebrows raised and stupid handsome face twisted in a sigh so beautful that you would end up with the lost of insults after a while.

He won last week. Your asscheeks painfully pounded into the mat material, as your hands clasped tightly on his shoulders, creating scars that were meant to affect him, but only seemed to make him whine even more. Laughing breathlessly at your attempts to hurt him, as if he wasn't the one leaving rudely visible red marks on your neck that poke through uniform.

He'll probably laugh about winning his final match, too.

Because there will never be any again.

Everyone tried everything to undo the effects of what had happened - to remove the curse. When this proved impossible by the specifications of the object you touched, which could be called a trap, they at least tried to restore the flow of your cursed energy. This, too, proved to be a failure.

You’d told yourself, at first, that it must be temporary. That the connection to your technique would return, that this was just a setback. It had to be. Something so integral to your being couldn’t just vanish - it was part of you, wasn’t it?

That was you, right?

But each attempt proved fruitless. Every meditation session, every exercise, every attempt to summon even the faintest flicker of cursed energy - it all ended the same way: in silence, in emptiness.

The denial fueled your determination, pushing you into training sessions that bordered on self-destruction. You traded your technique for raw physicality, throwing punches at the training dummy until your fists bled, the skin splitting open as you struck again and again. And again. Sweat soaked through your clothes, mingling with tears you refused to acknowledge as they streamed down your face.

You screamed, raw and guttural, into the empty training field, but the sound brought no release, only exhaustion. You never shouted like that, never cried like when you fell on the ground and realised it was all pointless.

One conclusion came from your attempts.

You had been crippled.

"Maybe if I had a son, he wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake." the words clung to you, searing through the phone’s receiver like acid. Your father’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the fragile thread of composure you had been holding onto. The regret, the disappointment, and - worst of all - the indifference. He didn’t even sound angry, just tired. Tired of you.

Your throat burned.

"Father, please..." but you didn’t know what you were asking for -mercy, understanding, or perhaps the impossible: forgiveness.

"You've squandered everything." his voice was steady, unaffected "Centuries of legacy, your birthright, your technique - gone. Do you understand the magnitude of what you’ve done?"

Do you? You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak. Your thoughts swirled into a vortex of self-loathing, replaying the moment over and over again.

"We'll talk later when I decide what to do with you." and just like that he hung up.

That was it. No comfort. No acknowledgment of the years you’d given, the sacrifices you’d made, or the countless moments you’d bled and bruised yourself into perfection. The line had gone dead with a finality that echoed through your chest like a hammer strike. His voice - so cold, so detached - ingered in your mind, cutting deeper than any curse could.

You set the phone down on the desk, your hand trembling slightly as you withdrew from it, as though it might burn you if you held on any longer. The chair creaked faintly beneath you as you sat motionless, staring at the wall opposite you.

You wanted to apologise to him, to beg his forgiveness for your mistake, for your stupidity, you wanted to cry on his shoulder, to apologise - again - that you had let him down. But he just wasn't interested. He was no longer interested in your perspective.

You, simply didn't interest him.

That room was dim, the shadows thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint glow of a single overhead light. It wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the faces of the elders who stood before you, their disapproval palpable, their voices sharp and cutting as they dissected your situation. Each word they spoke dug into your chest, stripping away what little pride you had left.

You were stripped off the title of a prodigy.

They called you a dissapointment now.

You became an example.

A cautionary tale.

The damage has already been done.

People tried to reach you. Geto, Shoko, Nanami - even Yaga made an effort to draw you out of your spiral. But their words felt hollow, meaningless. What could they possibly say that would fix what had been broken? They didn’t understand. How could they? They still had their power, their purpose, their place in this world. You didn’t.

He was on mission overseas, so maybe the information about your state didn't quite reach him yet. Not that you cared if he made contact.

He would probably just laugh at you anyway.

Of all these people Geto, had tried the hardest, his presence quiet but persistent. He tried to be there for you. But there was no you inside.

He’d sat beside one day, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. His touch, once an unremarkable soft gesture, now felt heavy - too heavy. You realized then just how much strength he had, how much stronger he’d become while you had only weakened. His grip, once equal to yours, now dwarfed it.

"You’re still here." he’d said softly, his voice careful, measured "That matters the most."

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The weight of his words pressed against your chest, but they couldn’t penetrate the hollow void inside you. Instead, you’d turned away, muttering some excuse to just leave.

You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anyone’s.

You didn't believe that anything else mattered to anyone except your gift. Not after everything that happends.

So you let yourself sink in that conviction.

Your own reflection became that a stranger. Each glance in the mirror revealed another part of yourself fading away. Your muscles, once taut and defined from years of rigorous training, softened, weakened. Your face, once bright with determination and pride, dulled, the light in your eyes all but extinguished. Even your posture changed, slouching under the weight of your defeat.

You avoided mirrors after that. It was easier not to look at yourself, not to see the person you’d become.

The thought of him haunted you. He was the only person who had not yet spoken about your situation. You could almost hear the laughter that would spill from his lips when he found out.

He’d won, hadn’t he? He will be happy that you lost.

Not through a sparring match or a test of strength, but through your own stupidity. He wouldn’t even need to lift a finger - your downfall was self-inflicted. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

He’d probably make a joke of it, something biting and sharp, something that would leave you hollowed out even further. The idea of facing him, of hearing his voice, made your stomach twist - but you kinda wanted him to say somthing to you.

Although you were sure what his reaction would be.

By early autumn you became a ghost of the person you’d once been, a shell going through the motions. The world felt distant, muted, as though you were walking through a haze. The wind carried the crisp scent of leaves, the air beacme sharp enough to sting your lungs as you exhaled. Your student status was taken away by higher-ups, they decided that sending you on a mission was pointless. Just like you. The peak of your skill now was ability to see a curse, not to fight one.

You could do whatever you wanted, so you went to all sorts of faraway places.

You’d grown used to the isolation. It was easier not to see anyone, not to hear the pity in their voices or feel their lingering stares. Geto had tried, tried and tried. Staying with you whenever he could, but even his presence, as steady and grounding as it was, felt too heavy. He tried talking to you, but your mind seemed closed to his willingness to help and his affectionate tone. You weren't a person who knew how to accept help from others, no one ever taught you that. Even if you appreciated it, you didn't know how to show it. And the truth was - you couldn’t bear the weight of his concern, couldn’t summon the energy to reassure anyone that you were fine.

Because you weren’t fine. You were no longer yourself.

That was the only thing that had mattered.

You wanted to disappear into the nothingness that seemed to have taken root inside you. You wanted to stop existing in a world where you no longer had a place, where the purpose that had defined you all your life was gone.

But instead, you thought. And thought. Alone, in the dark, your mind was a relentless spiral, turning over every moment, every decision that had brought you to this point.

You never really faced your fears before, you realized.

This and many other thoughts stirred in your head like a swirl, twisting your perception of reality.

You were walking through the school gates, the crisp golden leaves crunching under your boots. The sun hung low in the sky, its light casting long shadows across the pavement.

You really didn’t expect to see him.

He was back.

Snow-white hair catching the sunlight, posture impossibly relaxed, as if the weight of the world didn’t touch him. He walked with that characteristic ease, the kind that could embarrass a hundred men without effort. His phone was pressed to his ear, and you could hear his laughter even from a distance - light, careless, the kind of laugh that had always annoyed you.

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t notice you. Of course - why would he? You didn’t even have the faintest trace of cursed energy anymore. You were just a random person, a shadow of who you’d once been, just a presence walking aimlessly on a pleasant autumn afternoon.

You kept your hands buried in your pockets, eyes fixed on the path ahead, determined to pass him without incident. Without one stupid comment. Without one look into that judging eyes.

You realized you weren't ready to face him. A whole range of emotions came up in you: anger, anticipation, sadness, wanting, resignation, longing, but most of all - shame.

But then his gaze fell on you.

You could feel it before you even looked up, the weight of his attention, sharp and unmissable. His eyes flicked over you once, casual and dismissive, but then he froze. Head snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face shifted so quickly it almost startled you. Satisfaction melted into pure, unfiltered shock.

You didn’t stop.

You didn’t have the strength to deal with him, with his taunts, his smirks, his cutting words, his blue eyes. Not now. Not ever. You moved past him without a word, steps steady and deliberate, though your heart pounded in your chest so much.

You will let him enjoy his win in your silence.

"Oi!" his voice cut through the air, sharp, insistent "Stop you - Wait!"

You didn’t turn around. In fact you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you reached into pocket, pulling out the battered pack of cigarettes Shoko had handed you weeks ago. You lit one with a shaky hand, the ember flaring briefly before the smoke curled into the air. You inhaled deeply, the bitter taste grounding you as you kept walking.

Gojo stood frozen, watching you disappear down the path. He tried calling after you couple of times, louder each time. But he didn't run after you. Six Eyes scanned your silhouette with dangerous precision, noticing every small detail that had changed. The slump in your shoulders, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the dullness in your eyes. The lack of a slightest trace of cursed energy.

What the hell happend to you?

He hadn’t seen you in weeks, but the person walking away from him now was unrecognizable.

You weren’t just tired. You weren't yourself.

You came back hours later to pack your belongings.

The weight of tomorrow hung heavy in your chest, suffocating and inescapable. Your father’s decision loomed over you, its implications gnawing at your already fragile sense of self.

You decided to take a walk, one last time over the terrain you knew and loved so well.

You didn’t want to think about what he might have planned for you. You didn’t want to imagine the hollow life that awaited you, stripped of your identity and power. But the thoughts were relentless, swirling in your mind as you walked, each step taking you farther from the dormitory and deeper into the forest.

Would he make you a servant? Marry you off to someone important, someone who could salvage what little value you had left? Would he exile you to the far corners of the clan, where you would live out your days in quiet obscurity?

The possibilities churned in your mind, each one heavier than the last.

For weeks, you’d been coming here, searching for something in that reflection. Searching for the person you used to be, the prodigy who had stood tall and proud, who had been her father’s pride and her clan’s future. But all you found was a ghost, a shadow of what you once were.

The night was quiet, perfect for the last one here, the air heavy with the crisp scent of fallen leaves and damp earth. A pale moon hung in the sky, its light casting silvery ripples over the world, softening the edges of reality.

You crouched down, as you approached the edge of the water. Your hands brushing against the damp grass, and stared into the lake’s surface. For a moment, the sight of your reflection startled you, as it always did now.

You closed your eyes, for a brief moment, the quiet of the forest enveloping you. A faint rustle of leaves, the distant call of nightlife and the soft lapping of water against the shore - it was all so achingly peaceful. And yet, it offered no comfort.

The lake held no answers, no revelations. Just the same distorted reflection, the same fractured image of yourself.

The reflection there was faint, distorted, but still recognizable. You could make out the curve of your jaw, the hollowness of your cheeks, the dim light in your eyes that once burned so brightly. You stared at yourself, unblinking, searching for the person you had been.

But you were gone.

...

What is the point of all this?

The question came unbidden, as it had so many times before. It's not like you're usefull to anyone. Your whole life has been based on being a sorcerer, the next clan head also, but not being just a human. You don't know how to live a normal life - you don't know if you even want to live one.

You thought about the weight of your father’s expectations, the years you had spent chasing his approval. You thought about the countless hours of training, the bruises, the exhaustion, the fleeting moments of pride that had kept you going. And you thought about the emptiness you felt now, the void left behind by the loss of your technique.

It's all been bringing you to one conclusion for some time: you are nothing without your technique.

This is a painful truth that you had to accept some time ago.

You had the feeling that the water was looking at you - offering a hideout.

You moved, taking one hesitant step forward.

It won't be that bad, right? Everything is better than facing the consequences of your own stupidity.

Another step joined the previous one, your feet touching the cold surface. The smell of wet grass and vegetation wafted through the air.

You’d left everything behind on the shore. Your jacket, hoodie, and shoes - they lay in a silent heap, abandoned like everything else in your life. You won't need them anymore.

The water was cold. Icy. It cut through your skin like shards of glass, wrapping around you with an unforgiving grip as you plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness. The shock of it made your muscles tighten, but you didn’t fight it - not at first. You let the weight of the water pull you down, let the emptiness consume you.

Everything was dark, impossibly so, swallowing everything in its depths. You couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but the cold pressure against your skin and the burning in your chest as your lungs screamed for air. You let yourself sink further, closing your eyes against the suffocating blackness.

And yet, your mind wouldn’t still.

Thoughts came rushing in, unbidden, like a flood breaking through a dam. Every memory, every failure, every moment of doubt and despair surged to the forefront. The weight of it all pressed down on you, heavier than the water, dragging you deeper into the abyss.

You had thought this might be the solution. The way out. An escape from the suffocating spiral of your existence. But as the air in your lungs ran out and your body began to betray you, survival instinct kicking in, you realized there was no escape. Not from the memories, not from the pain, not from yourself.

Your limbs flailed, your arms slicing through the water as you tried to fight against the primal urge to breathe. Your body betrayed you, forcing you to the surface even as your mind screamed to let go, to give in.

Just a little bit.

But it was too late. The water felt thick, heavy, an impossible barrier keeping you from the surface. Your lungs heaved, desperate for air, but all they found was water. Cold, bitter, unrelenting water that filled your chest and drowned your last desperate gasp for life.

The memories came in flashes, fragments of a life that now seemed so far away. The pride in your father’s eyes the first time you mastered your technique. The sound ofm Geto’s gentle laugh on a quiet afternoon. Shoko’s quiet. The way Gojo’s voice had always irritated you, his smirk a constant thorn in your side.

They all felt so distant now, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn’t a failure. Someone who still mattered.

And then there was the weight of the other memories - the shame, the disappointment, the voices of the elders as they condemned you. The coldness in your father’s tone when he told you he’d decide what to do with you. The emptiness that had consumed you in the weeks since.

You felt your body shutting down, your vision darkening as the water enveloped you. Your limbs grew heavy, your mind hazy. The struggle became a distant thing, like a flickering light fading out.

And yet, in those final moments, as the water pulled you under completely, one thought rose above all the others, sharp and unrelenting:

You are a failure.

Gasp.

The world returned to you in gasps and violent coughs, water pouring from your lungs as your chest heaved painfully. Your body felt like it had been ripped apart, the freezing cold of the lake still clinging to your skin, but the sharp sensation of something - someone - holding you brought clarity in a rush.

You blinked against the blurriness in your vision, barely able to make out the figure above you. His white hair was plastered to his forehead, the sharp strands dulled and dripping, and his electric blue eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fury, fear, and something raw. His hands trembled as they held you, but his grip was firm, refusing to let go.

Him.

You coughed again, turning your head as water spilled out of your mouth, your chest burning with each labored breath. Reality slammed into you like a punch: you were on the shore, cold earth pressing against your back, and he was the reason you were still here.

"No." you croaked, the word scraping against your throat like sandpaper. Panic surged through you, body reacting before mind could catch up. You twisted violently, shoving against him with what little strength you had left, trying to escape the strong grasp. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be saved.

He didn’t let go.

"Stop." he growled, his voice low and strained. It wasn’t the teasing, mocking tone you were used to. This was different. Commanding, almost desperate.

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you thrashed against him, the fight in you born not of strength but of pure, unrelenting despair "Let me go, Gojo!"

"No." his grip tightened, his hands locking around your wrists as you tried to claw at him. You jerked and struggled, but it was no use. He was stronger, and even without your powers, you were nothing compared to him. The realization hit you like a dagger to the chest, sharp and agonizing. You couldn’t even free yourself. You couldn’t do anything.

"Stop it" he snapped, voice cutting through the chaos as he pinned your wrists to the ground, forcing you still. His weight loomed over you, his breath ragged and uneven as he glared down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity you couldn’t meet.

You froze, your body trembling beneath him, the fight draining out of you as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. The only sounds were the quiet lapping of the lake’s waves and the harsh breaths between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. His chest rose and fell rapidly, droplets of water sliding down his face, hair wet. His grip on your wrists loosened slightly, though he didn’t let go.

"What are you doing? What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice rough and low, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Fear? Pain?

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze "You shouldn’t have stopped me."

His grip tightened again, his fingers trembling as they pressed against your skin "Stop you -" he cut himself off, his jaw clenching tightly as he took a shuddering breath "You’re such an idiot."

You wanted to scream at him, to shove him away, to make him understand that there was nothing left of you worth saving. To let you go and withered. But the words caught in your throat, tangled with the grief, anger and despair that had been building inside you for so long.

"What are you doing here? You've been following me?" your voice sharp despite the hoarseness from the water you’d just coughed up. You glared at him, still pinned beneath his weight, wrists trapped in his hands.

Gojo’s expression flickered between irritation and something you couldn’t quite place - concern? No, that wasn’t possible. He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with his usual brand of mockery "No. Better -what were you doing here?"

You turned your face away, refusing to answer. The moonlight glinted off the water, its calm surface a contrast to the chaos swirling inside you. You could feel his eyes boring into you, Six Eyes missing nothing.

It didn’t take long for him to piece it together.

His grip on your wrists tightened, just slightly "You should have known better." he said, his tone shifting, lower now, more serious "With all that negative energy bottled up, you could’ve attracted a curse."

You snorted bitterly, the sound harsh and raw "As if I’m not already a curse."

His lips turned into a thin line, glimmering eyes narrowing as he leaned closer "Don’t say stupid things." what you said wasn't stupid, he was stupid for coming here and saving you.

"You are stupid for saving me." the words burst out of you, cracking, unrestrained.

The admission hung in the air, raw and cutting, and you hated how much it revealed. You hated how much he could see now. You felt as if he had caught you on something. Not only at this desperate attempt to avoid your fate, but also at being vulnerable. His face was so close now that you could see every drop of water clinging to his white long lashes, you could also feel the intensity radiating from him like a physical force.

"I told you not to say stupid stuff." he said, his voice low and biting, each word hitting like a hammer "You’re dumb enough as it is."

You wanted him to leave you alone.

You growled in frustration, your movements wild and erratic as you struggled against his grip, you tried to kick him, but to no avail "Let go of me, you asshole!"

"No." his response was immediate, tone resolute.

Can he listen to you for once?

"Fuck you!" you hissed.

"You already did!" he barked, his voice cracking through the tension like lightning.

You froze, the retort you’d been about to throw back dying on your tongue. That was an answer you didn't expected. It made you pause. Well...

Gojo sighed, a sound of exasperation tinged with something softer, something almost like… care "You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?" he muttered "But I’d rather deal with that than lose you."

What?

No, you must have overheard, he would never say such a thing to you.

You would almost believe those softly sparkling eyes, that looked at you in a way that it felt anxious. Well, almost, because you knew exactly who was saying those words to you. You scolded yourself for this in your head.

"Why the hell are you here?" you demanded an answer on dodged question, voice shaking with both anger and something dangerously close to despair "Did you save me because you were afraid you’d lose your favorite object of derision? To mock me? To laugh at how pathetic I’ve become?"

His eyes widened briefly, the accusation catching him off guard, before narrowing again in frustration "Do you seriously think I’d waste my time saving your sorry ass just to mock you?" he shots back "God, you’re so full of yourself sometimes."

"Then why?" you spat "Why did you saved me?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze shifting to the side, avoiding yours entirely. You could see the tension in his jaw. But he still said nothing. As the answer was too much for him to bear. He was about to speak, but he noticed the way you shivered violently, the cold catching you again. The soaked fabric of your clothes still clung to you, and the sharp autumn air made it impossible to stop trembling. Gojo changed his mind.

"I’ll let you go now." his voice lower, less biting "Get dressed - but no stupid actions."

His grip on you eased, and he moved back just enough to give you space, though not far enough to let you out of his reach. He stayed seated on the damp ground, watching your every move with an intensity that made your skin crawl. He didn’t trust you. Not yet.

You listened, you didn't have a choice now.

You crawled toward the pile of clothes, hands shaking so badly that it was difficult to grab anything properly. You stripped off your soaked shirt and pulled on your hoodie in a hurry, not caring whether he saw or not. You were too cold to care about modesty, too angry to care about anything else.

He also got dressed, buttoning up his sweats and putting on his jacket. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until his voice broke through.

"Why do you act like a moron?" his words were sharp, almost accusing, but there was something beneath them - a tremor of genuine frustration. Not a trace of his previous gentleness.

You didn’t answer, keeping your focus on zipping up your jacket, your movements jerky and uneven.

He grabbed your arm suddenly, firm but not painful "Oi, answer me!" his voice rose, the intensity of it cutting through the cold air.

You snapped your head up, your eyes blazing as you glared at him "The hell do you want?"

