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spidernerdsblog · 4 years

Note

Can I request reader going to meet mob! tom's friends and when tom gets there, everyone tells him about the hot girl who just walked in and how they wanna fuck her tonight and when he tells them it's his gf they are like 😳 oh and you know tom being the most fearless mobster has trouble controlling his rage and maybe both y/n and tom have some jealous sex. pls I hope this doesn't trigger you and only write this if you want to and stay safe

I literally listened to where you belong by the weeknd while writing this the whole time lol. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : 18 +, SMUT, mature content, dom/sub dynamics, light bondage, language, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Where you belong

It was like any other night where Tom had to attend one of those lavish parties thrown by the biggest crime families in the country after all he's the mob boss but this time it was little different as you were going to join him tonight. After dating for six months Tom finally thought to introduce you to his underworld friends. Tom was dressed as usual in his business clothes which was a nice ensemble from Prada looking dashingly handsome as always. On the other hand you chose to wear the skin tight dress which Tom liked the most according to him it brings out the best of you.

Reaching the venue you stepped out of the car as Tom hands the valet the car keys to park his car. Just when you were about to go inside together Tom remembers that he had an important phone call to make.

"Love, you go inside I'll be right behind you" He says to you.

"Okay come fast" you give a smile.

"Yeah I will" after making the call Tom goes inside the hall to find you when he heard some of his friends call out to him.

‘‘Hey Tom!’’ He momentarily forgot about you and made his way towards them.

"So what's up boys?" He pats Michael’s shoulder taking a drink from the ushers.

"Tom, mate, you have no idea what you just missed’’ he informs all excitedly.

‘‘Oh really? What was it?’’ he asked, amused.

‘‘Ask who was it, she was a fucking bombshell man, who just walked right through that door!"

"You should have looked at her ass mate god I just want to fuck her so bad" Charles added.

"Keep dreaming you suckers because Roy is already at it, look over there" Liam chuckles pointing out to them. Tom followed their gaze and his jaw clenched as soon as he saw you, smiling and talking to one of his friends, he inhaled sharply in anger at the fact that all this time his friends were just talking about fucking you in front of him.

‘‘Damn Roy is gonna get lucky tonight just look at those tits’’ Michael remarks as everyone chuckles except Tom who was fuming with rage.

‘‘You say another fucking word about her and I’m gonna cut that filthy tongue of yours!’’ He spat at him.

‘‘Woah man, relax. What got you so riled up?’’ Tom turned to them with a death glare.

"Listen you morons I want to make this loud and clear, she’s my girl’’ everyone’s eyes went wide in shock as they gulped hard in fear because the last thing anyone would want is to piss off Tom ‘‘and if anyone of you even dare to have improper thoughts about her I’m gonna put a fucking bullet in your heads! Do you fucking get that?!’’ He growled as everyone hung their heads low in fear agreeing to him. He then strides his way towards you.

‘‘So all by yourself?’’ Roy asks with suave in his voice.

‘‘Oh no, I’m with my boyfriend, Tom Holland you might know him’’

‘‘You- you are Holland’s girl?’’ He stutters in fear knowing that he is good as dead if Tom comes to know that he was trying to bed his girl.

‘‘Yeah’’ you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear smiling.

"Hey darling" you felt a familiar pair of hands wrap around your waist possessively.

"There he is!" you chirped as Tom knelt down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Where were you?" you pouted.

"Sorry darling was just catching up with some friends"

"Hey Tom" Roy says awkwardly trying to act friendly

"Hey Roy" Tom gives him a hard glare and turns to you.

"I think it's time for us to leave" He says pressing his lips in a thin line.

"But Tom we just arrived won't you have a couple of drinks" you frowned at the sudden change of plans.

"I think I actually had enough darling, let's go now" He says sternly, you noticed his hard gaze and stopped yourself from questioning him further.

"Okay" He literally dragged you out of the place to the parking area. You got inside the car and sat on the passenger seat as Tom sat on the driver's seat slamming the door shut with such force that startled you.

The whole ride back was completely silent; you occasionally saw him gripping on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You knew your boyfriend as the most feared mob boss who was also known for his short temper. And by the look on his face he seemed angry for some reason which you are unable to figure out. Surprisingly his angry demeanor was turning you on, you shifted on your seat uncomfortably as you felt heat pool between your legs which didn't go unnoticed by Tom.

Tom didn't want the night to end like this but here he was furious and raging from inside. He was very well aware of his anger management issues and since the day you walked into his life he has tried to be the better man for you including keeping his anger in check because he would do anything for you. He was never the kind of man to be triggered with such petty things but when it comes to you he just can't control himself he couldn't get over the thought of his friends were literally eye fucking you in front him. It wasn't your fault though you were no doubt beautiful and he feels extremely lucky that he gets to call you his. But seeing you talking and laughing with Roy just lighted up his fuse. He knew you were just being nice to him but when he knows what Roy's actual intentions were with you just makes him see red.

He just wants to be reassured again that you belonged to him and only him which he is going to make sure tonight. And seeing you getting all fidgety he knew that you were soaking with arousal making him smirk internally at the effect he has on you.

You finally reached the driveway of your mansion as Tom pulled over the car. You couldn't take the silence anymore and finally spoke up.

"Tom are you OK?" your voice was full of concern reaching out a hand to his forehead "You are sweating" He grabs your hand with a death grip making you swallow hard as your gaze shifted to his brown orbs which were now swirling with rage and pure lust, yes he was angry and you know exactly what is going to happen next you found yourself getting even more wet just at the thought of it.

"Bedroom. Strip and wait for me" his voice sharp and dominating. You nodded and let out a small "Yes"

"Yes what?" He demands.

"Yes sir" you say submissively, the corner of his lips curl up to a smirk as he brushes your cheekbone with his knuckles gently.

"Good girl"

You got out of the car and immediately went to your bedroom. Without wasting any time you did just as you were told, taking off your dress, you sat on the bed on your knees in just your lace panties with palms laying flat on your thighs as you waited for him in anticipation. Every passing minute felt like an hour as you felt your nipples harden in the cool air and arousal pool between your legs, you rubbed your thighs to get some relief from the growing ache.

He finally arrives after some agonizing moments later the tux he was wearing already discarded and some of the buttons of his shirt unbuttoned giving a nice peak to the solid abs underneath.

"Such a good girl, aren't you princess?" he cooes as he walks in and sits in front of you.

"Only for you Tommy" you say sweetly. He knelt down and grabbed your jaw roughly to capture your lips hungrily his tongue prys open your mouth exploring your mouth. He gently sucks on your bottom lip tugging it lightly before pulling away you look at him through your lashes gasping. He brushes his thumb against your swollen bottom lip which you eagerly wrapped your lips onto, sucking and swirling your tongue around it as you hold onto his arm.

"Now don't be so greedy" he purrs as you release his thumb with a pop.

"Give me your hands" He demands as you reluctantly extend your hands to him. Tom knows how you hate your hands being tied up with how much you love to run your hands through his hair and hold him close to you making you feel safe in his arms but today he had to establish that you were only his, he takes out his tie that was stuffed in his back pocket and ties up your hands with intricate knots.

"Is this OK?" he asks tugging on it.

"Yes" you affirm, he pushes you onto the bed as you fall back on the soft mattress with him hovering over you as he unbuttons the rest of the buttons of his shirt and takes it off in a swift move.

"So beautiful and just for me" he says with hooded eyes while his hands trailed down your inner thigh as the coolness of the gold rings on his finger sent shivers right up your core. He pinned your tied hands above your head when you tried to raise them.

‘‘Uh uh princess I thought you were my good girl’’ He patronizes

‘‘I am’’ you whimper in his strong hold.

‘‘Then behave if you don’t want me to leave you like this’’ he says kissing down your throat. You let out a gasp when you felt his warm mouth latch on to your hardened nipple. He smirked and continued sucking, teeth grazing on your soft mounds making you moan.

"How dare those bastards look at what is mine?!" he growls in between littering your skin with wet kisses and marking you.

You were so helpless and completely at his mercy. Writhing under him and craving him so badly, snaking a hand inside your soaked panties, "so fucking wet" he observed as he spread your slick around your folds, pulling a desperate whimper from you. He brings his fingers to his mouth.

"Tastes so sweet every time angel" he hums sucking them clean. He then trailed kisses down your stomach, on your navel, before he found home between your legs as he hooks his fingers to the waistband of your panties and simply rips it off you. He stared at your bare, glistening pussy hungrily as if you were his last meal. He dives down right into it sloppily licking through your folds making you arch your back but he holds you down placing a hand on your stomach as he continues his assault.

You felt dizzy, your brain barely able to comprehend your surroundings. The only sensation you felt was Tom and his calloused fingers which he expertly worked up your dripping cunt and threw you over the edge. When he pushed three of his fingers inside you, you felt delirious and came all around his fingers.

Tom quickly gets rid of the rest of his clothes and holds himself above you resting his forearm on the side of your head one hand reaches down to grab his throbbing member as he swipes his tip through your slick folds coating it with your arousal before pushing it in your aching hole. You gasp as you feel his tip slide past your entrance and fills you entirely, the stretch making you close your eyes in pleasure.

‘‘Always so fucking tight!’’ He grunts feeling your walls warm and snug around him. Your eyes shoot wide open as he pulls his hips back and slams right into you without even letting you adjust to him, drawing out a loud moan from you.

You were writhing underneath him wriggling your hands desperately wanting to feel him and hold on to him. Tom finally took mercy on you as he snakes a hand to your wrists and unties your restraints. As soon as your hands were free you flung them to his back pulling him closer as possible, one hand went to tug on to the roots of his hair. You wrapped your legs around his hips, hooking them behind his back. You could never get enough of him, you needed him deep inside you exploring parts of you that no one could ever reach. He nips at your neck sucking on your skin harshly, making sure for everyone to see who you belong to.

"Who is making you feel this good princess?" His voice raspy and breathless.

"You…" your voice trailed off as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"Didn't hear you princess" he reaches down to rub where your bodies were connected.

"You Tom! You!" you shrieked out at the added stimulation.

"That's right baby, I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, no one can make you scream the way I do, no one knows where to touch you like I do" he rubs harsher circles on your sensitive bud and moves his hips to thrust into you deeper, your moans growing louder and louder boosting his ego as your walls clasp around him.

"Fuck! I need to make sure everyone knows who you belong to eh? Maybe put a baby in you, what do you say?" He reckons while he continued to rut his hips

"Yes Tom fill me up, fill me up with your babies" you nod your head furiously as the sound of skin slapping against each other fills the room along with your grunts and moans.

"You will look so pretty baby, all round and beautiful with our child" He brushes your hair gently from your sweat covered face, you were a babbling mess by now unable to form any proper words except his name, his words only spurring you on to your impending climax. He keeps pounding into you even harder than before as you feel your body tense up, toes curling as the coil inside your stomach tightened.

"C'mon baby cum all over my cock, make me fill you up and mark you as mine" He urges and you screamed out when you felt the coil inside you finally snap your walls tightening around him as you came undone raking your nails down his back while his lips captured your swollen ones swallowing your moans as he finally cums inside you filling you up with his warm release and collapses on top of you.

"Mine" he mumbles into your skin between ragged breaths.

"All yours" you say reassuringly running your fingers through his hair soothingly catching your breath.

..................................................................................

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #mob!tom #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom holland

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

A hair’s breadth

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Javier and Reader can’t help but be at each others throats. Javier gets fed up with the teasing one night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my nineteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! Sorry this is out late- I had a job interview!! (I got the job! 🥳) This is based off of this and this request! There’s not as much Spanish in this one- though one day soon I want to try to write all the dialogue for Javier in Spanish- (I am trying to learn how to be better at it im just very nervous I’ll get it all wrong 🙃) Please feel free to drop me a message in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thank you for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Protected Sex (wrap it up especially with Javier lol), Fingering, Hate fucking, Public sex (who’s surprised), Hair pulling, Choking, Mirror sex

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.9k

“Do that again I dare you.” Javier had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, with his hand around your throat. How you had gotten in this position was as a result of one of your regular fights you often had with him.

This time it had been over something even more petty than the last time. You honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had started it. It had been something to do with some obscure line in the paperwork you were filling out while over at his apartment late at night past embassy hours. What had been a small issue then turned into a full blown argument, snapping and yelling at each other until it reached its peak.

Javier knew that he shouldn’t have said that just by the look on his face while he had a hand around your throat. You had slapped him after a misogynistic comment, which then had him slamming you up against the wall.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, but did not move to get out of his grip. He was about to respond with probably another biting comment when you were both interrupted.

You both looked over to his front door when there was incessant knocking, which was probably only from one person. “Hey Javi! Do you or Y/N want to go out for a drink tonight?” Steve’s voice being shouted through the walls confirmed the source of the knocks. You were glad his door was closed, otherwise this would've been an awkward situation to explain to your coworker.

Javier looked back at you one last time with a hard look on his face; it was a normal occurrence for you to receive that type of look from him. You smiled despite his hand around your throat as you had gotten what you had wanted, you had succeeded in riling him up.

Steve knocked again, this time a little harsher. He didn’t look away this time, eyes narrowing in on you further, like he was trying to decide if he should release you from his clutches. Though, it wasn’t that you were completely helpless, you could force him off of you if you wanted. But, you wanted to see what he would do.