All you wanted now was to escape to a warm room and cry.

His grip on your arm tightened for a moment before loosening slightly, but still there, his expression flickering from serious to worried to confused "Why... why did you want- " he struggled for the words, frowning "Why did you want to end it all? It’s stupid, this logic is idiotic even for you."

You growled.

"What’s dumb is that you don’t understand it." you shot back, your voice sharp, almost venomous. The anger bubbling inside you was the only thing keeping the cold at bay. You wanted to get up, but his grip kept you down.

"The stupid thing is what you’re doing." he countered, his voice rising again "Do you think your death will change anything?"

That was enough for you.

"Great!" you shouted, pulling your arm free of his grip and stepping back, your chest heaving as emotions boiled over "If I’m so fucking worthless, then let me die, for fuck’s sake!"

Shock.

Pure, undeniable shock.

Those vivid blue eyes of his, so infuriatingly piercing, widened. Eyebrows raised, lips parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. It's as if he doesn't believe you just said that. As if he just realised the seriousness of the situation. You saw his chest start to rise faster, not sure if from the cold…. or from panic.

"I don’t want you to -" he started, his voice breaking slightly, even softer than before.

But you crossed your limits.

"You won, okay!?" you cut him off, voice sharp, loud and trembling. The words spilled out of you like a flood, raw, unrestrained "You can rub my face in your victory now! I don’t care anymore! Torment me, mock me, laugh at me - now’s your time!"

His eyes narrowed, confusion clear as his brow furrowed "What?"

"Do it! Now’s the time where you can laugh all you want, insult me all you want - because now, at least, you have a reason!"

"I- " he tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him.

"Tell me what a failure I am!" you suddenly cried "Tell me how I mean nothing, how all my efforts have gone to waste, how I’m worthless! Because now, at least, I’ll admit you’re right!"

"Stop-" he started, but his words fell flat against the force of your pain.

"Tell me how all your life you knew you were better!" you shouted, hands shaking as you gripped the sleeves of your jakcet "Tell me I’m an idiot, that I’ve always been dumb! Laugh in my face, mock me, just finish me! Say all the things you’ve been thinking, all the things you’ve wanted to say - just say it!"

Your voice broke completely, the words tumbling into a sob "You can finish me..." you choked "Come on. Just… just do it!"

This was to much, you felt so so much.

He was so disoriented. You could see this by his reaction.

"Because I'd believe you'd laugh than suddenly care what happens to me." you chocked.

Silence.

Tears blurred your vision. You were done pretending to have any pride left. You've had enough of everything. You didn't understand his reaction, his sudden tenderness confused you, everything was so wrong. You just wanted to get back to normal, when you - and everything had it's place.

But no, suddenly the world has turned - you don't have your technique, your father will probably disown you, and your rival and bully is suddenly trying to be nice. You don't want to be here anymore. You don't know how to find yourself in this world and you don't know how to talk about it.

It's humiliating to cry in front of him, you know it, but you don't care. You let it all out, just like the water from before.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, jaw tight. You could barely see through the fact that you sobbing next to him, hiding your face and bringing your legs to your chest.

"No." he whispered.

You blinked at him, raising your head, confused "What?"

"No." he repeated, louder this time, his voice firm but trembling "I’m not going to mock you."

You let out a loud bitter laugh, shaking your head "Of course not. Because you don’t even have to, do you? I’ve already done it for you."

"That’s not-" he cut himself off, shortening the distance between you "You’re wrong."

"About what?" your voice breaking again "About being a failure? About being nothing? Tell me what part of that is wrong?"

"All of it." he confirmed, voice steady now, glowing eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart clenched "Every single word. You’re not nothing. You’re not a failure. And I swear to God, if you say that again, I’m going to-"

"To what?" you challenged "Save me again? Drag me out of the lake and lecture me about how I should see the bright side of losing everything? Spare me the pity, Gojo. I don’t need it."

"It’s not pity!" his voice ringing loud, showing that emotions were also building up inside him. Unexpectedly, two large hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him, to stare at two glowing blue dots "I’m not here because I pity you. I’m here because-" he faltered, voice catching as his breath hitched, his thumbs brushing against your cold, damp skin "Because I care."

The silence that followed was deafening. You froze, your face dropping as the weight of confession hit you like a tidal wave. He wonders if you know how much it cost him to tell you this directly. You, you wonder if what he says is a joke.

He... what?

His hands stayed on your face, steady despite the way they trembled slightly "I wanted to talk to you." the voice that came out of him was so quiet, so full of affection, that it was almost nothing like his "I started looking for you as soon as I got back from the mission. I wanted to... I don’t know, do something. Anything."

You burst out laughing bitterly, the sound sharp and raw in the stillness. It felt absurd, impossible. Gojo Satoru, your rival, the person you’d been compared to all your entire life, the one who mocked you, humiliated you endlessly, competed with you relentlessly - suddenly was caring about you?

You don’t believe him - because how could you?

For so many years, he had been the same infuriating presence in your life, treating you with an air of superiority and, at times, outright disdain. His words had cut shar, leaving wounds you’d carried silently for years.

There wasn’t a single thing he hadn’t laughed at. Your hair, he’d compared it to the end of a broomstick. Your smile? He’d once called it a donkey’s grin - or whatever the Japanese equivalent it was, delivered with his trademark smirk that made you want to slap it off his face. Your taste in music? "Cheesy pop thrash" And your clothes? Oh, that was his favorite target "Are you dressing ironically?" he’d asked once, tilting his head with mock curiosity "Or is this a social experiment I missed?" It didn’t stop there. He even mocked the way you walked once, calling it "Too stiff, like you’re auditioning for a role as a wooden puppet"., the way you ate "You attack food like it owes you money." and even the way you carried your books "Why are you holding them like that?" he’d said, mimicking your grip dramatically "You're so weak that you can't hold them properly?"

So yeah, it was laughable.

He may have saved you and you may want to believe in what he says, but you are just not able to.

Can you really blame yourself?

Well, kinda, because you were the one making out with him every other day. You might have believed that he liked your attention, that he might have wanted you - but you wouldn't believe that he wanted to care about you.

You reached up and pulled his hands off your face, your cold fingers brushing against his quite warm ones "Don't give me that. What could you supposedly do?" you asked, voice dripping with disbelief and mockery. The cold seeping back into your body now that his touch was gone

"Anything." he said, his words still tumbling out, almost frantic "Talk, sit with you, I don’t know - something. I- " he stopped, his own frustration bleeding into his voice "I don’t know." his eyes were so pleading.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to stop the tremors as you looked away "Don't bother." voice low, void of fight "Doesn't matter now. My father is picking me up tomorrow."

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I have heard too many versions, all from different people, of what my father supposedly planned that - that I don't know..." you paused, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you forced yourself to say these words.

You wanted to say that you were afraid, that you didn't know what to do, that you felt you had let everyone down, that nothing made sense to you now.

That it was too much.

That you didn't allowed yourself any form of comfort.

"I know one thing, though." you hesitated, the weight of your next words heavy, but you looked up, meeting his gaze with trembling resolve "I’d rather die now, than live my life as a clan failure."

He growled, frustrated, as if nothing is working on his favour. As if he was breaking.

"Who cares what the clan thinks? Who cares about anything they say?" Gojo’s voice rising, desperate and insistent, his words coming faster now, blabbering "They’re a bunch of old fools who don’t know what they’re talking about! You are more than their expectations. You are more than your technique. You are - "

Maybe he wanted to comfort you that way or maybe he wanted you to believe his tale of him 'caring about you'.

But you had already made up your mind.

Gojo knew that you might not believe him in what he was saying now, he knew, that you would be angry with him for all that he has done- you were right - you should be. What he didn't predict, however, was that you would know him well enough to know this one hidden truth about him.

What you say now will leave a mark on him for years. You frowned, voice totaly sure of the words you're saying.

"Don’t preach to me about things you don’t even believe yourself."

You hadn’t spoken since that night by the lake.

Not when you were picked up, your father’s silence mirroring your own as you sat stiffly beside him, staring out the car's window. Not when he informed you of your new path with the cold efficiency of a man making a business transaction.

Your age wasn't very favourable for this, admittedly - you should have started your training as a maiko a long time ago, wanting to become a geiko. However, your father, using his connections, found a place that will accept you for training. He found an okiya in Kanazawa that from now on - will be your temporary home.

You didn’t fight him. You didn’t speak at all. You have done enough.

The years that followed were grueling in their own way, though nothing compared to what you’d endured before.

Training as a maiko demanded a different kind of perfection, a complete transformation of body and mind. The disciplined, precise movements of martial arts you had once mastered - were now replaced by the elegant, deliberate grace of traditional dance. Every step, every turn, every motion had to flow with effortless beauty, concealing the pain and time it took to perfect them.

You hated every second of it.

Your figure changed over time, slimming down in ways you hadn’t anticipated and curving in a few other places. You "got smaller", your once powerful frame softening into something more delicate, more feminine. Your reflection in the mirror became even stranger - a porcelain doll painted and adorned to please others. Gone were the rugged hands that once wielded cursed tools, now they held fans, makeup brushes, creating beauty where you once brought destruction.

The contrast was unbearable.

You missed the fight, the passion, the adrenaline, the raw exhilaration of your old life. Sometimes, as you trained with the fan, your body betrayed your mind, instinctively slipping into the stances meant for a sword. For your lost technique.

Every day felt like a reminder, a performance, not just for others but for yourself, as if pretending long enough might make you forget what you had lost.

But it didn't.

You never completely left your old self behind; the memory of that person remained vivid, etched into your mind. Recalling the past -missions, getaways, trainings, fleeting moments of triumph and connection - became a daily ritual. Nostalgia and grief intertwined, two of many companions that you had learned to live with, their weight both comforting and unbearable.

Despite it all, he kept reaching out to you.

Gojo’s messages came daily at first, long, rambling texts filled with details of his day - missions, strange encounters, little jokes he’d picked up along the way. He sent pictures of things he thought might make you laugh: a badly drawn doodle of you scowling, a ridiculous meme, a cursed object that looked suspiciously like a poorly designed toy. Each message carried a tone of casual insistence, as though he were trying to prove his point - that he cared. Or perhaps he was trying to reshape your relationship, to turn you from the rival he mocked constantly into something else, maybe - a friend.

Eventually, the messages slowed. Whether it was his own frustration, the demands of his life, or something else entirely, you didn’t know. You didn’t care to know. Cutting yourself off from him, from everyone, was the only way you knew how to endure.

At some point, you stopped reading them altogether. The weight of shame pressed down on your chest, suffocating any inclination to respond. You couldn’t face him - or anyone from your past. The person they knew was gone, and what remained of you was too broken, too hollow, to withstand their judgment or pity.

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly, dragging you deeper into a pit of self-doubt. You convinced yourself that no one could possibly care for who you were now - powerless, dull, and unremarkable. What was left of you wasn’t worth saving, and surely, he had to see that too. Eventually, you were certain, he would stop trying. And that thought, as much as it pained you, felt like the only mercy left.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself hovering over his messages, tempted to open them. The thought of catching a glimpse of the snippets of his life - once so intertwined with yours - felt like a small, guilty comfort.

But no, you didn't do it.

Years just passed, and the day of your Kurokami, the ceremonial debut marking your transition to full-fledged geiko, arrived. Your father had spared no effort, inviting everyone of importance - every known clan in the jujutsu world, their representatives gathered on the sprawling estate for a grand celebration steeped in tradition and political maneuvering.

It wasn’t about you. It was never about you.

This was a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated display of your father’s influence and connections. Each guest, each detail, was part of a greater plan to cement alliances and further his ambitions. You were just another piece of that plan, an accessory to his power.

The highlight of the evening was the final dance of a maiko, the moment of transition - a symbol of beauty and accomplishment in its purest form. But it wasn’t your dance. It wasn’t you, his daughter, he didn't even introduce you.

No, you were just a dancer now.

You entered the stage in silence, your heart slowing as the soft glow of the spotlight bathed you in its warmth. The muted chatter of the crowd faded into an expectant hush, the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing down on you. The air felt thick, heavy with the unspoken demands of the evening. The elaborate kimono you wore seemed to amplify that weight, its intricate embroidery shimmering under the light. Each layer of fabric, from the trailing hikizuri hem to the opulent obi tied with meticulous care, felt like a chain binding you to the role you were expected to fulfill.

The role that you didn't like.

The adornments on your hair - a delicate array of golden combs and jade pins - added to the strain, each piece glinting like a reminder of the perfection demanded of you. Even the subtle fragrance of incense clinging to your garments seemed to emphasize your place in this performance: a symbol, a display, but never a person.

Your movements, however, betrayed none of your inner turmoil. You moved with the fluidity that had been drilled into you for years, every step and turn perfectly calculated. The soft clack of your lacquered sandals against the polished wood echoed through the room, a rhythm as precise as the dance itself. Each motion was a testament to your training, your arms flowing gracefully as though carried by the air.

And then you saw him.

He’d changed. A lot. The years had shaped him into someone sharper, more refined, though the essence of him - remained unmistakable. His snow-white hair was still its signature mess, but it seemed more intentional now, as though he’d taken the time to style it. The glasses he wore were different, darker and sleeker, framing his face in a way that gave him an air of maturity you weren’t prepared for. Somehow, impossibly, he seemed even taller.

Even more handsome.

You couldn’t remember every detail of his face - time had eroded those memories - but some things stayed vivid. You remembered his hands cupping your face that night by the lake, trembling and warm despite the chill. You remembered the look in his eyes, desperate, as if trying to hold onto something slipping through his grasp. Those moments had etched themselves into your mind in ways you hadn’t dared to revisit.

Is it bad that you missed seeing him?

At first, his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted as though he’d been caught mid-thought. His usual cocky smirk, the one you had come to know and despise - was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a stunned stillness to him, an uncharacteristic vulnerability that made your chest tighten. Those piercing blue eyes, always so vivid, widened as they traced your figure.

You could see the faint flicker of recognition in them, the way his gaze darted across you as if trying to reconcile the person before him with the one he had known.

You couldn’t glance at him as much as you wanted to, though the urge tugged at you with every turn, every delicate gesture. The temptation was a steady hum beneath your practiced composure, but you ignored it.

Whatever he felt, whatever you felt, didn’t matter. Not here. Not now.

It was the longest performance you've ever done.

When your it ended, the room erupted into applause, a symphony of polite enthusiasm filling the grand space. Guests turned to your father, their compliments flowing freely, every word dripping with veiled flattery.

"What a remarkable performance, truly exquisite." one elder said, nodding with approval. He said this loud enough that you could hear him.

"Master, your planning is unmatched." said another, their tone measured and calculated "A brilliant highlight for the evening."

But not him.

He didn’t join the chorus of praise. He didn’t clap. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, silent, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt like it might swallow you whole. The weight of his gaze burned hotter than any ovation, lingering on you as though he were trying to reach across the distance, trying to say something without words. Maybe something like - look at me again.

You didn’t dare to do this again, too afraid to face him, to face the reality of all you’d ignored: the messages you’d left unread, his attempts to connect with you, his clumsy, awkward texts filled with jokes and small glimpses of his life. You couldn’t bear the thought of the weight in his gaze reflecting those unanswered words, those years of silence between you.

Instead, you kept your head high, your back straight, your movements precise as you exited the stage. You didn’t need to see his face to feel his disappointment - or his persistence. It lingered in the air, following you even as you stepped out of the light.

788 notes · View notes

nightwngz · 1 year ago

Note

Older bat! Damian with super or wonder reader who's like sheltered and oblivious to the real world and they go on a mission or smith together and the whole times she's just doing whatever he says because that's what she's used to and he's just like damnn and finds that really attractive

— 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ! ☆

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble smut. porn with a plot. dirty talk. fingering. Damian uses Arabic nicknames.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I don't know how I feel about myself today, but I decided to write this for you anyway. I hope you like it. <3

It was one of the first times you, a young girl exiled from the real world and born on an island paradise inhabited only by women, had contact with what was considered 'the real world.' You were not yet accustomed to many things, especially the existence of men, or perhaps men like Damian Wayne.

On Themyscira, you were used to following orders. When the Queen or your trainer told you to "do this," you knew exactly what to do. But when you joined the Justice League and met Batman, you initially believed you were supposed to act the same way. You soon realized that maybe you should have listened when Jon told you to ignore him completely.

At that moment, Damian Wayne, now known as Batman, was the last person you wanted to be trapped with in a situation like this. The two of you were locked in a reinforced room with no way out, where neither your strength nor your wits could help you get out. So you found yourself trapped with the one man who liked to bark orders like he was the king of Gotham.

— You really don't know what to do? — He asked, annoying you again. — Before, Wonder Women were effective.

However, you tried to heed Jon's advice; thus, you responded to him without intending to participate in his game.

— Yes, and in my land, men didn't even exist. So I'm just getting used to working with the inefficiency of one.

Damian slowly approached the box you were sitting in with an annoying grin on his face.

— In fact, I am a detective. Of course I know how to get out of here.

Your confused expression made him smile even harder at your confusion. You weren't sure if it was fair to feel like a complete idiot, but that was exactly how you felt at that moment. Besides, you didn't like him at all.

— And you never thought to open the door, or are you just trying to annoy me by making me live with you?

— Actually... — He replied, moving even closer to you. — I'm testing you. Go and open the door as best you can — He finally ordered.

And as if it were a sacred word, you stood up, determined to open the door to the room at any cost. At first, you tried to break it down with blows, but your strength wasn't enough. It was probably made of some incredibly strong material, possibly of alien origin.

— Try pulling the doorknob with your lasso — he suggested, and once again, you listened.

Damian couldn't help but find the way you obeyed like a trained dog incredibly attractive. Deep down, he felt that he had you at his mercy and that no matter what he asked you to do, you would listen.

Totally exhausted from the effort, you knelt on the ground, but you didn't give up. Feeling sorry for you, he reached over to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.

— Pretty obedient little thing. — He flattered, lifting your chin so you could look him in the eye. — You don't know how to say no, do you?

A wave of intense heat enveloped you. Perhaps it was the first time you had ever found yourself in an intimate situation with someone, as you had always believed that your body was trained solely for an impending war. Yet, when Damian was around, that was the one purpose of your training you occasionally forgot.

— If I asked you to take off your underwear, would you be so obedient, habibati?

Your cheeks reddened immediately. You knew you should avoid this kind of situation, but having been trained on the island, you understood that you had to follow the orders of a superior. Batman was more experienced than you, making him your superior, and you felt obligated to obey him.

Immediately your panties fell down under the metal skirt of your suit, exposing your pussy to the man in the room.

From what you knew about men, you noticed they often looked for specific qualities in women. However, Damian had never shown any boldness towards you. As time passed, the 'sexual tension' that Jon had mentioned began to feel more like an annoyance.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he smiled as usual. But his smile was not one of despair; it was one of desire.

He knelt down to be at the same height as you. Gently, he slid a finger down your soaked pussy while keeping his eyes on yours, watching for any reaction on your face.

You understood what he was doing and how he was touching every part of the anatomy between your legs with precision. What you didn't understand was how he was so skilled at it.

You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him gently pinch your now throbbing clit. His touch drove you crazy as you felt waves of pleasure crash against you.

— Damn, what a good girl. Sorry to tell you, Habibati... I have a weakness for obedient women.

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #batboys #smut #batman

1K notes · View notes

lunavelha · 1 year ago

Text

Come Back, be here.

Paring : Laxus Dreyar x f!reader.

Word Count : 3381.

Contains : Explicit content, beginning of smut, thigh riding. Minors DNI.

My note : English is not my main tongue, and i do not have any beta reader, so sorry if I have made any mistake ! Also, it was supposed to be longer, but I didn’t wrote a smut for such a long time that I stopped it before. I hope you can still enjoy it tho’ !

Be careful spoiler of tenor arc /!\

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

7 years. 7 long years had passed, so much pain had been caused by the disappearance of her friends, since he had disappeared. She hadn't had a chance to speak with him after he'd been exiled from the guild, and unfortunately, the last words they'd exchanged had been words of anger. It had started out as a small argument, but in just a few minutes it had grown into something much bigger.

Ever since that day, (y/n) had been replaying her own words over and over in her mind. She told herself that she could have understood his point of view better, that she shouldn't have been so mean or defensive, that she could have asked him to talk, to sit down, or at least to separate for a few minutes until he calmed down. (Y/n) now had to carry the guilt on her shoulders, now that he was gone, she would never have the chance to make amends.