“Are you going to answer him?” You goaded, biting your lip when you finished speaking, eagerly waiting for his response. No verbal comment came from him, instead he released the hold he had on your neck. You slumped a little, not out of pain as his hold hadn’t been that tight, you had just been surprised when he released you so quickly.

“Lo siento…” Was mumbled under Javier’s breath. You wondered if he meant for you to hear it or if he said it only to ease his conscience.

Javier walked over to the door to swing it open with you in tow, luckily already recovered somewhat from his hand around your throat. Steve jumped slightly when Javier opened it forcefully, then smiling when you both responded to his question, albeit gruffly, “Yeah, sure.”

—-

Javier clenched his fist hard while you took a drink, smirking into the glass was the only indication that you knew exactly what you were doing. You had spruced yourself up a bit to go to the bar, slipping on a dress you had just bought recently and putting on a pair of high heels. As soon as you had appeared back downstairs where Steve and Javier had been waiting for you his jaw had clenched hard, just like his fist was doing right now.

You were sat at the edge of the booth you had all congregated in, Javier was right across from me and Steve was by the window absentmindedly drinking a beer. He didn’t notice how you were sat slightly to the side, inching the dress you wore higher just to see Javier’s fist clench more.

“I’m surprised you guys were actually working together without me there.” Steve scratched at his jaw. We both pretended to partially focus back on him for a moment, Javier’s fist dropped much to my disappointment.

You glanced over at him then giving him one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told, “We’ve found a way to- resolve our differences.”

Javier took an angry gulp of whiskey, somehow it was possible that he was now even more pissed off at you then before. He opened his mouth to probably say something backhanded as usual, but Steve steamrolled him unintentionally, “Well- I’m glad, the office is kinda painful to be in when y’all are having one of your arguments.”

“Well hopefully we won’t bother you anymore.” Javier finally got a word in and it was just as snippy as expected.

You then downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, a little tipsy now from the few drinks you’d had so far. A dull thud from you setting the glass down on the table was swallowed by the noises of the other customers and employees around you. You got up, fed up with getting only little responses from him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

—-

“Javier what are you doing?” You asked incredulously when he entered the women’s restroom, but weren’t given an answer. You didn’t pull away when he pulled you close, dipping his head to suck a hickey on the underside of your jaw. You only keened into his touch, you may have hated him, but it did feel amazing. Your teasing had worked

“I told Steve I was going to the bathroom too.” Giving a quick summary before continuing his assault on your skin, “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He spitefully said into your skin in between sucking and biting your collarbone. You didn’t care enough to respond, he knew you felt the same. In a flash he pulled your dress off of your head, exposing all of you except what was covered by your bra and underwear.

When he then gripped his fingers around the fabric of your panties and ripped them off, you gasped in anger. He then ran his fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit to run small circles into it. You were still angry about the ruined panties on the floor, and the fact that with just a few touches he was proving why everyone fell at his feet after they slept with them. “I liked those!”

“You seem to like this too.” His fingers sped up their movements, alternating between hard and light pressure. Your orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, you almost wanted to hold it back so Javier didn’t get a big head. It felt too good though, and you didn’t have a lot of time.

You were both a hair’s breadth away from getting caught, Javier’s fingers continued their movements with no thought. Steve was drunk, he might even be asleep right now. But, one wrong move and he’d hear Javier fucking you in the bathroom.

“Javier!” You shouted, not thinking about the volume, when he pulled his fingers away from you just as you were about to fall off the edge. He then brought his wet fingers to his lips, sucking off any evidence of your arousal. It was hard to be mad when he looked so hot doing that, even though your clit was throbbing now.

“Need to fuck you now- this’ll take too long if we wait for you.” You wanted to snap at him again, his comment flippant and somewhat rude. That was until he pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard just for you. Your mind switched gears after that.

“Condom?” He grunted in response to your question, then pulled one out of his wallet. You were about to ask how long it had been in there, but with the rate he fucks, you doubted it had been there for long.

Once he slipped it on he commanded, “Bend over.” You scoffed, about to retort that you’d never bend over for him. But, Javier beat you to the punch, “I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you here naked and dripping.” You shuddered at that, your arousal was too much to ignore. So, you let him have one victory, hopping off the counter to bend over.

You caught sight of your disheveled state in the mirror, your legs buckling a little because of it. You already looked completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t done much besides fingering you. Javier must have caught you staring at yourself, and him if you were being honest, wrapping his hand around your hair to push you closer to the mirror. “¿Que? You like watching yourself? You like getting fucked while Steve and everybody else could hear you?”

You tried to nod your head, but with his firm grip on your hair while he began to sink into you, all you could do was moan. Once you realized that you were most definitely being too loud you stopped yourself making any noise by biting your lip hard. When the front of Javier’s thighs hit the back of yours he leaned forward to whisper angrily in your ear, “Yeah- you do like this.”

His pace was rough, but not sloppy, quick thrusts that had your ass rippling from the force. This was going to be a quick and dirty fuck, Steve would soon come looking for us if we didn’t get our orgasms over and done with. Besides, all you were looking for was a release, being with Javier for more time than was necessary just sounded like a punishment. Despite the pace he was keeping up, he still managed to keep your head right where he wanted it, looking directly in the mirror.

Your orgasm was building up again, even faster than before since you were already sensitive. At one point when your eyes began to roll back as you got closer Javier snapped that you should keep your eyes open.

“Come on, cum.” He growled out once he noticed how close you were, “Cum while Steve is out there- wondering where we went.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, your orgasm crashing over you. Javier reached his own peak while you were riding out your own, filling the condom, gripping your hair and hip hard as he did.

Once your highs had abated he pulled out of you with a groan, quickly tying off the condom while you were still bent over and recovering with gasped breaths.

“Hey Javier?” You asked right as he began to turn around to go, letting you put your clothes back on and clean up in peace.

“¿Sì?” He turned around to face you again, looking much more put back together than you were with your makeup still smudged. You had the remnants of the panties he had ripped off of you dangling on your finger.

You wrapped your other hand around his belt he put back on, pulling him back closer to you so you were both chest to chest. You then stuffed the scrap of torn fabric into the front pocket of his jeans until they were completely hidden.

“Now you get to sit right next to Steve while they’re in your pocket.” He gulped a little and you gave one last remark before turning back to clean up your makeup, “And, you’ve got to pay for a new pair, I liked those.”

Though he boiled your blood as you walked back to the table where he had joined Steve back at you realized you were only a hairs breadth away from not hating him.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

Javier Peña/Narcos: @pascalesque

#javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier peña fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #narcos x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #30 fics in 30 days

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promptprophet · 4 years

Text

Welcome back

I am not dead, although I am ready to throw down. Okay so there is a lot under the cut, but by every star in the sky I have been gone from all of my blogs for a while due to some roccuring issues. If any follow my main at @prophet-rebellion then you may have noticed that.

Some pro-tips:

1. Do not attend a gathering with family that does not believe in Covid. Because if they are anything like mine, someone will tell them they tested positive, your Uncle will encourage them to come anyways and not tell a single other person - and then, surprise surprise, everyone ends up with Covid.

2. Do not let your advisor plan your schedule entirely. Even if they are the Dean of your department. Because if they are still like mine, they will give you six classes. Which would not be an issue of 18 credit hours if it were not for the fact that 5 or the 6 are writing enriched. The only one that it not is math-based which is not my strong suite anyways.

But, in other news - I took a toll for the worst at one point. It has since gotten better. Granted, I had to be the biggest pain-in-the-ass to the campus physiatrist because he wanted to revoke some of my medication. Just because I am somehow making all As for the moment does NOT mean that I do not need my ADHD medication.

Speaking of! Yours truly got formally diagnosed with combination ADHD, depression, and anxiety. And after a lot of trial and error, we have found a medication and dosage that actually helps with the latter two! ADHD is still a work in progress because he is fighting me on it. He also doesn’t want me taking my meds unless I have a face-to-face class that day - as if it is some 9-5 weekdays only issue and I do not have class outside of those times, or online ones. But! A work in progress!

Also, Covid gave me the perfect chance to drop an incredibly toxic group of people in my life. One one hand, my mental health is so much better for it, and so is my own sense of self worth. On the other, it is definitely hard to do and hard to adjust to suddenly losing so many people. But I have reconnected with my 14 year old sister for the first time in 5 years - she wants to have lunch. Which is nice considering I have no spoken to my sisters in 5 years for her, 6 years for the older one (the middle). And I am also trying to reach out to my brothers more. It is interesting, because I did not know them until later. I am the oldest out of 5, 2 half-sisters of my mom’s side, 2 half-brothers on my dads, ironically enough.

I am also seeking out a competent doctor even with Medicaid, because I know need two more surgeries. This will make surgeries 4 and 5. It should have been 2 at most. But 5? And that is minimum, not counting if anything goes wrong again. It is taking longer, because I refuse to see my prior surgeon, and the only opening this past winter break as when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, so, that did not happen.

Given circumstance I have managed to find a place to stay during breaks. Which is great because as some of you may recall I was kicked out after I turned 18 in 2019, and the room I rented over that summer was terrible (maybe leaving a known alcoholic with no regard for privacy alone with a just then 18 year old girl is a bad idea - if the number of times he barged into my room unannounced to try and get me to drink with him was anything to go by), but it was so my parents could travel full-time. Which, they are doing now and I am happy for them because my mom has 10 years maximum if she is lucky before needing oxygen (Smokers Lung), and my dad is dealing with medical injuries he got while serving - they discharged him because they would never heal right.

I have also picked back up with my job on my college campus! So money! And have secured a much better paying job over break than my McDonalds job, meaning I am not so hard pressed for cash. Which is also great because the last week of summer I had to dish out $2500 for my truck after it broke down in Tennessee and we had to get towed back to North Carolina.

So! Down to business! Now that I know what was wrong with me, and I no longer have issues with suicide, I’m on medication, and last semester I had a therapist that was a major help to me. I am actually in a better spot to be here. It has certainly taken a lot of work, and 2020-21 has thrown just about everything that it seems to have been able and hell, I am still looking for a third job.

Speaking of, god damn, the commissions! Jesus H. Christ, I wanted those done by January! And it’s March! Although I have been making progress on them, that is absolutely true - I am working on them a bit oddly though, switching between which ones I do to try and stop burn out and also because I was not drawing while mentally at my lowest. So to anyone who commissioned me who may not be looking at those messages, but sees this, I am sorry, they are being worked on. And I understand this is a ridiculous amount of time to wait for them and thank you all for being so patient.

I have also been considering if it is a good choice for me to come back to this page, and yes, I think that it is. Having something that I do every day has proven to be very helpful, and the amount of joy and love I have for these pages and the followers on them is immense. I was trying to clear out storage on my phone and I have an album just of prompts or asks that you guys have sent that continue to make my day. It really does mean the world to me.

I cannot be too sure if many have noticed my absence, if Prompt Guy did either. But I am stopping it now. I am finally in a good place. And yeah, I have a lot to do still - if all goes according to plan then I graduate next year. So after this I only have two more semesters before I graduate with my Bachelors in Business, with a focus on Entrepreneurship at the age of 20. And I better because I cannot afford to be in college much longer. I want to be back here, and return to my regular postings and interactions. I am getting those commissions done no matter what - that is a constant guilt over my head. Trust me, I know that it is there. I know. But I joined as an admin because I had followed this page the day it was created. And then I saw it had gone dead with no posts, so I applied as an admin. I got it. And things went very well. Well, I intend to hold back to what I wanted when I was first on this page, bringing it back to consistent postings for everyone.

I am here. I am back. And I am staying.

Also, I apologize if there are any typos, I have been doing a lot or writing for homework and personal work (trying to stop burn out and the threat of school ending my love to write) and my eyes have been strained the last few days, so everything is a bit fuzzy. Speaking of fuzzy! Turns out I needed glasses! So I have glasses now!

Yours truly, Prompt Prophet

#I lived bitch #but really I am back #Warning #Long post #Very long post #But god it has been so long since I have been back across ALL of my accounts #And I feel like I owe an explanation and a run down of what I plan to be doing

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years

Text

New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you.

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page.

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing.

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

65 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

105 notes · View notes

narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Welcome home

I hope this sequelette was enjoyable! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it was kinda difficult.

Previous part: here

first part: here

The rest of the night was a blur. In the chaos of Illumi confronting you, you had been too scatter-brained from fear to inform him that you were having 'practice contractions', and you definitely weren't in any sort of mindset to tell him you might be near labor, however, the stoic assassin always had a plan for things, and had accounted for you potentially going into early labor at any point. So, after your declaration, he picked you up and rushed you over to the van he had waiting. In your distressed state, everything whizzed by after that. You were vaguely aware of what the Zoldyck family doctor told you to do, but aside from when you were moved from the van to a secondary location, you couldn't seem to focus at all under the maelstrom of panic and pain. Time, your situation, all forms of possible consequence, none of it mattered anymore as you clung to your fiance-to-be's hand and followed every order the doctor gave. At some point though, you must've passed out from the pain, because in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were waking up.

Slowly, you blinked the world back into focus, your head slowly beginning to stop swimming from pain and hysteria, allowing you to gradually realize that you were laying in a hospital bed in some random, dark room that you didn't recognize. Was I out so long that I'm already back at the estate? You asked yourself, lifting your head a bit to try and discern exactly where you were through the hazy, groggy feeling clouding your mind. Upon closer inspection of your surroundings, you weren't in Illumi's family home. From what you could see by the dim light of the lamp in the corner, the room was too small and the furniture was too cheap, so you must be in some random, hopefully, abandoned home. "Where...am I." you croaked, though you weren't realy expecting an answer, so it startled you to hear Illumi respond. "You were nearly eight months pregnant, so I made sure there was a safe, private place for you to possibly give birth before I went to collect you. Good thing I did, I'd have hated for you to be forced to have our son in that van." he mused from his seat in the arm chair next to the corner lamp, and when you looked over at him, your brain zeroed in on the little bundle he held instead of focusing on the danger or the dread you could feel creeping across your skin, both of which were dampened by the powerful, and sudden, urge to hold your baby. It was a shockingly powerful burst of feeling, but some part of you desperately wanted to hold your infant child. It was only when you moved your arms to reach out for your child that you registered the soft clatter of the cuff on your wrist, securing you to the metal sides of the bed, and for a moment, that somewhat reminded you that something wasn't quite right here. However, that thought was near-instantly swept away by your spacey, baby-focused thoughts. "Wha...why am I handcuffed??" Both the thought and your words came out as more disappointed than startled, like they probably should've sounded, since you were still rather out of it, but then the memories of your entire predicament set in at long last. It finally began to set in that you'd been caught by the assassin who'd snatched you up, the one who'd been the center of your paranoia for the past few months. Just as you were about to panic though, Illumi grabbed your chin and made you look into his hypnotic eyes, "Can you please just calm down?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but he still had an authoritative edge that washed away the majority of your anxieties for the time being before he released your face and gave over your baby to let you hold the little bundle of blue while he slept with barely a whine at being jostled. You stared at him for a moment as your partner's powers ebbed, just letting it soak in that this was your baby. "You were out for at least a full day, so I had the doctor look him over and fed him from a bottle, but it would be best if you breastfed. He'll be healthier that way." Illumi hummed, the annoyance from before gone from his words, though his voice still snapped you out of your motherly trance as he brought the armchair over to your bed and sat beside you. When he did, you looked over at him to try and glean any possible foreshadowing of your expected punishment, but, instead, for this small moment, with that soft, happy expression on his face and the way he just laid his head on his arm against the metal sides of your bed to watch your son sleep in your arms, you found that you could almost believe that he hadn't likely broken into your home, stalked you, and kidnapped you. Then the moment was broken and things got a bit awkward when you realized he was looking back into your (e/c) eyes with his own dark ones, though this time his gaze lacked that trance-enducing power he'd put behind it before, and you'd been staring at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked quietly, blinking slowly as if you were a cat he was trying to win the trust of. You just shook your head in response, "I just...I don't know how to feel right now," you confessed, looking back at the infant in your arms and tightening your hold on him a bit while his father sighed, "I'd expect you to be happy," he hummed, "and I want to let you be happy and bask in the joy of our child being born and healthy, but..." he pushed himself into a proper sitting position and his voice returned to it's usual cold temperature as he continued, "You very much need to be talked to about your behavior before that." And with that, your stomach dropped. You could almost feel that other shoe finally drop with his words as the anchor, pushing the excitement to the backburner. Instead of remaining in that slightly dopey, tired moment of joy, you switched to a far more protective, guarded mode and gave him a cautious, dirty look as a result while holding your child closer to yourself. "You shouldn't have run away like that. If you had stayed at home, like I'd wanted you to, you wouldn't have had to put our child at risk by working as a maid like you did." he scolded, and your blood ran cold at the mention of your job, "W-wait, how long have you known where I was?? Did...did you hurt anyone I've worked for?" you asked, and amidst your fearful worries over your helpful boss you found a sense of hostility you'd never used against him, "I knew where you were after about a week, and not to worry, I didn't hurt the woman who helped you. You can thank mother for the fact you weren't brought back while I was in such a foul mood." he replied curtly, and while you could tell he was curbing his own hostility, you somehow felt more anger than fear at it, "She talked me out of bringing you back, and father advised against bringing you back until you were almost through with your pregnancy as to lower the distress you'd go through. If it were up to me alone, I wouldn't have needed to plan for any premature labors, you'd be pissed and upset, but safe and healthy at home." he continued, "As if staying somewhere I felt like a fucking prisoner would've made my pregnancy last longer?! Are you forgetting how scary and deranged you became when I told you I was pregnant?? How about when you kidnapped me?" "I didn't kidnap you, I moved you home so you would be in less danger, unless you would've preferred Hisoka return?" he snapped, but you didn't back down just yet, "You're just glazing over the fact that I didn't want any of this! I didn't want to be scooped up and taken to some fancy ass prison, or rushed into marriage just because I was having a baby!" You snapped back, feeling a mix of angry, scared, and generally just upset tears fill your eyes as you glared at Illumi. The only thing that forced you to stop was when the child nestled against you squirmed and began to fuss. For a long moment, you didn't look at the assassin beside your hospital bed, and neither of you spoke while the infant fell back asleep. When Illumi did finally speak, he wasn't cold, or angry, he just sounded upset. "I'm...so confused." he sighed, running a pale hand through his dark hair, "I don't know what else I was supposed to do, leave you there? In a plain house with no guards and not be there for my kid?" he asked, looking to you to explain things. So, with a sniffle and a sigh, you tried your best to help the emotionally stunted man. "Look. I'm not going to hold it against you that you insisted on getting married, but you scared me really badly when you reacted the way you did when I suggested other things. Do you realize how terrifying you are? Because you don't seem to." you pointed out, and he just listened, "That's my biggest issue. You saved me from likely running into that other man again, but you also became a threat of your own. How can I just accept the fact that you moved me to a place that i can't escape from? That, plus how aggressive you became, I fear you're going to hurt me, so I don't want to go back." You explained, returning to not looking at him as you spoke. After a long period of silence, he sighed, finally speaking again, "Well...I can't go back and fix the way I reacted and scared you." he said, and it was likely the best you'd get apology-wise, "and I can't let you off for running away and scaring me like you did. Don't give me that look, I'm an assassin, not a monster." He gave you a dirty look when you gave a tiny laugh at that last part, but you did stop eyeing him in disbelief, so he went on, "What I can do, is adjust the punishment to not be as scary. However, that comes with a condition." when he finished, you once again briefly tightened your grip on your son. "I'm not giving up my baby." you said firmly, and Illumi only snorted, "No, but you will be going through each birth without pain medication." He said darkly, and your eyes widened before you grimaced a bit, knowing exactly who to thank for that 'compromise'. "It was either that, or my punishment, which was to break your legs." he offered, laughing a bit when you swiftly accepted the first option. After that, Illumi seemed to relax again, laying his head back on his arm against your bed's railing and just watching your son sleep. You however, had to wait for your heart to slow down and your panic to subside before you could ask another question, "so...if painful births are my punishment for this...what's the condition?" Illumi's eyes moved to look at you, but he didn't lift his head as he coolly told you, "On the condition that you treat me like you did before the pregnancy," You thought a bit at that proposition, than nodded, "Alright. A-as long as you don't become abusive or scare me like you did, I can do that." at that he hummed again, finally moving to give your cheek a kiss, than he spoke again. "Also, if you ever run away, or do anything to put our children or yourself at risk," his voice suddenly became dark, "I get to break. Every. unnecessary. bone. in. your. body." It was a cruel hiss of a threat that sent a tsunami of dread down your spine, but after a moment of weighing your options, really debating whether you could survive in a world with him hunting you down, you nodded. As long as you didn't do anything to warrant that, you'd be okay. However, you did have one final question eating at you. "Um...what'll-what'll happen to our son?" your voice was quiet, and you quietly plead for Illumi not to confirm your worst fear, but he only gave you a knowing look, "You know what will happen, not even I can stop my family from training him to follow my footsteps, but, I can make you a similar promise to the one father made to mother." he offered, resting his cheek on top of your head affectionately while laying his hand over yours on your son. "If you let the first one become an assassin, the others won't have to be." With that, you swallowed back your regret, and agreed.

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #sequelette #outrunning karma #fanfiction #quotev

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luxekook · 5 years

Text

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat.

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all.

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang

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the-delta-42 · 4 years

Text

Meet me inside

Inspired by an ask sent to @lenoreofraven

Meet me inside

“It’s not like any of you were good, unlike moi,” Bragged Chloe, making Marinette’s temper rise, “Lame-bug just couldn’t have more that two pathetic heroes on her team.”

“And yet, they still kicked your ass.” Said Kim, leaning back in his chair, “Besides, I’d rather be removed from the roster than help Hawkmoth.”

“Chloe, literally all the times you were called up,” Started Lila, making Marinette panic over who to root for, “the villain’s kept getting away.”

Marinette, reluctantly, rooted for Lila.

“Guy, we gathered to discuss the event schedule.” Said Alya, getting a sigh from Marinette.

“Well, as Queen Bee-” Marinette’s mouth acted without her permission, “Chloe, you’re not Queen Bee any more, and judging by what’s in the paper, your dad’s not going to be mayor for much longer.”

“Like I need to listen to you, Dupain.” Sneered Chloe, making Marinette see red.

“Alright, that’s it,” Snapped Marinette, jumping to her feet, “I’ve tried to be the bigger person, convincing myself that you’re only acting out because your parents don’t bother remember your birthday or your name, hell, I’ve even tried feeling sorry for you, simply, simply, for the fact your mother can’t seem to stand your presence. But that doesn’t excuse any of the racist, homophobic, pathetic jabs that you keep making to everyone, do you honestly know why we threw you that party? Because we all thought ‘hey, Chloe’s trying to turn over a new leaf, change her ways’, but nope, you kept verbally harassing everyone within visual or even, auditory range of you, because of your self-centred, narcissistic belief that you’re better than everyone around you. Chloe, if we could, we would put you on a plane to New York ourselves, because we’re sick, tired and just generally fed up with seeing, no scratch that, hearing about you. One of my biggest, biggest, hopes is that as soon as your dad’s out of office, you get dragged through the courts, for every. Little. Pathetic. Thing you did and see how long it is before you’re given a severe reality check.”

Marinette’s chest was heaving when she finished, unaware of the crowd that had gathered. Adrien and Kagami watched as Marinette slowly calmed down.

“As if I’d listen to a mongrel chink.” Sneered Chloe, making Marinette see red again.

With a scream, Marinette swung her fist out, punching Chloe in the eye with enough force to send the blonde over the table she’d been standing in front of and into the wall. Chloe held her eye as she scrambled to her feet.

“You, you’ll be sorry for that!” Cried Chloe, scrambling away from Marinette, “My daddy will have you put away for it.”

“You mean the same, thumb-looking cunt that had to pay off my parents after you tried to fucking kill everyone on a fucking train?” Snarled Marinette, just as someone put their hand on her shoulder.

Without thinking, Marinette swung out, only to find herself on the floor with Ms. Bustier kneeling on her back.

“Marinette. Calm. Down.” Said Ms. Bustier, forcefully, “Chloe, go to the Principle’s Office. Now.”

Chloe looked ready to protest, but the cold glare coming from her teacher was enough to make her go with Ms. Menedeleieve. After Chloe was far enough away, that Ms. Bustier was certain Marinette wouldn’t be able to follow after her, Ms. Bustier stood up, before pulling Marinette to her feet.

“Come with me.” Said Ms. Bustier, her tone leaving no room for argument. Marinette hung her head and followed the teacher, both disappearing into a classroom.

“Do you think Chloe will be punished?” Whispered Alix, after the door closed.

“How far did Chloe skid after rolling over the table?” Asked Kim, looking at the small amount of blood from when Chloe hit her head.

“Five, maybe six feet.” Said Nino, mentally calculating the distance, “We’re all gonna say self-defence, right?”

“More or less.”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

Adrien frowned, before stepping forwards, “What did Marinette mean ‘pay off her parents’?”

Nino stiffened, “Oh, shit, you don’t know.”

“Know what?” Asked Adrien, looking around.

“Marinette and her parent were on that train Chloe almost crashed.” Said Alya, making Adrien blanch, “Marinette was pissed that Chloe just got a slap on the wrist, but the money did pay for the op, so it was kind of a win.”

“Op?” Asked Adrien, getting a wince from Nino.

“You know how Marinette wasn’t in class a few months back?” Asked Nino, getting a nod from Adrien, “She, er, found she had a condition that required surgery.”

“What was it?” Asked Adrien, making everyone avoid eye contact.

“It’s more Marinette’s place to say.” Said Nino, not moving on the matter, “You’ll have to ask her.”

Eventually, a staff member told everyone to go to class, something everyone did willingly, for once.

The class found Marinette scowling in her seat and glaring at the tabletop, as she attacked it with a pair of scissors.

“Girl, what happened?” Asked Alya, as she sat down.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Said Marinette, glaring at the hole she’d made with the scissors.

Alya grimaced as Marinette’s tone, knowing she wouldn’t get anywhere.

MMI

Alya looked around the main hall, the entire school had been called for an unscheduled assembly, with Marinette being taken aside as soon as she entered the hall. All chatter died down when Mr. Damocles cleared his throat. The students could see the mayor, looking smug about something, and Marinette’s parents, with Marinette looking enraged at something.

“Yesterday a student assaulted another student,” Said Damocles, as Chloe smirked, “Normally, the student would be expelled, however, the entirety of the school staff threatened to resign if that actually happened.”

People looked at the Mayor, already seeing his hand in things.

“So, it has been decided that a public apology will be issued.” Said Damocles, ushering Marinette forward.