She had needed to get as far away from the guild as possible, everything reminded her of Laxus, his place at the bar, the table where he usually sat with the Thunder God Tribe, or even just her house. His scent was still in the sheets, his clothes were still in the wardrobe. She'd never found the courage to take them off, she didn't want to lose him again. (Y/n) still had a small part of hope inside her that he wasn't dead after all, that he'd turn up on her doorstep and everything would go back to the way it was before. But she knew it was a lost cause, something she dreamt about every night.

And then one fine morning, Lamia Scale was there, saying that at last there might still be some realistic hope. The energy at the island hadn't completely disappeared, and was slowly building up again after all these years. (Y/n) had simply let her gaze wander to the horizon, but what if it wasn't true? Perhaps the magic really was returning to this place, but without giving their friends a chance of survival. The young woman had refused to go on an adventure with the others, but she could see that some of them were terribly happy, especially the members of Shadow Gear. She had no right to let her feelings get the better of her too, she had to keep a cold head, keep her hopes deep in her heart, and above all, not let anyone see it.

"-You can go home, it's possible they'll be back tomorrow, there's no real point in spending the night here. When they're back, don't worry, you'll know." Macao said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"-I...I don't even know why I'm still here. Every time they leave, we end up disappointed... If you only knew how much I want it to be the right one, for them to suddenly walk through the door, for Gray to strip, for Natsu to start fighting him, for Erza to try and separate them so that her cake gets destroyed, and for her to finally join in the fight too. And Laxus... Even if he came back, could he come back to the guild? Would he want to talk to me..." She looked at the guild leader, before shaking her head. "-I'm just at my breaking point sometimes."

"-Go get some rest, you're back from a mission. But we're here, we can support you, okay? Whether it's tomorrow, or even for years, we're with you. One day we'll understand, one day I'm sure we'll find them." He nodded to her towards the door. "-I'll walk you out, Romeo's still outside, you know how he's been since..."

"-He lost Natsu, we all know how much he admires him. He's like me on this one, too much hope ends up hurting, he's protecting himself."

Macao and (y/n) left the guild, walking through the streets of Magnolia. The young woman looked around, trying to find Romeo, it was a way for her not to think about what was going to happen in the next few hours at least. Once at Magnolia South Park, (y/n) noticed Romeo sitting against the tree, looking around. He too didn't want to get his hopes up. Telling Macao that she could finish on her own, she left him to go and talk to his son.

The young woman arrived home a few minutes later, and sat down on her sofa, looking in front of her, where on the small table was a drawing of the Thunder God Tribe, a gift from Reader.

The only thing she could do now was wait, and above all, hope to see her lifelong love alive again.

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

Hours had passed without any real news. (y/n) finally got up and stood in front of the window, trying to see someone from the guild approaching. But no one came. When there was a sudden knock on the door, she frowned, wondering who it could be, and went straight to open it.

Behind her was Bisca, a slight smile on her face. It was surprising, since she hadn't seen her coming from the guild, perhaps she came here from the boat?

"-I figured you'd be here." She smiled at him, "-Come on, let's get back to the guild."

"-If you're here it's to say something, no need to leave to do so."

"-I'm not saying anything until we get back to the guild. Take your jacket or don't, but I'm not waiting for you."

The woman leaves her house, letting (y/n) stand here for a few seconds, wondering what she should do. She knew that she would be disappointed at the end, that they didn’t find anyone. But… what if ? What if he has come back ? Having finally made her decision, she left her house, barely taking the time to lock her front door. Bisca hadn't waited for her, and had already started on her way to the guild. (Y/n) had to run to catch up with her, coming to her side without saying a word.

A lump of anxiety had filled her stomach, and she could feel it growing as they walked.

After a few minutes, she stopped, hearing much more noise than usual coming from the guild. (Y/n) looked at Bisca, as if to ask if she was dreaming. So much noise could only mean one thing. A Fairy Tail party. A celebration. And so, the return of their companions, their friends, their family. The woman smiled gently at her, nodding. That was enough for (y/n) to start running, her heart beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. She didn't waste a second opening the door of the guild, discovering all those they had lost 7 years ago, all those they had mourned, cried.

And suddenly, in front of his eyes, was Natsu ruffling Romeo's hair, like a big brother would. Macao with Mirajane and Makarov chatting at the bar, probably making up for lost time. Erza with a slice of strawberry cake, while being with Alzack. Levy surrounded by Jet and Droy, crying non-stop as she tries to reassure them. Gildarts and Cana were at a table, a beer in front of each of them. Lisanna, Elfman, Lucy, Wendy, Gray, Juvia, Gajeel... Everyone was finally back.

She entered the room, attracting stares from her friends, but each of them said nothing - they knew who she was looking for. She too had the right to find him without being interrupted. Her gaze fell on his blond hair, and her eyes softened as tears quickly filled her eyes. Laxus turned around after Fried nudged him lightly, pointing to the young woman with a shake of his head.

Laxus rose from the bar, his gaze meeting the eyes of the woman he loved, the woman who had never really left his thoughts, the woman he had thought of directly when he woke up on this island. He was the first to move forward, realising that she must still be in a state of shock.

When he reached her level, he looked her up and down, realising that he had not kept his promise to always be there for her. For years she had been alone, she had suffered, she had probably had to fight. And he had simply disappeared from the face of the earth thanks to the Fairy Sphere. It was their only means of survival, and yet he blamed himself. Of course, Acnologia's arrival was not his fault, or that of anyone else in the guild, but he regretted his past actions. He'd been so blinded by it that he'd forgotten that behind it all, once the doors were closed, there was someone who loved him.

His hand rose to rest tenderly on her cheek, never taking his eyes off her for a second. He was trying to communicate his endless love for her, words had never really been his forte, but at this moment, he promised himself he would make an effort. She deserved it, she deserved all the happiness in the world, and Laxus wanted to be part of her happiness, he wanted to make her smile every morning when he kissed her, when he told her he loved her.

“-Laxus…” She whispers in a trembling voice.

“-I’m here now my love, I will never leave you again. I swear.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, smiling. “-I’m sorry for everything that happened in the past, I will make up to you, we will be happy if you still want us to be together.”

“-Of course I want us, I never even thought about leaving you. Now that you are here again, you are stuck with me.” She let out a small laugh, although you could hear the emotion in her voice.

The blond smiled at her tenderly, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, holding her against him as a few tears escaped from her eyes. The guild members around them looked on in delight. Makarov, the master, well, the former master, was happy to see his grandson reunited with the woman who loved him. Of course, he still couldn't understand how Laxus could have strayed from the straight and narrow by having someone like (y/n) by his side, but the main thing was that now, he wasn't just interested in possessing power.

Surprisingly, even Natsu hadn't said anything, he hadn't intervened to ask (y/n) to fight him, or Laxus. He'd realised that this wasn't the time, and it was one of the rare occasions when he finally understood the need not to be interrupted. Gray had done the same, not yet trying to provoke the pink-haired one, after all he could wait.

Once the reunion at the guild centre was over, (y/n) and Laxus headed towards the Thunder God Tribe to have a little more privacy. The young woman smiled at Freed, Bickslow and Evergreen; she'd had time to really get to know them since she was a child, but also in a different way as Laxus's girlfriend. Once the blond was seated, he pulled her closer to him, making her sit on his lap, putting a firm arm around her waist to hold her against his body.

“-You’re coming back to the guild right ?” She whispers to his only attention, looking at him expectantly.

“-I don’t know yet baby, for the moment I’m just happy to be here. I will speak to gramps later.”

“-Then you’re still living with me, I have your stuff in my closet.”

“-Of course, even if I didn’t want to, you would have kidnapped me, you little minx.”

The couple started to laugh, happy to finally be back together after so many years. She did not let him go, keeping her arms around him.

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

For the rest of the night, (y/n) stayed with Laxus, her face against his chest, finally complete again. The guild had slowly begun to empty, with those who had lodgings outside leaving to join him. The young woman couldn't help but feel sorry for her friends, as when they had disappeared, the guild had managed to pay some of the rent so that their debts weren't too high, but over the last 4 years, this had become totally impossible. Missions had become rarer and rarer, guide members were leaving, and the worst was during the Grand Magic Games. The guild's reputation had been destroyed in such a short space of time.

Laxus drew her attention by gently kissing her cheek, making her lift her face towards him so that she could meet his gaze. There was so much love in his eyes that (y/n) thought she might start crying again just from that.

"I love you.” She said softly, placing a hand on his jaw. "And I missed you terribly."

"I love you too". He grabs her hand and places a kiss on it. "Let's go home, shall we? I need to be forgiven.”

There was something in his gaze that instantly lit a flame in (y/n). It was a look she could recognise at any moment, something she could never forget. And it told her that her night was not about to end. The woman agreed, rising first, followed by Laxus, who wasted no time in taking her hand and pulling her out of the guild.

The walk to their shared flat seemed to last an eternity, with Laxus's firm hand still in hers, leading the way at a quick pace. He didn't even take a second to look around, the only thing that mattered to him at the moment was (y/n). He had never felt the need to be close to her so strongly, the need to kiss her, to show her his love, to prove to her that he had come back and that he would never leave her alone again.

No sooner had they entered their flat than Laxus pushed her against the door, pressing his lips directly against hers in a passionate, fiery kiss. The couple knew that if they had kissed in the guild, they would have ended up putting on a show that their friends would not have wanted to see. And all that tension was being released as the two came to lose themselves in each other's arms.

"-If you only knew how much I'd missed your lips." He said between kisses, his voice having suddenly become deeper, his hands had begun to venture down her body, reaching under her T-shirt to caress the soft skin of her stomach. "-I missed your body, your skin, your voice, everything about you."

"-Laxus..." She intervenes in a low voice, meeting his gaze. "-I need you so much, please." Her voice became more plaintive, almost begging.

“-I know baby, but you gotta wait.” He replied softly, continuing to kiss her.

They kissed again, Laxus gently running his tongue over her lips before nibbling her bottom lip. At his movement, (y/n) let out a plaintive moan. Between her thighs, she could already feel the moisture building up, and only the desire to see the blond man take care of it filled her mind. However, he seemed determined to discover her body again, as if it were their first time. (Y/n) came and put his arms around her shoulders, bringing him even closer to her. She could feel a lump forming against her, but knew better than to say anything to him, the tension had to be built up, they both had to get closer to the edge, the better they would fall.

The blonde only broke the kiss for a few seconds, just long enough to look at his girlfriend, her eyes slightly moist, filled with passion and desire. A desire that only he was capable of satisfying. This thought only excited him even more, and he came back to kiss her fiercely, removing his own jacket at the same time and letting it fall to their feet. (y/n)'s jacket joined it only moments later.

Their body temperature seemed to have risen a hundred degrees in just a few minutes, and all it took was one kiss to fill them with excitement.

The couple began to explore each other's bodies over the top of their clothes, and Laxus was the first to put his hands under her top again to touch her body. Sensing (y/n)'s curves, he broke the kiss they were sharing, nibbling her neck to put a few love marks on it, leaving his mark, showing everyone that she was his, and his alone.

“-Such a good girl for me, so sweet, so soft.” His deep voice sent shivers down (y/n)'s spine, making her close her eyes as she looked forward to the next step.

“-Please, please, I’ll be good for you, but please, just touch me already.”

He clicked his tongue lightly, shaking his head as he looked at her disapprovingly. Slowly, he raised a hand, catching her jaw.

"I taught you to be patient, have you forgotten everything already? It's all right, we'll start again from the beginning."

Laxus looked at her, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. He intended to take his time, of course, but he could only understand her desire, her needs. The blond was going to tease her, but in the end, she would be the one to have the last word.

(Y/n) smiled softly, she could feel that he wanted to touch her as much as she did, and yet he held back. The blond returned to kiss her neck just after he had removed her T-shirt, revealing her bra, and using one of his hands, he untied the last piece of clothing, leaving her breasts for him to see alone. Laxus turned his gaze to it, placing one of her breasts in his hand, taking her nipple between two fingers and beginning to touch it. As for the second, he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. The young woman quickly began to moan, throwing her head back against the front door.

She had waited so long to feel his touch, to feel the pleasure that only he could make her feel for 7 years, 7 long years. Laxus was a desperate man, he wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, so he came to torture her chest, coming to knead her breasts one after the other.

(y/n) felt her body getting hotter and hotter, the fire completely overwhelming her at the sensation Laxus was making her feel. The blond looked up at her, before slowly moving his second hand down to his trousers, unzipping them. She didn't waste another second sliding them down his legs. He pulled his mouth away from her, putting his arms around her waist to carry her.

Quickly, he took the common path to the bedroom, before sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving her on his lap. She came to kiss him, putting her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed against his chest.

Laxus's hands came to rest on her buttocks as he quickly devoured her lips. Their tongues began a dance together, both with their eyes closed, and both craving each other more and more. The blond came to move her against him, and the young woman moaned into his mouth as she felt her humidity rub against the blond's trousers, giving him a much-needed rub for his crotch.

“-Go ahead baby, come on, use me.”

(y/n) didn't hesitate, starting to accelerate against him. Laxus's fingers became firmer on her buttocks, helping her with her movements. He didn't waste a second of the show, his face concentrated on hers, watching her eyebrows furrow with pleasure, her eyes close as soon as one of the rubbing strokes touched her clitoris particularly well, her half-open mouth letting out moans of pleasure.

“-I know you’re getting closer, baby girl. Does it feel good ? Do you like using my legs for your little pleasure ? We have the entire night for it, you have no idea of how much orgasm I will give you.”

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

©Lunavelha

Do not repost somewhere else, do not translate, or use in any way.

#fairy tail #fairy tail laxus #laxus dreyar #fairy tail x reader #laxus x reader #laxus smut #laxus dreyar x reader

895 notes · View notes

fastlikealambo · 1 year ago

Text

holy crowns || paul atreides x black! reader

summary: it was supposed to be your sister, your bene gesserit trained sister molded by the great houses, spy for the imperium. with no warning, paul chooses you instead and changes your life forever. some call him messiah, others an abomination, but you will call him husband.this will be a multi chapter work and 18+only. note: hello! this takes place after the events of dune part two and Paul is about to become emperor. Irulan and her father are in exile and Chani is gone. thank you for reading! if you wish to see the story continue on beyond this chapter, please comment or reblog!

@drunkennunicornn

@fanfiction-addict22

@wonderpals02

@qveendiorsworld

@turn-thy-paige

@hoyoooo

@oscarissac2099

@inesven

@blahzaiblahsheep

CHAPTER ONE

THE MUAD'DIB CHOOSES A BRIDE.

Blood and roses.

“I told you to be careful.” Your sister chided in a motherly tone, despite being only one year older than you, handing you a small handkerchief. With a mouthful of pins, you uttered a small sound of gratitude and used your non-injured hand to finish the task of placing metal rose hair pins in her braided crown. You’d be in Arrakis in less than an hour but your sister wanted her last precious moments alone to be with you.

“There, done. My sister, the jewel of the outer world and now Arrakis, I still can’t believe this is happening. Do you think he will be kind?” You asked, straightening up to face your sister in the mirror.

You shared the same deep brown skin and nose of your father but that was where the similarities ended. Both of your mothers had been models of the Bene Gesserit order but only one of your mothers had been made wife of a Duke, and the other a concubine, no less loved.

Until your mother passed, leaving you alone to face rumors of her madness. As you grew so did the stories of the concubine who lost her way and denied herself spice and in turn, denied you of a mother and the protection of the order that trained her and your sister.

“Paul Atreides is an abomination, a tainted nova and your sister will make him anew, his kindness is of no importance. You may go, your sister and I need to speak.” Reverend Mother Mohiam said from her place in the doorway.

“I only need a few more minutes with my sister Reverend Mother, we’re nearly ready.” Your sister said, hand in yours.

GO.

A thousand and one tiny cuts into your brain, you found yourself outside of your sister’s room frozen in place.

You still remember the day Reverend Mother came to take your sister away to train under the sisterhood.You made the mistake asking why, why could you not go together.

“You carry your mother’s agony. You are not sufficient, there is no bite within you, human child. My order has no need of sentient infirmity.”

The Reverend Mother was correct.

What was to be your life after your sister was gone?

Where would your path lead?

There was no place for agony among the stars.

The heat of Arrakis resembled a distraught lover, sloppy kisses of sweat covered your body, the breeze that accompanied the opening of your ship doors held no comfort.

You stood behind your sister, poised to pick up the train of her gown the moment your house would disembark the ship but for some reason, no one could leave yet.

Over her shoulder, your sister smiled, stretching her hand behind her back for you one last time. Yet before you could take it, your sister froze, a sudden faraway look in her eyes. Through your veil you watched her eyes widen, her hands clenched into fists.

“He’s coming here! The Muad'Dib is boarding the ship!” A guard whispered fiercely to another.

No one seemed to notice what was happening but before you took a step towards your sister, her gaze was fixed on you. Despite the heat, you were freezing beneath her stare, unsure if it was your sister or the Bene Gesserit acolyte looking upon you.

The sound of marching feet and chanting distracted you both and all aboard the ship including fell to their knees, the Reverend Mother the only exception. You stood with the others, eyes to the floor, hands shaking as someone made their way down the line, your father making introductions as an attempt at conversation but there was only silence in return.

You waited for the footsteps to end at your sister but they continued on, barely masked gasps filled the now crowded ship and a pair of boots entered your line of vision.

REMOVE YOUR VEIL.

The trembling in your fingers instantly vanished and with otherworldly precision, you removed the veil from your face, the silk sliding down the back of your braids and to the floor.

The Muad’Dib was looking at you.

“Her.”

One by one, every Feydakin behind him took a knee and your house got over their confusion quickly, copying the motion, your sister, eyes wet, included.

Paul Atreides bowed before you, blue within blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Welcome to Arrakis.”

That’s our first chapter, I hope you like it! If you would like to see chapter two, please interact with this chapter, comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

#paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x black!reader

960 notes · View notes

l0relaii · 5 months ago

Note

Okay so you know that scene where Mike asks jess if she's wants to invite josh up with them to the cabin?

So...

Mike x josh x reader because reader actually decided to invite josh up hdjshdgeb I need them both

he refused when jess asked "really? " , he wouldn't make that mistake with me..

you were all at the lodge for a weekend getaway and josh just told you about this guest cabin where you could spend the night

because last time you were there the whole lodge heard you and mike in your shared room

you were excited, to say the least

you could finally fuck the sense out of mike without worrying about being heard by anyone

"i can't believe he's sending us away"

"yeah well, if you weren't so goddamn loud last time maybe we wouldn't have to go now"

"me? loud? i'm sorry missy but i remember that YOU were the one who woke up the whole mountain last year"

"excuse me? so you're telling me i'm the reason we're being fucking exiled?"

"that's a bit harsh, i think sex-iled is more fitting for our situation.."

you burst out laughing. of course he made you laugh in the middle of your argument. well, you couldn't be mad at him anyways 🤷‍♀️

you're suddenly startled by josh appearing in the doorway with some keys that he throws at you , which you figured were for the cabin

"hey porn stars! you're gonna need these"

"porn stars?"

"i'd pay to see it"

"i bet you would.."

"i'm sorry to kick you out like this but i think some of us would like to get some sleep tonight"

"no worries man"

"i'm sure you're gonna find a way to.. entertain yourselves"

"mhmm.."

"oh, i almost forgot, you gotta fire up the generator so you can see where you're going.. it's dark out there"

then you see him disappearing back into the lodge, walking awfully slow, like he's expecting something

"i think josh was flirting with us"

"mkay? you wanna invite him up with us?"

"hell yeah"

"wait, i wasn't serious-"

"well i am"

"what the-"

"HEY JOSH? could you maybe help us with that generator thing?"

you see him coming back with a smirk on his face while adjusting his beanie. oh he knows what he just did

the walk to the cabin was kinda silent, but what were you expecting? should you ask him if he ever had a threesome before?

maybe that was his thing? maybe he liked joining couples

you certainly saw how he was rooting for chris and ash to get together and you kinda started to understand why 👀

you started to regret your spontaneous decision to invite josh, you remembered the shock on mike's face.. what if he gets more mad?

but then you saw it. the way he looked at you two and the bulge in his pants. oh he wanted this as much as you did..

when you got to the guest cabin you settled down on the couch while josh started a fire. oh he was attractive, very attractive, that's the main reason you invited him here

you couldn't help but stare at his arms as he fiddled with the fire wood and the matches

maybe he could lose that stupid beanie..

and you decide to help him with that

you sit up from your spot on the couch leaving mike to stare at you as you walk towards josh who's still crouched down next to the fire and you yank his beanie off

"eager, aren't we..?"

he sits up facing you and grabs your ass pulling you into him

you hear mike's breath hitch and the sound of his belt buckle

you don't even know how or when all your clothes disappeared and you made it on the bed

but now you're sat on josh's cock with your back pressed against his chest while one of his hands is squeezing and pinching your breast

mike is sat in front of you stroking his cock rapidly while watching the way josh is pounding into you

"mmfuck man, is she always so tight?"

"d'you like her?"

"hell yeah i do"

he accentuates every word with harsh thrusts into your cunt making your eyes roll to the back of your head

his hands push you forward so now you're on all fours with your head close to mike's leaking cock.

without even being told you wrap your lips around it while josh is still thrusting into you from behind

"ohh look at you babe.. so fucked out by josh but still craving my cock.."

#anon ask #until dawn #until dawn x reader #until dawn smut #until dawn mike #mike munroe #mike munroe x reader #until dawn mike x reader #mike munroe smut #josh until dawn #joshua washington #josh washington x reader #until dawn josh #josh washington #until dawn josh x reader

161 notes · View notes

the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 1 year ago

Text

Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that.

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you.

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

#tim drake #batfam #red robin #dc robin #jason todd #good parent bruce wayne #dick grayson is nightwing #damian wayne is a little shit #tim drake is a menace #jason todd is red hood #jason todd is a little shit #fluff #light angst #bart allen #young justice #conner kent #tim drake loves coffee #tim drake centric fic #timkon

458 notes · View notes

weclassygirl · 8 months ago

Text

visions

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: the high king makes his judgement, a new path opens

warnings: none

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: here we go, part two for bound… and soon more to come, let me just get their story straight. enjoy!

”The Woodland Realm has exiled you, why should we aid and welcome you in Lindon?” no greeting, no smile, you already feel that this conversation will take a toll on you.

“Did you believe me to be dead? Or did you wish for it?” you ask and curse yourself for your tongue speaks quicker than your mind. Gil-Galad looks at you with disdain. You try to calm your growing anger. “Whatever Oropher told you is not true.”

“Is it not?” he questions and steps closer. The guards watch your every movement, waiting for you to slip up, to give them a reason to attack. “Were you not the Elf that nearly killed a fellow companion because her anger grew into rage?”

An accident. A mere accident that decided the fate of your life.

“I never meant for—“

“But you did.” he cuts you off. You look to Galadriel who stands next to Elrond, he turns away from your sight but the Commander watches the scene unfold.

You wrote to her, countless times to seek her aid. Elrond as well. All of your letters went unanswered and you thought that perhaps an order was given to burn any passage written by you.

Gil-Galad regards you. “You sought out that which is forbidden. Lindon, Greenwood or any other Elven realm will not stand by it.”

You look up at him, the golden crown that adorns his head, gleaming in the sun. He looked like an emissary from the Valar themselves. Your eyes travel to your hands, so much harm they once caused. Gil-Galad waits as you try to gather your words.

“If you wish to punish me, do so when the blade at my neck is yours. I will not be humiliated. Not again.” you say through your teeth.

The Elves whisper around you.

Witch.

Traitor.

Morgoth’s servant.

Banish her.

Send her away.

You hear another whisper, so quick you almost miss it. Almost.

“Defiance does not suit you.” Gil-Galad states. He looks down at your hands, the dark fingertips as if dipped in black ash. The marks on your body, some symbols and some written in Black Speech. The sight disgusts him and for a moment he pities you and what you’ve endured for centuries. “You will fulfill your punishment in Eregion.”

You gawk at the High King as he makes his decree. “Eregion?”

He returns to his place by the Tree and the guards flank your sides, ready to take you away. “Be glad it’s not my blade at your throat. You will be confined in chains at all times, ones that will subdue your magic. Lord Celembrimbor will see to it. He makes them as we speak.”

Chained once again. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, perhaps it’s best not to show any emotion while the others are looking. You let the guards take you away and you cast one last glance at Galadriel and Elrond. He meets your gaze finally and bows his head. You don’t know when you will see them again.

The guards chain you and tie your hands to the reins as the company gathers. You in the middle while four of them surround you. Most of the supplies for the journey were given to you, to weigh down your horse should you try to escape.

The road goes ever winding and after a few weeks of constant travel you reach the gates of Eregion. The Elves gather on their balconies, look through the arches to catch a glimpse at you.

The word has reached here as well.

You wonder why they take such interest in you but it is quickly dismissed. You dabbled in the dark arts, once made a mistake that scarred your path and were a prisoner of Morgoth, but you never served him faithfully, only to survive. The Elves had become paranoid.

The spell you cast was an accident, your companion was alive, received a wound in the process but survived.

Your curiosity however, you could never contain it and the darkness was alluring. It’s a shame to admit to it but it's a necessary truth.

However you don’t think yourself evil, yes you were quick to anger but who wouldn’t be after years of torture?

Celebrimbor stands in front of the gates with a man by his side, he holds a wooden box. When the guards help you come down from the horse you think of making a run for it but that would only prove your actions further.

Guilty and convicted.

One of the guards gives Celebrimbor a scroll, he reads through the letter from Gil-Galad with further instructions. He nods and twists the scroll back. He looks you up and down, your dress dirty at the hem, your wrists bound in shackles once again. You looked clean, no blood, no dirt, you never attacked the guards that accompanied you.

“Well then, I assume you never were to Eregion?” he asks out of pure curiosity.

“Once. Merely passing through.” you say and look around cautiously, Celebrimbor notices.

“Be at ease. You’re here in a form of punishment but I would like to see it as a form of shared work.”

You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “What will my duties be here?”

“You,” he starts and grabs the wooden box from the man beside him. When he opens it you notice two identical bracelets made of silver. “You will be an aid in my forge, however some… requirements must be fulfilled.” he explains and takes the bracelets. He steps closer and silently asks you to give you his hands. You do so hesitantly as you cling to your magic one last time.

He puts the bracelets on your wrists and tightens them ever so slightly, you would have to cut off your thumb if you wanted to free yourself and you did not want to witness that sight.

“This will hold your magic, you can still heal yourself and others should the need arise but until the High King gives a different command, they have to stay.” he taps them slightly and you think back to the way Sauron tapped your chains so often when coming up with another ways to seduce you into darkness.

He was persistent but you were glad you had someone to talk to, even if it was Morgoth’s right hand.

A shiver runs through you and your head whips back when you hear Black Speech in your ear. Celebrimbor looks the way your eyes fell but sees no one. “What is it?”

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “Nothing, I…“ you look back to where the sound came from. “…thought I heard something.”

The guards look at you as they mount their horses, ready to return to Lindon. One of them stays as he awaits a letter from Celebrimbor. He gives it to him, previously written since he knew you would not resist.

The Eregion guards take over and lead you to your chambers, as you settle and clean yourself up. You stand under a stream of water and look over at the bracelets, you try to tear them away, bent them out but the metal is sturdy. A perfect craftsmanship, you would expect nothing less from the grandson of Fëanor.

A knock comes at the door, the man that accompanied Celebrimbor at your arrival.

“If you’re finished I’ll take you to the forge.” he informs you and you follow him through the halls. You’ve put on a newer dress, the old one was the only piece of clothing you were left with on your journey to Eregion. The darker shade of blue fabric clung to your body and flew behind you with each step you took.

You visited Eregion briefly, a stop on your journey to Greenwood. You used to craft as well but never bore the talent such as Fëanor’s. You used magic to create whatever your heart desired, you used it when building your home in the north of Greenwood.

The woodwork became your craft rather than precious metals and as you enter the forge you begin to miss the comfort of your home.

The Elven smiths glance at you as you enter but continue with their work. Celebrimbor comes down from the gallery to show you around. “I believe you’ll come to enjoy it, I heard you once tried to create something as well.” he asks and you look down to the beaten ring you’ve made centuries ago. The black stone inside it broken but still held within the grasps of the uneven metal.

“A foolish attempt.”

He places a hand on your shoulder. “Not foolish. Perhaps with a bit more practice…” he says, leading you to a desk where a few jewelry pieces lay. Ring with green emerald, a necklace that shone like starlight, a golden bracelet with the most detailed design you’ve ever seen. Weapons laid there as well, shining metal in the dim light, handle wrapping around the blade. You stare in awe.

“Are you certain you have not bested Fëanor yet?” you ask genuinely but think that a bit of flattery on your end might help get out of your chains quicker.

Celebrimbor smiles and gestures to the forge. “Come, we have work to do.” and you follow.

You work for years under Celebrimbor, the Elven smiths have taken to converse with you even if at first they were avoiding you like a plague. With time you have learned to enjoy the craft, a slow process but it kept your life steady. No Morgoth, no torment, a temporary home.

The only pain you felt was the lack of magic in your life. You worked as a healer from time to time but it never compared to the dark arts. Your hands trembled at times as if trying to contain the power from bursting within you. And the visions didn’t help.

They came gradually, growing more persistent with each month of your stay in Eregion. A shadow, always the same and always cunning. It whispered into your ear, showed you the power you could possess. You almost gave in the first night it came.

But you felt it the most one day in the forge.

The same piercing pain you felt when you left Forodwaith. You hold to the table you’ve been working on, the saw and the pliers forgotten on it. The sound they made drew the attention of Mirdania.

“Are you alright?” she comes to your side as you claw at the fabric above your heart. You don’t hear her and shut your eyes as the ringing in your ears grows.

Celebrimbor hears the commotion and quickly comes to see the problem. When he sees you with your hands covering your ears his sight falls on the bracelets that subdue your magic. Could they have weakened?

But there’s nothing that would indicate that you used it.

Mirdania steps aside as Celebrimbor replaces her. His hands rest on your shoulders as you open your eyes. His voice is muffled as he calls your name.

“What’s happening?”

You shake your head, unable to answer and for a split second you see the same shadow behind him, it seems to be smiling.

Celebrimbor sees your frenzied eyes and tries to point where you’re looking at. The Elvensmiths gathered look helpless as no one knows how to help you.

The shadow vanishes as quickly as it came and the ringing in your ears stop. A drop of blood flows out of your nostril and you hear it as it falls to the ground. Your hand goes to your mouth and wipes away the blood, it’s then you notice your fingers. Where once they started to fade from the lack of dark magic, the mark showed up again.

Celebrimbor looks warily, the bracelets he forged would contain your power, he would know you used it even if done so unconsciously. The situation troubles him, the High King must be informed.

You grab him by his tunic as he stands up, the look on his face telling you his intention. “Don’t tell him, please. I didn’t use it, I swear.”

“How do you explain it then?” he points to your fingers curled around the fabric.

“It’s not my doing.”

“Then who’s?” he kneels down at your eye level.

You think over his question and dread the answer. You suggest Morgoth but would his influence still remain after all these years? You think of Sauron but you witnessed his death. Forodwaith is the only answer, centuries you spend there have left a mark, for you it’s the only explanation. You could not escape darkness even if you wanted to.

“He must be informed.” he leaves you with these words and you storm out of the forge. The guards close behind you as you run to the gardens and cover yourself underneath the shadow of a tree. It’s nearly dusk and you curse under your breath in every language you know. Black Speech makes its way on your tongue unconsciously and the guards tense up.

You stay there for a while until the cold wind beats against your skin. You look down at your hands and notice the black starting to fade once more, your head rests against your knees as you look ahead.

You close your eyes when you see it again, out of the corner of your eye but ever so watchful. It takes a form this time, not of a shadow but a man. You look away and his hand slithers under your chin to make you look up at him. When you do, you see perfectly green eyes and the stubble adorning his face, he looks at you so gently you nearly forget he’s the reason for your hauntings.

“Let it in.” he whispers. “A witch should practice her craft.”He returns to shadow and passes through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you wake up in your bed. You look around and hold your head in your hands.

What is happening?

next part -> deception

#i’m back with more #it will be a slowburn obviously cause i love to torture myself #sauron x reader #sauron #rings of power #lord of the rings #witch!reader #tolkien #elf!reader #hopefully I haven’t made a loophole for what I have in mind for the future parts

165 notes · View notes

yoursoulvisions · 2 days ago

Text

JUPITER IN THE ZODIAC SIGNS. PART 1

Jupiter in Aries

For a person with Jupiter in Aries, qualities such as optimism, enthusiasm, entrepreneurial spirit, and directness are characteristic. Natives with Jupiter in Aries are full of energy and always ready for action. They cannot sit still, they are constantly seeking new opportunities and adventures. They are brave, energetic, and self-confident, but can sometimes be impatient and egoistic. Their optimism is contagious and helps them overcome any obstacles. They strive for independence and dislike being told what to do. Therefore, they prefer to act independently and make their own decisions. Sometimes they act too impulsively, without thinking through the consequences of their actions. This can lead to mistakes, but they quickly learn from them. It is recommended that they learn to use their energy constructively and consider the interests of others.

Jupiter in Taurus

Jupiter in Taurus bestows upon the native practicality, sensuality, and a desire for comfort and stability. People with this placement of Jupiter know how to earn and manage money, value material comfort, and strive for financial independence. They enjoy the beauty of the world around them, appreciate art, and have good taste. In their actions, they rely on common sense and prefer stability and predictability. They are capable of working long and hard to achieve their goals, without being afraid of difficulties. However, they should avoid excessive attachment to material values and develop flexibility and adaptability, as sometimes they can be too stubborn and unwilling to accept necessary changes. The desire for material well-being can turn into a craving for accumulation. It is necessary to learn to find a balance between the material and the spiritual.

Jupiter in Gemini

Natives with this placement strive for new knowledge and experiences, love to learn and explore different areas of life. They easily make acquaintances, have the gift of persuasion, and know how to find a common language with different people. Jupiter in Gemini helps its owners look at the world positively and believe in the best, thus energizing those around them. Travel for them is a way to expand their horizons and gain new impressions, which may also be related to an interest in learning foreign languages. But not everything is as sweet as one would like, as Jupiter in Gemini is in its detriment (exile). Superficiality is characteristic of natives with this placement. They should learn to concentrate on one task and delve into it. They can quickly lose interest in something that recently seemed exciting to them. Therefore, it is necessary to develop perseverance and patience.

Jupiter in Cancer

Natives with Jupiter in Cancer have developed intuition and the ability to understand the feelings of others. They are always ready to support and help loved ones. They are generous not only materially but also emotionally. They are ready to share their love, care, and attention. They value family traditions, the history of their family, and feel a deep connection to their lineage. They often have culinary talents and love to cook for their loved ones. Home for them is associated with warmth, comfort, and delicious food. They are good at sensing the moods of others and can foresee the further development of events. Jupiter in Cancer can bring luck in matters related to real estate, home decor, and family business. Sometimes natives can be too sensitive and vulnerable. It is important for them to learn to manage their emotions and not take everything too personally. And, unfortunately, a love for home comfort and delicious food can lead to weight problems. Therefore, it is necessary to monitor their diet and lead a healthy lifestyle.

Jupiter in Leo

Jupiter in Leo is generous, magnanimous, self-confident, and craves recognition. Natives with this placement of Jupiter love to be the center of attention, possess creative potential, and strive for self-expression. They also love to give gifts and share their well-being with others. They enjoy seeing the joy and happiness of those around them. Natives with Jupiter in Leo are natural leaders, capable of leading others. Their positive attitude energizes those around them. They love luxury and entertainment, and sometimes can be too proud and egocentric. It is important for them to develop modesty and learn to appreciate not only their own but also others’ achievements. They are prone to dramatizing events and can exaggerate their emotions. They should not forget that attention needs not only to be received but also given. Developing empathy and the ability to listen to others will help avoid communication problems.

Jupiter in Virgo

Natives with Jupiter in Virgo are practical, modest, most often possess analytical abilities, and strive for perfection in everything. They approach problem-solving practically and rationally, are not prone to fantasies and dreams, preferring instead to act based on facts and logic. Natives with this placement of Jupiter are attentive to details, hardworking, and always ready to help. They are not afraid of routine work and are willing to put in a lot of effort to achieve their goals. They value order and cleanliness, but sometimes they can be too critical of themselves and others. They can also be prone to fastidiousness and excessive attention to detail. They need to learn to relax, find a balance between striving for the ideal and accepting imperfection, and not be too critical of themselves and others.

#astrology@soul_visions #astrology #jupiter@soul_visions #jupiter #astro blog #astro notes #astro tumblr #astro community #astro observations #natal chart #zodiacsigns

80 notes · View notes

ghrgrsfdesfrfg · 8 days ago

Text

Part 2 is here, it took some work and modifications but it is ready to go, i hope you will like it as you all liked part 1 !

Word count: 3263

Not proofread, i apologize for any grammar mistakes

Taglist: @baldieboi, @fantasticarcadefan , @fallen-angel2470 , @feral-childs-word, @bbmgirll

Huge credits to @baldieboi for many of the ideas present in this story and some paragraph are completely thanks to them.

Part 1 , part 3

Masterlist

This part focus more on the training so it's not as emotionnaly charged as Part 1 but Part 3 will contain wholesomeness with another character.

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

Gotham’s judge, jury and executioner, part 2

Exile and training :

Leaving Gotham really helped you in more ways than one. You could breath freely, think in peace and most importantly, you did therapy to get to term with Jason’s death. You were reassured that you weren’t to blame, in fact you’ve done more than most people would’ve and it lifted a huge weight from your shoulders.

Your first destination was Siberia, why ? You wanted to train your body in extreme temperatures and this included running in the biting cold, practicing martial arts and all around pushing your body to it’s limit to further enhance it.

This training was brutal at first, you didn’t go very far and you were freezing faster than anticipated but soon enough you were running for an hour without rest or pushing around logs with your arms, you felt the results of this training during the following weeks.

You also started hunting, this taught you to survive with what the environment gave you , to lay traps and adapt to any sudden changes. After all you could hunt a deer but stumble upon a bear so you’d learn from the villagers, prepare bait or makeshift bows to hunt.

Then you would wait in a makeshift shelter for hours, sometimes for nothing but other times you were lucky and would catch a prey, your patience was rewarded and you thought to master this patience to never rush in and stay focused no matter the situation.

You even started meditating like Bruce taught you all these years ago, it was apparently a good way to shut off part of the body and survive in extreme conditions if the body and mind is correctly trained. It came to a point where you were training in a short and T-shirt, the cold wasn’t as biting, the air was just fresh and you could meditate for hours in one single spot without freezing.

While most would disregard this as useless or a waste of time it would allow you to survive in extreme temperature against some villains like Mr Freeze without the need of a special suit, it also helped with your tolerance to pain.

When you were done training you’d come back to a small village near the forest where you were training, the villagers accepted you without too much trouble and you lived with an old couple who took you in. You reminded them of their grandson and they offered you a small room to sleep in, you thanked them profusely and started helping around the village when you weren’t training.

One day after a hunting trip, the old couple offered you a simple soup for dinner, it was the best they could give you but it was the best meal in your opinion, it was cooked with kindness. Most would call it tasteless in Gotham.

They suddenly grew concerned and told you to avoid a specific part of the forest for a time. Confused, you asked why and you learned of a local legend: Ursa Major.

A massive bear that plagued the region for years, it decimated the local animal population and would attack the livestock of the village. It even killed their grandson, they told you that many tried to kill it but despite years and years of hunting it never died as it was simply too dangerous.

You wished to offer them some closure and declared you’d hunt and kill the bear, the grandmother cried and begged you not to do it, it was way too dangerous even for you ! The grandfather however stood up and hugged you, quietly thanking you for doing this.

The next morning the entire village knew of your intentions and many wanted to accompany you however you declined stating that Ursa Major wouldn’t kill another being ever again, it wasn’t pride like some whispered, it was pure determination.

The chief gave you some supplies and you assured him that you would hunt for food if needed, he put his hand on your shoulder and called you the bravest boy he’d ever seen and from that old man ? It was the highest praise you could ask for.

You told them to not look for you if you didn’t come back after a week, not to come running if they heard a scream. In short they could do nothing, it was you or the bear and you intended to give the couple the closure they deserved.

With some tearful goodbyes you took your bow, some wooden spears and left for the forest, you had to head north, you never explored this area much because you had the feelings of being observed and that feeling would soon become true.

The forest was nothing short of gloomy and downright worrying, you made a small shelter and ate a can of beans. You didn’t dare make a fire, you’d be too exposed and drawing attention this early wasn’t good. When going to bed however, you didn’t notice the massive figure looking at your camp from the tree line.