“I’m not going to apologise.” Said Marinette, making the Principle angry.

“Why?” Demanded Damocles, looking down at Marinette.

“My parents brought me up not to lie.” Said Marinette, getting some laughs from the other students.

“Daddy, make her apologise.” Demanded Chloe, making everyone grimace.

“Young lady,” Started the mayor, “It wouldn’t be good for your family’s image if you don’t apologise.”

“Meaning?” Demanded Marinette, folding her arms across her chest.

“If certain aspect about their food practices came to light-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Snarled Mrs. Cheng, glaring at the mayor, “If you raised your daughter to believe that racial slurs are acceptable, then clearly my daughter isn’t at fault.”

“I don’t need a… woman telling me how to raise my daughter.” Sneered the Mayor, making Mrs. Cheng bristle.

“Daddy, I don’t see any reason to bargain with mongrels.” Said Chloe, making everyone gasp.

“You said our image would be bad, clearly you don’t have a mirror.” Snapped Mrs. Cheng, glaring at the Mayor and his daughter.

“That isn’t the issue here!” Yelled the Mayor, while Chloe continued to whine.

“You know what, I’ll apologise,” Said Marinette, suddenly, with the Mayor looking smug, “Chloe, I’m sorry I punched you in the eye,” Everyone realised that Marinette was building up to something, “I should’ve punched you in the mouth, that would have at least shut you up.”

The resulting laughter was deafening, as both Chloe and her father went red with rage. The mayor reached out and grabbed Marinette’s upper arm. A split second later, he was on the ground with his hands cradling his groin.

“Am I dismissed?” Asked Marinette, not caring if she was or not.

The Principle looked around, before nodding. Marinette hopped off the stage and walked outside, ignoring Chloe’s screams about getting the police involved.

MMI

Adrien found Marinette sitting on the roof, idly swinging her legs as she sat on the edge of the roof.

“Are, are you busy?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette jump and drop her phone.

“Shit,” Cursed Marinette, watching as her phone fell and landed in a bush, “no, I’m not busy.”

“Nino said something about you having an operation a few months back.” Said Adrien, making Marinette look at him.

“Operation? I’ve never had an operation.” Said Marinette, frowning at Adrien.

“The hush money?” Said Adrien, making Marinette realise what he was talking about.

“My mother had the operation,” Said Marinette, looking up at the sky, “she had liver disease, I donated some of mine so hers could start working again.”

“Oh.” Said Adrien, before looking at Marinette again, “Why didn’t you say you were on the train that Chloe tried to crash?”

“Because you seemed so upset that she was leaving and, frankly, my stupid crush on you made me want to make sure you were happy.” Said Marinette, before realising what she just said.

“Wait, you had a crush on me?” Asked Adrien, his face turning red.

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august-anon · 4 years

Text

Tickletober Day 6 - Kiss [LATE]

Fandom: Witcher

Ship(s): Geraskier

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Geralt/Ler!Jaskier

Word Count: 1863 words

Summary: Geralt's a bit weird about having his neck touched. Turns out, it wasn't for the reasons Jaskier thought.

[ao3 link]

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

If they’d never gotten their heads out of their asses and started courting, Jaskier never would have realized it. It wasn’t as if his hands lingered around Geralt’s neck, normally. Sure, he slung an arm around his shoulders now and then, and it didn’t go unnoticed how Geralt would shiver and hunch up when Jaskier was helping him bathe and washing his hair, but it wasn’t something he actively thought about.

Geralt was… weird about having his neck touched.

He never outright told Jaskier to stop, if he went to stroke a finger across the skin or tried to place a little peck there to help Geralt relax, but he wasn’t exactly welcoming of the touch, either. He would jerk away, or scrunch up, or make a little disgruntled sound, like an put-upon cat (which was adorable, but Jaskier would never say so, seeing as Geralt could and would fight him on that, and the Wolf would likely take offense to being compared to a cat).

So Jaskier decided that the safest thing would be to back off. Geralt wasn’t great with communication (though they were working on that), and he often got twitchy when problems were brought up out of the blue, so Jaskier figured it would save them both some stress. Geralt was nonverbally trying to set a boundary, and Jaskier was listening and respecting that.

But then, one night while they were leaned up against a log, campfire warming the air around them, Jaskier leaned up to kiss Geralt’s cheek. At the same time, Geralt seemed to hear something off in the woods and craned his head to try and see. Jaskier’s lips unfortunately wound up on Geralt’s neck, instead.

Jaskier let out a breath and hummed in surprise, too startled by the change in position to realize what had happened and pull back immediately. Geralt make that little noise in the back of his throat again and jerked away, scrunching up and rubbing at the spot where Jaskier’s face had been. Jaskier’s growing guilt was halted by the strained, yet slightly-goofy, smile on Geralt’s face.

Jaskier was rather confident that he knew that look. It was a look that he had caused many times, but mostly recognizable thanks to the fact that he himself had made that face time and time again. Mostly when his lovers before Geralt had been to gentle with their trailing fingers or lips, leaving Jaskier to bite back his giggles to try and avoid ruining the mood.

“Geralt, my love?”

Geralt hummed, looking over while still rubbing at his neck.

“I have a couple questions, if you don’t mind.”

Geralt quirked a brow. “Depends on the questions.”

Jaskier grinned and crawled closer to settle himself in Geralt’s lap, so they were facing each other. It was both insurance, so that Geralt couldn’t try and escape the conversation without communicating that he wanted it to stop, and so that if Jaskier got permission, he could get his lips all over that ticklish neck.

“Well, our relationship has taken a very new turn recently, and I figured there were probably still some things we needed to talk out. We’re very different people, after all, we need to have healthy communication and set boundaries to help make this work.”

Geralt said nothing when Jaskier paused to let him speak, so he continued.

“Let’s start easy. I know I, for one, am a very physically affectionate man. Would you say you’re physically affectionate Geralt? Do you enjoy an influx of cuddles and kisses, holding hands as we eat our meals, tangling into a knot as we fall asleep.”

“I’m letting you sit in my lap, aren’t I?”

Jaskier smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear.

“You need to answer the question with your words, dear heart.”

Geralt’s mouth twisted in that way it always did when he had to make an effort to communicate. Feelings really weren’t a witcher’s forte, especially when it came to Geralt, but Jaskier would be patient while he tried to find a way to express them.

“I’m not-- good at it,” Geralt forced out eventually.

“That’s okay,” Jaskier said, keeping his voice soft and understanding. “But do you like it?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier beamed and ran his hand through Geralt’s hair. “Wonderful! Next question, do you prefer softer or firmer touches? I know that I enjoy both, but the former can get a little, ah, ticklish,” Jaskier accentuated the word with a little wiggle of his fingers in the air. “Not that I mind that, it can be quite fun, but sometimes it’s oh-so-hard to not give into the urge to laugh and squirm.”

Geralt cleared his throat and glanced away. Jaskier could tell that the jerk of his head was intentional, trying to bring down some of his hair to help shield his face. Unfortunately for him, he’d let Jaskier do his hair earlier, and his half-up, half-down style was much cleaner than usual, preventing himself from shielding his face.

“Darling?” Jaskier prompted after the silence stretched even longer than it usually did, when Geralt was trying to find words.

“Both are fine.”

Jaskier nodded. “Good, good! Ah, now this next question is a little more specific. I noticed that you tend to shy away when I touch your neck. Is that a no-touch-zone? Or is it just that little issue with soft touches that I mentioned? It’s totally fine if it’s a no-touch-zone, by the way!”

Geralt’s hands came up to rest on his waist, and he stared at Jaskier like he was trying to see through to his very soul. After a few moments he hummed and briefly massaged his thumbs into Jaskier’s bottom ribs. Jaskier jerked with a startled squeal and doubled over a little, giggling and pressing his head into Geralt’s chest.

“Was this whole conversation an elaborate plan to ask if I was ticklish?”

Jaskier sat up again, giggling. “Only partly.”

Geralt sighed, but sent a fond smile his way nonetheless. “My neck is not a no-touch-zone.”

That was all Jaskier needed to hear.

He dove in, starting to pepper kisses around Geralt’s jawline before slowly moving down his neck. Geralt tensed and jerked and made those angry-cat sounds, but he never deliberately moved out of the way. He also didn’t tell Jaskier to stop, which meant that Geralt was most certainly having fun here, too, even if he was holding in his laughter.

But that just wouldn’t do. Jaskier pulled back, an obviously fake pout on his lips, and gave Geralt his biggest puppy-dog eyes. Geralt’s stern (if slightly constipated, holding in laughter tends to not make the most attractive of expressions) facade wavered.

“What?”

“You should laugh,” Jaskier said, blinking his eyes rapidly to add to the pleading look. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, his expression finally starting to fade back into something more natural. “Maybe you should do something actually worthy of laughing at.”

Jaskier gasped. “You dare accuse me of being unable to make you laugh?”

Geralt shrugged, giving him a smug grin.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Jaskier dove back in, warming Geralt up with a few ticklish pecks to his neck, before blowing the biggest raspberry he could against the skin. A startled yelp and strangled chuckle escape from Geralt’s lips and Jaskier couldn’t help but crow victoriously. Jaskier blew three more raspberries against Geralt’s neck, just to make absolutely sure he’d broken the dam, and relished in the deep, rough laughter that followed.

But, as fun as the raspberries were, Jaskier had planned for this night to be a bit softer. He could wreck Geralt whenever now, and he certainly would be making a regular routine out of it from here on, but right now he wanted giggles. He wanted the sounds that would make Geralt blush, if witchers had still been capable of such things. He wanted something light and bouncy that would end in them both falling asleep with smiles too wide to even hope to smother them.

So Jaskier switched back to ticklish little kisses against Geralt’s skin, making sure to utilize his breath where he could. Geralt squirmed under him and squeezed his waist as his laughter got sweeter and more high-pitched and Jaskier couldn’t help letting out an involuntary giggle of his own.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) that seemed to just create a feedback loop of tickles and giggles. Jaskier giggling sent his breath fanning out over Geralt’s sensitive neck, which in turn made Geralt shiver and giggle himself. In his shivers, however, Geralt kept twitching and squeezing Jaskier’s waist (though Jaskier couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not), which sent Jaskier giggling again and started the cycle all over.

It took a few rounds of this for Jaskier to be able to get a hold of himself well enough to start mouthing at Geralt’s neck again. He trailed breathy, giggly kisses from Geralt’s collarbone all the way up to his ear. When Jaskier started to focus his kisses around and behind Geralt’s ear, Geralt let out a startled noise that Jaskier was even tempted to call a squeal. His giggles switched from being bouncy to bordering on hysterical. And now, he was squeezing Jaskier’s hips instead, which only made Jaskier laugh harder into his ear.

Geralt’s feet were scrabbling at the ground, digging trenches into the dirt, but Jaskier could feel the tension in his upper body. It was like he was having to hold himself back from tossing Jaskier off as a reflex. Despite that, Geralt’s head had slowly tilted further and further back, giving Jaskier more access to the sensitive skin, and he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Slowly Jaskier pulled back, both of them caught in panting giggles even though the tickling had stopped. Geralt reached a hand up to rest against Jaskier’s neck and jaw, gently pulling him in until their foreheads were pressed together and they were sharing air. Jaskier’s heart pounded at the intimacy, but he didn’t dare pull back, not when he finally got Geralt’s walls low enough for him to initiate the affection.

“One day,” Jaskier said, whispering in fear of a louder voice breaking the moment, “I am going to rip your shirt off you and do that all over your body. Just to hear that beautiful laugh again.”

Geralt huffed out a small chuckle against his cheek, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t be entirely opposed. However, there is one condition.”

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open, though he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d closed them. “Oh? And what would that be, my darling witcher?”

“I get to return the favor.

Before Jaskier could get a word in edgewise, he felt Geralt’s arms bar across his lower back and pull him in even closer, until they were flush, chest-to-chest. Jaskier didn’t even hesitate before tipping his head back to give Geralt access, giggling before his lips even touched down. His giggling only got higher when Geralt’s lips (and scruff, sweet Melitele did his scruff tickle something fierce) touched down.

One thing was for certain after that night. This was absolutely becoming Jaskier’s new favorite passtime.

#tickle fic #My writing #tickletober2020 #the witcher tickling #lee!geralt #ler!Jaskier #ticklish!geralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier | dandelion #geraskier

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buriednurbckyrd · 4 years

Text

The Breakup Box (3)

Not here, was her first thought. It was too personal, too intimate to have the conversation when she slept. But where? What could be neutral ground but also private enough that no one else could overhear what needed to be said?

“The water,” she blurted out. “I mean...” She paused and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes. We do need to talk, but can you meet me over by the water in a few minutes?” Bucky's face remained impassive but Steve nodded.

“Okay, five minutes. We'll meet you there.” He started to turn but Bucky held his arm out to stop him.

“So you can have a chance to bolt? I don't think so, we'll go together.”

“Come on, Buck.” Steve sighed.

“No, that's fair.” Y/N said quietly. “I wasn't going to leave,” she shot Bucky a pleading look as if silently begging him to believe her. “But I haven't exactly given either of you reason to trust me not to.” She turned and took a zippered hoodie from her closet and slipped it on. There was a chill around her and she expected it would linger until the air was cleared. Knowing they would follow behind, she started walking.