The next couple days you saw less and less animals, a few carcass laying around but the lack of animals was a warning sign, you were in it’s territory and it was warning anything foolish enough to stay here that they were in danger.

You explored the area and laid a couple of traps ranging from a classic bear trap to a leaf covered pit and started using the trees as potential hideout, you didn’t trust the ground to sleep anymore.

The fourth day was where you finally saw it, you were refilling your gourd at a river when you saw Ursa looking at you from the other side of the riverbank.

You made no sudden move as it could run to you and if the water was shallow it would outrun you easily, you took some mental notes about him.

First, it was massive- no, massive wasn’t true, you saw some bears before but this one was at least double the size of any bear you’ve seen.

Secondly it was smart, too smart. It followed you to this river and only revealed itself when you were vulnerable, it was another warning.

And thirdly, it was covered in scars and you even saw some bullet holes, it was going to be a tough fight.

After this you adapted, you sacrificed some supplies to make a fake camp and left a recorder under the blanket, it would play the noise of someone snoring and you set up a camera up in a tree to overlook said camp to try to capture the bear on camera.

You weren’t disappointed, the next night you hid in a tree far away and spent most of the night looking at the footage, you were about to close the footage when Ursa appeared on screen, it sniffed around the camp and suddenly tore open the tent. It ripped the bag hoping to find you but received an empty bag instead, it roared loudly and left.

It was clear now, you were dealing with an apex predator and you angered it.

You then spent the entire fifth day preparing yourself and any weapons you could craft, you made some arrows and tipped them with whatever poison you could make from nearby plant and made other arrow sharpened edges as it would force Ursa to bleed and cause more pain if tried to be removed.

Next you gathered carcass to burn them and enrage Ursa hoping to draw it out and force it in the open to hunt more food.

Finally you chose an “arena” of sort to fight him but before you barely had the time to set up a few trap when you heard loud footsteps nearby, you climbed on a hill overlooking the arena and observed the surrounding in a makeshift shelter. This proved to be a mistake, a near fatal one.

You heard bushes and branches cracking and snapping in quick succession, you barely had the time to get up when Ursa knocked down the shelter and sent you flying down in the arena with a massive swipe of it’s claw.

It left a nasty scar, one that you would bear your whole life but for now you needed to survive this fight, Ursa jumped down and the ground shook with it. It roared loudly and charged you, you sidestepped it and drove a spear into it’s back, twisting it and breaking the stick leaving the spear inside.

Ursa got on it’s hind leg and tried to crush you by landing in it’s back only for you to drive another spear and a poisoned arrow in it’s belly. It roared and thrashed throwing you away again. Ursa charged at you again and you rolled just in time for him to run into the stone wall and momentarily stunning itself.

You put on your reinforced gloves -courtesy of the blacksmith- and waited for the next attack. It came soon enough and a plan was forming in your mind, Ursa was slow but devastating, he could only use speed for a brief while and couldn’t change direction easily, so you needed to draw out the fight and force him to charge you as a direct assault is too dangerous.

It walked slowly toward you and you prepared a spear, slowly bleeding Ursa was another tactic : Death by a Thousands cuts.

It charged but stopped right as you sidestepped it, it backhanded you and you slammed against the wall again but this time Ursa was smarter and used it’s hind leg to try and crush you instead of running toward you but you had a dangerous gamble to try.

Taking the sharpest spear in hand, you waited until the last second to drive the spear into it’s belly again as it tried to crush you, the spear didn’t miss and from the sound it made you were pretty sure you hit a major organ.

Enraged, Ursa powered through the pain and sank it’s teeth in your shoulder, you screamed in pain and using your quick thinking you drove an arrow in it’s eye before it could rip your shoulder off.

Ursa let out a roar again but it was different, almost a whimper and you knew you were winning. You didn’t know if it was adrenaline or something else but your shoulder didn’t hurt as much as did mere moments ago.

The fight entered it’s final phase as the pain in it’s eyes, belly and back didn’t give him the movement he needed to swipe like it did at the start, you charged Ursa and jumped above him, landing on it’s back you delivered a huge blow to it’s spine and it let out a loud whimper-roar, it weakly tried to shake you off before you got off and drove another spear in it’s body.

The exhaustion started to catch up to you and you had to finish this soon, It was now or never !

Ursa gathered the last of it’s strength and charged one last time, you did the same but jumped at the last moment over it’s head and with a triumphant roar you slammed both of your fist in Ursa’s skull.

A massive CRACK was heard in the forest and Ursa laid dead… it’s skull shattered and blood leaking from it’s body, you won and let out of scream of triumph ! However you soon came to the realization that dragging that bear back to the village was going to be the worst part.

The villagers were all worried sick during the week but they couldn’t believe it when you came back with Ursa’s body being dragged on a makeshift sled. The entire village ran to treat your injuries but most came for the body, not able to believe that Ursa Major was dead even the older villagers couldn’t believe it.

The old couple thanked you profusely and wanted to give you a reward, you only asked for the pelt of Ursa but the grandfather insisted on giving you a reward, it came in the form of a beautifully engraved double-barreled shotgun. You thanked him and they both took you in their arms, thanking you for giving them closure.

With one final goodbye during after a celebration thrown in your name you gave your goodbyes and left for your next destination.

Walking among shadows :

You decided to move to china next . You came to China to perfect your stealth, you found a renowned master and you asked him for help. When he asked you why instead of showering him with praise like he expected you humbly asked him for his help.

With that your training started and it was difficult, even when Bruce tried to train you stealth wasn’t your strong suit but your master told you to try again and again. He noticed that you after each attempt you would become slightly better, you pushed through even when doing the same exercise for hours on end.

Eventually you managed to sneak around the Dojo without making noise or being noticed, you gave him the scare of his life when giving him his tea cup after looking for them. He then told you the next step: open stealth.

He made you walk through crowd of people and you had to learn to weave through them effortlessly then he trained you to be incognito despite your massive frame and you got the hang of it rather quickly.

The final part of your training with him was learning to fight while blind, he would blindfold you and at first he was noisy when attacking you but gradually he was more and more silent to the point you couldn’t hear him anymore and had to rely on your instincts to fight back.

It was time for your two final trials and you were more than ready.

The amounts of wounds you got from failures in this challenge was particularly high but when you finally learned to dodge all his hits, all random from sessions to sessions and on the final day, you grabbed his hand before the weapon could hit you and he couldn’t be more impressed.

The second and final trials was harder than anticipated but you pulled through, the challenge ? Fight him while you were blindfolded and he was silent as well. It was like fighting the wind, you never knew where he was.

You failed several times but you got closer and closer until you finally bested him, it was a close victory as you parried each of his blow and retaliated with one of your own that sent him flying. On and on the battle went until you parried a blow he was sure you couldn’t hear and you threw him to the floor.

He considered you ready and gifted you a flail, custom made for you and you couldn’t believe your eyes at the quality of the weapon. He smiled at you, the only time he did so and told you that whatever your quest was to never forget those who helped get where you are.

Being one with nature :

Following your master’s advice for your training he sent you to a friend of his in Thailand, in the jungle specifically since she was a master survivalist. Something you would need in Gotham in case you needed to be off the grid for a while.

She welcomed you with open arms and first taught you about the wildlife and ecosystem, how to use it to survive and then she started taking you on trips without supplies to force you to adapt, it reminded you of the Siberian forests in a way.

Then once at the chosen destination, she’d tell you to find something specific ranging from an animal to a flower and you had to find it within a specific time frame, she told you to think of it as an emergency if you were wounded gravely and needed something quickly.

Over time she took you deeper and deeper and even into territories of dangerous animals like tigers and told you to make a camp and hold until she came back. You were told to hunt your own food and to bring her a proof of your kill.

You didn’t miss her quiet nod of approval when you brought back a perfect tiger’s pelt after a difficult trip, you had been stalking him for days before you shot a poisoned dart at him from a tree.

After a few month you knew this jungle like the back of your hand and she told you that your final trial was about to take place, the trial ? You would be brought to a part of the jungle and told to bring back a plant, a tiger’s paw and to come back within 5 days or else you would fail.

Once there, she told you the rules and left, you found the plant relatively easily but the tiger would be a problem since tracking them would be long and dangerous but you didn’t let this demoralize you. You tracked down a tiger over the course of two days and you were close to shooting him when you heard a scream.

You didn’t hesitate and rushed there only to find someone else completely delirious and in clear dehydration, a very dangerous combination in such a hostile environment. The scream already alerted the tiger and if he didn’t flee he would surely come to investigate and you didn’t feel like fighting a tiger.

You won against a bear but you wouldn’t be faster than a tiger, at least you didn’t want to find out. You put them on your shoulders and hastily left for a safer spot, you gave them water and used the plants you gathered to help their condition, it wouldn’t cure everything but they were lucid enough to tell you they were exploring and got lost, they ate anything they found and unfortunately stumbled upon a hallucinogenic plant.

You still had a trial to win but they needed urgent care so you decided to forgo safety and find your master as soon as possible. Fortunately you could tell where you were and came back on the fourth day, you were starving as you gave most of the food to the wounded.

You handed her the person and asked her to deliver them to the nearest hospital to which she quickly ordered someone to get on it. You only had the plant to prove your trials and some students called for your failure only for her to say that you risked everything –even yourself- to save one person.

And to her it meant more than a plant or a tiger’s paw and she declared your trial as completed. While she wasn’t one for celebration she still decided to celebrate your success by giving you a gift, an old shield but you could tell it meant a lot to her.

“It belonged to another student from long ago, he was very talented just like you. Take it and honor him as you honored me through your apprenticeship, I know you will take good care of it and give it a second life” She told you quietly in the armory.

She must’ve seen the future that day because your next destination would change your life forever and for the best. You didn’t know it yet but the next part of your voyage would introduce you to someone special, someone you would cherish your whole life.

113 notes · View notes

perolesims · 2 months ago

Text

Liora Mournvale of Aeloria for @seyvia

Liora was born on a night of total eclipse, when the sky itself seemed to swallow all light. Her first cry lasted for hours — no touch could soothe her, no lullaby could quiet her. The servants whispered that her cradle sometimes floated, that shadows danced across the nursery walls, and mirrors cracked on their own around her. As if the world already knew that something in her was… different.

"How could I have birthed such a monster?" — were the cold words of the Queen Mother upon seeing her for the first time.

Not even the wisest scholars, the most revered healers, or the oldest sages could explain: "It’s corrupted magic." "An ancient curse." "She should be isolated." "Would it not be wiser… to examine her?" "And what shall we do if word gets out? Dissect a baby?"

The royal family answered with silence. With fear. With exile. At the age of six, Liora was sent away to an ancient arcane convent, hidden in the mountains of Aeloria — a place where secrets were locked away, and where she would become just another one. She grew up surrounded by forgotten tomes, cryptic teachings, and suspicious glances.

No one there taught her how to be a child. How to be loved. How to be seen as anything more than a magical burden.

But Liora taught herself.

She learned how to silence the shadows. To hold the chaos inside. To smile, even when everything hurt. To mask fear — and call it control.

She grew up being told her fate was to be alone, forgotten. That she would never belong. That she would never be loved. But she refused to believe that.

And against every prophecy, she became the very opposite of what they foretold: Sweet. Gentle. Cautious, but full of tenderness.

Even while carrying the silence and weight of Aeloria on her shoulders, she still dares to dream. She dreams of a future where she can be free. Where her existence is not an error to be corrected, but a miracle to be cherished.

The Queen of Spellbyndell’s invitation arrived like a beam of sunlight breaking through the cracks of a stained glass window. For the first time, someone wanted her there — not as an object of study, but as a potential queen.

And yet, she hesitated — not out of fear of losing, but out of fear that maybe, just maybe… there was a place in this world where she could finally belong.

"I want to love… and be loved without it being a mistake. I want them to look at me without fear. To see beyond the magic, beyond my past. I want them to see… Liora."

She doesn’t see this as just a chance to win the prince’s heart.

She is here to claim her right to exist. To be chosen — not despite who she is, but because of it.

And if his heart is strong enough to look into the eyes of the storm…

He won’t just find a queen.

He’ll find a home.

#fairytale affair #simblr #ts4 simblr #my sims #sims submission #Liora Mournvale

76 notes · View notes

pilotingdreammsss · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Platonic Yandere Caregiver Dark Cacao Cookie and Regressor Reader?

You don't have to if you don't want to.

I was thinking that Dark Enchantress Cookie could have erased a few memories and twisted a few other memories to get the reader on her side but Dark Cacao Cookie comes in and takes reader back to his kingdom and cares for them while trying to help Reader regain their memories.

Or you could ignore that prompt completely and come up with something else! My last request seemed to be too detailed for you, so I'm hoping this will help.

(Sorry if any of this sounded mean. I just love your writing and I didn't really care if you could do a request justice or not. Your writing is amazing no matter what! Hope you have a nice day/night!)

-❄💗🖋

Hello, hello ❄️💗🖋anon! I'm glad to see you again! Actually, your prompt makes this a lot easier. My hesitance with your last prompt was due to the amount of dynamics I had to consider, not the prompt itself!~

Went a little off your prompt, but it's close enough, I promise!

Platonic! Yandere Dark Cacao Cookie + Regressor Reader, Hcs/short drabble at the end.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, manipulation (Courtesy of Dark Enchantress), mention of SFW age regression. I'm new to writing agere, so please do inform me of any mistakes!

ೃ⁀➷ I'd like to imagine that you were raised as a cookie of darkness but never quite turned out right. Dark Enchantress Cookie, ever the inpatient, began to warp your world view so you'd be more cynical. It never bore any fruit. Despite you still being susceptible, it only managed to torment you. You never remembered a time with whatever was before the Cookies of Darkness, but she'd purposely warp or erase memories, so you'd assume you were unwanted in the outside world. You possibly started regression to cope, thinking you had been tormented by outsiders when it was all meticulously placed by DE.

ೃ⁀➷That is until you saw Dark Choco Cookie depart, saw his strained relationship with his dad, you'd realise that the life of darkness wasn't up to your tastes. You were meant to assist Affogatto Cookie, but wound up, wounded and pleading, for the Dark Cacao Kingdom to take you in. Dark Cacao Cookie is at first skeptical, so you're kept under intent watch so he knows you can behave yourself.

ೃ⁀➷That is when, ultimately, your regression is revealed. Though you'd meticulously hid it, it managed to slip out by accident when Dark Cacao Cookie was lingering nearby. You feared the worst, wondering if he'd think you're strange or creepy. But it reminded him so much of when he had to raise a child of his own, how he'd blundered in the past. Through your regression, he could perhaps heal himself, too.

ೃ⁀➷ He didn't quite become your caregiver on the spot, instead opting to observe and ask what you liked and how you acted, when regressed. Whether that be pacifiers, onesies, pet names, being held, or told bedtime stories. Through your mannerisms sparked a platonic affection, a fatherly urge, to keep you as happy and as safe as possible.

ೃ⁀➷ Which also included getting rid of people who thought your way of coping was weird. Whether they be an advisor or random citizen on the street who thought your onesie was 'only for babies'. They'd be exiled or worse. But never in front of his dear you - you didn't have to know what was going on. To you, he was still your sweet papa.

ೃ⁀➷He'd lift you up in his strong arms, let you hold his sword, and play with his cape or hair without much comment. You could refer to him as you pleased, though he admittedly feels overjoyed when you address him as 'dad' or 'papa', or whatever language equilavent. He twirls you in his arms, often letting you sit and watch him train or conduct mundane affairs whilst you play with toys or eat candy.

ೃ⁀➷ He's usually gentle and patient when when you get fussy - though sometimes he can grow irritated. He'll always apologize, though. He can't let you stay upset! He's just so stressed with the kingdom and keeping you safe and happy. He hopes you understand...

ೃ⁀➷ Likes 'training' you with play swords, he admittedly always lets you win. You're a mighty warrior in his eyes! He takes particular care to not repeat the mistakes of his past, where he'd focused too much on making Dark Choco Cookie a warrior. As you spend time together, you realise that the world outside wasn't as bad as you 'remembered' it to be....

The howling of the blizzard, situated just outside your window, hadn't ceased for at least a few hours. Being stuck in your room for so long had left you bored and underwhelmed, missing Papa. He'd left you with some advisors ,who were reclusive at best, to keep you fed and warm.

When the door creaks open again, you expect another snack plate. Though you emerge from your carefully made pillow fort to check anyway.

But alas! Joy! Dark Cacao Cookie had returned! At an instant, you push yourself forward, stumbling over to greet him warmly. Your body presses against his armor, still damp with the snow from the outside.

"Papa!"

You grab at his arms, tugging him forward towards your fort. His stoic demeanor cracks, and he follows, chuckling lovingly, to your pillow fort.

"What a lovely pillow fort."

He comments as you crawl back into the structure, waiting eagerly so he'd join you. He sits just outside though.

"Ah, but I don't think Papa will fit. How about you come and join him outside?"

You peer your face outside of the fort, eagerly shuffling into Dark Cacao Cookie's lap. He pulls some of his cape forward, so it covers some of you, humming contentedly as you nestle against him and close your eyes. Where you fall asleep in no time.

A/N: Hope this is enough, anon! I tried to keep it as ambiguous as possible!

60 notes · View notes

artandbrimstone · 10 months ago

Text

First things first

!!!! Riptide 115 spoilers !!!!!

And if im wrong about anything i am sorry :( also this might be nothing but i need to say this somewhere

Chip and his lack of control over his own fate is so interesting to me. The guy who tells gillion tidestrider “I didn’t believe in destiny before i met you” is somehow, out of the three of them, the one who is seemingly following a predetermined path set out for him.

Gillion, whilst being the chosen one, struggles with this identity and was exiled, which may be in his destiny but was clearly not intended by the elders.

Jay has her prophecy (type thing I know its not exactly a prophecy) but it has no clear path for her specifically to follow.

Chip, however, was destined to end up back at the hole in the sea, but barely remembers actually being there in the first place, and yet when he does return to the black sea, there is a message from Rose from a decade prior knowing not only that he would return, but that he would be there looking for them after their disappearance. (i dont have the brainpower to go into how insane that message makes me so just know i think about it at least once a day). Even chips search for arlin, which was originally his own, was used against him and taken advantage of by Niklaus (with whatever the fuck he is planning im not smart enough to figure that out im just insane) making what was originally a goal into an “incessant urge to not only find the other members but also do what you [chip] were told and return to the hole in the sea”.

Not only that, there is also the compass, which is further twisting and intensifying chips desire to find arlin and return to the hole in the sea (niklaus also told chip to stop using the compass but yknow) so not even his desires, his main motivations that have led him to where he is now, arent truly his own. ( interestingly despite rose knowing he would go back to the black sea, still urges him to leave behind the legacy of the black rose pirates and do something greater)

Even his death he had no part in, no crucial mistake, nothing he could have done differently to avoid it, he was simply chosen and made an example of for the sake of making a point of how fucked they were against captain widow, yet again a pawn in something he had no control over.

And then, when they do finally reach the hole in the sea, chip is led by the compass (THE FUCKIGN COMPASSSSS) and (im getting into insane territory here) has strange parallels to captain rose. He is separated from his crew (namely the only other black rose pirate, drey), made a deal with niklaus regarding the hole in the sea has the hole in his chest (idc if its not there in canon its there to me) however what is he met with? “Welcome home”. Now what does that mean? I dont fuckign know but it makes me very insane and this is long enough already so i hope you enjoyed my incoherent chip just roll with it ramble :D

#this is so long and I dont have the energy to proofread it I am sorry #its 1am and im insane #is anything here coherent #I needed to get it out of my brain #its barely coherent in there so who knows #jrwi thoughts #jrwi analysis #chip jrwi #jrwi chip #jrwi riptide spoilers #riptide spoilers #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #jrwi show #artandbrimstone rambles

208 notes · View notes

trendywaifus · 2 months ago

Text

TASTE OF THE MOON

01. LUTHER

lucy kushinada x gn! reader.

↳ “ even if we are worlds apart, we’re still together right now, staring up at the same sky and moon. “

cw: blood, character death, mentions of death, edgerunner spoilers, takes through ep 1-4, kinda tied with canon events, cursing, suggestive themes, reader is david’s sibling.

im gonna do a 1.5! will be adding it to the master list. first time writing a long ahh chapter like this i think. lmk how i did fr🙏🏽 i hope my characterization was good for the cyber punk lovers. prob still have mistakes I’ve glossed over tho but im fried off benadryl rn so

“ davi, you’re going out to do another errand? seriously? we just done a gig like yesterday! ”

“ yeah. i told you that i need the training. can’t sit around like this. “

the tan-skinned boy slips on the jacket your mother tragically left behind after she passed. now that he wears it everywhere as if it was the only article of clothing that he has, it feels like you’re force to see her everyday through him. it’s a cruel reminder of how fucked up night city is. having to see your mother struggle to take of you and david by herself without a father, working herself to the bone to ensure a stable future for you and him—only for her to get fatally injured during some random drive by and inevitably pass the next day because of capitalism nearly broke you. if david died along with her, you don’t know what you would’ve done. and, you weren’t even there with them during the tragic accident, you were home sick with a virus. gloria was originally supposed to pick up david early after getting a call from the academy because of an incident involving him using an unauthorized chip. you sat home alone for hours until david abruptly came home in the evening without your mother with his head hung low, and bandages all over.

you bombarded david with questions about gloria’s absence and his injuries. he was so dispirited that he barely wanted to talk. once you were able to get everything out of him, you instantly regretted asking. that night you didn’t sleep at all. you went out that night to walk aimlessly around and gained the habit of moon gazing. within the several days, everything was hell for you and david. one thing piled after another—collecting gloria’s ashes and her emt jacket, overdue rent, david finding a military grade-sandevistan she unknowingly left behind, he went from wanting to sell it to installing it in his body out of anger without even telling you. then, he got into a rematch with one of the sorry boys in the academy who happened to be the son of an arasaka board director. david ended up getting exiled and you haven’t been to the academy since the day you got sick. there’s no absolutely no reason to go there now that your mother was gone. you were on your last warning anyways for consecutively being in heated arguments with shitty classmates yourself. your only focus now is to make sure david is okay while living on the edge for survival.

“ alright, let me hop with you this time. “ you said, standing up from the couch, grabbing your black, leather jacket. david huffs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“ (name), you don’t gotta come with me, you know. i can do this on my own. ‘don’t have to trouble yourself, i’ll be alright— “

“ shut up gonk, i’m comin’ with. i need ‘training ’ too, you know? “ you mocked his grumpy voice, he smacks his lips and waits for you by the door, impatiently tapping his foot. that boy is really dedicated in wanting to fit in. “ i’m followin’ you, give me the detes as we walk. “

—

cop sirens eerily echo in the distance as you and david tread cautiously along streets of vistal del rey, stepping over burned-out cigs, empty chip bags, and broken bottles. deteriorating building become more outdated as you venture deeper into the infamous district. the streets are less crowded, only a few civilians occasionally walking by; it’s nearly dead. you bet that if some gonk were to shout two streets away, it would reach your ears within seconds. crumbles of minerals fall to the ground as cars speed through the highway above. the stench of strong tobacco and other addictions nearly burns your nose. you never really been to vistal del rey or parts of heywood but you are aware of the strong grip that the valentinos has over these areas. gloria hammered down on teaching her children about the dangers of ruthless gangs. one of her lines that stuck to your brain like glue was —“there are never good endings to those who live their life on the edge, miho. ”. your mother was an emt who seen many tragic endings. being the oldest, she shared to you many stories of gang members who lost their life to gang violence. you growing up in arroyo, santo domingo, a shitty, district full of degenerates and poverty made you hyperaware of your surroundings for you and david’s sake by the age of ten.

and especially now since you’re apart of an edgerunner crew, your awareness has been razor sharp.

“ fucking pilar. did that bastard really send us here for one of his useless packages? you call this trainin’ david? you were better off with me teachin’ you how to fight good with that sandevistan of yours!” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms in frustration, digging your nails into the leather texture of your jacket. the younger boy merely grunts, surveying the area for a particular clue pilar given him about the meetup spot. “ we’re in the right area, he mentioned something about some alley and a tall, purple haired guy leaning against one of the oh—found him. .straight ahead. “ david lowly relays to you with the nudge of his elbow.

a suspicious man who looks to have shaggy, purple hair, was slouched against the wall, clad in black silicone pants, a light purple fitted t-shirt and black boots. compared to the dull, washed colors this area had, he was a anomaly. from the sound of your footsteps, he turns his head towards the direction of the source. his grey eyes coat into a sheen light blue as he scans the two of you from head to toe suspiciously. once you approached the guy and stopped a few meters away from him, he spoke with a thick, hispanic accent, “ the striped jacket boy. .david, yeah? “

“ yeah, that’s me. “

he turns his head to you, brow raised as he openly admires you with interest.

he casts you a flirtatious smile and your nose crunch up with disgust. “ thought that gonk said you’d be by yourself, choom. butt, i’m fine with this. the name’s rayez, who might you be cariño? “

before you can open your mouth, david surprises you by taking a step forward, seemingly positioning himself protectively in front of you. “ that’s my sib, we’re just here to pick up a package for pilar and go on our way. “ david explains firmly, throwing the man a pointed stare. the taller, fair-skinned man tilts his head to the side, bearing an intimidating expression on his face as he sizes the shorter boy up with his statue. they stay silent for a few, prolonged moments as they glare into each other’s eyes, not one moving a muscle.

rayez willingly surrenders, throwing his hands up with a friendly smile that’s clearly condescending. “ you got it. i don’t want no beef, kiddo. you just have a fine-lookin’ sibling, that’s all. “ he gestures his head towards the alley, “ behind me into the alleyway, i got the package in the trunk. “

david tries to follow the dealer but you abruptly stop him in his tracks by the sleeve. you noticed his arm slightly shaking—was david scared? “ wait davi. i don’t trust that, how about you bring the package to us? this area is dead as hell right now, there’s not a soul in sight.”

rayez narrows his eyes at you, a glint of annoyance swimming in them. you glared at him right back and once again, he relents, throwing you a relaxed grin. “ si, si, i understanddd. you lookin’ at me like that really gettin’ me nervous, cariño. i’ll go get it~ “ then he walks into the alleyway, disappearing behind the wall. you send each other nervous looks, silently agreeing that if rayez tries something you’ll be on alert to react. after a minute or two, there wasn’t any sounds of his supposed car turning on or his trunk opening and closing. the shaggy-haired man simply came back out with a brown package in his hands.

“ here ya go. “

like that, he plops it into david’s hands. your brother thanks him and just as you were about to leave, rayez inquires suddenly,

“ before you birds dip, what’s y’all’s last names? “

“ uh. . martinez? what’s it to you? “ david answers ‘nonchalantly’, but you can still hear the uncertainty behind his words.

the older man shrugs, glancing between you and david with a lazy smile.

“ the martinez siblings, huh? i can tell you, little man is the youngest, “ he points at david, “ and you’re the oldest. “ he points at you.

you click your tongue, “ again, what’s it to you? “

the corners of rayez’s gaze softens, he shrugs again, digs in his pocket and brought out a pack of cigarettes. “ nothin’. just observation, choomba. from the way you two have each other’s back, i can tell that all y’all got is each other. i respect that a lot. if it weren’t for you, that little man would of been zero’d in that alleyway by now. “

david spats, “ tch, bullshit, as if i’d—“

“ naive, but david’s smarter than you think. “ you snarled abruptly, “ i maybe the oldest, but my lil bro here is the special one. make no mistake, he wouldn’t of been ended so easily by the likes of you, cockmuncher. “

you grab the collar of your brother’s jacket, dragging him away from the grinning man. rayez brings the cancer rod to his pierced lips. “ i wonder, “ he takes out a lighter from his back pocket, flicks it open, and sparks a flame with practiced ease. the small flame is strong and unwavering, “ of how your stories will end. . . .together in a blaze of glory or. . “ he lights up the end of his cigarette and takes a long puff.

he close the lighter and tucks it back into his pocket.

“ or alone shrouded in smoke and chaos? “ rayez finishes, taking out the cig to blow a puff of smoke into the dead air. he turns back around into the alleyway, joining a group of armed men.

—

“ gotta tell bec to shoot her stupid ass brother for me. “ you spat, stomping along the asphalt, chest tight with anger. “ first he got us going to fuckin’ vista del rel for some shady bastard who deadfucking ass wanted to fuck me and literally fuck you over, and now we have to walk and take the train over to their crib to deliver this man his golden, cyberware dildo! “

david sighs, letting you rant while he thinks about your words to the dealer. considering that he had the sandevistan implanted in him without much complications and he’s able to use it several times in a day before getting fatigued with just a nose bleed, can he really cement the idea in his head that he’s special?

“ (name)? “

“ what davi? “

while the package is tucked under his armpit, he awkwardly rubs the back of his head with his free hand. “ what you said back there, is that true? that i’m special i mean. “

all your irritation instantly melts away; you crack into a grin, draping an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him into a clumsy side hug.

“ i mean, yeah. on top of that, you’re the smartest guy that i know. i believe in you. “

david bites down on his bottom lip, a lodge almost immediately forms in his dry throat. he swears that he hears gloria in you.

night city really is a cruel reality to live in.

—

while david stands awkwardly behind you, you angrily knocked on rebecca and pilar’s apartment door a few times. it only took a half second for the door to swing open and for a barrel to kiss you right on your forehead. “ explain why the fuck you’re—oh, (name) and david! what’s up chooms? wow, (name), you looked pissed! ” rebecca whistles, drawing back her pistol as she stands at the doorway only in her black bra and underwear.

“ bec, call for your son of a bitch of a brother, please.”you requested calmly, barely holding back your raging anger while presenting her the package in your hands.

glancing down at your quivering hands, she grins with anticipation, practically hearing the anger bubbling in your voice, and whips her head around to call her brother who’s too busy doing his own shit in the back of the apartment.

“ yo bro! (name) and david got your package from maine again! come n’ get it! “

as soon as you hear pilar’s excited, crazed laughter and seeing him skipping around the corner to retrieve his package, you hurled the thing straight at his face without any regards. before he had time to react, it hits him right where you want him and he falls back against the wall.

“ aw, fuck! the fuck was that for, you crazy gonk?! “

“ fuck you, you lanky armed bastard! get your own package next time! i hope you enjoy that new golden dildo up your ass! “ you spat, sharply turning on your heel to stomp away. the sounds of rebecca’s loud laughter fills the crispy, lively air.

“ davi! make sure you get our tip from bec. i’ll be over there to take a chill pill! “ you shouted, brushing past david to go stand by the pole near the entrance of the complex. you fix the collar of your leather jacket and crossed your arms tightly against your chest. shitheads like pilar pisses you off, they’re so common amongst santo domingo and the academy. those type of people who’d get what they want from you, completely fuck you over and laugh in your face like you’re the biggest gonk in night city. your temper and patience dwindled as years passed by, developing a short temper.

“ heyo, “ lucy’s smooth voice rings though your receptor suddenly, earning a exasperated grunt from you. “ you and david gonna be free tonight to run? “

“ yo. yes lucy, sure will be. “ you replied more annoyed than you wanted to be. there’s a small pause on the other end and lucy hums before speaking up,

“ you sound upset. wrong timing? “

you glance over towards david’s direction, he’s currently still talking to rebecca for the tip. you let out a short sigh that’s meant to cool off some steam. “ yes and no. it wasn’t directed at you or anything, me and david was just doing some shitty errand. “

“ oh fun. i’ll leave you both to it then, see you later. “

she ends the call and you just slouch against the sign, looking up at the yellowish, blue sky. the sun is starting to set and the moon’s slowly becoming visible by the hour. lucy was a strange character—an enigma who holds pieces of herself behind her back. she’d give you broken shards and hide the rest away, leaving you to figure out the ones in your hands. your first impression of her was already rocky since she tried to steal your chip. thanks to david catching her in the act with his sandev, she didn’t. but, one thing led to another and you ended up witnessing two deviants stealing shit for some eddies. not wanting to be involved, you got off the train early. you really wish that you didn’t because david exhausted himself trying to impress her by using his sandevistan too much which caused lucy to call an ambulance for the stupid boy. lucy explained that during the ride to the hospital, the emt deliberately missed the turn to the location, pulled a gun on her and david while he was on the carrier, and revealed herself to be a scav who wanted his sandev.

what lucy did made your jaw slack all the way down to the ground. not only did she endanger david, but also herself by releasing the carrier from the ambulance, throwing themselves into highway traffic and hazardously maneuvered it around in reverse, avoiding speeding cars while having a absolute blast. although you were thankful of her for saving david, you couldn’t help but think of her as a nutjob—but a cool one. you met up with them at docs for david’s treatment and made sure to chew him out for overusing his sandev.

“ you two wanna come over my place? “

her sudden question made you look at her like she was crazy and david reluctantly just accepts the invitation. you can tell your brother was intrigued by her and honestly, you don’t blame him after she risked her life (and his!) to save him. not to mention, lucy was a sight for sore eyes herself—a pretty lady with a nice amount of sense (still a nutjob!) that others in night city lacked. however, you knew better than to wholly trust her when you only knew her for half a day.

upon you, david, and lucy entering inside of her home, your eyes locked onto a large, rectangular window in her apartment with a perfect view of the moon nestled in the night sky. after settling down with the netrunner, you learned about her common interest in the moon both from the poster on her wall and through chatting. just like you, she had the habit an interest in staring at the moon to fill the void in her heart, just like you, she wanted to get away from the clenched jaws of night city. but unlike you, who had your mother’s crumbling dreams floating through the skies of a shithole of a city and david to look after; lucy has no ties other than the crew she’s with. who knows how much they really mean to her. maybe if given the chance to, she’d probably run away.

your guard around her dwindled as the conversation continued. it completely dissipated when she introduced you to a brain dance of a reconstruction of the moon which strengthened your dream to travel to the moon. the moon simulation felt so real, the sun’s warmth kissing your skin, its shine nearly blinding you as if it actually could. your body was light so the first you did was jump and float around, feeling free. lucy would laugh fondly at your childlike discoveries throughout your time with her. she showed you so many things, made you feel so many emotions during that short time with her. after a fun while, you and lucy sat down to gaze at the fake earth ahead, full of joy and satisfaction.

“ i never showed anyone this before. i. .had fun. “

breaking your attention from the earth, you turned your head, and you became speechless. painted rosy lips curled into a soft, warm smile, her pastel eyes twinkled at you, holding a unreadable emotion you couldn’t decipher. all you knew was the feeling of awe and soon after, a sharp pain to your cheek, forcefully taking you out of the bd.

you grit your teeth at the remembrance of the interrogation with maine and his crew. at the time, getting pressed by a group of edgerunners and feeling utterly betrayed by a stranger you almost trusted nearly made you throw a fit. however, you held back the anger, almost like holding back the most shittiest urge to vomit while standing in public. you didn’t want to get you and david into deeper shit. the boy himself almost got his sandev ripped from his body if he didn’t impress maine with his rare, high usage of the military grade implant.

—

“ yo, (n/n), i got the tip. you nova now? “ david asks, joining your side, pulling you out of your thoughts.

pushing yourself from the metal rod, you lazily stretched your arms above your head. “ when we leave this place, yup. also, lucy called. told her that we’re gonna be free to run with her tonight. “

the boy awkwardly scratches the back of his head, his facial expression brightening from the mention of her name. you notice and simply started to walk; david follows after. “ preem. i’ve need to get some more training in. “

“ and with lucy, the girl who saved your live and almost ended ours together by snitchin’. “ you grumble, crossing your arms back over your chest. david lets out a soft sigh, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets.

“ i was starting to get over that. not really that mad like before though. “

“ when i think bout it, i can’t help but to. normally i don’t get my shit tangled up like this, but i don’t exactly like getting hung up by my ankle with a black eye after getting taken to the moon by a girlie who likes to be spontaneous on the first day. .” somewhere in the back of your mind, you don’t really blame her.

cars occasionally rode past as you and david stroll down the streets of watson. the district wasn’t much different than heywood, vistal del rey, and santo domingo. it used to be an area once full of life, bubbling with lively biz—now it’s sour with gang violence much like the corners of night city. maelstrom and tiger claws are the cause as they ruin everything they touch, greedy and terrible, just like corpo rats. they’re so territorial that they’re fighting each other over parts of the district. many tragic endings of innocents are caused by them, families separated, and young, impressionable adolescents left to make series of bad choices that’ll have them leave the earth as one of many statistics in night city.

“ yeah, maine and them came barging in while you and lucy was in the brain dance. caught me by surprise and before i knew it, maine decked me in the face. hurt like a bitch too. “ the younger sibling clicks his tongue, lazily kicking away an empty can of beer without a single thought.

“ trust me, i know. fuck, that black eye lasted for a good min, didn’t it? i swear one day i’ll get my lick back. and lucy definitely owes me an apology. double too. “ you ghost your hand over your port on the side of your neck where the netrunner discreetly implanted the tracker in. the audacity for maine to warn you and david to not run away—like, where the fuck to? david remained quiet up until you reached the metrostation with him. you paid for his ticket and yours with ease. luckily the train hasn’t arrived yet and not many people were around so you sat down on a bench while david stood beside it.

“ . .why didn’t you tell me your dream was to go to the moon? “ david spoke out, breaking the silence, his still gaze was fixated somewhere off in the distance.

you leaned back into the bench, looking up at the sky that’s now turning into a dark purple. “ because it’s a wish. a wish for the most part is just wishy washy thinking. besides, in this city, no dream can become true unless there’s a sacrifice or if you’re a corpo rat.”

“ was our ma’s dream for us to be at the top of the arasaka’s tower ‘wishy washy’ too? “ his voice quivered, you don’t know if it was out of anger or sadness. perhaps both.

letting out a long exhale, you just shrugged. was her dream wishy washy? ideally no, realistically yes. unless you dedicated half of your life to kissing corpo ass while losing yourself in the process, there is absolutely no way to even achieve such a dream as poor, santo domingo babies. but, that was gloria’s dream and even if it was a fairytale, you and david tried anyway to make your mother happy.

“ you know, if she were to say, i want my children to be the most influential peeps in night city! “ you made an attempt to copy gloria’s accent jokingly, david cracks a small smile. “ that may sound like the most ridiculous dream ever coming from our backgrounds but since we love our mother so much—we’d do our best to make it come true anyways. .no matter how impossible it may be. but to answer your question, bro. .yes and. . no if it came with a sacrifice.”

the tone of your voice goes grim, the sinking feeling in your chest heavies down on your heart. david swallows thickly, his fists tightens in his pockets, a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face.

“ what kind? “ david replies tentatively, glancing down at you with a nervous look.

“ losing yourself. arasaka is full of rotten characters, you can’t go at the top if you’re just your authentic self, you know. “

the screeching sound of the incoming train hits your ears and you stand up, watching the transport timely arrive at the station. you stroll over to the train and stepped inside once the doors opened with david following along. “ i refuse to lose myself and be seen as those toe-lickin’ losers. you experienced the way they treated those who weren’t like them in the academy. i can’t believe we had to put up with those suckers, “ you grunted, finding a seat next to the door and plopped down. “ be good, don’t let them get to you, blah blah—. .oh mother. if it wasn’t for her, i would of been the one to get exiled first. would of loved to kicked the shit out of that one cockroach who did nothing but patronized me for the smallest shit. but, it made me feel better that you sucker punched that asshole who knocked you on your feet. i still don’t approve of you implanting that sandev behind my back and using it right after though. “

david shrugs, taking his hand out of his pocket to grasp one of the bars to hold onto as the train departs after the passengers aboard. he looks out through the window, eyes trained on the arasaka tower in the far distance. he begins to tap his right foot. “ had no choice. was out of options and couldn’t let that bastard go after he talked shit about you and our ma’s death. can you honestly blame me? you would of done the same, right? ” david’s grip on the metal bar tightens; the corner of his caramel eyes sharpens. the leftover anger slowly rises up his throat as if it was a lanky hand.

without a second thought, you instantly responded back darkly, hands clenched into a tight ball—so tight that your nails was starting to create crescents into your skin. “ i would of done much worse to him. “

you zipped up your hoodie all the way to your neck, shivering from the cold air nibbling at the areas of your exposed skin. why the hell does it feel like it’s 50 degrees tonight?

“ looks like you should of brought a bigger jacket tonight. ” lucy commented, humor hinted behind the rasp of her voice. she stands at the edge of the dock, throwing you a side glance. like the last few fridays and mondays you and david been jogging with her, she wore the same neon and pink-colored tracksuit that complimented her figure perfectly. you hate the fact that you have to rip your gaze away from her figure to respond to her properly.

“ i’m good, choomba. i’ll warm up once we start. david, you ready? “

“ yeah. “ david answers, taking his hands out of his pockets besides you.

lucy takes it upon herself to start the jog, getting a head start past you and david. you trail behind her and the younger boy does the same. usually the jogs last about twenty minutes, just a few laps that ends with you wanting a hot shower and a feeling of satisfaction after a long day of bullshit. cardio helps clear your mind.