What would she even say? Before she had seen them she thought she had known. It was completely foreign experience for her. There were never awkward silences between the three of them, she could tell them anything and everything. Hadn't Bucky been willing to share the darkest parts of his past? And Steve was always telling her stories of their childhood, good and bad. She hesitated for a moment at the door, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions. Fear licked up her spine and her entire body went numb with it.

“Y/N?” Steve touched her shoulder gently and it jolted her back to reality. She shoved the door open and forced her legs to continue to move. Her chest tightened and she fought the urge to hyperventilate and kept her breaths deep and even. She realized the only thing she wanted was one of their hugs which never failed to make her feel safe and secure. Another icy shard bloomed in her belly at the thought. She prayed after it was over that could still be an option.

They followed her to the casual seating area by the large pond on the property. The late afternoon sun gleamed over the water. It was tranquil and quiet. Y/N was too full of anxious energy to sit so she paced. Steve nudged Bucky with his elbow.

“Be patient, okay?” He said quietly. “She's here, that's half the battle. Let her go at her own pace.” Bucky replied with an annoyed sound, but he made no move to prod Y/N along.

“Could you, I don't know…just sit down or something?” She finally said after a long silence. “You're making me more nervous standing like that.” Steve settled down on a bench and gestured at Bucky to join him. She stopped in front of them and looked up. “I don't even know where to begin.” She told them, misery written all over her face.

“Could start with an apology.” Bucky muttered under his breath and grunted when Steve kicked his shin.

“I really do apologize for how I acted,” she wrung her hands together. “Neither of you did anything wrong and I should have just been honest.” She pressed her fingers over her eyes, refusing to cry. “I'm so, so sorry. I've been dealing with a lot of shit but there's no excuse for treating either of you like I did.” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What happened, Y/N? I just want to understand.” He looked over at the other man. “We want to understand.”

“Short story? I got dumped. And before that, I was totally humiliated.” Bucky crossed his arms.

“Gonna need the long story, sweetheart.” The pet name, however briskly delivered gave her a small flame of hope.

“I figured.” She began to pace again. “I was a fucking idiot. I planned this whole getaway because I couldn't see what was right in front of me. And that's embarrassing enough on its own, but it gets worse. I told him, hey, you always plan our dates let me do this. Booked a fancy hotel room, probably the nicest place I've ever stayed in my whole life. Tony helped me get a reservation at this amazing new sushi restaurant, which I thought would be such a great surprise since he had mentioned wanting to try it when it opened.

And like a chump I didn't notice how antsy he was about it all. Disappeared when I checked us in. Practically sprinted to the room.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Tried to sweet talk me out of going to dinner. Which I almost fell for, but I had a brand new dress and I wanted to wear it. I wanted to go eat world class cuisine with my boyfriend and feel like a princess.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “Everything went smooth a silk. I felt pretty, the food was incredible, so far it was a perfect night. Then on our way out he suddenly turns green. Not because the food didn't agree with him, but because we run into a group of his friends. And introduces me as a client.”

“Excuse me?” Steve sounds stunned.

“Yup. Not his girlfriend of nearly ten months. A client of the company he works for.”

“Why?” Bucky demands.

“Oh believe me, as soon as we were alone I asked. Kind of wish I didn't.” She gestured at her body. “Because of this. Because according to him, I don't look like a believable romantic partner for him.”

“You're fucking joking.”

“Hand to god, Buck. I have more stamina than he could ever hope to achieve, not to mention the fact that I could literally hand him his own ass. But because I don't look a certain way, don't meet some set of societal standards I wasn't good enough to be seen with him by people he knew. Then all those nagging little red flags were suddenly clear as day. He always took me to obscure little places. Never any place popular or busy if we went out. Most of the time he invited me to his place for dinner and I thought it was sweet and romantic that he wanted to cook for me. He made me into a fool.”

“Please tell me you don't believe that,” Steve stood up and grabbed her hands. “Y/N, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life, inside and out. That guy is the one that should be ashamed.” She smiled softly and drew her hands back.

“Thanks. I know he's the one that's lacking. He's the one that isn't good enough for me. But it doesn't mean that it didn't sting.” She blew out a long breath. “Him coming back to the hotel to drop of that box of my belongings was a pretty big slap in the face too. Just let all the hotel staff know how stupid I was.”

“Stop saying that,” Bucky finally spoke up. “I can't stand it when you put yourself down.”

“Sorry,” she scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know it's a bad habit.”

“Y/N, why didn't you end it then and there? Why did you let him break it off?” Steve asked.

“Because I was a coward, don't argue with me right now Bucky, I was. And even though he was wrong about almost everything he wasn't about the biggest issue.” Her heart started to race, was she actually going to do this?

“What issue?” Bucky prompted. She looked at the both of them, eyes sad.

“I didn't really want to be with him. If I had, I never would have overlooked all the ways he mistreated me, disrespected me. Every resentment and accusation just spilled out then, and there was absolutely nothing I could do or say because it was all true.” She couldn't stop the tears any more, and it felt like weakness. “Shit, I wasn't going to cry. I'm not trying to get pity or anything.”

“Didn't think that for a second.” Bucky said softly, his heart ached for his friend.

“Everything is my fault,” she said bitterly. “I did the only thing I promised I would never do, I lied. To him, to myself.” She choked on a sob. “To both of you.” Steve reached out for her. “No, don't.”

“What are you talking about? What did you lie about?” His blue eyes were so full of concern. She shook her head violently.

“I can't tell you!” She yelled. “But I can't not tell you either!”

“Y/N, please whatever it is-”

“I can't be around you anymore and keep it in, that's why I keep running away. But if I tell you and lost you both I couldn't bear it!” She held her head in her hands and trembled. Both men tried to get a hold of her but she dodged them.

“There's nothing you could say that would make us walk away from you.” Bucky said in a thick voice.

“He's right, you're our girl, Y/N.” Steve meant it to be comforting but it only upset her more.

“Am I though?” She wiped her eyes furiously. “Because I love you.” She looked at them both, and her shoulders slumped. “I'm in love with you, both of you.” Steve and Bucky could only stare at her in shock. “That's why I kept running, I can't keep all this,” she pressed her hands over her heart. “Locked away anymore. I was hoping maybe I could get it under control, but I can't. Being around you both is so overwhelming. I don't deserve your forgiveness because it was selfish. It's selfish telling you, and I never wanted to put you in this position.”

“Y/N...” Steve reached for her again.

“I don't expect anything.” Her voice was flat, as if all the wind had gone out of her sails. “You have each other and all I want is you to be happy together.” She gasped when Bucky's vibranium hand closed over her wrist, pulling her roughly towards him. His other hand was warm and gentle when it cupped her cheek, and before she knew what was happening his lips were on hers. When he pulled away her eyes were as big as saucers. “What?” Steve swept in before she could finish her thought and kissed her too, holding her against his body.

“Our girl.” He murmured into her ear. She found herself sandwiched between the two of them.

“You always were.” Bucky told her and she could the smile in his voice.

#steve x bucky #steve x reader x bucky #stucky x reader #reader insert #plus sized reader

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outrebanx · 4 years

Text

Dragonfly - Chapter 4

JJ Maybank x female!reader series

Summary: Y/N is invited to her first kegger, where she has lots of fun but there’s a fight which turns her night upside down (a shit summary i’m sorry)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, fighting - hasn’t been proofread so most likely bad grammar

A/N: I enjoyed writing a lot of this chapter, and I canny look forward to the next one which is going to be very angsty hopefully

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3 -

You had fallen into a routine these last few days, getting up, going to work and then coming back home to have a meal with your dad before going surfing at night. Not that you minded too much, routines had always helped you cope with stuff, originally when your mum died all you wanted to do was carry on your days as if nothing had happened but your dad always thought this wasn’t coping - more just ignoring the issue.

This routine wasn’t like that, it was just the routine of a new life, which you were beginning to enjoy, in the Outer Banks. You had seen Kie most days at work, chatting whenever there were less people to serve in the restaurant, but you hadn’t seen the boys since the boat trip - even though they pretty much told you you were now part of their group, you couldn’t help but think they were avoiding you, especially as Kiara had said they normally come into the Wreck when they’re hungry, which they are most of the time. Any time these thoughts came into your head you quickly pushed them out, you had enjoyed being with them and you really didn’t want to try and push them away or make assumptions before there was any evidence - something you had done lots growing up, always thinking you were hated when you weren’t, and ruining friendships because of this. A new life meant you had to stop making old mistakes, especially ones like those.

The Wreck was emptier today than you’d seen it since you began working there, only a few groups of people had come into the restaurant for food, most people probably staying in the sun for as long as possible as the weather was amazing today, not a cloud in sight, just the hot sun. Not that you could really enjoy it when you were working, but your shift finished soon so you’d be able to do something then.

You were cleaning up a table of a couple that had just left when you heard your name being called out from the door.

“Y/N!” John B shouted, Kie behind him trying to tell him to shut up.

You waved at him, and began to head to a table, Kie, JJ and Pope all following closely behind him.

“Hey, how are you guys?” You asked

There was a chorus of “great’s” before Kie got up, saying she was going to search for some food as the guys were hungry

“What are you doing tonight?” JJ asked once Kie had left.

“Surfing probably, why?”

“We’re having a kegger at the beach later and we want you to come.” John B answered

“Yeah it’ll be your first time drinking properly with us and probably the first time since you moved here as well - so you basically can’t refuse.” JJ smiled at you, waiting for your answer.

“Okay, yeah I’d love to.”

All three boys whooped at this, and as Kiara came back to the table, she asked, “I’m guessing you’re coming then?”

“I am indeed, been a while since I’ve gone to a party though, I feel like I could be out of practice.” You laughed

“Bullshit, we all saw you drink on the boat the other day and I’m sure you’ll somehow show us all up again tonight.” Pope responded, the others just nodding their agreement.

“Good point - when abouts should I get there?”

“We usually set up around 9 so probably then, this means there’s some time before everyone else gets there just us.” John B said, oblivious to Kie muttering under her breath, “Yeah and then you guys will get into a fight like always.”

This comment set you on edge a little, you had never been a huge fan of violence, if need be you could protect yourself but it was seeing people you care about being hurt which upset you, and the way Kie made it sound, that could be a possibility.

“Okay I have to finish clearing up then I need to go home, so I’ll see you guys later.” You said, smiling at them as they all said bye.

—————

You looked around your room, there were clothes everywhere from you changing your mind on outfits to wear tonight about 100 times, you didn’t know whether to keep it casual like during the day or put a little more effort in, both options needing you to decide on how much cleavage you wanted to show. Getting ready was always so stressful.

You collapsed onto your bed in defeat, still not sure what to wear before you heard your phone ringing, looking at it you saw Kiara’s name on the screen so you quickly answered it.

“Hey”

“Hi,” her voice came from the phone, “you alright?”

“Great other than the fact I don’t know what to wear, please help me.”

She laughed, “I felt like this could be something you’d have an issue with - my advice is shorts and a nice top, it’s my go to every time and it never fails.”

“Okay that’s narrowed it down slightly and I think I have an idea now, so you’re officially a life saver Kie.”

“I know,” she joked, “shit - my mum’s calling me so I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay bye” you said, ending the call as you stood up, ready to go through your clothes again, now knowing what you were looking for.

It didn’t take you long to find the outfit you were gonna wear, an off the shoulder black crop top and some black denim shorts - the whole outfit making your figure look great, filling you with confidence. You quickly put on some mascara and eyeshadow, then made your way downstairs to say goodbye to your dad for the night, only to find out he’d already crashed out on the couch.

Instead of waking him up, you just decided to leave him a note saying you’d be back later, grabbing some vodka from the kitchen you started making your way down to the beach to meet up with your friends.

They were sat round a fire when you arrived, JJ smoking a joint and the other three all focused on the conversation they were having. They didn’t notice you until you sat down next to JJ, quickly stealing the blunt from his hand and taking a hit before giving it back to him, a shocked and offended look on his face as he muttered, “the audacity.”

“You love me really,” you say nudging him, a smirk on your face that you knew annoyed him, he just shoved you off the log you were both sitting on, “you’re wrong there Y/N.”

You pouted at him as you climbed back onto the log, turning to look at the others, who had witnessed that interaction, Kie now having a smug look on her face, knowing she’d been right about there kind of being something between you guys.

You decided to ignore this, and instead began talking to Pope about what he wanted to do at college. Forensic pathology was the thing he was passionate about, you wish you had the same idea of where you wanted your life to go, but you still didn’t know, and at this point you just wanted to enjoy life for a little while so that’s what you were going to do.

The easy conversations lasted a little bit longer, then as more people began arriving at the beach, John B and Pope went off to man the keg and JJ had gone off to, in his words, “find his fun for the night.” You and Kiara had both made a disgusted noise at this, before deciding you’d rather drink some vodka and then go and dance together. So that what you did.

You didn’t know how much you’d had to drink by the time Kie had dragged you into where other people were dancing, shouting how she loved the songs that were playing tonight, but you were starting to feel the alcohol going to your head. This, of course, only made you enjoy all this more, being so relaxed and happy with others was not something you felt often, and you were going to love every second of it.

You turned to Kie, “Hey, I’m going to go and get some beer, do you want anything?”

She shook her head, then turned back to the group of touron girls who had joined your dancing as you began heading over to where John B and Pope were.

They spotted you and waved as you made your way closer, already holding a cup out to you, you sped up for the last little distance to reach them, taking the cup and saying your thanks.