“ you not gonna talk to her? “ david whispers to you, maintaining a moderate speed. you raise a brow, still looking ahead, more so at lucy’s back.

“ why should i? continue to talk to her like you have been for the past nights we’ve been running together, davi. “

“ think you should on this one ‘cus how else do you want her to apologize to you if you’re acting like you’re not interested in talkin’ to her? “

you snorted, “ huh. all of a sudden you’re the relationship expert, is that right? “

david clicks his tongue, “ fuck off. i’m tryin’ to help you out. the way you’re oglin’ her makes you look like a loser. “

“ fuckin’ rich comin’ from you. “ you blurted out, rolling your eyes. he let out a grunt and nudges your arm with his elbow.

“ go, you gonk. “

letting out a deep sigh, you sped up just enough to catch up to lucy, matching the same pace as her. clearing your throat, you open your mouth to awkwardly speak, “ so. . lucy, it’s been a minute since we’ve chatted it up. “

“ mhm. it has. “ she responds back blandly, not sparing you a glance. yup, her walls are definitely and rightfully up.

“ how have you been holding up since our last gig yesterday? “

“ pretty nova. can’t really say much since the gig was like any other gig i’m use to. . how about you, newbie? “

you scoffed, “ hey, it’s only been. .like four weeks! don’t call me that, geez. but i can say nova too. the gigs are something i can get used to. it’s gonna be a pain in my ass to watch over that boy behind us too.”

“ hey, i can still hear you! “ david shouts in the distance, lagging behind as his feet began to burn.

“ how about you focus on catching up, short legs!” you half-shouted and laughed, throwing a quick middle finger at him. since you’re like two inches taller than him along with having good stamina from running around in the streets of santo domingo a little longer than david, it was pretty easy to outrun him. but now that he has a sandevistan, you hate to admit that he can compete with you if he used it.

“ you should worry a little more about yourself too.” lucy suggests, barely out of breath as she counts the second lap in her head.

“ huh? “

“ you’re the same as david in terms of experience. actually, if shit were to truly go down, he would have a better chance at surviving cus’ of the sandev he has. you don’t have any implants that can give you an advantage over a punk one on one. “

you hum at her criticism, beads of sweat dripping down your chin. adrenaline rushes into your veins, pumping you with natural energy to continue your jogging. however, you’re beginning to get tired and you’re starting to become slow, yet, you don’t stop. “ that’s true lucy. m‘not even mad at that. gonna make somethin’ work in the future so i won’t be a deadweight to you and the others. wanna protect david too cus’ he’s all i have. “

the older girl stays silent for a few moments, allowing your soft huffs and puffs to take over the silence to think about her next response. the question that sat on her tongue for the past few weeks runs off and slips through her lips.

“ is that what makes you serious about edgerunning?”

“ definitely. “ you say with full confidence.

she gives you a little look from the corner of her eye and stops abruptly. you stop too and hunched over to catch your breath. you think you’re on your third lap now without stopping? you and lucy are still in the area around the shore post. david is no where to be found but you know he isn’t far away. he won’t get lost if he keeps running straight.

“ what’s wrong—“

“ here. full training regimen. for you and david. you two are on your own after today. won’t hold your hands anymore. “ lucy hands you a chip and you examine it in your palm. she continues, “ if you’re serious about this, you’re gonna need to keep up. and then. .”

you lift your confused gaze at her and she stares back with a neutral expression. what is she thinking right now? “ and then. .? “

you blink several times as she simply turns on her heel and jogs off ahead, not even attempting to finish her prep talk.

“ that’s a start. . “ you mumbled, turning your head to the direction you and lucy previously ran from and saw david finally catching up. you cast him a proud smile, waving at him as he runs up, breathless.

“ wh-where’s lucy? “

“ she went on ahead. she gave us a little parting gift, i’ll tell you what happened on our way back home. “

—

“ your punches are lacking today! what’s the problem, kid? “ dorio inquiries with concern, steadying the heavy punching bag in place before stepping over to you. running a hand through your (h/c) hair, you just sighed dejectedly. lately, you been thinking about lucy and it’s starting to become pathetic. you want to understand her. you want a answer on why she really showed you the brain dance of the moon. was it to just stall? did she truly deceive you? how much was it real? fake? was her wondrous laughter and pretty smiles genuine?

“ sorry, just been thinking, that’s all, ‘rio. “

she swings an arm around your shoulders firmly, “ well, spill it. i’m here to talk with ya. “ the encouraging smile on her face made your guard loosen.

“ i’ve. . .been thinkin’ about lucy. “

“ figured so. “

“ huh? “ you whipped your head up at the much taller and older woman with a surprised expression. she just continues to smile, this time, knowingly. “ maine had a talk with david yesterday and he told me all about what’s going on between you and lucy. i gotta say, a date to the moon? even that didn’t happen for me and maine on our first date! it was just full of cracking’ heads and thrill! “

your nose scrunched up, “ aw fuck, you and maine? ew—“ she ruffles your head roughly and bellows out a laugh.

“ ah, shut up! anyways, what’s got you thinkin’ about her? still upset that she turned you and david over to us after the date? “

you nod your head, shifting your gaze down at your feet, “ yeah. jus’ wanna know if everything was real or fake. dunno what to really do. “

“ hmm, i see. well, after the biz tomorrow, how about you try to talk to her. it’s about damn time you suckers chat it out. you’re just like your lil bro, mopin’ around n killin’ the vibe. cheer up. i bet if you stop draggin’ your feet like that and brighten up that pretty face of yours, he would too. “

you sighed, fixing up your tousled hair as the experienced merc backs off. “ i guess. but hey ‘rio, gotta question. “

“ lay it on me. “

“ how long has lucy been a edgerunner? “

a pensive look dawns on dorio’s features as she thinks, resting a finger under her chin. “ mm, maybe bout a year so? kiwi took her in and the rest was history. before all of that, i dunno much about lucy. so far, she’s been pullin’ her own weight in the crew so that’s all that matters. anyways, i gotta delta. gonna go meet with maine to discuss detes about tomorrow, see ya kid. “

dorio leaves you alone to your thoughts. you exhale through your nose and went over to the skinny, tall table to turn on the radio. using the knob, you glossed over radio channels until it was a certain channel that you usually listen to— 98.7, body heat radio. you tune the volume just enough for you to vibe. dragging your feet over to the couch, you plant your butt on the down on the cushion. you leaned back against the head and closed your eyes.

“ you are now listening to chest pain by malcom todd. “

my chest is hurting, my feet can’t fall out of bed

i don't know where to go, so I'll lay here instead

with my symptoms, symptoms of sorrow and dread

they all said it would fade but again and again

suddenly, the sound of an incoming call rings through your reception and you groan out loudly in irritation. peeling one eye open, you’re surprised to see the principal of your former academy calling you. “ the fuck is this. . “

i loveee, i loveeee

i love, i love, i love,

you accepted the call.

“ hello, good evening, (name). how are you—“

i loveee, i loveeee

“ cut the crap, what is it? should there be a reason why you’re calling me when i—no, me and david, left the academy weeks ago? “

“ a-ah, sorry for bothering you. i. .in fact reached out to your brother and he abruptly hanged up while i was trying to explain to him—“

you snorted, “ oh, is that so? i’ll do the same then. go burn in hell, we will never go back to that stuck-up academy. maybe treat your poor students better. our mom technically died ‘cus of you, shitface. “

without an ounce of guilt, you ended the call, leaving behind a bubbling sense of triumph. did that man take you for a fool? there’s no way he would call you without an ulterior motive.

phonk music blasts loud in your ears as people danced off on the dance floor, drunk and possibly high off their asses. you ran your fingers through your hair, occasionally sipping on a carbonated drink that’s been shoved into your hand by rebecca. you’re not the one to party, you’ve discovered that after being brought to afterlife for the first time a few weeks ago. the stench of the night city’s most wasted characters made your nose roll up with disgust. strangers grinding and rutting up against each other; the club life wasn’t for you.

“ wassup, cutie! whaddaya doin’ sittin’ here by yaself? ” rebecca plops down onto the booth beside you, beer in hand. her petite frame flush against your side, not caring about personal space. since it’s rebecca, you don’t really care. you grew to like her quite a bit, she’s straightforward and honest, something you don’t really see much in night city. rebecca is really fun to hang with, the type to put a smile on your face whenever you’re upset.

“ hey bec, just chillin’ here. don’t really like partyin’ all that much. “

“ aww, that’s too bad! “ she takes a long swig of her beer before she continues, “ choom, you should of seen the way your bro was dancin’! it gotta be the funniest shit i’ve ever seen! “

you break into laughter at the imagine of david trying to show off by performing horrible dance moves. you’re not good at dancing either but you knew better than to embarrass yourself. “ that dumbass. i guess we gotta let him have it since the gig went well, yeah? “

“ oh fasure’! now it got me wonderin’ about what’s your groove like! ” she nudges your arm with hers, giving you a cheeky smirk. you playfully roll your eyes, “ is this your way of asking me to dance with you, ‘bec? “

exhilarated and tipsy, she immediately responds back with, “ hell yeah! c’mon, let’s get on the dance floor! “

“ jus’ kidding, girl. i think i’ll sit here and drink until it’s time for us to go. “

“ ugh, i’ll let you slide this time, only cus i like ya! “

you chuckled, swirling the carbonated drink around, its contents swooshes around in the glass bottle. “ i’m honored, choom. “

the pout on her purple, painted lips goes unnoticed by you.

a question pops into your head and your smile falters. “ hey bec. “

“ what’s up, choom? “ she leans into you, taking note of your expression changing into a small frown.

“ what’s it like to have pilaf as your bro? “

she immediately scoffs, crossing her legs, and leans back into the couch. “ like shit. he’s the absolute fuckin’ worst. the biggest dickhead ever. “

you raise your brow, the single side of your lips curling upward at the distasteful insults towards her brother.

“ but at the end of the day, he’s my bro. all i have is him and all he has is me. but, if the day were to come for him to he gets zero’d, i want it to be by me. “

“ why? “

“ cus’ i rather for it to be me than some lowlife gonk. ”

you hum before taking the last swig of the drink and set it down on the table in front of you. “ fucked up but i get it. .yet, if i had the choice to zero david, i’d blow my brains out. don’t have the heart to do it to my own brother. . “

she pats you on the back before rubbing it through your graphic shirt. “ and that’s okay, choom, “ you look at her and you’re met with a honeyed, easy smile that’s only reserved for a selective few and meant to plug the doubts pooling from the pores of your skin as it seeps through your troubled expression. “ you’re not s’pose to anyways, don’t let this damned city tell you otherwise. my case is just special for me and my bro. “

you can’t help but smile back at rebecca with warm appreciation.

“ thank you bec. “

“ anything to see ya pretty smile, dimps! “

after chatting with rebecca, you decided to get up to go to the restroom. you dread going to the public restrooms in clubs you’ve recently been to after gigs, because you’re guaranteed to see some drunkie puking their guts out in the next stall over. god, the strong smell of vomit and vodka makes you wanna hurl too. on the way there, you pass by the bar, catching a glimpse of lucy sitting by herself. she looks distant and uninterested in the energy around her as she quietly smokes to herself. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hold your bladder for a bit to provide her some company. before you can even step into the netrunner’s direction, pilar beats you to her out of no where. he hops onto an empty stool beside her—not considering her personal space as he swings a lanky arm around her shoulders.

your teeth digs into your fleshy bottom lip from the irritating sight of that gonk trying to flirt with her. pilar gets touchy with her at every chance he fucking gets. doesn’t he get that lucy clearly doesn’t fuck with him? she even fried him a few times for being all grabby.

“ tch, “ you force your eyes away from them and back to what’s ahead of you. the tightness of your chest might get worse if you continue to hear that fucker pilar’s obnoxious laughter and his failed attempts of trying to impress lucy.

“ what’s with that face, sweetness? “

a brunette woman who looks to be in her mid-late twenties smoothly gives you a side hug, casting you a flirtatious smile. she smells of vanilla and alcohol.

“ sorry, that’s nun of your biz. i was on my way to the restroom. “ you answered back dryly, attempting to brush her off and she holds on a little tighter in response. growing bashful under her now seductive gaze and increasingly annoyed at a stranger hugging you without your consent, you smack your lips.

“ is that so? maybe. . afterwards, “ she leans in closer to your face and you uncomfortably tilt your head away. “ we can cool that heat off your face, it doesn’t fit you~ “ she purrs.

your brows knit together in agitation, without thinking twice, you shove her off your body. she nearly stumbles into another stranger.

“ christ, you know nothing about me. don’t you tell me what fits me. “ you snarled as you brushed passed her, disregarding the offended look on her face. the audacity. “ go find some other gonk who actually wants to be blowed by some stranger in here. “

you stomped off to the back for the restroom. in the back of your mind, you knew that you mostly overreacted and let your previous frustrations out on her. but did you regret it? no.

unbeknownst to you, a pair of sharp pastel eyes observed the whole interaction.

“ woah, hey there, partner! “ a familiar southern voice calls out as you unexpectedly bump into his body after exiting the shitty restroom too quickly. you grunted, one second away from snapping on the man for the collision but you stopped once you’ve recognized him.

“ falco? watch where you going, choomba. i almost fell on my ass! “

“ likewise, kiddo! sheesh, “ he combs his fingers through his maintained hair. “ don’t think i seen ya with the crew. david is quite the trickster when he’s all loosened up. “

“ i heard from bec. i was just drinking in another booth with her. not really used to parties. davi is quite the pleaser so you’ll see that more times than not. glad he’s having fun though. “

falco chuckles huskily, “ oh, i get it. i woulda figured you’re not a people person too with that short fuse of yours. “

“ oh, fuck you. i’m not short-tempered! after what i’ve gone through, i just despise how night city serves me bullshit in a sliver plate. “ you crossed your arms, tapping your foot subconsciously. falco looks down at your foot tapping, your arms tucked tightly to your chest, and lastly, the frown on your lips.

his thick brows raises. all telltale signs with those who has short patience. though, the foot tapping habit is something he’s noticed between you and david. you both do it out of anxiety. he signs heavily, stepping aside the doorway to the restrooms and leaned against the tile wall. “ listen, (name). word of advice from a older folk like myself. i heard about what happened to you and the boy’s mother and my condolences. i don’t know much about your stories before that, but, don’t let your anger get the best of you. i tell that to rebecca because she herself is quite similar to you when it comes to short fuses. although, i can say she’s more mature since she’s been in the game for a hot minute and is familiar with the ins and outs of night city. the more you let shit get to you while walkin’ on the edge, the quicker and harder you fall. “

you stay quiet, soaking in his speech word by word. so far, you gotten a few cuts and nasty bruises from picking fights during negotiations in recent gigs because of the shady insults and sneaky looks thrown your way. things probably would of been smoother for you had you swallowed up your anger and let things play out differently. it wasn’t like you’re still in the academy and only getting written up for disobedience. this time, the consequences are colorful while running on the edge; a barrel of a gun pressed ever so lovingly against your forehead, sprawled out unconscious or dead in some landfill, or a unrecognizable face at the hands of some chrome’d up punk.

“ . . .i understand falco. i’ll try to keep that in mind.”you relented, hands dropping at your side and your body posture slowly relaxing. a long puff of air runs past your lips.

he merely grins at you, placing a palm on your shoulder and pats it proudly. “ good. ‘member, if you’re ever stuck in a pitch, don’t forget to holler. i’m gonna go inside of here. the crew is going to be leavin’ in a few, tell em’ i’ll be out after i’m done. “

you nod with a small smile and he cruises past you to enter inside the restroom.

returning back to the front, you only see david and lucy standing in front of the bar. although lucy was the first to quietly notice you walking up, david acknowledges you with a half wave.

“ yo, you catch falco? we were waiting on you and falco. he’s our ride back. the crew’s gonna delta soon, they’re outside. “

“ in the back taking a piss. give him a few. i’m gonna go tell the others before—“

“ nah, i got it first. “ david chimes, already pacing towards the only exit to alert the others. before he runs off, he sends you a sneaky grin.

“ that boy. . “ you groaned.

“ mm, that boy indeed. “ lucy rasps, crossing her arms over her chest, looking seemingly bored. you feel a little discouraged by her closed-off body language.

“ we might as well go after him. falco’s gonna be out any sec now. “

“ good idea. “

you glanced at her, a single brow curled. was that sarcasm?

walking after the chocolate-haired boy who’s most likely already alerted the others and is waiting with them by the ride, you make an attempt to spark up a conversation.

“ what are you going to be doing tonight, lucy? “ you inquired, awkwardly tucking your hands into your washed jean pockets.

“ nothing important. I’ll prob just go home and sleep early for tomorrow’s gig. “

“ yeah? “

“ mhm. “

you nearly cringe at how awkward you’re making this. it’s not helping that lucy isn’t even feeling you like that. the seasoned edgerunner side eyes you as you release a soft, frustrated sigh.

“ lucy. .after this gig tomorrow, i want to—no, sorry, can we talk? that’s if you’re comfortable. “

a short pause briefly sits in-between you and her.

“ . . sure. “ lucy says softly, cool air tinged with strong tobacco welcomes you and the aforementioned girl as you exited lizzie’s bar to join the others.

—

“ you’re not gonna tell me how was it? “ david spoke out, lounging on the couch shirtless. empty spray cans and paper with symbol designs are scattered about all over the coffee table. you stood by the window, gazing up at the moon solemnly. for the past hour he’s been designing a symbol to represent he’s an edgerunner on the back of his jacket. you’re not really creative like him and you rather not ruin your favorite leather jacket by some cheap spray paint. the leather jacket was gifted to you by gloria on your nineteenth birthday.

“ how was what? “

“ you and lucy. “

you just shrug, fighting the urge to not cringe at the flashbacks from earlier.

“ pretty nova. gonna get a chat in with her after tomorrow’s gig. hopefully we can comb things out. “

“ that’s preem! make sure to bring up the brain dance and how you feel about her too. “

you chuckled, “ oh i will, wingboy. “

“ fuck that, you mean wingman. “

“ okay, bird chest. “

“ fuck you! “

you rolled your eyes and waved him off, walking over to your room.

“ yeah whatever. good night, davi. make sure to clean up that mess after your done. don’t wanna ruin the new apartment we’ve just moved into after combining our hard earned eddies. “

the apartment wasn’t much different from the last. just a different mega building to avoid the shitty landlord gloria had to deal with and to have a proper two bed apartment. at least your current one was more understanding.

“ yeah, i know. g’night. “

—

the gig was short n’ sweet. the objective was to neutralize a shady business owner in 5th street, watson, kabuki who’s made under the table deals with maelstrom. although, you and david didn’t really kill anyone, you did happen to find the owner in the secret basement—who in fact was a raging, middle-aged japanese man you had to pistol whip the fuck out for trying to be bold while he was actively cornered by you and david.

david was quick to comm the location of the man to kiwi. within a minute, maine and dorio arrived, guns pointed on him. the man was flatlined before he can utter a string of curse words out.

“ geez, nothing beats going to a bar after a gig. “ you stretched your arms out in the air, dragging your feet across the asphalt, and walking side by side with your crew in northside, watson.

“ since when did you enjoy bars? yesterday night, it looked like you didn’t want to be there. “ kiwi mentions, skeptical about your sudden change of heart.

maine added in, “ kiwi’s right about that. your little ass wasn’t with us, i think i seen ya somewhere in a different booth tryna be all mysterious n’ shit. why ya flippin’ the switch now? “

you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, “ i just want to loosen up for a change. y’know, be different?”

“ yeah, you sure was! “ pilar jibes with a mocking grin, “ i showed this gonk one of the most vanilla braindances that bar offered—two seconds in, they got all flustered and pussied out over a pair of tits! even your lil bro handled it better than you! “

your face heats up with embarrassment at the sounds of laughter from other crewmates. “ shut the hell up, cockface, it’s not like i see pairs of tits enough to get desensitized from it! “

“ i’m surprised. i thought you would be considering your looks. “ kiwi chuckles, “ maybe it’s the tantrums? “

“ i do not have tantrums! davi, back me up! “

david gives you a lop-sided grin and shrugs, enjoying the bonding time he’s having with his new family.

“ i can’t say you do, can’t say you don’t. “

“ fuckin’ bastard—“

“ hey, what’s that sound? “

everyone goes quiet. the consistent noise of liquid splashing against a metal container hits your ears and your head turns to the source of it. there’s a raggedy homeless man standing ontop of the red crate, pissing.

“ aye, quiet down! “ pilar demands, breaking the uncomfortable silence as he stomps his feet.

“ you pissin’ up there? “

“ ugh. “

“ ew, gross. “

“ but why though. . “ you mumbled in utter disgust.

pilar gets aggravated at the man for ignoring him and bangs his golden, bawled up fist against the crate.

thump! thump!

“ i’m talkin’ to you! why you pissin’ up there like that?!”

thump!

“ that’s enough pilar, leave him alone. “

“ buh bye, bro. “

everyone but david walks forward, leaving pilar to confront the man while the young edgerunner watches in a mix of interest and shock. you don’t realize david stopped walking until moments later, a loud bang pierces through the atmosphere.

pilar’s nagging abruptly stopped and splatters of blood lands on your jacket.

everything happened so quick, you yelling at your brother to move while sprinting for some cover with the others, maine screaming in david’s face to move while he’s frozen in one place.

“ it’s a cyberpsycho! “

the announced cyberpsycho readies his projectile launcher system at the two who’s still out in the open and fires. maine roughly kicks the stunned david out of the way just in time for the explosive to narrowly miss them.

“ that crazed bum flatline’d pilar! “ you yelled, pulling out your iron from your jacket pocket.

“ yeah, he capped him! “ dorio adds, pulling out her own weapon from behind some cover next to you.

“ i think i have some pilar on me. “ kiwi mumbles with disgust, laying low next to dorio. why did she say it so casually? wasn’t that her crew mate?

“ gimme that! “ enraged by her brother’s death, rebecca snatches dorio’s gun and wildly rushes out of safety and towards the man, and starts spraying at his direction with dual pistols.

“ cocksucker! you had no fuckin’ right! “ she screams on the top of lungs, not even aiming correctly due to her seething anger. once her pistol was out of bullets, she angrily tosses it aside, and sprints towards her brother’s killer with dorio’s.

“ fuckin’ cyberpyscho trash! “ none of her bullets was hitting during her frenzied shooting. maine snatches her petite form with him behind cover as a another projectile hurdles several inches away her previous spot. not even a moment in his grasp and she thrashes out of it and snags maine’s ak.

in another failed attempt to shoot him, she hazardously mishandles the weapon and judder backwards due the powerful recoil and her small body. the bullets only dented the metal of the crate. the cyberpyscho readies his arm again to shoot another explosive and kiwi swiftly resets rebecca’s system by maine’s command, her body drops to the floor.

another explosive goes off and you frantically peek behind cover, looking for your brother who’s nearby, hiding behind a crator. “ david! you okay?! “

“ yeah! “ he yells back, “ where’s lucy?! “

fuck, lucy! your eyes search through the temporary smoke and scattered debris ahead and you spot her hidden behind the exact barrel where the man is standing on top of. your heart stops at the discovery, the grip on your iron’s handle grows tight. why the hell did she decide that spot was okay? what did it for you was lucy attempting to fry and neutralize the cyberpsycho which failed terribly. the man burst into flames but doesn’t even react to it and instead, blindly shoots a projectile near where’s she hidden. unspeakable anger instantly running through your veins, you compromise yourself by sprinting out of cover and towards the fucker.

“ that’s enough, you mindless cockhead! “ you barked, ignoring the man getting ready again to use another projectile.

“ (name), no! stop! “ lucy pleads, helplessly watching you risk your life just to see her.

all of his shots so far were erratic which means his aim is too. it’s a gamble but you’re willing to bet your life on it. your heart is beating out of your rib cage, rushing blood into your veins, beads of sweat rolls down your brow as you push your organic legs to the best of your human ability.

the projectile goes off, flying straight towards you but you keep running, not caring about the shouting around you, telling you to move out the way from getting flatlined.

“ you little shit! move— “

like what you predicted, the projectile narrowly misses your head by an inch and you quickly close the distance between you and your target.

bursting with adrenaline, you use the momentum to kick up the barrel and fling your body onto the platform. within a single breath, you pistol whipped the man and aimed the barrel of your gun right between his eyes.

“ the more you let shit get to you while walkin’ on the edge, the quicker and harder you fall. “ falco’s word rings through your head as you pull the trigger. a single shot pierces through the chaotic atmosphere, seemingly putting the bizarre situation to an end.

the man’s blood splatters all over your face.

after watching his body fall, you rush over to the edge to check on lucy.

“ lucy—please tell me you’re alright! “

she briefly eyes the worried look on your bloodied face and give you a small, assuring smile.

“ i’m alright. “

“ preem. i’m so relieved. “ you grinned toothily, not before it falters from the sight of blood running down the side of lucy’s face as she pensively gazes at you.

you gasp, “ you’re bleedin’! “

unbeknownst to you and to lucy’s horror, the cyberpsycho’s projectile launcher is aimed straight at your head. not even a half a second later, another shot rings out. this time, by david being the one to confirm the kill through his own panic and anger. flashbacks of you and his mother flows through his head while his finger was pressed on the trigger.

that was the first time he killed someone.

“ move, kid! “

maine quickly shoves david aside and punches the cyberpsycho’s head clean off before his decapitated body falls.

“ fuck! “ rebecca blows his severed head off with her shotgun as it lands at her feet. “ he was mine to kill and you took that from me! “

she blows off the remainder of pilar’s head and spits her gum out on her brother’s killer splattered head too. the guy was a dickhead but you give him your respects because he’s rebecca’s brother. you don’t know if you should try to comfort rebecca while she’s in a furious state like that.

“ don’t touch me. .! “ lucy brushes off dorio’s hand, denying her aid after her senior verbally points out the bleeding wound.

“ you’re hurt, need a booster? “

“ dorio, take the girl to go see a ripperdoc. “ maine turns to you and david, “ you two go with them. me and kiwi gotta stay behind and explain this cluster fuck of a mess. someone’s gotta do it. we’ll just tell them what that pig did to pilar and they’ll write this off as a cyberpsycho incident. “

“ nova. . “ you mumble, tapping your foot impatiently, and crossing your arms over your chest. all you want right now is to wash your face and take a nice shower to wipe the grime off your skin.

“ both of you, ‘saw what you did back there. the freezing’ up and almost gettin’ flatlined by that dirtbag cus’ of leapin’ straight to danger like a dumbass willin’ to risk it all was a rookie mistake. high-time you kids learn to stop thinking like a rookie. “

irritated, you roll your eyes, turning your head away and david says nothing, dropping his gaze to his feet in shame.

what you did wasn’t a rookie mistake.

“ huh, who’s there? “ the doc peeks through arrays of cybernetic arms and grunts with annoyance, “ you again? y’all know i’m not a licensed physician, right?” he reminded in a grumble, frowning at the three unwanted guests standing by the doorway of his illegal clinic.

“ doesn’t matter. i didn’t come here by choice anyways. “ lucy replies dryly, stepping inside, “ i’m going in alone. “ she throws you a seemingly cold glance and the door shuts behind her.

that girl sure can act nonchalant when she wants to be. you sighed, shifting your weight onto the other foot.

“ (name). make sure you get lucy home and cleaned up. david, come with me. i’ll ride you back. “ dorio offers, gesturing for your brother to follow along with her to his car.

“ o-oh, sure. “

“ w-wait, what? sure, but what about me and lucy’s ride back? “ you asked nervously with furrowed brows. you gotta talk to her anyways but setting you up like this is criminal—especially when your face is covered with subhuman blood.

“ maine said you can take his wheels. c’mon david. “

he’s apart of this too?

“ fine, b-but gimme a towel! and you make sure to get davi home and cleaned up too! “ you asserted, watching them walk away to dorio’s car.

“ that’s fine, i’ll come back to hand a towel to you from my ride. “

“ see ya at the crib, g’luck! “ david waves at you sheepishly. you just wave back, sneaking him a help me look. he gives you a cheeky thumbs up and turns his back on you.

that boy.

—

it’s been at least fifteen minutes since she’s been in and you’ve been idle near by, wiping the blood from your face. you really need to properly wash your face. you cringe at the disgusting feeling of the blood clogging up your pores.

“ fuck, this shit sucks. “ you murmur angrily.

the ripperdoc’s entrance door unexpectedly slides open and lucy casually walks out with a cigarette between her rosy lips. her gaze immediately falls onto you who’s crouched on the side. you lift your head up and grinned happily at the sight of her.

“ you’re back, lucy! let’s delta, m’gonna take you back to your place. “

she doesn’t object and quietly nods her head.

you can call yourself a decent driver. unlike david, gloria taught you how to drive. you honed your skills by driving around to do errands for her whenever she was tired from work. she’d always insist on going on her own but eight times out of ten; you’d convince her to not push herself than she already has. hell, you even helped david hustle his xbds gigs by driving him around to clients in santo domingo. there was a few predicaments where things got a little thin thanks to david’s recklessness but you being his getaway driver made his lifespan longer. now, you and david look back at those situations and laugh.

“ so, how was the visit. did the doc treat you good? a shady lookin’ guy but he cares a bit. ” you say softly, eyes straight on the highway to westbrook.

“ mhm. he did. “

“ that’s nova. i got scared back there, you know. “

“ mm. . . “ lucy doesn’t say anything for a few moments which undoubtedly made you nervous. she just quietly looks out of the passenger’s window, either at the scenery or her reflection. you continue to drive for several minutes, patiently waiting for her response. though, each minute that passed started to get you more and more anxious.

“ . .you should really worry more about yourself. .” she speaks up, repeating similar words she said days back. you hum thoughtfully, adjusting the wheel slightly to make a turn off the highway and into japantown.

“ th-that’s fair. you told me this already. i know, but, ”you thought about the people who came into your life recently, the ones you disliked but grew fond of, the brother who you love to death, the deceased mother who’s dream you hold dear to you, and the girl next to you who you wish to get closer to. you have too many ties—you don’t have time to worry about yourself.

“ i can’t. “ you laughed bitterly, particularly at yourself, “ not when there’s those who i want to protect. “

lucy stays quiet, most likely soaking in your words without intentions of a response—a response that might expose how she really feels. she pushes back the urge of wanting to talk further and doesn’t say anything.

you don’t say anything at first either and silently turned on the radio to your favorite channel.

“ . . .this channel is my fav. i always listen to this when my mind’s clogged up. well—that or lookin’ at the moon.” you admitted, making another right to a narrow street.

heartache, she only doin' what she know

weekends, get it poppin' on the low

better days comin' for sure

“ ‘eyy. i love vibin’ to this song. it’s a classic. “ you laughed softly, nodding your head to the beat. lucy throws you a side glance, the corners of her gaze softens. she’s not used to seeing you so relaxed like this. she won’t lie and say that you your best like this—smiling prettily and into your own element. her heart feels soft embers in her chest.

“ it goes in, out, do it real slow. . — “

“ right here. “

you quickly stopped in front of her apartment, mostly out of surprise because you almost missed her street.

“ a-ah, sorry. “

“ you’re good. nice voice by the way. “ she compliments, getting out of the vehicle and you follow suit.

“ yeah, right. ‘m no singer. “ you deny, trailing behind her into mega building h8. she begins to walk up the stairs to her floor.

“ can be if you tried. “

“ whatev. “ you’d mutter, tucking your hands into your leather jacket. fuck, you still not done talking to her and she already reached her unit, stepping towards the door of her apartment. you bite into the inner flesh of your cheek.

“ g’night. “ she says, putting in the code and entered inside of her apartment.

“ h-hey, lucy, wait! we st-still gotta talk s’more! “ you stammered, feeling embarrassed about waiting until the last second to stop her.

a moment later, she steps right back out, looking over at you blankly. you swallow thickly.

“ this way. “

she leads you to the roof, on a small platform where you and her have the perfect view of the large moon above. you sat down with her, crossing your legs.

“ this spot. .you come here often? “

“ yeah, to clear my mind. “

“ i see. “ you look up at the moon, a sense of longing washes over you.

“ that bd of the moon we did. .it was like a breath of fresh air. i liked it. “ you smiled awkwardly.

“ actually, i have something i want to talk about too. remember that night we met? what i said back then? i know how it must look but i wasn’t lying. it was true. that was the first time i’ve ever told and shared anybody that. “

“ yeah, i should of figured from the way you looked so happy then. there’s no way you can act out such a killer smile. “

“ what if i’m acting now? “ even though you can’t exactly see her pretty face, you can hear the smile in her smooth voice.

“ oh, c’mon. “ you chuckled, leaning forward with a confident smile, “ i doubt it now. “

“ why not? “

“ you didn’t even look at me as you asked that. “

“ crazy. “

you prop an elbow on your knee and placed your chin on your palm. “ still wish you could of told me sooner though. “

“ couldn’t. “

“ why? “

there’s a melancholic tone to her voice as she replies, “ you were so mad at me then. “

“ yes, miss m’am. i was. “

“ see what i mean? “

“ but rightfully so. the pretty girl that revealed her biggest wish and treasure to me the first night i met her ends up fuckin’ me over—yeah i’d be all pissy for a while. though, i don’t hate you for that, just couldn’t. but, if i was hot hot about it, well, i wouldn’t have risked my life for you back there with that mad man.” you half-lied. even if you were that upset, you’d never let lucy get flatline’d like that.

the rainbow-haired girl scoffs, seeing right through your whimsy lie. “ liar. “

“ am not. “

“ is too. “

“ how? “

“ because you’re the type to jump into the fire to save someone, even if you know you’re going to get burned. that’s just who you are. “

your brows raise, “ and? would that make me a bad merc? “

“ didn’t say that. you’d make a good edgerunner, actually. you already are i think. “

you frown, “ so what’s the issue—“

“ you don’t make your name for yourself as a cyberpunk by how you live; but by how you die. “ lucy stands up abruptly as she continues, “ that’s not the life or end that you deserve, (name). “

you sprung up, shaking your head at her words, “ what do i deserve then? how am i different from you? “

“ a good life. me? i got nowhere else to go. this it it.”bullshit.

“ i don’t either—we all don’t! do you know what city we’re livin’ in right now? we’re more similar than you think, lucy! “ you argued back. she’s not even facing towards your direction, almost like she’s avoiding seeing your face. violet highlights compliments her form, produced by the city glows.

“ no, you and i are worlds apart—“

“ what? then tell me—in what way? lucy, please look at me! “

the netrunner bites her bottom lip in distress, gripping the back of her hair; right where she keeps a certain area hidden.

“ fuck, let’s go to the moon together, lucy! “ you declared, “ gonna make our wish–no your dream come true. m’gonna you there, that i promise! “

lucy paces over to you, cradles your cheeks with her palms, and brings you into a hasty kiss. she stuns you in pace. your eyes widen like saucers, body weightless, almost as if you were floating in space. in the distance, a rocket launches off into the air, racing into the sky just as fast as your heart racing onto your sleeve.

“ i don’t want you to die on me. . “ she whispers gently, retracting away to peer deeply into your widened eyes. there’s a passionate glint in her pastel hues in contrast to the still expression on her highlighted countenance. there has to be something more behind those blends of colors; a woeful past that has her expressing her fear like this. she adds pressure to her tender palms, pulling you back into reality from the weight of her touch.

without saying a word, you clumsily slot your lips between lucy’s, briefly and experimentally running your tongue through the parting opening of her mouth, and pulled away. previously surprised by your kiss, the older girl recovers and kisses you again with tongue. tobacco and a sweet twinge of carbonated soda explodes on your tastebuds. albeit clumsy, the strings kisses you shared between her were ardent and solidified a resolve within the pit of your heart.

“ i won’t die. “ you promised breathlessly against her soft lips, holding lucy close by the hips. “ now, i need something from you. two things i been wantin’ for the longest. “

“ say it then. . “ she whispers, traveling her hand down the lower half of your face. her thumb runs along the fleshy surface of your slightly swollen lips.

“ wanna apology for back then. haven’t heard you say sorry yet. “

“ you serious? “ she half chuckles, you rest your forehead against hers. you’re lucky to be the same height as lucy and not as david in this moment.

“ dead, prettiness. “ you tuck strands of hair behind her ear.

“ prettiness? you’re the one to talk. “

“ can it and gimme my apology. “

“ hmm. m’sorry. “ she drawls, returning to slide her hand down to the side of your neck sensually, pale knuckles brushing against your collar. even though you want more than a one word apology, you let it go, bewitched by her charms.

“ i’ll take it. next thing, be my girl. “

she breaks into a pretty smile, a small flush spread on her milky cheeks.

“ you’re really going all out, huh? “

“ you kissed me first. “

“ touché. ‘kay, sure. “

it’s your turn to grin happily, squeezing at her hips. “ now i feel fuckin’ preem. let’s get you inside now. “

you followed lucy off the roof and back to her door side by side. the warmth in your chest dampens once you fully realized that you won’t see her until tomorrow.

“ what’s with the puppy eyes? “ lucy queries, casting you a quick side glance before she punches the entrance code to her apartment. your heart gets caught in your throat and you stammer, “ n-nothing! m-my mind was elsewhere, lu’. “

she doesn’t react to her new nickname and positions her body towards you. despite the neutral expression she’s wearing, you can recognize the fondness in her eyes.

“ i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay? “ lucy lean forward and plants a short kiss on your lips. you bob your head, waving your hand meekly as she enters inside of her apartment. the netrunner spares you one last look over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

you let out the biggest sigh of relief in your life.

—

“ took you long enough. “ david greets you, sitting down on the couch, free of his jacket. it appears like he got rid of the bum’s blood stains from his face. walking inside, you kick off your shoes, and ambulating your way over to the living room with him.

“ my fault, probably should of taken the highway back. “ you sat down on the cushion beside him and leaned against his frame in a relaxed manner. david lets you without a protest.

“ not what i meant. looks like you n’ lucy made up. “

“ fuck off, what gave it away? “

“ you seriously askin’ me that? it’s all over your face, asshole. you were smilin’ like a loser when you came through the door. “

“ whatev. “

you rub the back of your neck and craned it side to side, attempting to ease the stiffness.

“ did you tell her what i suggested? “ he asked hopefully, fiddling around with his fingers. you hum back with confirmation, dropping your hand down on your lap to observe the small bruises from the stand off a few hours ago on your palm. they don’t really hurt and it’s already fading.

“ mhm, wingboy. i was going to do that anyways. “

david simply grunted, averting his gaze somewhere off into the room.

“ what she say? “

“ that everything she said back then was true and genuine. then something about me and her being different—that we’re worlds apart. “

“ huh? how so? “

“ dunno, looked like she didn’t wanna tell me. “

“ you think she’s hidin’ something? “

“ most likely. i promised lucy that i’ll take her to the moon, to make a dream come true though. “ you don’t tell him about the kiss(es).

david’s face crunch up with confusion as he recalls, “ didn’t you call that a wish and how it’s wishy washy? “

“ didn’t you call that poster she had on her wall a joke? “ you remarked, ruffling up his puffy mohawk. you always thought the mohawk looked goofy when he started rocking it years ago. david thought he looked so cool with a mohawk. he showed it to you one day after gloria took him to the barber with his chest all puffed out, looking ‘tough’. you never laughed so hard that day. now? the style definitely grew on you. the younger teen swats your hand away, huffing, “ you know i ain’t mean it like that. don’t spin this on me, asshole. answer the question! “

“ i did call it wishy washy. i guess it’s different with her. ‘spewed it at the heat of the moment but it came from my heart. i still intent to make her dream come true. i. .also got her to apologize too and we’re a thing. “

“ oh, that’s. . preem! totally didn’t expect that one comin’. i guess i should be promoted to wingman now, huh? “ he laughs and you laugh with him.

“ i guess i should for you helping out these past days, davi. “

silence momentarily fills the relaxed ambience of your shared apartment, you thought about the bd experience with her, the kiss, the way she looked in the eyes on that roof. your gaze softens and so did your tone as you asked your brother,

“ if you were in my shoes, would you have promised her that too? would you have done the same? “

david stays quiet for a moment before he replies meekly,

“ yeah. .i think i would have done the same for her too. “

you don’t miss the longing in his voice. guilt immediately washes over you.

david, you really are my wingman, aren’t you?

“ (name)? “

“ yea, davi? “ you respond, removing your iron from your belt and stood upright to take off your bloodstained jacket that you desperately need to clean.

“ . .didn’t you say dreams can’t come true without a sacrifice. .right? “

#cyberpunk edgerunners x reader #cyberpunk 2077 x reader #lucy kushinada x reader #lucy x reader #cyberpunk edgerunners #cyberpunk 2077

50 notes · View notes