“How’s your first kegger going then?” John B asked.

“I’m really loving it, I’ve had lots of drink obviously but the whole atmosphere is great, like there only seem to be good vibes, not sure what Kie meant by there being lots of fights usually if it’s like this.”

“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I hate to break it to you, there’s still a good chance of there being a fight, the kooks almost always start something, or at least act like dicks, which then starts the fight.” Pope said, patting you on the shoulder as he ‘broke the news’ to you.

“Oh great,” you sighed, “but at least I can handle myself and if you guys need it, I can always help you.”

John B laughed, “You in a fight would be something I’d pay to see to be honest, but please be careful and try not to get into a fight, I mean you’ve only known us a week, that’d be like the biggest sign that we’re bad influences and we don’t need that.”

You smiled at him, “I’ll try my best.”

“Good, that means there’s only JJ to worry about now.”

“Does he get into a lot of fights then?”

“All. the. time,” Pope said, taking a sip from his cup before continuing, “but in fairness, it’s usually to stick up for once of us which makes it slightly better, even if he’s still a pain in the ass.”

You chuckled, “I’ll keep a look out as well then, stop him before he does something stupid.”

It was silent for a few seconds, you all drinking and lost in thoughts, and just as you were going to return to Kie, John B said, “Hey, Y/N, I’m glad you’re in our group now, you make it better.”

You couldn’t contain your joy when he said this, so with a very wide smile you pulled both him and Pope into a tight hug, saying, “Thank you, it’s because I’m amazing.”

They both were still laughing as you made your way back over to where you last saw Kie, but when you got there, she had since disappeared. You sighed, wondering where she’d gone and when you turned back round, you were blocked by a muscular guy, who when you saw his face, you knew was Rafe from the restaurant the other day.

“Where you going pogue?” He sneered

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering, anyway I came over to tell you that you look good, and I could put aside the rivalry for tonight if you wanted to have some fun.”

You scoffed, “only if by fun you mean me hitting you with a golf club, but if not I don’t have much interest.”

He moved forward, grabbing you forearm in a tight grip, “You can’t talk to me like that you little bitch, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Take your hand off me.” You say, ignoring his threat.

“You heard her man, get off her.” You turned around, seeing JJ now behind you, already looking like he was prepared to fight, he looked at you in question to see if you were alright, you just nodded before looking back to Rafe.

In response, Rafe’s grip just tightened, you winced slightly, knowing this would be leaving a bruise on your arm.

Without thinking, you lifted your other hand up, and punched him straight in the face. In shock he let go of you, stumbling back holding his nose and swearing.

He looked up to you, blood running from his nose, “you’re gonna pay for that you bitch.”

As Rafe moved forward, JJ pushed you behind him, ready to take the brunt of Rafe’s anger. Before you could even try and argue for JJ to not get involved, both him and Rafe were on the ground, JJ currently on top of Rafe and punching him in the face repeatedly.

This commotion attracted the attention of everyone else on the beach, you saw John B, Pope and Kie all running over trying to see what was going on and how they could help.

Just as you shouted for JJ to stop, obvious Rafe had had enough of a beating, Rafe’s other goons appeared out of nowhere, pulling JJ off Rafe and whilst one held him in a headlock, the other kicked him in the stomach, causing JJ to bend over in pain.

“NO! GET OFF OF HIM.” You shouted, Kie had a hold on your arms so you couldn’t move forward and get involved.

Pope and John B had now moved in on the fight, John B getting in front of the one who was kicking JJ, pushing him away, and Pope punched the other one, making him release the hold he had on JJ.

They retreated, hands in the air in defence, knowing they were outnumbered, and they had seen that Rafe was still on the floor, maybe even unconscious, you thought, a little happy at that outcome. All of that happiness vanished when you saw JJ, keeled over in the sand, grabbing his side in pain.

Both you and Kie quickly ran over to him, you knelt in front of him, his head moving to look at you, “Holy shit JJ are you alright?”

“I’ve had worse.” You scrunched your eyebrows, slightly confused how this wasn’t a big deal to him, or how anything could be worse, I mean he was covered in blood and was clearly going to have lots of bruises- but before you could say anything he looked up at you again, “how’s your hand?”

“Throbbing slightly but literally nothing to worry about, especially when you look like this.”

John B and Pope lifted JJ up by his arms, “Let’s get you cleaned up man.”

Kie reached her hand out to you, helping you up so you could follow the boys, who were now trying to convince JJ to let them help.

You couldn’t help but slow down, it was your fault he had been hurt like that, you should’ve kept your anger in check, then maybe Rafe would’ve gone away without any issues. Kie nudged your shoulder, “I know what you’re thinking, and this isn’t your fault - Rafe could’ve done something bad to you so its good you stuck up for yourself and JJ was there to help you out.”

When you didn’t answer, she grabbed your hand and squeezed it, “Trust me, this isn’t your fault.”

You nodded, not saying anything as you removed your hand from hers and tried to catch up with the boys who were now arguing who’s house was closer to clean him up.

“I can take him to mine,” they turned to look at you, a bit shocked at your offer, but understood why you wanted to help him when they saw the guilt on your face.

“Are you sure?” Pope asked

“Yes, I might as well clean him up as it was my fault he got into the fight, and I need to ice my hand anyway, so you guys can stay here for a bit longer if you want.”

“Okay, can you carry him on your own?” John B said, interrupting Kie who was ready to say it wasn’t your fault again.

“I can walk on my own man,” JJ muttered at John B as you went to put your arm around his waist, allowing him to put his over your shoulder, and supporting his weight.

“Okay then, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the night,” you said, looking down at the floor in shame.

JJ squeezed your shoulder as the other three moved towards you and engulfed both you and JJ into a hug, Kie reassuring you that you hadn’t ruined anything, except maybe Rafe’s nose - this earned a laugh from everyone, you included, and when you stepped back, there was a small smile on your face again.

The walk back to yours was slow going, JJ struggling to stay upright and you having to support more of his weight, there was a silence between you, neither of you really knowing what to say to one another, but you used the time to try and sort out the thoughts rushing through your head.

Once back at yours, you unlocked the door, checking the sofa, which your dad had now left, obviously to go and sleep in his bed where it’s more comfy, and leading JJ to the bathroom nearest your room.

You patted the counter, indicating for him to sit on it, which he did whilst letting out a small grunt of pain. Quickly searching through the cabinet, you found some bandages and some saline solution, which you put on the counter before running to the kitchen to get some ice for his hand.

He had zoned out in thought by the time you got back, only coming back to the present when you were standing in front of him, tapping his shoulder.

“Is it alright if I step in between your legs? it's easier to reach the cuts.” You asked

“You can stand between my legs whenever you want Y/N,” he joked, as he opened them for you to step between, you still weren’t sure how he can keep acting like his normal self when he was obviously in a lot of pain.

You stopped thinking and just started cleaning out all of his wounds with the saline solution, feeling awful whenever he winced underneath your touch, but this needed to be done to lessen the pain tomorrow and to make sure no cuts git infected. You had fallen into a concentrated silence, making sure you were hurting him as little as possible, not even noticing how intensely he was looking at you, entranced with how your eyebrows scrunched together in concentration and how you bit your lip, wincing whenever he did.

You were almost done when he spoke up, “thank you for doing this by the way.”

You looked up at him, making eye contact with his intense blue eyes, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, especially when you got into that fight because of me.”

Looking back down at the area on his stomach you were trying to clean, you noticed that there were a lot more bruises and marks than just from tonight, you were going to say something but if it was something he wanted to talk about he’d tell you when he was ready, so you just stepped away from him, washing your hands in the sink.

Only now you were washing your hands did you realise how red the one you had punched Rafe with had become, and that there was now already a bruise from where he grabbed you. JJ had noticed you pause, and looked to where your eyes were focused - he couldn’t stop way his stomach lurched at the idea you were in pain, he was used to it and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he didn’t want you ever to be in pain again.

He grabbed your hands, the water from the tap flowing over both your hands, “That fight wasn’t your fault, it was Rafe’s, and I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

You turned to look at him, a tear escaping you eye, which he quickly wiped away with his thumb, “well if it’s not my fault, then you’re not allowed to be sorry either, deal?”

He let out a small laugh, “Okay that works for me,” he went to open the bathroom door, “anyway I should probably get going, don’t want your dad seeing me.”

You grabbed his arm before he could move any further, “Nope.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you walking on your own when you’re in this state, so you’re going to stay here, you can share my bed with me, obviously without any funny business though.”

His mouth had gaped into an ‘O’ in shock, “Are you sure?”

“100%, and then we can make our way together to see the others tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then.” You led him to your bedroom, throwing him a pair of your dad’s old joggers for him to get dressed into, turning away from him as you changed into a large shirt and shorts, before getting into bed next to where he had already settled.

You could feel his eyes on you, so you moved onto your side so you were facing him, before smiling at him, “Night JJ.”

He smiled back, “Night Y/N” and you both drifted off into sleep.

Taglist: @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @k-k0129 @jjsbxtch @outerbankslove @obx-beach @emerald-xcd @danicarosaline @belledutchess @teamnick @justcallmesams

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #outerbanks fic #obx fic #outer banks imagine #outrebanx #outrebanx dragonfly #john b routledge #kiara carrera x reader #john b x reader #kiara carrera #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: Visions

Author: @nadisabug

For: @cellophanerose

Pairing: Hinata x Komaeda

Warnings: mild language, other than that none

Prompt: I used two of the three prompts: Hinata being ‘haunted’ by Komaeda, who is still in a coma post sdr2 (whether the hauntings are real or not is up to you) AND Komaeda tracing Hinata’s “Kamukura project” scars when Hinata is overwhelmed with self-identity issues

Author’s notes: I really enjoyed writing this, I hope you like it! I will also be posting this to my AO3 so look out for that link later!

“Hinata-kun.” Gorgeous green eyes smiled at Hajime, arms open wide in an invatation that made Hajime’s heart ache.

Hajime was tired. That had to be it. He had just been relieved from duty by Fuyuhiko from watching over the program because he “was no use to anyone sleep deprived.”

It was a twenty hour shift he had just taken, marked only by the fact that Fuyuhiko worked four hours each day at the same time like clockwork. Everyone gave into the structure Fuyuhiko demanded, knowing that it was more for his wellbeing than anything. Nevermind, Kazuichi, Owari, and Fuyuhiko each watched over the simulation for four hours in rotating shifts, the last eight hours of the day designated as Hajime’s watch. Hajime usually did not abide by the rules, staying past his shift, and only Fuyuhiko had enough strength and little sympathy to tear Hajime from the monitors.

They knew once their peers began to wake up from the simulation - if they would wake up, Kazuchi was always wont to mention - their shifts would become shorter and shorter. However, they all knew Hajime’s would get longer and longer until he woke up. Hajime was obsessed with waking them up, using all of his talents and skills to manipulate the system into releasing them. He worked with the AI he met inside the simulation, Alter Ego, unlocking firewalls that barricaded them from previously accessing certain areas. He knew that they were so close. So close to waking them up. To waking him up.

So Hajime wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t slept in the past twenty-eight hours, or if it was because he was actually going crazy, but Komaeda was standing in front of him.

Crazy as it may seem, this was not a rare occurrence by any means. He had been seeing Komaeda everywhere, his eyes chasing his silhouette in peripherals, a flash of cream coloured hair when he opened his eyes in the morning, honeyed greens smirking at him in reflections.

But this, this was the first time the apparition had spoken.

Maybe Fuyuhiko is right, I am overworking myself, Hajime thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head quickly, then opened them back up, expecting his vision to be gone.

But it wasn’t.

Komaeda was still standing there.

Arms open.

Hajime couldn’t help but imagine himself running into them. He had much clarity since he woke up from the simulation. He had regained his memories, and with that, clarity on his feelings, on how he always felt, about Komaeda. The moments they shared in the simulation were some of his most treasured memories now, seeing as they did not interact much before the simulation. He knew that Nevermind still clung to her… what was it called, boat? No, a ship. Her “ship” of Hajime and Chiaki, but everyone else was aware of how Hajime felt. It was hard not to - Hajime was on his last thread of sanity, so keeping his mouth shut was hard. Not like he cared either. They could know or not for all he cared. He just knew that they knew and they knew that he knew they knew and no one really spoke about it. Well, except for Kazuichi’s occasional lighthearted jabs. They never quite landed right though.

But, despite the fact that everything was so peaceful and no one cared about anything here, Hajime felt himself growing angry. He had been working his ass off all day and all night to bring everyone back, to bring him back, and he had the gall to show his stupid sexy face all smiling and offering something that Hajime wanted so fucking bad but knew he could never have. It was just so…. so… infuriatingly Komaeda.

So he did what an overworked, stressed, tired, angry, and quite frankly horny person would do.

He briskly walked past Komaeda, flipping him off on his way.

After the initial acknowledgement, Komaeda became more talkative. He would chatter while Hajime worked, while he ate, while he pretended to sleep. Komaeda would just follow Hajime around, talking to him, and Hajime would ignore him. He figured out that only he could see him - not that it had been confirmed or denied at this point - and as a result wrote it off as a hallucination from being over worked. Playing into it would only make it worse, he reasoned.

“You should take a nap,” Komaeda murmured, reaching out to stroke Hajime’s hair. Hajime didn’t so much as flinch at the action. He knew Komaeda wouldn’t touch him. He hadn’t yet. And Hajime couldn’t let him know that he wanted it. Even if it was fake Komaeda. At least it would be good practice for when real Komaeda woke up, pretending not to crave his touch. If he woke up. “Or just rest even a little. Just because no one has woken up yet means you are a failure.”

Hajime continued to type on the keyboard.

“Such… such hope…” Ah, here he went again. “You could have left them. You could have left us all but you haven’t. There is nothing saying that we will wake up. Honestly, everything is pointing towards us not waking up. And yet still you persist, you push on, you have such hope that we will wake up. Quiet foolishly actually. Idiotic really. Sacrificing everything for just your bizarre hope that something-”

Hajime was glad Komaeda abruptly stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up his regimen of ignoring him if he hadn’t stopped speaking. However, he was concerned about why Komaeda stopped talking. He looked over at Komaeda and saw his eyes fixated on a single monitor, his mouth slightly ajar. Hajime stared at Komaeda a second longer than necessary before turning to the monitor he was observing. The displays for the still eleven occupied pods held a steady green light-active. Well, all except for one. Pod four was blinking orange. Deactivating.

Hajime ran to the pod room as fast as he could, completely forgetting on his way to notify the others.

He ended up not having to tell the others, as they ended up walking into the cafeteria where he was catching up the Ultimate Imposter to their situation. They were not happy they were left out of the beginning of the celebration, but they seemed to understand because of Hajime’s mental state at the moment.

During the celebration, Komaeda made only a short appearance. He strolled up to Hajime while he was alone at one point, leaning up against a wall next to him. Hajime gave him a smug look, then turned to the Ultimate Imposter. I told you so. I fucking told you so.

Komaeda just laughed. “Your hope was always stronger than any reality.”

Hajime wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made him feel warm for some reason. It wasn’t a normal compliment, not by any means, but it was a compliment by Komaeda’s standards. And for some ungodly reason, that was enough for Hajime. The vague but positive comments on Hajime’s hope still made Hajime feel happy, just as if Komaeda were telling him his hair looked nice, or his face was attractive or something.

…Maybe it was Hajime’s inexperience in dating. That definitely had to play a part, but it still took a certain kind of person to actually listen to Komaeda’s comments and hear them for what they actually are.

You were always strong. Stronger than anyone and anything.

That’s what he really meant. And it made Hajime feel good, even if it was just Hajime’s delirious hallucination of Komaeda.

And with the awakening of the first classmate, everyone else’s hope began to burn brighter. While they had been skipping out early on shifts before the Ultimate Imposter woke up, now they stayed late and even doubled up. They did make comments every once in a while that because they were six now Hajime could take four hour shifts as well, but those comments flew in one ear and out the other. As more peers began to wake up, Hajime began to work more and rest less. The World Destroyer Program he created was working, it was waking up classmates, but it still wasn’t waking up him. It wasn’t working enough. With each passing day he worried that somehow Komaeda was different, that maybe he wouldn’t wake up like the rest. And with each passing day, his theory only seemed stronger. Koizumi woke up, and Hiyoko, and Nidai, Teruteru, Pekoyama- and the rest. Next thing Hajime knew everyone except Komaeda was awake.

It stayed that way for a few days, which was not too abnormal. After the Ultimate Imposter woke up, it took a week for Teruteru to wake up. Yet, every single day that Hajime was awake and Komaeda wasn’t was one too many for Hajime. It was pain. Not to mention that when he did sleep he had terrible nightmares of the simulation. Visions of Chiaki being crushed all over again. Scenarios of Junko surviving despite all that everyone had done to prevent it. Images of Komaeda dead, blood everywhere. In every one, Hajime was just helpless. Useless.

Though those were the best dreams compared to the other nightmares Hajime suffered from. The ones about… the project. The worst part about leaving the simulation was regaining his memories of what happened at Hope’s Peak. And what happened when Kamakura was in control.

It was during one of these dreams when Hajime woke up screaming. He shot up in his bed, clutching at the sheets that were soaked with his sweat.

“What’s wrong?” A worried Komaeda fluttered to Hajime’s side. But he did not soothe Hajime.

Anger boiled in Hajime’s veins. Anger at Hope’s Peak. Anger at the ones who created the simulation. Anger at the people who created the Kamakura project.

Anger at himself.

So much anger towards him and only him. None of this ever would have happened. The biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history would have never happened. Nothing would have happened if Hajime just wasn’t so weak. So unhappy with his pathetic, talentless self. Kamakura wouldn’t have taken those lives. Junko would have never gotten the firepower Kamakura provided. The uprising would have never happened. Nothing would have happened.

It was all his fault.

He let out a strangled scream and stood up, kicking the sheets off of him, and stormed to his bedside table. Then, in one fell swoop, he threw the bedside lamp onto the floor. It shattered into a million satisfying pieces, the lightbulb letting out a little pop. He stared at the broken mess for a second. Then, suddenly and all together, all the rage that he had been seething drained from his body. He felt like an empty shell. A ghost.

He collapsed back onto the bed, elbows on his knees, back in a tired hunch. His scars hurt. He hurt.

He felt the bed shift next to him.

Hajime cleared his voice, hoarse from screaming, and spoke. “I hate how weak I was. How weak I am still-”

“Bullshit.”

Hajime looked to Komaeda. His eyes were hard and his face stern.

“I didn’t know you were that deluded to be honest. To think that Hajime Hinata is weak- hah! You are anything but weak. At the last trial, you were given two choices. What did you pick? Neither. You made your own choice. When you woke up from the simulation, Makoto told you to leave, Byakuya told you to leave, Kirigiri told you to leave. Did you leave? No. You stayed and created a program to wake us up. You are strong Hinata, you just don’t believe you are."

"But the mistakes I made-”

“Everyone makes mistakes! And I know everyone says that but its true. We are imperfect creatures. We speed, we cheat, we lie - everyone does wrong in their life. Just because you think your wrong that you did is the worst possible one out there doesn’t mean that you should hate yourself for it. Someone else has probably made the same mistake before. Its how life works. We make mistakes. We stumble. We fall. And when we do, we don’t hate ourselves for it, we push through and become better. Because we have hope for an even better future. We have hope for a future that is perfect because it is imperfect.”

“I don’t want to have hope for a better future, I want my life to be better. I want to not have made these mistakes. I want to not hate myself.”

“Well, no one can take back what has been done,” Komaeda reached out and stroked the scars on Hajime’s head. “We can only make the best of it.”

Hajime leaned into the touch, forgetting for a moment that this was a hallucination.

“How can I do that when I don’t even know who I am? I am not Hajime Hinata, and I am not Kamakura. I am some sort of freak in-between and I hate it.”

“Does it matter who you are?” Hajime didn’t know how to respond. But he did know what he wanted Komaeda to say. I still love you, either way, whoever you may be.

“And just for the record, I don’t hate you, whoever you may be.”

Hajime smiled. That was enough for him, for now.

“Thank you, Komaeda,” he murmured. And he meant it.

“Even the strongest have their moments,” Komaeda agreed. “And you are strong,” Komaeda asserted.

Hajime smiled and turned to face Komaeda. In the dim lights his eyes shone like beacons of hope, of acceptance, of… love. Before Hajime could even think he was leaning toward Komaeda his eyes closing his heart beating his mind swirling his-

“Hinata-kun!” Fuyuhiko burst into the room snapping Hajime out of his trance. He was still sitting on his bed, leaning towards an empty space.

“What?” Hajime responded to Fuyuhiko’s curious gaze. “I couldn’t sleep. Now what is it?”

Fuyuhiko seemed to shake his confusion off. “Get dressed. You’re gonna wanna see this for yourself.”

Hope burst in Hajime’s chest. He couldn’t wait to know. “Is he…?”

Fuyuhiko nodded.

Hajime never got dressed faster in his life.

When Hajime made it to the pod room, he was breathless. He ran up to Komaeda’s now-open pod and leaned towards it. Komaeda was still asleep, eyes firmly closed, which allowed Hajime a moment to catch his breath. About once he did, he saw Komaeda’s eyes begin to flutter.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” Hajime called out to his peer.

It took a moment, but then Komaeda responded. “Ahh… Izuru Kamakura?” Komaeda held out his hand towards Hajime. “No, you’re, uh, Hajime Hinata, right?”

Fueled by his earlier revelation, Hajime responded confidently. “They’re both me.”

“I suppose I should thank you for waking me up? I knew you’d make it to the lowest stratum- I believed in you." Komaeda lifted his head, seeming to remember something. "How are the others?”

Hajime just smiled as the door behind him opened, revealing the rest of their peers waiting outside the pod room. “You’re the last one out.”

Komaeda smiled. Then, he looked pointedly into Hajime’s eyes, a small smirk present on his face. “You’re hope was always stronger than any reality.”

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 5 years

Text

A Good Business Transaction

Summary: Desperate for money after getting into trouble, Y/N enters into a ‘business transaction’ of sorts with resident Thrombey asshole, Ransom.

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Warning: Gambling problems, paying for sex, p in v, blow jobs and gagging, fingering, squirting, name-calling, biting, creampies, canon divergent. I really went all out on this one. See below.

A/N: You can all blame my horny-for-Chris gf @heycasbutt for this.

You have money - not Thrombey money - but you have it. While waiting for Meg to finish with the will reading, you step outside the palatial Thrombey mansion to light up a cigarette, hoping it will quiet your nerves. Unfortunately, you probably have to smoke the entire pack in ten minutes and subsequently die to feel like you aren’t on edge anymore, but hey, that’s life.

With shaky hands, you tap the lighter and watch the flame ignite, hoping that maybe you’ll spontaneously combust and not have to deal with your looming money problems.

“You know that shit’ll kill ya, right?”

There goes the cigarette taking the edge off. “Eat shit, Drysdale.” Taking a drag, you let the smoke go into the subtle breeze making its way past the mansion. “What happened with the reading?”

“Family business,” he replies as the corner of his lips turns upward. “You can ask Meg. We’re all fucked.” Something on his face doesn’t read like he’s fucked - like he has something up his sleeve.

Meg’s been your best friend for years, despite you being a few years older, so you were hoping that she might be able to help you with your money issue, but if the whole family is fucked, you assume the entirety of Harlan’s money went to his caretaker Marta. “Well, fuck.”

You put out the half-finished cigarette on the side of the house and pull another one from the pack, quickly lighting it up as you try to wipe away a tear. Last thing you want to be doing is crying in front of Ransom Drysdale. Meg is the only reason you’ve ever met him. He’s sexy as hell but all the looks and money in the world can’t stop Ransom from being the world’s biggest asshole.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, the smallest note of caring entering his voice before he continues with his usual self. “Can’t milk Meg for all the money she’s not getting?”

“Fuck off, Ransom. Meg’s my best friend. I don’t do that kind of shit to people.”

“Everyone does when money’s involved,” he said confidently. “You got money problems?”

“I’m into it with a bookie, alright?”

“How much?”

“Fifty large, and my dad’s basically cut me off because he’s got a new whore he spends all his money on. The child he never wanted from the now dead mother isn’t his priority anymore.”

“What a cocksucker.” Ransom seems genuine for one of the first times in his life. “I can help you out.”

The red ember of the cigarette draws your attention for a moment. You know what he wants. He’s made no secret over the years. “With what money, Drysdale? You just said you’re all fucked.”

“I’ve got my ways.” The glint in his eyes said he was about to fuck his whole family in the ass, including Meg, but you had bookies on your ass and if he was about to come into some money, you needed it.

You take a step toward him and take another drag. “I don’t what you’re about to do, but you really mean that? You’d keep the bookies from killing me? Because I’m headed six feet under if I don’t pay up by the end of the week.”

“Yea, I’m not completely heartless. My family can eat shit and die, but you-”

“You don’t want me to die when you haven’t had the chance to sleep with me yet.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“When do you expect to come into this money?” Despite Meg being your best friend your need for self-preservation trumps all. You’re about to fuck Meg over and yet you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Few days. A week tops.”

“How about I give you a hint of what’s to come if you get me out of this?”

A raised eyebrow tells you that you’ve got him on the hook. He could be bullshitting about money, but your gut says he isn’t. “Any good business transaction needs some good faith, right?”

What an asshole. Grabbing him by the coat, you guide him behind the house. With his family losing their minds inside, no one will notice if you indulge Ransom’s dirty mind. You back yourself into the wall and slide down, feeling your hair catch in the roughness of the reddish brick.

“You think about this a lot?” He asks. “You got down on your knees pretty quickly.”

You glare at him through hooded eyes - the ‘eat shit’ implied. As you fumble with his belt, you hear him chuckle. God, you hate him. You pull him free of his boxers and run your tongue along the tip, catching the little drop of pre-cum that sits there. Despite his cocksure attitude, he shivers and slips his hand into your hair. “You gonna suck my cock, little girl?”

“I’m going to gag on your cock, Drysdale. Let you fuck it like it’s my pretty little cunt.”

Groaning, he grasps either side of your head and braces his forearms against the brick wall. “Open.”

You do as he says, sticking your tongue. “Fuck my mouth, Drysdale. And if you come through for me, you’ll get so much more. After I get paid of course.”

“Of course,” he says suredly.

Reaching out, you grasp his balls with your dominant hand and guide him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the velvety smooth skin. You moan around him and watch his jaw drop. This is gonna be the best head he’s ever gotten, if only to ensure that he pays up when the time comes. While his family fights somewhere in the distance, you take him over and over again, making a point not to swallow. If Ransom is anything, it’s dirty, nasty and messy.

A trail of spit drops onto your shirt. “Look at me,” he demands. “Stay still. It’s my turn.”

He places a hand behind your head. At first, you think it’s the act of a gentlemen, but then you realize it’s just Ransom ensuring that if he fucks your brains out he won’t actually fuck your brains out against the brick wall. It’ll be hard to get his money if he’s a convicted murderer. Ransom steps closer to the wall and guides his cock into your mouth again, unrelenting when he feels you gag. Your reflex forces him out and you laugh. Against your better judgement you have thought about his cock in your mouth more times than you care to admit.

Arousal pools between your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that you need money, and the fact that Ransom would 100 percent fuck you senseless and then go back on his promise, you’d be him to fuck you right here, right now. As he thrusts in and out of your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue, you hollow your cheeks and try to look up at him. You want to watch the cocky bastard lose his damn mind.

When he sees your unfaltering gaze, he picks up the pace, his cock getting harder and harder with each pass. “I’m going to come down that pretty little throat.”

You swallow him down and grab his ass, anchoring him there as he pulses down your throat. You hate how turned on you are, shaking as you come. His right hand slinks around your neck so he can feel himself in your throat. “Little slut likes getting her throat fucked?”

“I do,” you reply, swallowing the last of his come as you rise to your feet. “Come through for me next week and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

As you walk away, you wipe the remnants of your ‘business transaction’ from your lips, confident that he’ll deliver.

----

Meg’s been crying to you all week. Marta had the inheritance for all of a couple of days when she was found to have killed Harlan. She didn’t. You knew it. Something to do with Ransom you’re sure. But with your deadline to your bookies looming, you can’t bring yourself to care.

As you knock on Ransom’s front door, you glance around, hoping that no one sees you, especially Meg. She knows about your money problems, so if she sees you’re still alive after walking into Ransom’s place she’ll put it together. She’s a smart girl.

“Come in,” he says, swinging the door open unceremoniously. “You got the account you need it routed to?”

“Yea,” you say, handing over the paper.

He says something about routing the money through various accounts so it’s safer, safer for him obviously; he wants to make sure your bookies can’t come after ‘his’ money. “Alright, call your guy and make sure the debt is paid.”

With shaky hands, you dial the number and wait for him to pick up. “Got my payment?”

“Close call, girl. Don’t let it happen again.” The disembodied voice responds.

“It won’t.” Because you don’t plan on being here much longer than you have to. You’re going to pay your debt to Ransom, because he’s hot so why not, and then you’re planning on stealing what you can from your father and bouncing before he can do anything about it. Shouldn’t be a problem considering he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but his new whore. “Done,” you say, turning toward Ransom. “I appreciate it. I’ll be out of your hair soon. But I am ready to pay my debt if you’re so inclined.”

“You wear the type of lingerie I asked for?”

Unbuttoning your top, you show him a peek of the nude, see-through lace bra you’re wearing. “Panties match, too.”

“Good girl.” There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you weak in the knees. You’ve had plenty of sex in your life, but something about Ransom’s brash demeanor, give no fucks attitude and search for his own pleasure and his alone gets to you in the best way possible. You have no misgivings about your relationship with Ransom. It’s a business transaction. Money for sex. You got your money and you like sex, so why not follow through? “Strip. Leave the lingerie on though. I plan on destroying it.”

His red gaze remains fixed on you as you let the shirt drop to the floor and your jeans pool around your ankles. “Best 50k I’ve ever spent.”

“Bastard.”

“You like it,” he says as he begins to circle you.

Behind you, he pulls off his light blue sweater and throws it who knows where. All you hear is its soft thud on the ground before he spins you around and pushes you back toward the couch. You fall into it and watch him reach for what appears to be condoms. “Don’t,” you say. “I’m on the pill and I was just tested. I want you to come in my tight little cunt.”

“You are a little slut.” Happily, he throws the box to the side and drops to his knees in front of the couch, pulling the lace to the side so he can lap at your arousal. “I’m going to make you squirt. Scream my name. I plan on ruining you for every man that comes after me.”

His tongue slides up and down your slit a few times before he slips two fingers inside. With his other hand, he rips the panties to shreds and discards the material on the floor next to him. You grab his head and silently beg for more - faster, harder - anything. When you clench your legs around his head, he starts to fuck you with his tongue, his hands clasping your thighs like his life depends on it.

Pulling away, he leaves you wanting as he rough fucks your pussy with his fingers. “Squirt for me, slut.”

Your orgasm crests in an instant and then you’re doing what you haven’t before, crying out his name as you squirt. He laps it up like a man starved as you shake, his fingers still inside you. “You’ll never find another woman like me either, Hugh. Every woman you fuck until the end of time. You’ll wish she were me.”

He says nothing. You use his real name, knowing it’ll anger him, but he’s speechless. You’re right and he hates that. Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and spreads your thighs with his roughened palms, bearing all his weight on you.

With no ceremony whatsoever, he plunges into your wet heat, groaning at the fit. “God, your pussy is perfect.” Each slam of his cock makes you cry out, back arching into the couch, nipples taut against the thin, but confining fabric of your bra. Whether he senses your frustration or just wants to see all of you, you don’t know, and you don’t care, because he pushes the lace above your breasts.

As he pounds into you, he bends down to take one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fill my pussy up Ransom. I want it.” You wrap your legs around his waist and use your heels to push him into you harder and harder.

His sweat-slick skin meets yours as he bends down to take your mouth in a searing kiss. It’s filled with lust and hatred and leaves your head spinning as another orgasm threatens to turn you to jelly.

Each groan and growl says he isn’t far from coming himself. He grasps your inner thighs and scratches at the skin, pulling out all the way before pumping back in. When he comes, you cry out, “Ransom!” You rub your clit and arch up, muscles spasming as his cock twitches inside you, hot thick ropes of come pooling inside you.

“Fuckin hell,” he breathes. “I’ll be thinking about this pussy for a long time.”

You dip your finger into your pussy and feel his come, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. You make a point of not breaking his gaze. Sure you’re leaving, but you want to make a lasting impression on the asshole. “Take a picture, Ransom, it’ll last longer.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he finds his phone and replies, “You know what? I think I will. For posterity’s sake.” He smirks.

Blissed out and filled with come, you smile for the camera. “Eat shit, Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #dontshootmespence #a good business transaction

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bluegarners · 4 years

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If you're taking asks I would love to hear your thoughs about the Ric arc and the current state of Nightwing comics!!!!!!!!!! :))

Oh goodness, where to begin...

To start, I share a lot of the same opinions as @nightwingmyboi and @hood-ex ~~ they have very extensive and well thought out takes on the Ric Arc and the general direction DC has decided to take Dick Grayson with, along with his legacy of Nightwing. I highly suggest you read some of their posts about it, as they are very informative and probably more well versed in explaining opinions, haha!

So, my thoughts on the Ric Arc? Like most fans of Nightwing, I believe it kinda sucked ass. Like, sucked ass in the way where DC kinda just forgot characterizations (again), made it all about Batman (again), and ignored good side characters (Bea). The only thing positive I can really say about that whole arc was the art- I really enjoyed the take on Dick's features in Nightwing #74. I was happy they gave him more ethnic looking features with the fuller lips and the more angular nose. (However, they kinda screwed up with the heights??? Jason was tiny!! Barely 5' 4" it looked like LOL) The colors were pretty as well, Ryan Benjamin is a favorite artist of mine, and most of the scenes were fluid.

Another positive I can say about the Ric Arc is one of the very beginning scenes, where Damian goes to see Dick in the hospital while he's still recovering. It was moving that they let Damian be an impatient child when "demanding" for Dick to wake up, and then follow it up with him essentially fleeing and crying when he's not answered. Of course, Damian isn't really mentioned again after this, but it was still really nice to see this side of his character.

The plot.... where do I start? I don't think I'll get too much into it because it'll only frusturate me more sdfslhf but I'll say this. While I am a fan of Dick Grayson angst, DC made it very... unenjoyable, for lack of a better word. It felt like they just threw in as many villains as possible, what with the introduction of the new "sidekick" for Joker, aka Punchline, the Court of Owls appearing for a very brief time just to screw with Dick's memory more, KGBeast and Bane conspiring to get to Batman through Nightwing BY SHOOTING HIM IN THE HEAD (okay, mini rant here: DC, if you're going to make this comic about Nightwing, please please please actually make it about Nightwing. Make the problem about him, not Batman. I get that Bane is kind of the main motivator here, what with him trying to break Batman by killing his oldest allie and destroying his marriage with Seleina, but surely there are writers at the DC headquarters that can come up with a separate problem that doesn't always involve Batman. Surely that's possible right? Nightwing's whole persona was made so he could be recognized separately from Batman; stepping away from Robin was supposed to free Dick of his restrictive ties to the Bat symbol. By always tying Dick's problems immediately back to Batman or one of his enemies, it defeats the purpose of Nightwing being his own hero with his own villians and his own freakin city with its own dozens of problems!!)

Continuing on with villains, here's what I can remember off the top of my head: KGBeast, Bane, Punchline, Joker, Harely (not really, but I'm going to add her anyway), Talon, and the Court of Owls. Now, this is going to controversial, but I'm also going to add the Batfam as part of that list, and here's why. They didn't care. Plain and simple, they didn't care about Ric, they only cared about Dick and what he could do for them. There were a grand total of maybe three times where the Batfam reached out to Ric to try and reason with him, but before all of that, they re-traumatized an already amnesiac and confused person by showing him get assassinated. Like, Bruce. Wth?? I know a lot of this was mostly character assassination, especially with Barbara, but come on. Barbara was really weird throughout this entire arc, and even after he goes back to "normal", she blames Dick for being mean to her, completely ignoring the fact that he didn't know who she was half the time. And that he was, ya know,

mind controlled by multiple villains for a majority of the comic.

Moving past all of that, since I feel like I could rant for ages about it, I didn't like how abruptly they ended that arc. The crystal being my main problem. DC has many scapegoats, the lazerous pit being their biggest imo, but a crystal? All they had to do was show it to him and BOOM cured??? There was no character development. The build up to it could hardly be called build up, as it was done and over with in the span of a few panels. Nothing felt high stakes anymore, and then after he got his memories back, everyone cheered and was like "yay, he's back to normal! you were a real ass to us, and we're not going to apologize for leaving you homeless and left to fend for yourself against all these villains even though you had no memories! oh, but don't worry! we were watching this whole time, so we just let all that stuff happen to you! wow, so glad you're back- we really need Nightwing, but I guess having Dick back is okay too."

That's a very crass interpretation of what went down, but that's what happened. Bruce's half assed excuse of "I was always watching" was awful because then it just leads to more problems of, oh well, if you were always there, why didn't you rent him an apartment so he didn't have to live out of his taxi? Or get him out of trouble and bar fights? Or stop the Joker from getting him and taking control of his mind? Or any numerous terrible things that happened to Ric? It's just annoying that no one seems to actually try and emphathize with what Dick went through, and it's all getting brushed to the side in favour of, "oh, well, back to work!"

They could've gone down so many pathways with Dick getting shot in the head, but instead they gave him amnesia, trauma, bad reception from the fam, and being passed around from villian to villain just to be used over and over again. It felt like this weird dump fest where the writers just woke up one morning and was like, "how many characters can we fit into this arc to get the most amount of readers as possible? How can we become more controversial?"

I know that in the arc after Ric, we're getting some of the aftermath. I'm so so happy they let Dick cry over Alfred's death (he really needed that release of emotions, poor boy has been bottling them up for the sake of others [again, DC, I know he's supposed to be the emotionally controlled one, but please let him be healthy with his emotions and not a shut in with them]) but they still haven't addressed Damian? Like, Dick and Damian were arguably the closest before shit hit the fan, and Dick isn't wondering where the kid is? Or exactly what happened with Alfred and how Damian witnessed it?? A large part of it is the Batfam not telling Dick any of it and kind of just leaving him to his own devices now that the "issue" has been resolved (sound familiar? history repeats itself yet again....). Something else that bugs me a bit is that everyone is telling Dick what he should be feeling/thinking/doing/etc. No one's letting him... grieve. Like, Dick just got his memories back and he's probably grappling with old trauma that's now fresh in his face. Additionally, everyone is assuming he's just going to go back to normal, as if none of what just happened, well, happened. They're erasing this brand spanking new trauma, along with the news that Alfred was murdered, and the fact that Dick is still trying to do his best for his family because it's whats expected of him. I mentioned earlier that Barbara was being really weird, @nightwingmyboi actually already made a post about it, but when Dick tries to apologize and talk to her about what happened when he was Ric, she just kind of... runs away? Dramatically? Didn't even attempt to hear what dick had to say- she was just so consumed with her own hurt that talking wasn't an option for whatever reason. WHICH IS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF HER CHARACTER. It's frusturating because Dick is doing his best to apologize to people when he should have nothing to apologize for- he wasn't under any of his own control and the things he did while Ric or "Dickie-boy" weren't under his own will. If anything, Dick is the one that should get an apology and a hug; he's been through so much and no one seems to be acknowledging that.

All of that to say: I liked the idea of what the Ric arc could've offered, but the plot fell through and just disappointed a lot of people. I'm hoping a lot of the issues presented in the Ric arc that went unaddressed do end up being properly resolved in the newer arcs coming out, but I'm not going to be surprised if it doesn't. Sorry for the long answer LOL

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